Well faithful reader, I haven't fallen off the grid - just had to catch my breath for few days.
I've been struggling with how to come up with a map showing our journey - by day.
The good news is that I've figured out which maps to use.
The bad news is that my first attempt just went horribly wrong. (Admittedly, Pilot error)
But, now that I know how NOT to do it, I've greatly increased my chances for success next time.
So, tune back in tomorrow.
I'll have it figured out by then.
Plus, the Sox are already on.
And down here is the South - we are only treated to Sox games once in a blue moon.
So, I'm gonna run . . .
Keep the faith, and GO SOX . . . .
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Monday, July 22, 2013
The Tale of the Tape !!!
Today - we did not go for a boat ride!
No Ma'am.
No, we sat inside our house, and awaited the arrival of the utility company, and the furniture delivery guy, in the blissful comfort of air conditioning. (One of the best inventions of the 20th century).
Fortunately, both arrived, and we are absolutely giddy at the prospect of such taken-for-granted activities like cooking, eating at a table, and showering. (Oh, rapture . . .)
Spoiler Alert: For you HGTV Junkies (you know who you are), stay tuned there will be more on the furnishings later - I promise.
However, there is an exercise that I've wanted to finish and share, that I call the Tale of the Tape.
Basically adding up all of the stats of the trip.
And now, Ladies and Germs, here goes:
Total distant traveled: 1,029 Nautical Miles
Total time spent on the water: 67 hours
Total gallons of Fuel: 806 gallons
Total pounds of Ice: 190 lbs.
Total dinners cooked on board: Zero*
*(We are calling Ripley's as we believe we may be the first to have achieved this dubious honor)
While, I haven't (yet) figured out how to map out the trip graphically, here is the chronological, and geographical history:
Day 1). NWBPT to Block Island: 135 NM - 8 Hrs - 104 Gallons
Day 2). Block Island to Liberty Landing, NY: 124 NM - 7.5 Hrs - 94 Gallons
Day 3). Storm Delay (See Side Bar - Lollygagger)
Day 4). Liberty Landing to Cape May: 123 NM - 7.5 Hrs - 105 Gallons
Day 5). Cape May to Ocean City: 46.3 NM - 2.5 Hrs - 35 Gallons
Day 6). Ocean City to Lynnview, VA (Jack): 106 NM - 7 Hrs - (Fuel: delayed till AYB)
Day 7). Lynnview, VA to AYB: 36.2 NM - 4 Hrs - 106 Gallons
AYB to Coinjock: 31.7 NM - 3 Hrs - (Fuel: delayed till River Dunes)
Day 8). Coinjock to River Dunes: 111 NM - 7 Hrs - 107 Gallons
Day 9). River Dunes to Southport: 118.5 NM - 8 Hrs - 99 Gallons
Day 10). Southport to Charleston: 128 NM - 8 Hrs - 111 Gallons
Day 11). Fishing (13 additional hours on the water - not included in the total)
Day 12). Furniture Shopping
Day 13). Charleston to Beaufort: 67 NM - 4.5 Hrs - 45 Gallons
Whew - it's exhausting just writing it all down.
But, here is where I must absolutely give props to the one person without whom this trip would never have happened: Professional Captain - Mark Mitchell !
Mark spends his life delivering yachts to any and all ports - including the Bahamas.
I was introduced to Mark by Jack Stumborg, and quickly grew to rely upon his experience and judgment without reservation.
When I was in NY and contemplating traversing the length of NJ in the face of a questionable NOAA forecast, I email Mark - who responded from a vessel crossing into territorial water from the Bahamas - "no way". Hence, the delay in NY, and the subsequent safe arrival in Cape May the following day.
I've never met Mark, and have yet to adequately express my gratitude to him.
But, in truth, he created this entire itinerary - complete with a subset of 2 or 3 safe harbors along each leg. (What you see is literally only the tip of the iceberg).
Mark, I truly hope you read this, as I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Thanks to you, my wife and vessel, are home safe.
I don't know how one repays such a gift?
But, I hope that someday I get the chance.
Meanwhile, fair winds and following seas, to you my friend . . .
And now that we have corrected the visual portion of our presentation, I thought this would be a good time to share some of the heretofore excluded shots:
and now the promised HGTV Shots . . .
And to think that we did all that in less time than it took us to fuel the boat on the last day . . .
No Ma'am.
No, we sat inside our house, and awaited the arrival of the utility company, and the furniture delivery guy, in the blissful comfort of air conditioning. (One of the best inventions of the 20th century).
Fortunately, both arrived, and we are absolutely giddy at the prospect of such taken-for-granted activities like cooking, eating at a table, and showering. (Oh, rapture . . .)
Spoiler Alert: For you HGTV Junkies (you know who you are), stay tuned there will be more on the furnishings later - I promise.
However, there is an exercise that I've wanted to finish and share, that I call the Tale of the Tape.
Basically adding up all of the stats of the trip.
