Jezz, sorry about the tile view. I’ll try to get it fixed.

Yep, up the Chesapeake.

Late morning on the first day on the Chesapeake. Things had calmed down and brightened up some since the early morning when I started. Banged through steep chop getting out onto the bay, but at least I was chasing to other auxiliary sailboats who were also headed up the bay. Nice to have the company getting started.

Sand piles in the middle of the bay, and the tug towing them.

At anchor.

Motoring along. I remember reading somewhere that, when cruising, you’ll use your engine more than you expect to. I expected to use my engine a lot on this trip, and I did!

Heading up the bay, late morning.

Tall skinny white guy showing off for his sweetheart

I don’t remember why I took a screenshot of this. It might have been the first route I created in Garmin BlueChart on my iPad. I didn’t really need to worry much about routes in the ICW. Even though I did tech work for a lot of my life, I am a notoriously slow adopter, and I’m not especially adept at learning new technology skills. Most of what I know about computers and technology was learned from someone looking over my shoulder and telling me what to do.

The essentials… in this case, the speaker my friend Jessie got me before leaving Texas, handheld VHS radio, binoculars.

Just in case you forgot what I looked like.

At anchor, late afternoon. I don’t remember anything about this, but it looks quite nice and benign.

Another screenshot of using Bluechart on the iPad. The red and green triangle thing is me, the location of my boat. The brown line with the dots is a course I’ve created in Garmin Bluechart. The black line with the circles at the ends is a measurement function of Bluechart, in this case 40 nautical miles.

Around 8am. Other boats also heading up the bay.

More sand piles in the bay. Getting pushed now instead of pulled, tho it’s still called tow.

Hey, looked like I missed a log page— sorry about that.

Tried to anchor at the outer cove at Solomons, but it felt like I was trying to anchor on a postage stamp. Moved back to where I had more elbow room.

Anchored at 2nd and final attempt.

When I was a kid I watched a lot of Flipper episodes on TV. The Dad had the big launch, and Bud (?), the younger kid, would zip around in a little skiff like this. I remember thinking that if I had a skiff with an outboard like this, I’d just be in heaven.

Fran and Mike approaching the marina. .

Glasses, Eldridge, my notebook, and my aging Macbook.

Me and Fran and Mike.

Mike and a guy who pulled into the marina around the time Fran came in. Fran made us all a nice dinner. In the spring of 2016 I helped Fran move her boat from Florida to Camden Maine and learned lots of useful stuff and had a lot of fun.

Somebody I talked with told me how cool Oxford was. In the Chesapeake, I was mostly on the west side. Oxford is on the east side, and I decided to venture into Oxford and check it out. It was a long trip in, and it all looked like recent development and very ticky-tacky to me, and as I tried to anchor across from the free dinghy dock, I ran aground and couldn’t get off. What a cluster-F.

This is in the mid-morning, I think, leaving Solomans and heading for Oxford. I guess it was pretty cold in the morning, and warmed up quite a bit, and that’s the pile of clothes I discarded as it warmed up.

Looks like a sailboat race on the way into Oxford.

Aground! Aaaarrrrrggggg.

My iPhone earbuds operating as inclinometer. I think this picture was around low tide.

I looked up how big the tide was (verical rise/fall) to see if anything disastrous was going to happen. As the log page says, I ran aground when the tide was about a third down (ebb tide, going out— always a bad time to run aground!). Don’t remember how big the tide was, but decided I could ride it out. I inflated my dinghy and rowed my anchor out a into the middle of the channel, and pulled the rode as tight as I could. I didn’t want wind or current to push me into shallow water as the tide came up in the middle of the night, and set an anchor to prevent that.

From the log, “Got up at 1:15am and found we were floating and had blown into deeper water.” I like that “we.” Me and Fairlady.

So it’s the middle of the night. And the channel is quite narrow. I looked at the chart and figured I had to get back out of the close quarters next to Oxford. I had assiduously avoided traveling at night all this time, but my error running aground in this particular spot forced my hand. Thank goodness for my chartplotter, for it enabled me to extract me and Fairlady from this nightmare and get back to open water. I motored out into the water adjacent to Oxford and anchored. And went back to sleep.

