Traveling Transvesselites

We woke up this morning with every intention of departing by 0700. But that was not to be. We spent the evening in a old-fashioned marina…called Taylor Boat Works on Peletier Creek. It was pretty primitive… no fuel, no pump out, questionable bathroom facilities, a rail instead of a boat lift, etc. But it did have 30 amp electricity and a pizza parlor close by.

And John, the owner…for 30 years... was a gem of a guy. We made arrangements with him last night over the radio, but he was long gone by the time we arrived. However, he came down to SOB first thing this morning – about 0700 – to collect the dock fee and, it turned out, shoot the breeze. When he found out we are transvesselites, he asked a lot of questions, and as we answered, we would also tell him what we liked and didn't like, how things were working, things we were not sure about, things that might need attention.

First thing you know, John, no spring chicken himself, hops on our boat. After some more conversation where he reveals encyclopedic knowledge of anything having to do with boats , he is opening up hatches, down on his knees and later flat on his belly then down into the engine room showing us how this or that worked or how if you jiggered that gizmo a little everything would be OK…so we jiggered it, and sure enough it was.

About 0800, an hour after we planned to depart, I made the mistake of telling John the auto-pilot was not working properly. He went up to the bridge deck and flicked some switches; then down to the lower helm station and gave a hard look at the instruments; and then, after about three minutes, literally, he had it figured out. He was down on his belly again, working around the rudder (by touch; he couldn’t see what he was doing) and then came up with a little "ball joint" about half the size of a marble. He said it controlled the feedback mechanism on the auto pilot and showed me how it had corroded. He had found the culprit.

John said he might have a spare…or if he didn't, he would run up to West Marine and see if they had one. Well, long story short: He didn't have a spare and his trip to West Marine was derailed by other customers coming in. So, we told John we appreciated his attention, but we had to shove off. When I asked for a bill, he waved me off. When I tried to give him a $20 tip, he refused to take it. Finally, he relented, took the cash and then helped us untie and head for Belhaven, 82 miles up the road. Time: 0930, two and half hours late. But, truth to tell, the time with John was worth it. I would go back to Taylor Boat Works in a New York minute.

Once we were underway, the passage was daunting. It included a long ride down a choppy Neuse River. The combination of the wind blowing at 15-20 knots and the current running in the opposite direction generated a lot of wave action that resulted in some rolling of SOB, also requiring constant attention to the heading.

Then we passed into Pamlico Sound, that huge body of water formed by the outer banks, with Cape Hatteras located down on the southeastern end. After a few miles, it was like being at sea. You were out of sight of land in front and to the sides and land was only faintly visible to the rear. We then went through another cut, thanks to the Army Corps of Engineers, and ended up in the Pungo River, heading for our destination, Belhaven, NC.

Approaching Belhaven, we headed for the Dowry Creek marina to get fuel and pump out. Our intention was to stay in the marina and have a leisurely dinner in another new town. However, the wind was so severe and this particular marina so exposed to the weather that we were not comfortable having the boat bouncing around in a slip. So, we paid our bill and headed out to the ICW, continuing north for another half hour or so when we found a protected cove that had already been discovered by two sailboats. So we pulled in for the night.

After anchoring, we flipped on the generator, took showers, had a nice tuna salad plus Trader Joe's tomato soup and settled down for the evening. Mary Sue returned some phone calls and answered emails. I started to work on my Bonus Years column, due on Wednesday morning (tomorrow) for the Sunday Annapolis Capital. I decided to write about some of the very interesting people we have met on the ICW and the rich variety of lifestyles and work habits that describe their bonus years.