And now, Ladies and Germs, here goes:
Total distant traveled: 1,029 Nautical Miles
Total time spent on the water: 67 hours
Total gallons of Fuel: 806 gallons
Total pounds of Ice: 190 lbs.
Total dinners cooked on board: Zero*
*(We are calling Ripley's as we believe we may be the first to have achieved this dubious honor)
While, I haven't (yet) figured out how to map out the trip graphically, here is the chronological, and geographical history:
Day 1). NWBPT to Block Island: 135 NM - 8 Hrs - 104 Gallons
Day 2). Block Island to Liberty Landing, NY: 124 NM - 7.5 Hrs - 94 Gallons
Day 3). Storm Delay (See Side Bar - Lollygagger)
Day 4). Liberty Landing to Cape May: 123 NM - 7.5 Hrs - 105 Gallons
Day 5). Cape May to Ocean City: 46.3 NM - 2.5 Hrs - 35 Gallons
Day 6). Ocean City to Lynnview, VA (Jack): 106 NM - 7 Hrs - (Fuel: delayed till AYB)
Day 7). Lynnview, VA to AYB: 36.2 NM - 4 Hrs - 106 Gallons
AYB to Coinjock: 31.7 NM - 3 Hrs - (Fuel: delayed till River Dunes)
Day 8). Coinjock to River Dunes: 111 NM - 7 Hrs - 107 Gallons
Day 9). River Dunes to Southport: 118.5 NM - 8 Hrs - 99 Gallons
Day 10). Southport to Charleston: 128 NM - 8 Hrs - 111 Gallons
Day 11). Fishing (13 additional hours on the water - not included in the total)
Day 12). Furniture Shopping
Day 13). Charleston to Beaufort: 67 NM - 4.5 Hrs - 45 Gallons
Whew - it's exhausting just writing it all down.
But, here is where I must absolutely give props to the one person without whom this trip would never have happened: Professional Captain - Mark Mitchell !
Mark spends his life delivering yachts to any and all ports - including the Bahamas.
I was introduced to Mark by Jack Stumborg, and quickly grew to rely upon his experience and judgment without reservation.
When I was in NY and contemplating traversing the length of NJ in the face of a questionable NOAA forecast, I email Mark - who responded from a vessel crossing into territorial water from the Bahamas - "no way". Hence, the delay in NY, and the subsequent safe arrival in Cape May the following day.
I've never met Mark, and have yet to adequately express my gratitude to him.
But, in truth, he created this entire itinerary - complete with a subset of 2 or 3 safe harbors along each leg. (What you see is literally only the tip of the iceberg).
Mark, I truly hope you read this, as I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Thanks to you, my wife and vessel, are home safe.
I don't know how one repays such a gift?
But, I hope that someday I get the chance.
Meanwhile, fair winds and following seas, to you my friend . . .
And now that we have corrected the visual portion of our presentation, I thought this would be a good time to share some of the heretofore excluded shots:
Cap't Jack & Mate JimBob
Sunset at Southport
Why we headed offshore from Southport - this is what I meant by flat seas
King Street in Charleston - Spence on the bargain prowl
This is what they call a full moon tide - the Before
and the After . . .
View of the house from the water . . . (Note dock in view is our neighbor's)
Dock view from the Porch . . .
and now the promised HGTV Shots . . .
Kitchen - dining room with new ensemble
New Table
New table - detail view
New Chairs
New side board
And to think that we did all that in less time than it took us to fuel the boat on the last day . . .
So, as you can see, we are all set up for guests.
Y'all come on down.
We'd love to see ya, and take ya for a boat ride . . .
Sunday, July 21, 2013
It ain't over, till it's over . . .
I'm walking down the dock back to the boat last night, and I look up to see a full moon peaking in and out of substantial cloud cover . The moon was big and bright, and almost flashing, given the speed at which the clouds were flying past, being pushed by the 20 knot winds.
The forecast calls for 3-4' seas and 20+ knot winds.
I'm not feeling at all comfortable about the conditions of the last leg.
Because, on top of the forecast, I am haunted by the memory of the dramatic effect of the last full moon tide. It created negative tides of almost 2 feet.
The forecast has already mandated that we "go inside" on the ICW.
A full moon, negative tide could spell disaster on the ICW.
While going thru the books, they said and I quote: "This is the most shallow and shoaling stretch of the entire ICW." Great. Having severe sphincter symptoms.
High tide is at 7:30 in Charleston.
The gas dock doesn't open till 8:00.
So, the tide will have already flooded and started ebbing before we leave.
Not great, looks like we will be navigating during the bottom half of the tide, and arriving at dead low tide.
But, there's nothing I can do about that. I'll just fuel up when they open at 8:00, and be on our way ASAP.
That was the plan, and a damn good plan - if I do say so myself.
But, as they say: "the best laid plans of mice and men" - don't include the dock hand staying out all night at some sort of rave, and showing up 1/2 hour late, bleary eyed, reeking of booze, still wearing the rave admission bracelet.