More from the log, “…and hear horn blasts— barge and tug near me— I had anchored near his mooring he was tied up there for bad weather.” When I opened the companionway and poked my head up, he was only about 50 or 75 feet away. I got him on the radio and apologized. I pulled my anchor up, and at first I feared he was on top of my anchor; but it fact it was just aft of his tug. I was able to get the anchor up, but in the process of bringing it in, I developed forward momentum and actually hit the stern of his ship. I chipped a little paint on his vessel, and bent up the bow roller on my boat. The tug captain didn’t seem too concerned about it, but man, that’s pretty bad style points as a skipper. Fortunately that was my only collision so far.

The only reason I look so chipper in this picture is that I had gotten in the habit of sending my sweetheart a selfie each morning, and thinking of her always made me look as happy as I do in this picture.

This is the tug and barge whose mooring I had inadvertently anchored very close to. I moved a couple hundred yards away. I stayed this day and the next for bad weather. The fact the the tug captain had left his job and was also at his mooring to ride out the storm supported my decision to stay put.

When I lived in Florida, I learned about a store in St Augustine (east of Green Cove Springs, on the coast). It was a store with a lot of used boat stuff. A fair amount of junk, but it was also possible to get a good value on something you might really need. I was looking for something, and stumbled on this stuff that looked like fire hose, about an inch or two in diameter. I bought a chunk of it (it was very cheap) thinking it might be handy for something. I cut a piece 8 or 10 inches long and split it open, making it about 4 inches wide. When I expected strong weather overnight, I’d wrap it around my anchor rode where the rode exited the bow roller. I secured it with a couple pieces of light line and constrictor knots. I did this for those couple nights near Oxford, and the above shows the result. I thought maybe I was being stupid and anal about doing this, but the fact I wore through that mesh made me glad I did it, and that the chafe had not worked directly on my anchor rode.

Some big ship heading up the Chesapeake… maybe a tanker? There is some serious ship traffic in here, going mostly to Baltimore, I think.

A big old bridge across the Chesapeake. I think this is around Annapolis, but I’m not sure. I couldn’t afford to visit Annapolis— no bargains there for the discount sailor.

More birds freeloading on Federal property… ha ha ha.

This seemed like a traditional Chesapeake lighthouse. I saw several of these on my way up.

Anchored here. Pretty spot, and nice quiet anchorage.

I’m back on the west side of the bay now. If you’re in no rush, the east side might hold nice gunkholing possibilities. While not in a hurry, I was interested in moving along, and the west side anchorages required much less in and out time. When I went to Oxford, besides running aground, it was an hour and a half or more to get in, and another to get out. If you’re trying to make time, that cuts out an awful lot of travel time.

From the log, “Early start to catch as much fair current as possible after daylight.” (I think, I can hardly read my own handwriting.) I’d been reading my Eldridge! I reached my target for the day very early, and I had happened to be in touch with Fran that day, and she encouraged me to head on the Chesapeake City, which is basically the entrance to the Chesapeake to Delaware Canal. So I pressed on to Chesapeake City.

Sunrise.

Another lighthouse.

This is the first time a saw a barge with a big V in the stern so the tug can nessle right in and become one with tow. I saw several more of these during the trip.

So you can really see the tidal current running against this buoy. That might be a 1-1/2 kn current. If you’re only going 5 knots, a half knot or knot of current makes a big difference over the course of a day.

As I was entering the very northeast corner of the Chesapeake and it was getting narrower and narrower, this Coast Guard boat came by and hailed me. They wanted to do a safety inspection. Fortunately I wasn’t running any dope or anything. They were very polite and respectful and professional. I was pretty relaxed because I was fairly sure I had all the stuff I ought to have had. I passed the inspection, and as they were about to depart, I asked them a favor. My sweetheart grew up in Maine and had a real thing for Coast Guard guys. I told them that, and asked if I could take a picture of them to send to her. They obliged! I hope I’m not getting them in trouble or anything.

When I bought the boat, Ed had installed a brand new marine toilet, but it was plumbed it directly to a thru-hull. That is completely illegal on all inland waterways and on blue water within 3 miles of shore. You have to have a Y-valve and a holding tank. This was one of many things I pondered as I was getting the boat ready to do the trip. Installing a holding tank seems, in principle, like not such a big deal, but I had a sense that it could soak up a lot of money and effort and gumption. I was kvetching to my friend Stuart about this (back in FL at Ortega River Marina), and he encouraged me to talk with with his son-in-law (also a marina resident) about composting toilets. That resulted in me buying a Nature’s Head composting toilet for the boat, and it’s worked out well. During the Coast Guard inspection I would have been written up for the head going direct, and potentially fined $5,000. I paid about $1000 for a plastic toilet, which was a little galling, but I have no regrets.

