Month: January 2021

Where has the time gone? I think that’s the burning question asked by many– as I seemed to blink and the trip was now over. I still remember running back to the house one last time to make sure the door was locked the day we left, the heart pounding day we almost capsized on Lake Michigan and the awe of seeing the sun rise over the horizon out of the darkness during our overnight crossing of the Gulf of Mexico. I still haven’t grasped the concept of all we have seen and accomplished in the last 13 months…neither one of us have. A little over 72 hours left until we are home, I took a deep breath, hauled in the anchor and gave the thumbs up. Here we go…The last chapter –

With a wink the Captain started the engines and put her in gear. It was raining as we motored slowly along Narrow Bay. It was extremely shallow and, scouring the charts, we were nervous we were going to run aground before we made it to the Shinnecock Lock. Our last lock..so surreal. We touched bottom three times through Moriches Bay, once stalling us in place. The water barrier spray on the bimini cover seemed to wear off all at once and it was raining in the fly bridge most of the morning. The patchy fog did not help the situation as we pushed on under the three bridges leading us to the lock arriving around noon time. Radioing for permission to pass through on the next opening, I put on my life jacket, grabbed my lines and headed to the bow. It was sort of a letdown that we would only be dropping 18 inches, but it was a milestone nonetheless. The Captain joined me for the experience and commented on how I haven’t lost my touch in keeping her steady…I have to admit, this was an easy one.

The Great Peconic Bay was flat calm as we navigated to Shelter Island. Here on out, Bella Donna was in familiar waters as we had made this trip many times before. Anchoring in West Neck Harbor off Shelter Island, we relaxed for a bit before heading to shore. Standing in water all day, my feet were like prunes so I gave myself a much appreciated pedicure. First we rode over to the beach on Baby Belle with a bottle of wine to marvel at the sunset…one of the last we will see from this perspective for awhile. Sitting in the sand, I asked the Captain if we could extend the trip another week and hit some of our favorite spots. He shot my idea down as the weather was turning soon and he had a job scheduled which we had to be home for. Back to the real world.

Dinner on the outside deck of Salt that evening was delicious and very comforting. We still seemed to be on an adventure and walked the waterfront looking for shells. There was not much else to do on a September evening, so we toured the harbor on Baby Belle before returning home. It was significantly cooler all of a sudden and I pulled out an extra blanket as we settled in for bed. The Captain even slept in his socks which I had reluctantly moved to an easier location for him to access.

It was overcast and cool the next day and I grabbed a sweatshirt before firing up Baby Belle to take a little spin. The Captain was working on some things in the cabin and I thought he needed his alone time. Thinking is not always a good thing as I motored up and down the harbor and began to stress about my new life in Connecticut and getting a job. Putting the doubts out of my mind, I saw some boats heading into the harbor and I yelled for Duane to help me secure the dinghy back on the boat. Bob and Stephanie had showed up on their boat, Mischief, right as we were preparing to leave. They were originally supposed to be here yesterday, but were delayed by the awful conditions on the bay. After a quick Hello and Good-bye, we planned to call them in the next two days and meet up at the marina as we completed the Loop. Heading onto the Peconic River, it was a mere 45 minute ride for us to get to Sag Harbor Bay where we grabbed a mooring. Again, another last on the trip.

Shawn and Heather were waiting for us on shore. They had by far traveled the most to come see us taking three ferries and biking between the stops all the way from New London to Sag Harbor. That was definitely no small feat. Greeting us on the dock after we tied up the dinghy, we all walked to LT Burger for lunch. I was sure they had worked up a big appetite and we all ordered burgers with the works as we caught up. Duane kept in touch through text over the last year, but we had not seen them since our going away party last June. Unfortunately, they were not able to stay much passed lunch since they had a lot of ground to cover to get back home. It was refreshing to see them and we were thankful they made the trek over. Walking them to their bikes, we bid them safe travels and planned to get together in a few weeks once we were settled.

My very good friend Melissa ended up driving over from Montauk with her friend Kathy to also welcome us back. They came just in time for dessert as we sat back down and ordered fried oreos. Why not indulge a little? Laughing and catching them up on the latest and greatest of the tail end of our travels, the one big question was –Where do we go from here? Nothing would ever top this journey and right now we were just going through the motions for the next few miles before we arrived back at Harboredge in North Stonington. Walking through town before they left, Fall was definitely in the air as a crisp breeze blew. The village was long ago the first port of entry into the United States and now boasted the most expensive property values in New York. Before we knew it, we were alone again. It was us and Bella Donna the rest of the way.

I was excited when the Captain yelled from Baby Belle the next morning to hop in and take a ride to shore with him. I was even more excited when he suggested we get some breakfast sandwiches to enjoy as we strolled around the quaint little town. Back on the boat, I had prepared our last lunch and placed it carefully on the engine. We will both surely miss my now infamous engine paninis. Releasing us from the mooring, I lingered on the bow as we left the cove taking it all in. The sun was out but the wind was blowing at 20 knots as we hit Gardiner’s Bay and were being tossed by 3-4 foot seas. 5 miles out of Three Mile Harbor was excruciating as we seemed to be getting swallowed up by the water churning around us in every direction. Without hesitation, the Captain fired up both engines, pushed her to 10 mph and motored us out of the situation. Conditions calmed as soon as we were in the protection of the land and the Captain throttled back. Our 35 year old boat had pulled us through yet again. It was now Day 400 and she had run 186 of those days with only a few major in-house repairs. There was one casualty that day-a glass fell from the cabinet and broke. Hopefully that was good luck.

First we took care of business-filling the water tanks so I could shower that evening, getting a pump out and then washing all the salt water off so Bella Donna looked refreshed upon our arrival tomorrow. Tomorrow…the idea of being back home was still unbelievable. Then, we anchored at the south end of the Harbor and I straightened up the cabin which had been severely tossed in the short 7 mile trip. Duane’s mom and sister, Lisa, had sent me some money to take Duane out for a birthday dinner and tonight we were headed to The Blend. Having amazing reviews, we took Baby Belle to shore and walked over to the restaurant. The reviews were spot on and we couldn’t have asked for a better last dinner to close out the trip and toast to the Captain’s birthday. I was hesitant to get back to the boat as I knew that signified the end of the most amazing time of our lives. We planned to be home at 1pm tomorrow and leave Bella Donna at the dock. We decided to linger a bit and take a long dinghy ride through the harbor embracing the beautiful evening and let reality sink in.

It was overcast and chilly the following morning as I hoisted the anchor one last time. Of course, it wasn’t going to be that easy as we were stuck in mud and it was a struggle. Not only was it a battle to get the chain in and washed off, there was mud everywhere including all over myself once I was done. So much for cleaning us both up before our arrival…Both referring to Bella Donna and I as the Captain sat in his chair on the fly bridge far from the messy situation. It was a short 25 miles to port, but we still had to cross the dreaded Gardiner’s Bay. Duane said I went through a huge range of emotions that day beginning with cursing at the anchor to almost crying when the waves started crashing over the bow as we made our way through the Block Island Sound. Around Plum Island things suddenly calmed and a smile took over my face the rest of the trip. Passing the ruins of Fort Tyler, I was not sure how I never noticed this obstruction off Gardiner’s Point Island before. One final history lesson…The fort was finished after the Spanish American War and was used for a wide array of purposes none having to do with an armament due to the shifting sand— It was a park in the 2o’s, a bombing range in the 30’s and after WWII, and a bird preserve then and now. Dubbed “The Ruins” due to the erosion from the sea only a small obstruction juts out of the water of the once 14 acre land mass. The sun was now shining and we were closing in on crossing our wake.