By the time he fumbled thru resetting the pumps, and settling up our account, it was 9:00.
So, thanks to still inebriated dock hand, we headed off the dock an hour late, and even more nervous about what lay ahead.
But, I took some solace in the realization that the prospect of our day was far preferably to that of the hung over dock hand.
The trip down the ICW was as advertised - the most picturesque scenery of our entire trip.
It wound past many homes, and thru spectacular vistas.
But, the ebbing tide held us back by 1-2 knots for most of the day.
All of which contributed to the single most dangerous situation of our entire journey.
There is a land cut, that leads into the Cousaw River where there is notorious shoaling.
The guide book said that it had been reported as low as 6'.
I wondered what that might look like near the bottom of a negative moon tide?
The answer, is 4.5 feet.
Our boat draws 3' 10".
You do the math . . .
I'm not going to lie, I was holding my breath.
But, we skated thru, and sailed into 20' of water with only some 10 miles to go to Beaufort.
I can't tell you how bizarre it was to be back in known waters for the first time in 12 days, and 1,100 miles. But, there we were approaching Ladies Island Bridge, and no longer needed the "all-knowing Magenta Line" to find our way.
The only remaining question was - would there be enough water in Battery Creek for us to get to our house?
We would find out today, as we were at dead low tide . . .
We made it !!!
I give you Hot Water at home dock.
Just in case you were curious about the tide, I think this explains it pretty well:
The Beast, high and dry - literally above, Hot Water.
Spence and I spent very little time reflecting.
We were too anxious to unload the boat, get in the A/C, and take a shower.
I can't tell you how happy we are to be here - safe and sound.
It is not lost on us how lucky we are.
But, I also can't tell you how exhausted we are, and how ready we are to be on dry land again.
We have big plans for tonight :
Watch the Sox - Yankees game.
But it starts at 8:00.
I'm betting that we don't make it past the 3rd inning . . .
Tomorrow, between getting our gas turned back on, and getting our furniture delivered, I will put together the Tale of the Tape, and put together all of the stats.
I will also try and put together a map detailing our stops (as suggested by one of our Constant Readers).
Meanwhile, all I can say is:
"Embarking on the journey of a lifetime - Awesome.
Actually making it - Wicked Awesome !!!"
Hasta La Vista.
Cap't JimBob & Crew
The forecast calls for 3-4' seas and 20+ knot winds.
I'm not feeling at all comfortable about the conditions of the last leg.
Because, on top of the forecast, I am haunted by the memory of the dramatic effect of the last full moon tide. It created negative tides of almost 2 feet.
The forecast has already mandated that we "go inside" on the ICW.
A full moon, negative tide could spell disaster on the ICW.
While going thru the books, they said and I quote: "This is the most shallow and shoaling stretch of the entire ICW." Great. Having severe sphincter symptoms.
High tide is at 7:30 in Charleston.
The gas dock doesn't open till 8:00.
So, the tide will have already flooded and started ebbing before we leave.
Not great, looks like we will be navigating during the bottom half of the tide, and arriving at dead low tide.
But, there's nothing I can do about that. I'll just fuel up when they open at 8:00, and be on our way ASAP.
That was the plan, and a damn good plan - if I do say so myself.
But, as they say: "the best laid plans of mice and men" - don't include the dock hand staying out all night at some sort of rave, and showing up 1/2 hour late, bleary eyed, reeking of booze, still wearing the rave admission bracelet.
By the time he fumbled thru resetting the pumps, and settling up our account, it was 9:00.
So, thanks to still inebriated dock hand, we headed off the dock an hour late, and even more nervous about what lay ahead.
But, I took some solace in the realization that the prospect of our day was far preferably to that of the hung over dock hand.
The trip down the ICW was as advertised - the most picturesque scenery of our entire trip.
It wound past many homes, and thru spectacular vistas.
But, the ebbing tide held us back by 1-2 knots for most of the day.
All of which contributed to the single most dangerous situation of our entire journey.
There is a land cut, that leads into the Cousaw River where there is notorious shoaling.
The guide book said that it had been reported as low as 6'.
I wondered what that might look like near the bottom of a negative moon tide?
The answer, is 4.5 feet.
Our boat draws 3' 10".
You do the math . . .
I'm not going to lie, I was holding my breath.
But, we skated thru, and sailed into 20' of water with only some 10 miles to go to Beaufort.
I can't tell you how bizarre it was to be back in known waters for the first time in 12 days, and 1,100 miles. But, there we were approaching Ladies Island Bridge, and no longer needed the "all-knowing Magenta Line" to find our way.
The only remaining question was - would there be enough water in Battery Creek for us to get to our house?
We would find out today, as we were at dead low tide . . .
We made it !!!
I give you Hot Water at home dock.
Just in case you were curious about the tide, I think this explains it pretty well:
The Beast, high and dry - literally above, Hot Water.