This is the very northeast corner of the Chesapeake, and it gets thinner and thinner as your approach Chesapeake City.

Approaching Chesapeake City.

At anchor in Chesapeake City harbor. Tricky getting in and out. Shallow entrance.

I never heard of the Cape Cod Canal till I contemplated the trip. It slices right through Cape Cod and saves you going offshore, out around Cape. The tidal current here really moves, so it’s imperative that you time your passage with the tide. Also, I’ve heard accounts of when the wind is blowing hard opposite the current. That can kick up a steep sea that makes you think you’re in an ocean storm and not a protected waterway.

A vertical lift bridge!

Fixed bridges. Don’t know their height, but they are probably over 65’. Fran’s big Bristal 40 breezed through here.

I had some anxiety about getting through here, but I had great weather and it wasn’t crowded. It was easy and beautiful.

9:45am and I’m in the Delaware River. It’s like a big calm lake. A really big lake.

That looks like a nuclear power plant to me, but I don’t know what it is. On the east side as I headed south toward Cape May.

I haven’t spent much time on the Delaware, but I’ve heard it can get pretty nasty out there. Most boats are fast enough to make the run in a day, and if you get a good early start, you should make Cape May without a problem. But my boat required two days, and anchorages are few and far between. I motored down to Cohansey Cove NJ and anchored in spot to the south of the river channel. I thought I had adequate depth there, but tide was going out when I anchored, and my keel was less than a foot off the bottom, and I was only 2/3 down the tide. I moved north and in the river channel. This had depth, but was quite narrow. And I felt uncomfortable with the holding. I got my anchor set pretty well, and was fine through the night. If it had blown hard it might have gone quite badly.

Everybody used to complain about weather forecasts, though I notice that less now. The folks who study weather have figured out an awful lot, and my experience is that forecasts for the next day or two are awesomely accurate. The combination of GPS navigation and accurate weather forecasting enable a person (like me!) with minimal experience to cruise with a much greater margin of safety than in the old days… before GPS and really good forecasting.

My sketchy but worked-out-okay anchorage near the Cohansey River.

One of the things that my friend from AYB told me was, get an early start. Advice I read about the ICW said something similar. The wind tends to increase during the day. Leaving early usually gives you easier travel and a buffer at the end of the day if things take longer than you expect.

I got a nice early start from my dubious anchorage. It was not the friendliest day, but I scooted down to NJ before noon.

I went around Cape May with Fran and it was fairly hairy. But there is a canal that crosses New Jersey near the southern tip, and takes you right into Cape May from the east side. Then you can skip going around the southern tip. The catch is that there is a fixed bridge— don’t remember exactly, but maybe 45’. Fran’s mast was too tall, but Fairlady’s slipped right through.

Around 9:30am. Breezy and choppier than the day before. Headed to Cape May.

Entering the canal. I was born in Montclair New Jersey, near NYC. I moved to southern California when I was 8. It’s crazy, but as I entered this canal, it smelled familiar. And good.

And this looked familiar, and felt good.

Fairlady at Utch’s marina, and me in my home state. When I was talking to the guy at the marina on the phone, I asked, how you pronounce the name of your marina? And the guy said, it’s like Dutch without the D. Before it looked so strange and hard, after it seemed so easy.

Tied up at Utches Marina in Cape May NJ.

It was a beautiful clear hot spring day.

I found out where I could refill my propane tank and it was a walkable distance. I went to the marina office and asked them about propane and to confirm I knew where to go so I wasn’t walking a mile or so for naught. The guy confirmed the location and looked me in the eye for a moment and said, there’s a grey Honda out front, keys on the floor. Go ahead and use that.

Get this! When I turned on the ignition, the radio came on, and they had just started announcing of a Yankee’s game. It seemed so perfect! I’m not a big sports fan, but it just seemed so… so perfect. I learned later that guy was the owner of the marina.