Lighthouses guided us the rest of the way home. First the Little Gull Island Lighthouse off the reef half way across the bay, next we passed Race Rock Lighthouse off Fisher’s Island and finally North Dumpling Island Lighthouse located near the border crossing from New York into Connecticut. Rounding Stonington Point, we were in the home stretch and about 45 minutes early. Bob and Stephanie were a few minutes behind us and we pulled over in the harbor grabbing a mooring to collect ourselves. I was actually fighting back tears as we saw the Welcome Home sign at the end of the dock with family and friends frantically waving as we came into full view. The Captain backed her into the slip perfectly as he had done many times before and I tossed the lines to Bob who had docked his boat and was waiting to help tie us up. Stepping off the boat we had come full circle and were now Gold Loopers. Duane popped open champagne as I greeted everyone who had arrived. His mom and sister had food set up at the picnic table at the end of the dock and we all went to sit down and spent the afternoon talking and laughing as though we had just left yesterday.

I think it really hit me that night when we arrived at the house. It was dark and quiet and not yet home to me. I had only left the New York City 5 weeks before the trip began and never got a feel for living here since most of that time we were bombarded with preparations for our travels. I don’t know about the Captain, but I hardly slept at all that night. I think I had become way too accustomed to the water slapping against the hull and the incessant rocking of the boat. Maybe there’s an app for that? Or maybe we just have to go for Platinum!

Below is our official statement upon crossing our wake and receiving our Gold burgee–

Traveling almost 7000 miles over 401 days through 18 states, Canada, the Bahamas and 109 locks was an adventure we will never forget. It was a true learning experience every day as one of us needed to be a full-time Captain, part-time mechanic with unlimited overtime and novice meteorologist while the other became an expert navigator, proficient line handler and professional organizer. We will forever cherish the friends we were so fortunate to make along the way and look forward to crossing paths in the future on and off the water. From Hell’s Gate to conquering Lake Michigan and the Mighty Mississippi and from the fjords of Canada to crossing the Gulf of Mexico and swimming with the pigs, the memories we’ve amassed will be treasured for the rest of our lives. We can count the harrowing experiences on one hand…plus a few toes…but a beautiful sunset and a bottle of wine was enough to turn the worst day around and we were always excited to see what possibilities a new day would bring our way.

The Point Pleasant Canal was backed up with Saturday morning traffic as we tailed ten fishing boats to the Manasquan River and out onto the Atlantic Ocean. In a few hours we had crossed the waters into New York and saw the city skyline on the horizon. The view was a welcome sight as I had not realized how much I had actually missed home until now. Not going back to the city will be somewhat of an adjustment, but I was excited for the change and the new memories to be made. There was a cool breeze as we motored out on the open water to a slight chop and made a beeline toward the East Rockaway Inlet. The conditions were relatively calm and I drove most of the way across as Duane readied the boat for docking. It had just hit us both that this was the last time we would be tying the boat up to a dock until we arrived at our home port marina in Connecticut.

Making the turn into the channel, we maneuvered around pleasure boaters and were in full view of the all too familiar beach clubs of Atlantic Beach. Umbrellas and beach towels covered every inch of the sand as family and friends enjoyed the holiday weekend outdoors. Passing under the Atlantic Beach Bridge, which I had crossed over hundreds of times growing up, but never under until now, we were about an hour away from my friend Tara and Michael’s house on the bay along the Reynolds Channel in Long Beach. Approaching the dock, the Captain thought at first we would not be able to maneuver into position as there was an old boat lift taking up part of the dock space which I had not realized was there. But, it was no surprise that he backed in with expert precision. The kids helped with the lines and we were soon snug and secure against the dock.

It was a beautiful day and Duane went out on the paddle board with Breda and Brogan who tried in vain to knock him off. Guerin showed him how to navigate the jet ski and he was soon off taking a spin around the bay. While all the kids, big and little, played, I gave Tara a tour of the boat and we sat outside on the fly bridge watching all the activity. Michael was at work and we wouldn’t see him until the morning so Guerin hopped on his bike and went to pick us up burgers for dinner. Sitting out on the deck overlooking the bay, we had a nice night enjoying the breeze and talking while the kids played on the dock and jumped off the bow of the boat until the sun went down. The sunset was spectacular and the boat glowed in the reflection off the water.

Our quiet peaceful sleep was rudely interrupted at about 6:30 the next morning when we were rocked out of bed by the wake of a passing boat not abiding by the No Wake Zone. Up early, I grabbed my towel and took an outdoor shower before the kids made their way down to the boat. Our friend Jen was coming to pick me up later that morning to go to her sister’s beach club in Atlantic Beach. I had lived in Howard Beach two blocks from Dee and Jen for many years and loved going to Atlantic Beach where Dee now lived so this was going to be a treat. Duane choose to stay around the bay with the kids and Michael to enjoy the water sports. We had acquired a knee board along our travels and Duane whipped it out for the kids to try. Before we left, we gifted the board to them as they would get so much more use out of the toy than we ever would.

Grabbing some sandwiches from the deli and filling the cooler, our beach chairs were already waiting for us as we joined the circle of friends who had gathered for a lazy afternoon on the beach. Dee’s husband, Shane, pulled a chair up beside me and I told him some trip highlights as no one had believed a year ago we would make it this far. The day flew by and we all went back to Tara and Michael’s for a barbecue on the deck. After having drinks on the boat and showing everyone how we lived the last 394 days, Michael grilled up some chicken, hot dogs and burgers. Another great evening with friends was in the books.

Bright and early the following morning Duane took me out on the jet ski to show me what it could do. He opened her up full throttle to 52 mph and I thought I had whiplash as he jumped the waves and did donuts around the bay. Along with Dee and Shane, our friends Lisa, Laurie and her boyfriend George were meeting us for lunch at the Jetty Bar and Grill in town. Long Beach was my old stomping grounds and we set off toward West Park Avenue where I took a short detour to show Duane two houses which I had rented for the summer many many many years ago. When we were younger, we would pack the small bungalows to the rafters with friends and it would be a non-stop beach party every weekend. After lunch, we all went to have a drink at Lily’s sitting outside at the makeshift picnic tables set up in the would be parking lot. It was so good to see everyone and I hoped that these gatherings would become more of a regular occurrence now that we were back home…well as long as Covid didn’t mess things up.

Tara and I spent the rest of the time hanging out outside on the dock, catching up and making plans to get together in the “country” where I was now going to live. Michael had to leave for work super early so we said our farewells to him that evening before heading to bed. We again counted our blessings for having such good friends who were willing to take us in and add to the unforgettable memories we will have of this journey.

Tara was taking Breda to the eye doctor early in the morning so I went up to the house to wish them well before they left. After we showered and got the boat ready to move on, Brogan and Guerin helped us untie and watched as we drove off out of sight toward the Railway Bridge. Moving along, the Reynolds Channel Bridge was super narrow and said to have a clearance of 18 feet. I held my breath as we squeezed through with no problem before turning out the Jones Beach Inlet. Passing familiar landmarks the whole way, such as the Jones Beach Theater and the Jones Beach Water Tower, we powered through the Fire Island Inlet back into the protected waters beyond Robert Moses State Park. Once the lighthouse on the Great South Bay was in full view, we were in the home stretch to our destination –Ocean Beach, Fire Island.

After Long Beach, my friends and I graduated to renting summer houses in Fire Island for many years. During high season, the area was only accessible by ferry, water taxi or private vessel as motor vehicles were prohibited on the entire island. Fire Island, being a narrow barrier island consisting of a string of beach towns surrounded by sand and water, had always been a great getaway to escape the craziness of life in the city. Anchoring off of Ocean Beach, we took Baby Belle to the public dock and walked to the center of town. The shops and restaurants were just as I had remembered them and it was as the changing times had left the town untouched. Our friends, Staci and Jen, were taking the ferry over to meet us at Maguire’s for dinner so we sat at the bar and I ordered Duane a rocket fuel so he could have the full experience of life on the island. Seeing the ferry pull in, Jen and Staci soon rushed through the door and gave us the biggest hugs welcoming us back safe and sound. Sitting outside on the deck, we ordered drinks and toasted to a job well done. Duane pointed at the boat floating out in the bay with the magnificent sunset as a back drop…she had safely gotten us through many precarious situations and was a few days away from a much needed rest. The meal was absolutely phenomenal and the dinner guests even more enjoyable as we joked and laughed for hours just like old times. A year had gone by in the blink of an eye. Jen made fun of Duane and his selfie stick as I told stories of his hilarious photography attempts with the contraption. Staci, in turn, passed on relationship advice from Terrance as we had left them in Naples over 8 months ago in the height of our exciting travels and we were now headed toward boring domestic life. Walking them back to the ferry, I realized how much I had truly missed them and all the laughs and I was extremely sad to see them go.