Spence and I spent very little time reflecting.
We were too anxious to unload the boat, get in the A/C, and take a shower.
I can't tell you how happy we are to be here - safe and sound.
It is not lost on us how lucky we are.
But, I also can't tell you how exhausted we are, and how ready we are to be on dry land again.
We have big plans for tonight :
Watch the Sox - Yankees game.
But it starts at 8:00.
I'm betting that we don't make it past the 3rd inning . . .
Tomorrow, between getting our gas turned back on, and getting our furniture delivered, I will put together the Tale of the Tape, and put together all of the stats.
I will also try and put together a map detailing our stops (as suggested by one of our Constant Readers).
Meanwhile, all I can say is:
"Embarking on the journey of a lifetime - Awesome.
Actually making it - Wicked Awesome !!!"
Hasta La Vista.
Cap't JimBob & Crew
Saturday, July 20, 2013
You might be in the South if . . .
In recognition of a very funny comedian - Jeff Foxworthy, I'd like to offer a slight adaptation to his routine. I call it: You might be in the South if . . .
This was the first thing that I saw when we docked in Charleston - as it was on the sail boat directly across from us. I turned around, and it was right behind me. I screamed like a little girl.
You might be in the South if . . .
"There are oysters growing on the dock pilings at your marina."
You can't se 'em at high tide, but you can pick 'em at low tide. They have about an 8 foot tide here.
You might be in the South if . . .
"You get called Ma'am 20 times in a 5 minute cab ride".
As happened to Spence when she went took a cab into Charleston.
You might be in the South if . . .
"You have covenant restrictions about flying flags, to keep the civil peace on college game days".
You have to understand, in SC there are 2 teams: Clemson Tigers, and S.C. Gamecocks.
The rivalry is epic and the source of many tough thanksgiving family gatherings.
Because, you are either with us or against us.
Knowing this, we have decided to make our own flag, and be called "The Clemcocks".
You might be in the South if . . .
"You have a dried gator head on the bowsprit of your sail boat."
This was the first thing that I saw when we docked in Charleston - as it was on the sail boat directly across from us. I turned around, and it was right behind me. I screamed like a little girl.
You might be in the South if . . .
"There are oysters growing on the dock pilings at your marina."
You can't se 'em at high tide, but you can pick 'em at low tide. They have about an 8 foot tide here.
You might be in the South if . . .
"You get called Ma'am 20 times in a 5 minute cab ride".
As happened to Spence when she went took a cab into Charleston.
You might be in the South if . . .
"You have covenant restrictions about flying flags, to keep the civil peace on college game days".
You have to understand, in SC there are 2 teams: Clemson Tigers, and S.C. Gamecocks.
The rivalry is epic and the source of many tough thanksgiving family gatherings.
Because, you are either with us or against us.
Knowing this, we have decided to make our own flag, and be called "The Clemcocks".
What I Did For Love - Part 2
Other than fishing, the other love of my life is Spence.
And what does Spence like to do . . . ?
Decorate, furnish, accessorize . . .
And here we were in Charleston, the home of one of our favorite decorating meccas: Celadon.
More enticing, their "specials laden" warehouse - which is only open on Wed. and Sat. - is open today. And to put a cheery on top, they have an additional sale going on right now.
Given the small craft warnings for today at sea, and the potential for a perfect shopping storm on land, we chose to leave the boat tied up to the dock for today and see what treasure we might discover?
So, we rented a car, and went on a mission . . .
I'm thinking that after the booty we collected today, that maybe we should go into piracy.
We had a pretty good idea of what we were looking for, having spend many nights measuring and discussing options, but had no idea of what we might find.
Maybe we just got lucky, but we found a dining room table, some chairs, and a hutch.
All on sale - from the marked down warehouse.
The amazing part is that we did all this in less time than it took us to navigate some harbor entrances.
With a day at the dock, and the prospect of new furnishings being delivered on Monday, we are just itching to complete the final leg and get home.
A clean bed, freezer with ice, space to move, TV - these are a few of our favorite things . . .
(The irony is that once we do get home, we still won't have hot water - because they had to shut off the gas to our house while we were away, and need for us to be home to turn it on).
It has been an incredible adventure, and we thank you so much for following along with us.
You have all helped us in more ways then you know.
And so, we have vowed one thing:
While the journey ends tomorrow (hopefully), the blog will not.
We will continue the open dialog, and to share thoughts/events about our new life down South.
(Plus, ya gotta hear how the furniture works out . . . )
I hope y'all become what my dear friend Stephen King affectionately calls: "Constant Reader".
It never has been, and it just ain't the same without ya.
Hot Water - heading home tomorrow.
Beaufort or Bust !!!
Standing by;
Cap't JimBob & First Mate Spence
And what does Spence like to do . . . ?
Decorate, furnish, accessorize . . .
And here we were in Charleston, the home of one of our favorite decorating meccas: Celadon.
