Crossing Open Waters
May 8, 2024
We’ve reached 8 states and 2,500 miles on the Great Loop. North Carolina is in our wake and we are now in Virginia and the Chesapeake Bay. Getting to this point has taught us a new respect of open water.
We departed Oriental, NC on a windless day and found a dead dolphin in the middle of the six mile-wide Neuse River. This sad sight was an omen of what was ahead for us and the conditions quickly deteriorated after we moved on. The waves hitting us were being built up as they traveled all the way across the Pamlico Sound, starting 40 miles away. By the time they reached the shallower waters near little Novella, the land amplified the energy of the waves upward, giving us a beating we could not have imagined only a couple hours earlier. Once we were able to turn downwind, the boat was surfing down 5-6’ waves up to 10 knots, about double our cruising speed. All we could do was try to keep the boat from turning sideways and getting rolled on its side.
Novella’s short length has many upsides on the economics of this adventure, but physics dictates that large, steep waves can be more dangerous when your vessel is so small. Novella is tough and would almost certainly right herself after a tumble, but injuries or a man overboard situation are a real concern.
We were more selective in our next wide river crossing and cruised into Belhaven, where the first mate and the admiral kitten would take a break while guarding our vessel. The captain took a week away from the adventure to fly to Nebraska/Iowa for a work project. While there, he had to stop on the interstate to allow a couple tornadoes to cross before he could continue, and his departure airport was hit by another twister the day before he flew back.
Back on the water, we made our way to the Albemarle Sound and waited out storms at an expansive natural anchorage with not a soul in sight. The next morning was our chance to cross. The often treacherous sound was flat and calm, but we entered a wall of fog at the halfway point. With more than an hour left to reach the other side, we could see only around 50’ in any direction. To make matters worse, our AIS (marine traffic identification system) did not seem to be working and neither did our radio. Did we get hit by lightning the night before? We’re still unsure what happened but we were totally blind. With our backup radio on hand, we made sécurité calls to alert other vessels of our presence in the fog. We sounded our air horn often until it was nearly depleted. We stopped every quarter mile to listen for any other motors. Once we reached the other side, we anchored near a channel marker and waited for the fog to clear.
Later that day we tied up to a free dock in Elizabeth City. “Free” is one of our favorite words on this adventure, and some communities have figured out that cruisers will spend much more money in the community if they feel welcomed and are given a convenient place to stay. Elizabeth City is by far the winner in this department so far, and they have earned their nickname as the “Harbor of Hospitality”. A rose and welcome packet was even left on our boat while we were out, in the tradition of the town. We thanked the town by staying two nights and visiting two breweries, three restaurants, a coffee shop and a butcher store. We also “took our gas cans for a walk” to refill them at a station about ten blocks away.
From there it was time to enter the Great Dismal Swamp Canal, built by slaves and opened in 1805 for the shipment of goods along the Atlantic coastal regions. A mesmerizing tunnel of green, it is the narrowest waterway we have traveled. At times it appeared we were looking at plants underwater but it was simply the reflection of the trees on the dark glassy surface of the canal. It was poignant to admire such beauty while recognizing how much suffering and hardship went into the creation of this place.
We rafted up to another boat at the Dismal Swamp Welcome Center where we would spend the night. We awkwardly walked across our neighbors’ boat anytime we wanted to get to shore, and went for a long hike in the swamp.
A day later we were in Norfolk, exploring neighborhoods and watching the weather. On the way to dinner we redirected our Lyft to take us straight back to the dinghy as a storm was approaching. We made it back before the storms and motored out the next morning among the intense commercial and military traffic in Norfolk, one of the busiest ports in the US. We were stopped in the channel at one point to wait for a cable to be laid across the bottom. Cruise ships, container ships and warships wove their way in and out of the port as divers completed underwater operations and a Navy captain ordered all vessels to stay far away from a nearby submarine. Tempers flared on the radio as cruisers and the dive operation chastised sport fishermen for their large wakes. Imagine the chaos if every car driver could directly broadcast their thoughts into each other’s vehicles. This is surely more tame.
Soon we were out of the mess, anchored peacefully next to Fort Monroe, the largest stone fort ever built in the US. We walked into Phoebus to load up on fresh produce and that evening we explored the impressive grounds of the fort. The fort was recently converted to a public space and new housing repurposed from the former officers’ and soldiers’ homes.
Our fuel bill is dropping quickly as we cruise slowly while under power and raise the sails as much as possible. This morning there was no wind until halfway through our journey, then it picked up and we had a very pleasant sail to complete the last 10 miles for free. Tonight we are anchored in one of the many sheltered creeks of Deltaville, VA. We plan to spend 2-3 weeks in the Chesapeake before making our way to New York City.