The lights of the ferry had soon faded and we rode back to the boat to settle in for the rest of the night. There was a light drizzle when we woke up and moved the boat a short distance down the bay to anchor outside Sailor’s Haven. We took the bikes ashore and rode through the Sunken Forest. The forest was located behind the sand dunes and was a rare maritime ecological habitat. We biked along the wooden paths and through the sprawling trees and abundant plant life, but the damp air had stirred up the mosquitoes which were on the hunt. We had both sprayed ourselves from head to toe, but some still managed to penetrate and I was swatting and shooing the pesky creatures for half of the day.

Elated that I survived with only three bites, we secured the bikes onto the boat and I cranked up the anchor. It was a gloomy day and we drove along the Great South Bay to Narrow Bay anchoring in Shirley just beyond the Smith Point Bridge off the channel. There was not a soul around and the weather had cleared up enough to treat us to another beautiful sunset as we inched ever so close to home.

Today was the Captain’s birthday and we woke to an amazing sunrise. Our eyes were set on the prize–Bayville, NJ—as today was going to be a long day on the water in more ways than one. The port engine had a water pump leak and starboard was also leaking and having a belt issue causing it to run extremely hot…neither of which we could fix at anchor. We just prayed neither engine gave out before we made it to Karin and Tommy’s house and tied up off their property. After our time hanging out in Florida so many months ago, we were excited to be able to make this visit happen as they were the first of many friends we planned to see on the return tour to Connecticut. In addition to engine issues, we had to ride out on the ocean for the first few hours before ducking back in at the Little Egg Inlet. The travel conditions were not stellar as we fought the wind and waves and pitched and rocked the whole way. It was exhausting and most of the day we were moving at less than 6 mph to ensure we didn’t break down.

Finally arriving in early evening, Tommy come out on his skiff to thankfully lead us into the canal from Barnegat Bay. Kelsey, Katelyn and Karin were patiently waiting for us and grabbed the lines. We had made it in the nick of time as the port engine stalled just as we approached and the Captain let out a sigh of relief as he shut Bella Donna down. It was a long torturous day and now it was time to relax, catch up and celebrate. The engine problems could all be sorted out in the morning with a clearer head. Grabbing the birthday boy a drink, we made our way inside their beautiful waterfront home. The interior was open and airy with the perfect beach decor. The deck, with its prime water view, was the quintessential outdoor location for dinner, drinks and conversation. We were exactly where we wanted to be.

Our friends were definitely rolling out the red carpet as they had a spread of food laid out for us and Karin was the ultimate hostess never letting our drinks go dry. Duane entertained with travel stories…some of which made Karin cringe. We caught them up on the destinations we had been to since we last saw them…namely the Bahamas. Morning was upon us before we knew it, and after a long hot outdoor shower, Tommy made us eggs and bacon. Two things I haven’t had the pleasure of enjoying in months and the rough day we had yesterday was now a distant memory.

Karin and I went off to do some shopping as I left Duane to figure out the engine situation. In the end, Tommy took him to the store and he had to replace both water impeller pumps and one belt. Of course the pumps had to match the rest of the engine ensemble so out came the blue spray paint. I thought it was bad juju to keep the bad parts in the engine room so it looked like they would be riding in the salon for the remainder of the trip. Maybe I could hide them in the sock bin?

Karin and I were not the best bakers and had thrown together a cake before we left. The girls helped us out by decorating the cake for Duane’s birthday and it looked perfect. Our friends, Nicole and Tom, had a house in Bradley Beach and drove over that evening to see us. The last time we saw them was in downtown Manhattan over a year ago when we had just started the trip. In addition to indulging in shrimp and a spread of appetizers, Tommy grilled up some tuna steaks to perfection. Giving Nicole and Tom a tour of the boat, they remarked that it wasn’t much smaller than my old apartment so it was probably easier for me to get acclimated, well aside from the whole floating thing. Laughing and telling stories over drinks well into the evening, Katelyn lit the candles on the cake and we sang Happy Birthday to Duane. We were slowly accepting the reality of getting back to life off the boat. Seeing friends and, realizing we hadn’t missed that much in the last 13 months, made us feel a little better. But, when I say a little better that the trip was coming to an end, I mean very slightly.

Karin and I headed down to the beach the next day. Tommy took us for a leisurely ride over to the dock near South Seaside Park Beach on the skiff. We walked over to a friend’s shed where they kept some bikes and rode down to the sand. My best friend Lauren had driven to New Jersey from Long Island and was meeting us there to have a relaxing girls’ afternoon. It was a great day of reminiscing about college life when we were all together and about how life has changed so much since then. Lauren drove us back to the house and we sat out on the deck continuing our trip down memory lane. The boys joined us after the boat work was completed and we had dinner and leftover cake before Lauren had to head back to her sister-in-law’s house where her daughter Katie was waiting for her. I wished I had had more time to spend with her, but I was so grateful she made the long drive and we had at least an afternoon to catch up.

Tommy and Duane went out fishing early the next morning as Karin and I relaxed around the house. An obviously successful venture, they returned with the cooler full with 48 blowfish (AKA pufferfish) and 1 kingfish. The boys got right to cleaning their catch much to the delight of the birds in the canal who were fighting over the heads and skins discarded in the water. After everyone cleaned up and smelt much better, we drove over to Shady Rest Restaurant for some lunch. Karin and Tommy were friends with the owner, Bob Popovics, of the low key popular eatery where everyone seemed to know each other and welcomed strangers with open arms. It was a pleasure to meet Bob who was a saltwater fly fishing legend. He revolutionized the sport not only in perfecting fly fishing techniques, but also in the groundbreaking design of the flies. At his recommendation, we sat outside near the vibrant rose garden which gave the space a New Orleans courtyard feel. The martinis were amazing and the food was exceptional as we enjoyed our afternoon a mere 4 hour car ride from home.

Karin’s neighbors came over the house that evening and we had a rousing night singing karaoke. After a few glasses of wine, I thought I was trying out for American Idol and belted out a few songs albeit way out of tune. Duane slyly recorded the event and will probably whip out the performances at future gatherings for a laugh.

And just like that, it was time for us to move on. The last three and a half days had been just what we needed and we were so thankful to have friends like them to spend time with who also went out of their way to accommodate us and the boat and help us get the repairs done…. as well as give us a ton of the blowfish to take on our way. The whole family helped us cast off and we slowly drove down the canal toward Barnegat Bay as we took one last look over our shoulders and waved Goodbye. Watching us on the live feed from the Manasquan webcam, Tommy sent Duane pictures of us on the move.

There was lots of traffic out on the bay as it was the kick off to Labor Day weekend. The cigarette boats flying around at warp speed were particularly loud and obnoxious. We stopped for gas in Bay Head and ended up anchoring outside the Bay Head Yacht Club for the night. It was surreal to imagine that this was literally the last time we would be getting gas until the next boating season as Bella Donna was going to rest for the winter as soon as we got home.

Tommy had given us cornmeal topping to bread the blowfish with, so I coated the fish as Duane fired up the barbecue. Skeptical at first by the look of them, the blowfish were simply delicious. We sat on the bow as the sun was setting devouring our meal listening to the music emanating from the Yacht Club. The engines had performed great after the expert repairs by the Captain and his assistant, Tommy. After tonight, we would be in familiar waters heading into New York stopping in Long Beach for the holiday weekend.