More enticing, their "specials laden" warehouse - which is only open on Wed. and Sat. - is open today. And to put a cheery on top, they have an additional sale going on right now.
Given the small craft warnings for today at sea, and the potential for a perfect shopping storm on land, we chose to leave the boat tied up to the dock for today and see what treasure we might discover?
So, we rented a car, and went on a mission . . .
I'm thinking that after the booty we collected today, that maybe we should go into piracy.
We had a pretty good idea of what we were looking for, having spend many nights measuring and discussing options, but had no idea of what we might find.
Maybe we just got lucky, but we found a dining room table, some chairs, and a hutch.
All on sale - from the marked down warehouse.
The amazing part is that we did all this in less time than it took us to navigate some harbor entrances.
With a day at the dock, and the prospect of new furnishings being delivered on Monday, we are just itching to complete the final leg and get home.
A clean bed, freezer with ice, space to move, TV - these are a few of our favorite things . . .
(The irony is that once we do get home, we still won't have hot water - because they had to shut off the gas to our house while we were away, and need for us to be home to turn it on).
It has been an incredible adventure, and we thank you so much for following along with us.
You have all helped us in more ways then you know.
And so, we have vowed one thing:
While the journey ends tomorrow (hopefully), the blog will not.
We will continue the open dialog, and to share thoughts/events about our new life down South.
(Plus, ya gotta hear how the furniture works out . . . )
I hope y'all become what my dear friend Stephen King affectionately calls: "Constant Reader".
It never has been, and it just ain't the same without ya.
Hot Water - heading home tomorrow.
Beaufort or Bust !!!
Standing by;
Cap't JimBob & First Mate Spence
What I Did For Love . . .
Today reminded me of the fantastic Marvin Hamlisch song from Chorus Line, What I Did For Love.
The opening line is: "Kiss today goodbye . . ."
(What, so I'm into musicals - whadaboutid - ya wanna make sumthin' our of it - wanna step outside, or somethin'. Like I ain't got no culture? Forgetaboutid.)
So, today was a valiant effort in the often frustrating sport of fishing.
In which, you control none of the variables and yet must deal with all of them.
Variables that include weather, seas, fish, and boats.
All of which are highly unstable ingredients to throw into a caldron - the likes of the ocean.
A caldron that often yields bitter potions.
Today was such a day.
I met Dave at the dock at 5:15, and his 3 friends were aboard by 6:00, and we were off.
Now, there is not a fisherman alive who would not like to meet the guy who broadcasts the NOAA weather reports, because they are so famously wrong. And today was one of those days.
Forecasted*: 10-15 knot winds with 2-3 foot seas.
*(Which is only slightly more than we traveled in yesterday, and it was beautiful)
Actual: 20 - 25 knot winds; 4- 6 foot seas with occasional torrential showers.
We had discussed last night about going offshore versus staying in close, and chose the latter.
However, we had received a report and "numbers" (coordinates) of a hot bottom fishing spot further offshore from one of the friend's Dad - who had fished there yesterday.
So, we opted for the known hot spot.
It was only 35 miles. Piece of cake.
The plan was to troll for a bit (near the hot spot), and see what we might drag over the gunwales, and then bottom fish if that proved slow. Seemed like a good plan.
I'll be the first to admit that this "fishery" is new to me. However, I have done sufficient Canyon fishing to be conversant in the practice. And bottom fishing is a universal exercise: get the bait to the bottom in front of the fish.
Chugging the 35 miles out took longer than expected given the higher than expected seas, and winds.
But, we made it in about 1 1/2 hours, and started trolling.
Almost right off, a reel started screaming, and I pulled in about a 4 foot barracuda.
Not what we were looking for, but as they say in the program: one fish at a time . . .
Well it turned out, that barracuda was the only fish we caught trolling.
We had a couple of hits - when the reel jumps for a second - but no other takers.
So, we decided to try bottom fishing.
Now, when you bottom fish, you generally drift.
In a perfect world, you set the boat up to drift over the "hot spot numbers" and try and stay in that location for as long as possible. Because, the hot spot can often be a very small and specific piece of real estate - often no bigger than 20-30 feet wide, and 100 feet below you.
But, normally very doable - depending upon 2 factors: wind and waves.
The wind was blowing about 20 knots and the waves had built to about 4-5 foot.
Bottom line, we were drifting faster than Lindsay Lohan can drink. (that's pretty fast)
As such, we were only over the "hot spot" for some 30 seconds, before we shot past it.
When we were over them, we caught fish: small sea bass, a few snapper, and even a remora fish.
Those are the kind that "attach" themselves to other fish - sharks, and whales, etc.
I had never seen one - kinda cool. (and pretty big - about 3 feet long)
But, the excise was virtually futile as the boat was rocking so much, due to the fact that you are drifting sideways to the waves. This creates 2 problems: standing upright is increasing difficult, and the water comes riding up the side of the boat far more than normal.
It was the latter phenomenon that caused the engine problem we encountered when we decided to call it quits and start back home at 2:00.
The course back kept us sideways to the waves, which allowed the water to get into the air vents (for the engine) on the side of the boat (facing the waves). The resultant water caused a rather loud "POP" of the engine periodically. I can't adequately describe it to you, but I can say that all on board knew it was wrong, and that it potentially spelled trouble if we couldn't fix it.
Fixing engines sucks - especially if you are a mental midget mechanically. Which I am.
But, thankfully, we had a redneck on board.
Reminds me of one of my favorite bumper stickers:
"Everyone makes fun of Rednecks, till your engine breaks down".
So, we had to pull the engine cover off - which was no easy task in 5 foot seas, and diagnose the problem. Well Dr. Redneck, reckoned the water theory, which we all bought into - given the fact that the rest of us didn't have a clue about engines. Now, all we had to do was fix it . . .
Now ladies, I can tell you in ANY emergency, if there are men around, inevitably one of the solutions that will be offered is this: "Anybody got any duct tape?"
Well damn, we didn't have any duct tape - now what?
We took a plastic bag and stuck it thru the air vent, and pulled it across the vent and back in from the outside, and tied it on the inside. Basically, plugged up the air vent, as best we could to try and keep the water from coming in.
We put the engine cover back on, and headed on.
Feeling pretty proud of ourselves and our ingenuity to fix such a potentially drastic problem at sea.
'Cause , if we didn't, we were fairly screwed, as we were still more than 20 miles offshore, and the wind was not letting down.
We had about 5 minutes of relief until - "POP" again . . .
Shit.
Were we wrong about the water?
Was the engine in trouble?
None of the gauges indicated overheating, or loss of power.
But, it did only happen above a certain rpm level.
So, we decided to keep the rpms to below 2,000 - which meant that we would be traveling at about 10 knots.
And so we did - for the next 5 hours. (Wow, that was a deja vu)
So, on my day off, I spent 13 hours on the water, all for the love of fishing.
That's What I Did For Love.
Spence, on the other hand had a grand day in Charleston, and made dinner reservations that necessitated my sprinting from the boat to take a shower, and leave for dinner.
Shout out to Cap't Dave.
He stood tall in the face of some pretty heavy diversity.
None of the events of the day were his fault.
And, he handled himself and the situation admirably.
We were to a man very grateful for his successful captaining of the vessel.
We will fish again, 'cause that's what frinds do, and that's what we love.
The opening line is: "Kiss today goodbye . . ."
(What, so I'm into musicals - whadaboutid - ya wanna make sumthin' our of it - wanna step outside, or somethin'. Like I ain't got no culture? Forgetaboutid.)
So, today was a valiant effort in the often frustrating sport of fishing.
In which, you control none of the variables and yet must deal with all of them.
Variables that include weather, seas, fish, and boats.
All of which are highly unstable ingredients to throw into a caldron - the likes of the ocean.
A caldron that often yields bitter potions.
Today was such a day.
I met Dave at the dock at 5:15, and his 3 friends were aboard by 6:00, and we were off.
Now, there is not a fisherman alive who would not like to meet the guy who broadcasts the NOAA weather reports, because they are so famously wrong. And today was one of those days.
Forecasted*: 10-15 knot winds with 2-3 foot seas.
*(Which is only slightly more than we traveled in yesterday, and it was beautiful)
Actual: 20 - 25 knot winds; 4- 6 foot seas with occasional torrential showers.
We had discussed last night about going offshore versus staying in close, and chose the latter.
However, we had received a report and "numbers" (coordinates) of a hot bottom fishing spot further offshore from one of the friend's Dad - who had fished there yesterday.
So, we opted for the known hot spot.
It was only 35 miles. Piece of cake.
The plan was to troll for a bit (near the hot spot), and see what we might drag over the gunwales, and then bottom fish if that proved slow. Seemed like a good plan.
I'll be the first to admit that this "fishery" is new to me. However, I have done sufficient Canyon fishing to be conversant in the practice. And bottom fishing is a universal exercise: get the bait to the bottom in front of the fish.
Chugging the 35 miles out took longer than expected given the higher than expected seas, and winds.
But, we made it in about 1 1/2 hours, and started trolling.
Almost right off, a reel started screaming, and I pulled in about a 4 foot barracuda.
Not what we were looking for, but as they say in the program: one fish at a time . . .
Well it turned out, that barracuda was the only fish we caught trolling.
We had a couple of hits - when the reel jumps for a second - but no other takers.
So, we decided to try bottom fishing.
Now, when you bottom fish, you generally drift.
In a perfect world, you set the boat up to drift over the "hot spot numbers" and try and stay in that location for as long as possible. Because, the hot spot can often be a very small and specific piece of real estate - often no bigger than 20-30 feet wide, and 100 feet below you.
But, normally very doable - depending upon 2 factors: wind and waves.