Heading out onto the bay by 8am we caught a favorable current the rest of the way into Cape May, NJ. I had been highly anticipating our visit here as, even though we were now so close to home, I had never had the opportunity to visit this lazy beach town. The sun was shining and there was a light breeze which helped keep the flying critters away. Passing the Elbow of Cross Ledge Lighthouse, there were hundreds of birds perched all along the structure and we prayed they wouldn’t do a group flyover to greet us with some unpleasant droppings. The lighthouse marked the southern end of a navigational hazard along the Delaware Bay and we stayed well away from it. Now just a skeleton tower aided by a solar beacon, it was once a brick lighthouse manually operated by a crew of keepers. Container ships were busy trekking along the main shipping channel as were fishing boats some of which looked more like they should be on the waters of Thailand than the Delaware Bay off the coast of New Jersey.

Our course was plotted directing us to the Bay Shore Channel and into the Cape May Inlet. Heading through the breakwater, we waited for the ferry to maneuver around and make its way by us on the way to Lewes, Delaware full of goods and passengers. Arriving at Utsch’s Marina a little after lunchtime, the dock hands helped us tie up in the slip. Walking over to the office to settle our bill, we were given a very thoughtful gift bag filled with soaps, biscotti, maps and a bottle of wine. An older woman who lived in the area made nautical wreaths decorated with hundreds of shells that were on display at the desk and we decided to purchase one to add to the boat decor. Well, I made the executive decision on the purchase as the Captain thought the weight from all the hot glue used on the project would slow us down significantly. Not like the fourth anchor we picked up along the way and the filthy bottom of the boat had anything to do with our speed issue.

Cape May, with all its Victorian charm, is the oldest seaside resort town in the nation. While I filled the bike tires with air, the Captain did his best to make a point as he left the dreaded socks all over the bed once he located their hiding place behind the stash of toilet paper. Peddling off to Beach Avenue to catch a glimpse of the ocean and see the conditions, we made our way to Washington Street Mall to walk around the shops and boutiques. The mall was right in the center of Cape May and was bordered by idyllic Victorian homes leading us all the way to the water.

We locked up the bikes and went to the outdoor patio of Barefoot Bar and Grill which was packed with beachgoers enjoying the afternoon after a day of fun in the sun. To our surprise, a thunderstorm, which was more like a monsoon, came down on us a few minutes later and we hid under a makeshift tent set up by the band. One good thing about being stuck here for the time being was they were serving Cape May local beers as we crouched down on the floor with a few new friends in an attempt to stay dry. About two hours later the rain let up just enough that we were able to dry off the bike seats and ride to Lucky Bones Back Water Grille for an amazing dinner and then peddled back to the boat as fast as we could before the rain started up again.

The rain poured down all evening and into the next morning. There was a break in the storms around 11am and I ran to take a shower and throw the bag of wet clothes and towels from the day before in the dryer. Once the bikes were dried off and Duane secured a plastic bag to each seat, we were on our way to Plum Farm. There were chickens and pigs covered in mud all along the trails on the farm. None of which smelled particularly pleasant after the rain storm. I was concentrating so hard on not getting stuck in the mud and falling over, as that would definitely have ruined my day, that I almost ran over some chicks trying to catch up to their mother. Back at the main part of the farm, we found a table in the herb garden and I ordered a sandwich from the food truck. The Captain opted for dessert with a slice of pumpkin cream cheese pound cake. Both of which we washed down with farm fresh blackberry juice.

The ride up to Willow Creek Winery was scenic and charming as we rode down the road surrounded by grape vines and groves. Not thinking we would need a reservation, there ended up being a two hour wait for an outdoor table and no tastings were being offered due to the virus, so we were soon on our way. Riding back toward the beach, we stopped at the Cape May Point Lighthouse and then walked along the sand to the abandoned World War II bunker. As much of an eye sore as it was, it was fascinating to see the concrete structure still intact on the sandy shore. Our last night in town, we arrived back at the Washington Street Mall to grab a drink and decide on dinner. Voting on the Lobster House, we rode back to load the bikes onto the boat and freshen up before heading out on foot to Fisherman’s Wharf. We had heard rave reviews about this harbor front restaurant which boosted five separate dining experiences. As was expected at this point, the indoor dining rooms were closed. Putting our name on the list for both the open patio and the schooner, we walked the ramp along the water enjoying a glass of wine.

The buzzer for the Schooner American rang first and we settled in at a small table on the deck of the 130 ft. Grand Banks sailing vessel moored to the restaurant. With breathtaking views of the harbor, we were not disappointed at all and ordered an array of appetizers from the menu.

Being only about 300 miles from home, we will definitely have to return when we have more time and there are less restrictions due to the pandemic. All things aside, we had thoroughly enjoyed our time in Cape May and were grateful to watch as the sun set on another remarkable day.

The port engine had begun to spray water so the Captain had to run the temperamental starboard engine for most of our travels to Atlantic City. Out on the New Jersey ICW we were soon faced with all too familiar and very unpleasant boat wakes from passing traffic. We were back in the land of the impatient and inconsiderate as the boats zipped back and forth along the channel. The ICW around Sea Isle City was particularly shallow and we had to continuously watch our depth. Taking some areas especially slow, we plowed through an area of only 2 feet at one point and churned up a lot of sand and mud. We saw more than one boat not paying attention run hard aground that afternoon and they were left waiting for the tide to change and lift them off the bottom.

Because of the depth issues and not wanting to suck up any more sand and mud into the already overworked engines, we turned out the Ocean City Inlet and into open water. The conditions on the ocean were much more manageable with 2 foot rollers than constantly trying to avoid the rude and inexperienced boaters so I was more than compliant with the Captain’s decision. It was a two hour ride to the Absecon Inlet and Atlantic City. Setting the anchor across from Harrah’s Casino in Brigitine Cove, the city looked pretty deserted. The skyline was lit up and the ferris wheel spinning, but, as we looked through the binoculars, there was by no way the amount of people on the boardwalk there should have been on a beautiful summer evening. We sat outside as the day turned into night and had a pre-birthday toast while the lights of the city danced off the water. Tomorrow was going to be a good day.

Unable to head to the Calvert Cliffs on our land visit, we were soon passing the wonders of nature’s hand carved out along the water. The cliffs emerged millions of years ago and tower over almost 30 miles of the Chesapeake Bay shoreline. It may have been in our favor not having time to make it to the cliffs as we read later that they were closed indefinitely due to erosion and cave-ins along the beach.

Today was thankfully a super calm day on the water. I was able to hang out on the bow in the sun for an hour or two while the Captain drove and he caught up on phone calls. When it was his time to relax, I turned on some tunes and navigated us toward St. Michaels across the bay. St. Michaels was a colonial town known for ship building and oystering as well as supporting the tobacco growing industry back in the day. Anchoring on the Eastern Bay off Navy Point, we settled in for a quiet night just around sunset as cruisers honked their horns to signify the end of another great day on the water.

It was raining when we woke up so I made some breakfast and we went ashore around 10:30. St. Michaels was an idyllic waterfront community both picturesque and quaint with many shops and restaurants complimented by a vast variety of boats scattered about the harbor and in the marinas. I had been on the lookout for crabs all along the Chesapeake and heard this was the best place where I could satisfy my desire to smash the crustaceans with a mallet. We walked everywhere that afternoon and, to my dismay, we found no restaurants which had crab on the menu…Covid had once again thrown a wrench in my plans. We were by no way deterred and headed over to St. Michaels Bistro for Happy Hour and split some appetizers while toasting to our adventures. Most of the establishments had outdoor seating areas set up on the property so we ordered a flight at East Coast Brewing and then had a wine slushie at St. Michaels Winery before going to tour the Classic Motor Museum located in the Mill District. I had been dragging my feet getting there all afternoon as looking at cars was not on the top of my list of activities, but the Captain put in a rare request that had nothing to do with consignment stores so I was willing to comply. In the end, I am glad we spent the time to tour the exhibits of the non-profit museum. We were given a private tour of the Exhibit Barn as the gentleman who was our guide gave us a glimpse into the history behind the classic cars, trucks, motorcycles and even a vintage fire truck on loan inside.