The wind was blowing about 20 knots and the waves had built to about 4-5 foot.
Bottom line, we were drifting faster than Lindsay Lohan can drink. (that's pretty fast)
As such, we were only over the "hot spot" for some 30 seconds, before we shot past it.
When we were over them, we caught fish: small sea bass, a few snapper, and even a remora fish.
Those are the kind that "attach" themselves to other fish - sharks, and whales, etc.
I had never seen one - kinda cool. (and pretty big - about 3 feet long)
But, the excise was virtually futile as the boat was rocking so much, due to the fact that you are drifting sideways to the waves. This creates 2 problems: standing upright is increasing difficult, and the water comes riding up the side of the boat far more than normal.
It was the latter phenomenon that caused the engine problem we encountered when we decided to call it quits and start back home at 2:00.
The course back kept us sideways to the waves, which allowed the water to get into the air vents (for the engine) on the side of the boat (facing the waves). The resultant water caused a rather loud "POP" of the engine periodically. I can't adequately describe it to you, but I can say that all on board knew it was wrong, and that it potentially spelled trouble if we couldn't fix it.
Fixing engines sucks - especially if you are a mental midget mechanically. Which I am.
But, thankfully, we had a redneck on board.
Reminds me of one of my favorite bumper stickers:
"Everyone makes fun of Rednecks, till your engine breaks down".
So, we had to pull the engine cover off - which was no easy task in 5 foot seas, and diagnose the problem. Well Dr. Redneck, reckoned the water theory, which we all bought into - given the fact that the rest of us didn't have a clue about engines. Now, all we had to do was fix it . . .
Now ladies, I can tell you in ANY emergency, if there are men around, inevitably one of the solutions that will be offered is this: "Anybody got any duct tape?"
Well damn, we didn't have any duct tape - now what?
We took a plastic bag and stuck it thru the air vent, and pulled it across the vent and back in from the outside, and tied it on the inside. Basically, plugged up the air vent, as best we could to try and keep the water from coming in.
We put the engine cover back on, and headed on.
Feeling pretty proud of ourselves and our ingenuity to fix such a potentially drastic problem at sea.
'Cause , if we didn't, we were fairly screwed, as we were still more than 20 miles offshore, and the wind was not letting down.
We had about 5 minutes of relief until - "POP" again . . .
Shit.
Were we wrong about the water?
Was the engine in trouble?
None of the gauges indicated overheating, or loss of power.
But, it did only happen above a certain rpm level.
So, we decided to keep the rpms to below 2,000 - which meant that we would be traveling at about 10 knots.
And so we did - for the next 5 hours. (Wow, that was a deja vu)
So, on my day off, I spent 13 hours on the water, all for the love of fishing.
That's What I Did For Love.
Spence, on the other hand had a grand day in Charleston, and made dinner reservations that necessitated my sprinting from the boat to take a shower, and leave for dinner.
Shout out to Cap't Dave.
He stood tall in the face of some pretty heavy diversity.
None of the events of the day were his fault.
And, he handled himself and the situation admirably.
We were to a man very grateful for his successful captaining of the vessel.
We will fish again, 'cause that's what frinds do, and that's what we love.
Deja Vu . . . (all over again)
Cruising along at 17+ knots, flat calm seas, cooler offshore temperatures . . .
Wait a minute, I've been here before.
Like all day yesterday heading into Southport - only this time it's headed for Charleston.
The only difference between yesterday and today (other than the destination) is that the seas are even flatter, and the distance is even longer.
Just made the (very) easy run out of Southport, turned South (almost West) picked a waypoint in the channel to Charleston Harbor, and the GPS read 107 miles. Straight shot.
Now, we have entered the Twilight Zone, where you have set the course, and the auto pilot, and now fight the mind numbing task of watching the seas and the hours roll by.
In this moment (hours) of reflection, I think back to Southport.
A very quaint place, and picturesque place, with a very accessible harbor from both the ICW and ocean.
(Note: having technical difficulty uploading pictures right now - so the video portion of our presentation may lag behind a day or so)
But Southport has received recent notoriety, due to a film having been shot there: Safe Haven.
Starring Julianne Hough (uber Cutie), and Josh Duhamel (Yeah, I'd date him too). Very good flick.
It gets a Cap't JimBob (4) Star-fish rating.
Oh, back to watching the seas roll by, I check my watch, 37 minutes have passed.
I do some quick math and figure out that we still have some 6 hours to go.
Man, it's gonna be a looong day . . .
I keep looking for fish - anything.
I see occasional evidence of bait breaking the surface, and pass them by - telling them that today is their lucky day, 'cause I got to get somewhere.
Otherwise, I would be chasing them harder than Paris Hilton chasing a bad boy rock star.
Another 20 minutes have flown by . . .
And so it goes.
Deja vu for a total of 7.5 hours - 128 miles. (2nd longest stretch after 138 on Day one to Block Island).
But, we finally reach Ashley Marina in Charleston harbor, and we can't believe that we are actually here.
We meet up with our friend Dave Friedman, who tried for 5 years to find us the right house in Charleston. In truth, he found many perfect houses for us - that we couldn't pull the trigger on for a variety of reasons.
The good news is that we spent so much time together that we really became friends.
The bad news is that we never wound up buying a house from him, about which we feel eternally guilty.
But, friends forgive - and so we are thrilled to see one another and have a few cocktails with him aboard Hot Water in Charleston.
None of us can actually believe that this is real, because we have talked about this for years.
And for years, Dave and I have been planning something, and made a pledge that when, if, and as, we ever made it into Charleston, that he would take me fishing on his boat.
So, what does one do, when you have spent the last 10 days straight traveling over 1,000 nautical miles on a boat?
Why, you go fishing.
As we say in the program,: "Hi, my name is Jimbo - and I fish."
So, Spence is thrilled to have her day to walk around the Holy City, and check out all the decorating shops, art galleries, restaurants, etc . . . (I call the credit card company and put them on notice)
And, believe it or not, I am psyched about going fishing tomorrow, 'cause I love to fish.
Either way, tomorrow will be a departure from what the past 10 days have presented, and that is exciting enough for both of us.
Can't wait till tomorrow . . .
* Note: a special shout out to Taylor our ghost writer, who did a superb job of updating the blog when we couldn't. Very well done, and very witty Taylor. Your Mom and I laughed really hard when we read it. We laughed even harder, when we unanimously agreed that you are henceforth stricken from the will. Don't believe me. Call my lawyers Dewey, Fleecem, and Howe. (knuck, knuck, knuck)
Wait a minute, I've been here before.
Like all day yesterday heading into Southport - only this time it's headed for Charleston.
The only difference between yesterday and today (other than the destination) is that the seas are even flatter, and the distance is even longer.
Just made the (very) easy run out of Southport, turned South (almost West) picked a waypoint in the channel to Charleston Harbor, and the GPS read 107 miles. Straight shot.
Now, we have entered the Twilight Zone, where you have set the course, and the auto pilot, and now fight the mind numbing task of watching the seas and the hours roll by.
In this moment (hours) of reflection, I think back to Southport.
A very quaint place, and picturesque place, with a very accessible harbor from both the ICW and ocean.
(Note: having technical difficulty uploading pictures right now - so the video portion of our presentation may lag behind a day or so)
But Southport has received recent notoriety, due to a film having been shot there: Safe Haven.
Starring Julianne Hough (uber Cutie), and Josh Duhamel (Yeah, I'd date him too). Very good flick.
It gets a Cap't JimBob (4) Star-fish rating.
Oh, back to watching the seas roll by, I check my watch, 37 minutes have passed.
I do some quick math and figure out that we still have some 6 hours to go.
Man, it's gonna be a looong day . . .
I keep looking for fish - anything.
I see occasional evidence of bait breaking the surface, and pass them by - telling them that today is their lucky day, 'cause I got to get somewhere.
Otherwise, I would be chasing them harder than Paris Hilton chasing a bad boy rock star.
Another 20 minutes have flown by . . .
And so it goes.
Deja vu for a total of 7.5 hours - 128 miles. (2nd longest stretch after 138 on Day one to Block Island).
But, we finally reach Ashley Marina in Charleston harbor, and we can't believe that we are actually here.
We meet up with our friend Dave Friedman, who tried for 5 years to find us the right house in Charleston. In truth, he found many perfect houses for us - that we couldn't pull the trigger on for a variety of reasons.
The good news is that we spent so much time together that we really became friends.
The bad news is that we never wound up buying a house from him, about which we feel eternally guilty.
But, friends forgive - and so we are thrilled to see one another and have a few cocktails with him aboard Hot Water in Charleston.
None of us can actually believe that this is real, because we have talked about this for years.
And for years, Dave and I have been planning something, and made a pledge that when, if, and as, we ever made it into Charleston, that he would take me fishing on his boat.
So, what does one do, when you have spent the last 10 days straight traveling over 1,000 nautical miles on a boat?
Why, you go fishing.
As we say in the program,: "Hi, my name is Jimbo - and I fish."
So, Spence is thrilled to have her day to walk around the Holy City, and check out all the decorating shops, art galleries, restaurants, etc . . . (I call the credit card company and put them on notice)
And, believe it or not, I am psyched about going fishing tomorrow, 'cause I love to fish.
Either way, tomorrow will be a departure from what the past 10 days have presented, and that is exciting enough for both of us.
Can't wait till tomorrow . . .
* Note: a special shout out to Taylor our ghost writer, who did a superb job of updating the blog when we couldn't. Very well done, and very witty Taylor. Your Mom and I laughed really hard when we read it. We laughed even harder, when we unanimously agreed that you are henceforth stricken from the will. Don't believe me. Call my lawyers Dewey, Fleecem, and Howe. (knuck, knuck, knuck)
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