It was dark already by the time we arrived at St. Michaels Marina for dinner at The Crab and Steak House…I figured we couldn’t go wrong since crab was in the name. And, although I was disappointed by not being able to indulge in a bucket of crabs in this 1830s renovated oyster shed, the grilled flounder I ordered was delicious and Duane was equally happy with his shrimp platter. Walking along the waterfront under the moonlight we arrived at the dinghy dock and took a leisurely ride back to the boat.

It was almost the Captain’s birthday and we planned to be in New Jersey to celebrate with friends as the summer was winding down. The weather was changing unfavorably next week potentially making our trip across the Delaware Bay in the next few days not a pleasant ride, so we decided to stick to our schedule and head out the next afternoon. Unable to have brunch at Awful Arthur’s, we stopped by the side door to order their famous Bloody Mary’s to go and meander along the streets lined with historic homes and buildings.

It was sunny and humid as we rode out on the Chesapeake Bay that afternoon crossing back over to head into Annapolis Harbor. Container ships were plentiful all along the route as were the sailboats out enjoying a gorgeous afternoon. We hooked up to a mooring in the harbor and went ashore leaving the dinghy along the wall off 4th Street. We were hoping to see Chuck and Maggie on Timbuctoo as they were getting repair work and painting done in the area, but their boat was hauled out too far down the river for us to travel to on our bikes. We did make plans to meet Wayne, who Duane had been speaking to on the Trojan forum, for dinner at the Boatyard Bar and Grill. Sitting at a high top table outside on the deck, the boys discussed their boats and I enjoyed a tuna burger and listened to the band. Heading back to the boat early in the evening, we planned on getting up early to be able to explore all of Annapolis in the one full day we were in town.

We didn’t really have a set itinerary and I was heading toward anything that stuck out along the skyline. Our first sighting was St. Anne’s Episcopal Church in Church Circle. This was the first church in Annapolis founded in 1692. Wars and fires destroyed most of the historic structure, but, in 1858, the current church was constructed utilizing a portion of the original tower which stands prominent over the landscape today.

The Government House, which has been the primary home to the governor for the last 145 years, is said to be the heart of the state’s history with magnificent furnishings, paintings and artifacts that depict the social and political life of the past and present. It is here where dignitaries are entertained walking through the historic halls filled with art collections and portraits which piece together the significant roles ultimately responsible for the shaping of Maryland. The Maryland State House is across the street and included in the U.S. National Register of Historic places as the oldest U.S. state capitol still being occupied by the government for legislative practices. It also has the notable distinction of being topped with the largest wooden dome in the country constructed without the use of nails.

In Old Town Annapolis there was a stretch of homes dubbed “Rainbow Row.” Just like Charleston, these townhouses lined Main Street in a variety of pastel colors. Unlike Charleston, the colonial homes had quaint front porches and were less of a tourist attraction. The rest of the historic district was a mix of shops and restaurants along cobblestone streets with state buildings scattered about. We walked over to the US Naval Academy after a late lunch to find out it was temporary closed to visitors due to the pandemic. The US Naval Academy is the second oldest United States service academy in the country and occupies the land of former Fort Severn. The cadets were scheduled to have the customary mid-day formation and we had been hoping to see some pomp and circumstance.

A visit to the Chart House for Happy Hour was on the Captain’s must do stops that afternoon and, since the Naval Academy visit fell through, there was no time like the present. After, we decided to take Baby Belle on a spin around the harbor for sunset before we tied her back up along the waterfront and went to dinner at Mason’s Lobster Roll…for, you guessed it…lobster rolls. Though small in size, the capital city proved to be a definite highlight along the Chesapeake.

Letting the mooring loose in the morning, we drove out onto the Severn River and hit the convergence with the Chesapeake Bay soon after. The bay was slightly choppy, but nothing notable to stress about, except for the biting flies which had found us again. We were anchored in Fairlee Creek in Rock Hall early that afternoon. We could hear explosions in the distance from the military exercises being conducted at the Aberdeen Proving Grounds which were slightly north of our location. Taking the dinghy to the beach we took off our separate ways to collect oyster shells and sort through the abundance of driftwood. Duane would have been ecstatic if he could have filled Baby Belle to the brim with everything he gathered and just left me at the beach, but I reasoned with him to choose his best pieces as we still had about a month before we were home. One month…it was so surreal to think our trip was almost complete. Heading back to the boat about 20 pounds heavier, we left the driftwood outside to dry in the sun. I opened a chilled bottle of wine and set out to make some dinner as we unwound the rest of the evening on the bow enjoying the solitude of the anchorage.

There was a stronger current getting out of Fairlee Creek in the morning and we used both engines to push through. Navigating to Turkey Point and onto the Elk River, a tidal tributary of the Chesapeake Bay, we continued on Maryland’s Eastern shore toward Chesapeake City. It was a beautiful sunny day and we anchored outside the Chesapeake Inn in Engineer’s Cove and were preparing to drop the dinghy when we noticed two boats getting ready to depart the City Dock. The Captain was scrambling to start the engines to get over there and tie up before another boat came along that he almost didn’t wait for me to get the anchor up. There was a small fee to tie up for the night and it was much more preferable and convenient to be at the dock when spending the day on shore. This was our last stop in Maryland and we wanted to make the most of the few hours we had left in the Chesapeake. We walked over to pay the fee and the gentleman inside seemed taken aback that we would even think about entering the office. Through the closed door with a mask on, he asked us to put our money in an envelope that was in the mail box and slide it under the door. We have met people up and down the coast dealing with the virus, but this was a little much. The Victorian town was abundant with colorful homes and buildings all along Main Street and Bohemia Avenue which seemed to be where all the action was. Restored 18th and 19th century homes, bed and breakfasts and boutiques gave the historic village its charm and we were soon enamoured with the area.

One of our fellow Loopers lived in the area and was the Harbor Host. Foster took time out of his day to stop by the boat and chat about his experience on the Loop, living on his boat and about the highlights of the small town. Foster was a extremely personable guy and left us with much food for thought as we were on the tail end of our travels. We always enjoy reading his two cents on the forum and we were happy to have been able to put a face to the witty comments.

Here is where my day got exponentially better…passing by the Tap Room I saw a sign outside which read “All You Can Eat Crabs.” I couldn’t hold in my excitement as I ran in to inquire about the special and was assured I would be given a mallet and a bib. Duane saw my face when I returned outside and he knew this is where we will be spending the next few hours at least. Needless to say, I was in my glory. In 2 1/2 hours I was able to smash and eat 26 delectable crabs seasoned perfectly with Old Bay and take some to go for dinner tomorrow. He thought the whole process was too much work and just watched as I plowed through the endless mound. Emerging from the restaurant around 8:30, we had enough time to grab a drink at the Tiki Bar and hear the last two songs from the band. The trip to Chesapeake City had definitely ended on a high note.

We had to leave the dock just after sunrise to take advantage of the favorable current on the Delaware River. It was an exceptionally calm day and 20 minutes into the trip we crossed the border into Delaware. The 14 mile stretch of the Chesapeake and Delaware (C&D) Canal had a controlling depth of 35 feet and was 450 feet wide. We passed under 6 bridges along the canal and in two hours we were turning onto the Delaware Bay at Reedy Point and moving on to the Delaware River. The only notable landmark along the way, besides a few barges in the distance, was the Domes Salem Nuclear Power Plant. Not my thing, the Captain explained the control systems of the plant and what kept it online as I sort of listened and calculated the remaining distance to our destination. Our time in Delaware was short lived as we were being pushed a whopping 10 mph and soon crossed the border into New Jersey. The current was changing against us by mid-day so we would not be able to make it into Cape May before dark and choose to anchor in Cohansey Cove. It was only around noon so I took a book to the bow and sat in the sun pretending I was on the beach. Two hours later our quiet anchorage suddenly turned rough and bouncy as the current changed and I had to crank up the chain so we could re-anchor further up inside the cove.

The night was uneventful as we busied ourselves with small projects. I made dinner and changed the sheets on the bed as the Captain was working on the air conditioner leak. It is the simple times like these we are both going to miss once we returned home to the real world. Besides my navigating us from place to place and the Captain keeping us afloat, we had not much to worry about and just relished the extraordinary opportunity we have been given.

The sun was finally peaking out and there was a cool breeze as we motored over to the Portsmouth Boating Yard to get some gas and a pump out. Out on the Elizabeth River a dredge was hauling out a pleasure boat…looked to us like a 45 foot cabin cruiser which had seen better days. Huge Battleships lined the docks of the naval yard and we even spied a submarine at the Norfolk Naval Station where the USNS Comfort was based. The Comfort was deployed to New York City during the height of the pandemic to assist with the overflow expected from the hospitals. Luckily, the hospital ship was not utilized as expected and returned to port in Norfolk.

The Chesapeake Bay was calm with a one foot swell all afternoon. Dolphins were frolicking in the water all along the way and I drove as the Captain tried to get them on camera. One jumped up right under the bow and he was so startled that him and the phone almost went overboard. I was thinking of strapping him to the rail as he had done for me in rough waters on Lake Michigan.

Tying up for the afternoon at Riverwalk Landing Piers in Yorktown, we disembarked and took a walk along Main Street viewing the perfectly preserved historic Revolutionary homes. A few of the colonial homes even had the canon balls still embedded in their brick facades as a reminder of the destruction and devastation of the war. Thomas Nelson Jr. was a prominent figure and one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence and his family’s manor was a national landmark . It was surreal to imagine the area during wartime as now it was so peaceful and lush with greenery. As Yorktown held a prominent role in the Civil War for both sides due in part to its strategic location, it was the last major battle of the Revolution where Cornwallis surrendered to Washington that was commemorated by the Yorktown Victory Monument and Battlefield. The monument stood tall perched on a bluff overlooking the York River on one side and Surrender Field about 2 miles away on the other.

After our self taught history lesson, we hopped on the trolley back to the beach and had an early dinner at the Yorktown Pub. We had planned to move the boat to one of the moorings out on the river for the night, thinking the reviews of the steel balls were exaggerated. To the contrary, if anything, the reviews downplayed the “wrecking” balls as they were jagged metal and large enough to secure a cruise ship. Banging against one of these all night would definitely do some damage and possibly sink our lovely home. Without hesitation we moved along and anchored in Point of Rocks for a quiet evening as the sun was setting.

After leaving the York River, we were back on the Chesapeake Bay the following morning. Another calm travel day through the bay, we dropped anchor in the Jackson River right outside the Deltaville Marina. Jackson River was situated between the Rappahannock River on the North end and the Piankatank River on the South. The weather was much more pleasant these days and we jumped at the opportunity to anchor out when we could and enjoy the peace and solitude after a long day of traveling and exploring. We purchased an all day pass from the marina which included loaner bikes so, after Baby Belle was secured to the dinghy dock, we pedaled off to take a look around. The Maritime Museum was closed so we took a spin around the grounds of the park where Duane was excited to pose with his dolphin friends. And, of course, no trip to Virginia would be complete without a picture in front of the LOVE signs in Holly Point Nature Park. Making a pit stop to rest our legs, we sat outside and had wings at the Deltaville Tap and Raw Bar before meandering along and landing back at the marina. Locking up the bikes, we changed into our swimsuits, grabbed a bottle of wine and took a refreshing dip in the pool with a spectacular view of the river. The bath house was immaculate and we both enjoyed a nice hot shower before spending the rest of the evening on the boat in the protected anchorage with only the sound of crickets echoing off the shore.

Duane has a relationship with consignment shops similar to one that a dog has with fire hydrants. I am not sure if I mentioned that before… He can sniff one out no matter where we are and can’t help but mark his territory. Nauti Nells was no different. Borrowing the courtesy car, he was wagging his tail in anticipation and I barely put the car in park before he jumped out and was heading in the door. The wind and surf were predicted to pick up later that afternoon so we wanted to be ready to go by noon so he was on a time clock. He did not pick up as many treasures as he had hoped, but of course the experience was priceless. I grabbed the bag with our new fender holder and some zippers and we hurried back to the marina.

We drove out to the Piankatank River and were soon faced with 4 to 5 foot waves over the bow which were more than uncomfortable and nerve-racking. The Captain was forced (mostly by my death stares) to fire up both engines and raise the throttle to 8.5 mph to power through the waves and make the trip a little smoother. The conditions calmed after about two hours of terrorizing my senses and I soon loosened my grip on the rail. After all these months you would think I would not mind the feeling like we were teetering in a clock tower being hit with a sledgehammer…really??? The ride on the Chesapeake Bay the rest of the afternoon was much more manageable and just like that, around Smith’s Point, we were in Maryland. We dropped anchor next to the beach at Point Lookout off the Potomac River which was the southernmost location in Maryland. There were no mosquitoes so we were able to sit outside and enjoy the warm weather, but because of the sea nettles there would be no swimming this evening. The bright hues of the sunset lit up the anchorage for some time as we relaxed well into the evening as the stars emerged.

The sunrise was equally as spectacular and I was soon pulling up the anchor and we were back out on the Potomac River. I had been reading about the precarious conditions that were typical of this area as the mouth of the Potomac was extremely wide giving the wind a fetch of over 15 miles from the Bay producing some of the roughest water we have seen since our trip south into the Bahamas. It was a bouncy ride, slightly more bearable than the day before and, as we banged up and down, I eyed the radar arch praying it held up to the pressure. The Captain was back to singing the theme from Gillian’s Island so I knew he was not the least bit worried. I, on the other hand, had nightmares of the bolt on the radar arch snapping again and the whole thing crashing down on top of us. Pulling into Spring Cove Marina in Solomons, MD around 11, we barely were able to squeeze ourselves into the narrow slip. Once we were situated, the Captain grabbed a snack, packed our travel bag which consisted mostly of bicycle repair items just in case, and we made our way to the Annmarie Sculpture Garden. The grounds of the garden were beautifully manicured. The works of art were very eclectic some demanding an acquired taste in order to appreciate as most we thought of as extremely odd.

Biking on we stopped next at the Calvert Marine Museum and Drum Point Lighthouse. The times available for tours at the exhibition hall did not work out with our schedule and we parked the bikes to walk around the outdoor attractions. Passing the Riverwalk Pavillion off the Patuxent River, we made our way to the end of Solomons Island Road landing at the Tiki Bar for some refreshments before stopping at The Pier to sit out on the deck along the waterfront and take in the view from a different perspective. The Bugeye Grill was on our way home and we were told not to miss the Happy Hour oyster special as oyster cultivation was a long standing tradition on the island. We came to find out that bugeye was the nickname given to those in the 1800s who dredged the Chesapeake Bay for the oysters. The locally owned restaurant had a welcoming feel and we ordered two dozen oysters to wash down with the local brews.

We did all our boat chores the following morning as the exterior of our waterfront apartment had been neglected long enough. As Duane washed her from bow to stern, I did the laundry and filled the water tank and jugs. The last thing left to do before departure was to clean the poop tank and I made sure I stayed in the laundry room and folded the sheets ever so perfectly before I made my way back to the dock. Once Bella Donna, along with ourselves, were shiny and refreshed, we took in the lines and squeezed ourselves out of the tight spot heading back out onto the river moving North to see more of the colonial areas of the Chesapeake.

We were soon crossing the Abelmarle Sound, which could be treacherous, but today we had fair winds and following seas…every boater’s dream. We were warned extensively about the shoaling on our approach to the marina, and the storm made the terrain of the area much more unpredictable, so we did not deviate from the detailed course we were given when passing each buoy into the breakwater. We were happy to be coming in from the North as the Oregon Inlet, and its ever-changing geography, was reported to be a dangerous area to traverse especially after the recent storm. Unscathed, we pulled in to slip #13 at the Manteo Waterfront Marina on Roanoke Island and were greeted by Mike Glover, the Harbor Host. Mike was very informative and graciously lent us his jeep for the two days we would be on the island.

We decided to make the most of the opportunity and drove to the Wrights Brothers Memorial in Kill Devil Hills. Originally within the confines of Kitty Hawk, we walked the grounds and along the very path the brothers took launching the first flight into history in 1903 after extensive research and painstaking experiments. The winds, high sand dunes and unobstructed topography is what enticed them to this very place over one hundred years ago. We were in awe of the sheer will and determination they had to make their dream come to fruition as we heard of the harsh conditions they lived in and the laborious trials of the power glider.

This was a typical beach town with surf shops and seafood shacks lining the shore and we took a walk on the sand taking it all in. One could surely get lost in the beauty and splendor of the moment looking out over the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean. Mike had invited us back to Pirate’s Cove Marina where him, his wife, Beth, and son, Griffin, resided. Jumping back in the jeep we rolled down all the windows to breathe in the crisp ocean air and made our way back toward the marina. Pirates Cove was the quintessential sport fishing locale of the Outer Banks. Mike took us for a spin around the grounds in his golf cart and we made our way to the docks to tour his beautiful Hatteras and see the Billfish tournament in full swing. Up and down the docks, crews were polishing and washing down their boats and getting their lines ready to go out and score the biggest catch. It was a frenzy of activity we hadn’t seen in some time and we were excited to be in the midst of all the excitement.

Heading down to Nags Head Beach the next morning, we had a chance to relax barefoot in the sand for a few hours and take a refreshing dip in the ocean before we left for Wanchese to meet Mike for lunch at O’Neal’s Sea Harvest restaurant. Located right off the shores of the harbor, the fish could not be any fresher than at this family run establishment. After an extremely satisfying meal, we went to visit the Roanoke Island Festival Park and view the Elizabeth II. The 69 foot vessel was a replica of the sailing ship used to transport the Lost Colony to the Outer Banks in 1587 to only mysteriously disappear three years later. Walking through the shops of downtown Manteo we discussed the conspiracy theories written about the fate of the 115 colonists who seemed to disappear into thin air and were leaning toward the assertion that they probably met their end at the hands of the natives of the island who pounced in the dead of the night. Stopping in the pop-up winery –Vineyards On the Scuppernong –we had a tasting of the sweet wines made from the state fruit of North Carolina and purchased a bottle of the blackberry blend to enjoy on the deck. Walking down a few blocks, we made our way to the distillery everyone was raving about to sample some of the Kill Devil Hills Rum. Duane ranked it up there with one of his favorites, The Kraken, and we left heavy with two bottles for the ride North. A fitting way to end our stay on the island, we had dinner at the Lost Colony Brewery in the heart of downtown Manteo. The fare at the brewery was as enjoyable as the local brews and we were grateful for the time to unwind.

Our return trip across the Abelmarle Sound was thankfully as calm and uneventful as our first crossing. We left early to avoid the approaching thunderstorms predicted by noon and were well passed Camden Point and onto the North River when the rain started. Motoring along the North Carolina cut, we tied up on the bulkhead of Coinjock Marina early in the afternoon in a light drizzle. Two black Labrador Retrievers guarded the entrance of the marina office and they were total pushovers after a few scratches behind the ears. Grabbing a cold beer from the tap behind the front desk, the dogs settled in at our feet as we chatted with the guys inside and placed our order for the famous prime rib dinner at the Sand Bar. Billed by many boaters as the best prime rib on the Intracoastal, I had time to shower and freshen up before our meal was ready. The Captain had higher expectations for the steak than I did. As I thought it was a delicious piece of meat, he was a harsher critic as nothing would ever beat a New York City Capital Grill steak for that price. Sitting at an outside table after our meal, we listened to the live band before walking back to the boat to prepare for our travels the next day leading us into Virginia and through the last lock of the trip.

Out on the Bay, our route would navigate us through the Virginia Cut. Duane had been against traveling through the Dismal Swamp all along, but Isaias made the ultimate decision for us, closing the route entirely as it was virtually impassable at the moment. The Currituck Sound lead us onto North Landing River and directly to the Albemarle and Chesapeake Canal and into another state — “Welcome to Virginia.” For the next twenty miles or so there was a series of bridges we would have to schedule passage through as well as the Great Bridge Lock adjacent to the drawbridge which was used to regulate the tide height between the Ablemarle Sound and the Chesapeake Bay. The first few bridges went seamlessly, but having to speed up to make the Great Bridge Draw, the port engine overheated and thick smoke streamed from the side vent. My heart dropped and I thought we had to abandon ship. After lunging to grab our “Go Bag,” the Captain asked me to hold the wheel and he rushed to the engine room. Hearing the word “steam” helped me calm down somewhat, but I thought we were dead in the water as the starboard engine was not a reliable backup at the present time. Duane came back up to the fly bridge after putting the old engine belt back on and said we could make it to Norfolk where he would be able to make the needed repairs. It felt like forever before the bridge opened and we made it under and into the lock which would drop us about two feet. Very anticlimactic after the 107 locks we have passed through over the last 13 months. I was pretty quiet the rest of the ride glancing every so often over the side to make sure we were not overheating again. Now on the Chesapeake Bay, we anchored in Hospital Point in Norfolk–Mile 0 on the ICW. It was now early evening and we thought it was easier to go into the marina in the morning.

Duane changed the belt on the port engine the next morning and cleaned up the water in the engine room. Pulling anchor we crossed over to Waterside Marina and tied up at the dock.

Relieved to be stationary for a few days, I suggested to Duane that he take a break from engine repairs and we walk to town. Norfolk was the biggest city we had been to in a while and we noticed how different the virus was being treated the further North we went—which basically meant a lot more closures and restrictions. The Nauticus Maritime Museum was closed but we grabbed a bite at Wisky situated next to the USS Wisconsin. The massive ship dwarfed all the vessels in the harbor with the anchors themselves each weighing 30,000 pounds. Moving down Freemason Street, we toured the historical homes and walked into the Old Norfolk Library looking for a bathroom. The front door was wide open so we had no way of knowing that this was now a private residence until we made our way upstairs opening a door into a bedroom and were greeted by two barking dogs. The architecture was astonishing and the stairway sprawling and I was amazed that someone was actually able to call this their home. The woman who came out to collect the dogs was extremely understanding and personable filling us in on the history of the property. We thanked her for her time and apologized for the intrusion. Making our way out to the street, we both burst out laughing. Duane said we were lucky we weren’t shot on the spot. I thought she should have just locked her doors.

The Freemason Abbey was a restaurant built in an old historic 19th century church. The original stain glass added to the ambiance of the interior and we ordered an appetizer and drink at the bar. Making our way over to view the Basilica of Saint Mary, we continued our tour by hitting Circuit Social to play video games and imbibe in the self-serve beer wall.

Gershwin’s Piano Bar was an unexpected find. The eclectic decor, live lounge music and time period appropriate dressed wait staff made this speakeasy a great draw. Add in the skilled mixologist who made us a spectacular old fashioned accompanied by exceptional truffle fries, this place was quickly becoming a favorite. We had plans to go to Granby Street Pizza for dinner, but agreed to fit Gershwin’s in our schedule once more before we left.

It was pouring rain the whole next day and our efforts to walk downtown were thwarted more than once. The weather cleared up enough around 5pm that we were able to throw on our jackets and walk to the Brick Anchor Brew House before the storm got worse again. True to his word, Duane took me to Gershwin’s for a delicious dinner accompanied by some entertaining jazz music.

There was a small craft advisory the following day with winds in excess of 15 knots. The marina allowed us to stay in our slip most of the afternoon and Paul, who Duane had been speaking with from the Trojan forum, stop by the boat for a tour and to hear about our trip aboard the 35 year old boat. After he left, the winds had subsided and we rented lime scooters and took off to the breweries. It took me a while to get a hang of the scooter and at 10 mph it seemed like I was traveling on the autobahn. I was soon steady enough to confidently turn corners easily and first we zipped over to Smart Mouth Brewery and then to Bench Top Brewing. On the way back to the marina we scooted through downtown Norfolk’s Neon District and Plum Point Park for a quick glimpse of the diverse landscape of the city. Returning the scooters to the waterfront with not a scratch on them or myself, we readied the boat to move back to Hospital Point for the evening. Moving on in the morning, Yorktown would be our second stop on the Chesapeake.

Russell from Indigo II, who weathered the storm right beside us, helped untie our lines the next morning and off we went. With predictions of 3 to 5 foot seas we decided to take the calmer scenic route to Cape Lookout Bight as La Buono Vida throttled up his new engine and left us in the dust. We had a comfortable ride and I was happy that, when it did rain again, the bimini top was now patched up and the annoying drips on my head would be no more. Heading passed Shakleford Island we saw Susan and Robert in the distance scoping out the anchorage and idled up to the area. With both boats secure, we lowered the dinghy and I tied my float to the back as the Captain pulled me to shore…my feet splashing in the water.

The four of us took a scenic tour of the Cape Lookout National Seashore on Baby Belle stopping at the southern-most barrier island, Shackleford Banks, to see the wild horses grazing. We were able to get up close and personal and I was relieved that these wild stallions were much more fit and clean than the ones we had visited earlier in the trip. Taking Baby Belle over to the lighthouse, we beached her and climbed up the sand dunes to get a better view of the structure standing 163 feet tall in the air. The rest of the afternoon was equally as relaxing as we collected sea shells along the shore and floated around in the pristine waters. Susan and Robert had us aboard for a few drinks to watch the sunset and we promised to keep in touch as we continued North and they ventured South toward their home in the Florida Keys. I had defrosted some yellow tail which Rhonda had given us from their catch in the Bahamas and we enjoyed the fish reminiscing over our failed fishing ventures but how we had so much fun trying to hook the big one…well most of the time. I was still a little jaded about losing the king mackerel on my birthday.

Pulling anchor just after sunrise, we waved farewell to Robert and Susan…and the horses. Sticking our nose out the inlet, we took a deep breath and went all in. This would be our first time in open ocean water since the Bahamas. The trip was bumpy but definitely bearable as I threw out the rod hoping to break our streak…to no avail. Circling back through Beaufort, we took the Newport River up to Core Creek which eventually lead us to the Neuse River and our destination on Smith Creek–Blackwell Point Marina. Located in Oriental, the sailing capital of North Carolina, this was a family run marina nestled on a quaint no frills dock. The family dog, Jack, hurried down to the boat with a very friendly welcome. My cousin Matt was driving from Raleigh for a quick visit with his son Adam so I cleaned up Duane’s trail of laundry and sat outside enjoying the breeze. While Matt and I caught up, Adam fished off the dock with Jack right by his side and I hoped he had better luck than I was having. We must not have the fishing vibe as he came up empty as well. Walking over to Toucan Grill and Fresh Bar, Matt generously treated us to a delicious dinner as Duane told his most entertaining stories from the past year on the water….almost all of which poked fun at me. It was great to see both of them as the virus had ruined most of our plans for friends and family to come visit as we made our way up the coast toward home. Fellow Loopers had also hurried home once the virus became so widespread so we were faced with traveling the remainder of our trip on our own. I guess it will be docktails for two going forward.

Waving goodbye to Jack, we shoved off and it was a super calm morning on the river. A few miles beyond Goose Creek we spotted our destination –RE Mayo Seafood–where we were filling up as well as seeing what fresh catch they had available. As we approached we were glad that it was early in the day and we did not have to spend the night here as some Loopers had been forced to do when it was too dark to move on. The docks were dilapidated and most of the pilings were snapped in half or at such a precarious angle that we would definitely damage the boat trying to secure ourselves for a long period of time. The Captain found a stretch he was happy with for our short stay and I tried to get the line over the cracked wood and secure us without poking my eye out. A boy came to help with the stern lines and we soon learned he worked the fuel pumps as he was only 14 years old and too young to go out on the fishing boats. Dressed in dirty jeans and shirtless, he was chewing tobacco and grabbed for one of the hoses as I yelled we needed gas… He stopped, changed his mind and then grabbed for the other hose. He still did not look convinced that he had chosen correctly and proceeded to taste the liquid just to make sure before he smiled and handed over the nozzle. Not sure that was the safest way to determine what was going into the tank, Duane filled up one of the gas containers first and made his own determination. Once the boat was full, we ventured inside the office to pay careful to avoid the missing boards on the dock and stepping around the fish guts in my flip flops. Taking us into the “ice chest” the stench of fish was overwhelming and we picked out some fresh trout, shrimp, scallops and deviled crab. Back on the boat, we shoved off on our way to the Pamlico River with thunder and lightning on the horizon. We were hoping the storm did not materialize into anything substantial before we arrived in Belhaven, but it was not a good omen when the temperature dropped significantly over the next hour as the wind picked up and there was now a light chop on the water.

Turning off the Pungo River into the Belhaven Town Marina breakwater, we headed for the east bulkhead to tie up. The dock master was super friendly and was one of the marina owners. He took especially good care of the facilities and the grounds making this one of our favorite stops thus far up the East coast. Isaias had caused some extensive damage on the waterfront lifting some of the docks from the pilings and they were constantly working on repairs the whole time we were there. Two full blocks of stores and restaurants were closed due to flooding from the storm and surge. That is significant considering the town was only four blocks wide. We headed to one of the only open restaurants, Georgie’s Sport and Oyster Bar, along with practically the entire town, for some dinner. The place had a quaint upscale diner vibe and we scored two stools at the counter. The seafood was absolutely incredible and the people watching even better. We had the pleasure of meeting a 95 year old woman coming to pick up an order who everyone referred to as the “Cookie Lady.” She told us tales of the small town and her life here which gave us a new prospective on southern living. After our meal, we took a stroll around to see some of the homes and ended back at the marina just before sunset. The marina office doubled as a bar so we purchased a bottle of wine and sat on the deck overlooking the river enjoying the evening. Duane had some projects to complete on the boat in the morning so we decided to stay another day and take advantage of the amenities. I threw in some laundry (free), took a long hot shower (immaculate) and then sat in the sun on the deck reading (peaceful) keeping out of his way once the tools were scattered all around the salon. I felt hives coming on every time he had a “small” project and proceeded to tear apart our living space which I had just meticulously straighten up. The day was winding down once all our chores were finished so we started an impromptu Happy Hour at the marina bar before heading to a local recommendation–Fish Hook Cafe —for another delicious meal. We wonder why we have each gained about ten pounds since we set out on our journey.

Lingering around most of the morning appreciating our last moments at the marina, Gregg and Brad helped us shove off around noon and we were soon sweating under the stifling summer sun. The air was stagnant as we snaked our way from the Pungo River to the Alligator River and onto Winn Bay. The bay was littered with crab pots so we took care to weave in and out of the obstructions while fanning each other and spraying cold water on our faces. We were planning to stop at Sandy Point that evening but first had to wait for the Alligator River Bridge opening and ended up anchoring well after sunset. At that point, we were being bombarded by crazy little black bugs and quickly retreated into the boat and sealed everything up tight. Every fan was running and I took a cold shower not only to cool down, but to get the bugs out of my hair. I threw together a meal with some of the fresh shrimp and trout and we settled in for the evening. It was actually a very comfortable night and we both slept soundly to the slight slap of the water against the hull.

Waking up to an amazing sunrise, I was shocked the little bugs were still milling around. The Captain was slightly amused that I dressed covered from head to toe with my goggles on to go crank up the anchor. I was elated that we were heading to the Outer Banks today. I had become resolved to the fact that Isaias had ruined my plans to make it there once we had moved further north to try and escape its path, but we were now an easy ride to Manteo on the north end of the banks. With no storms in the forecast and the waters predicted to be calm the next few days, the Captain said it was a go…and off we went on another adventure.