Late Coffee…Early Cocktails

Not so happy clams

A faithful Late Coffee follower emailed us asking what we meant by the “clam conditions” reported on our position update upon our return to Hampton. OK, I confess that reader is my Dad who is always watching to keep us on the straight and narrow, and usually the deep!

Capt Claw created that position report and claims that he really meant “calm conditions”. I argue that this was a Freudian slip reflecting on the clams, oysters and other bivalves that received an intimate look at our keel while it was firmly planted on the sandbar in the channel leading to Southall Landings Marina. This channel, perennially challenged with silting, sandbars and opaque water, doesn’t quite rank as a “Desperation Pass”, but certainly as “Perspiration Pass” for any passage through it at anything other than high tide.

In hindsight, we’d been a little optimistic attempting an entrance at just 90 minutes after low tide. Running as slow as we could with both the wind and current on our stern, we squirmed through the first reported shoals with inches to spare and no room to turn around to go out and wait for more water. We next swung wide to skirt the sandbar that always lurks beneath the surface on the inside curve of a 90-degree turn and lurched to a halt as the front of the keel plowed into the new sandbar on the outside of the curve.

Tense marital moments followed as the incoming current swept the length of the keel onto the sandbar and the captain tried backing Yoohoo off to no avail. Usually the rising tide quickly assists a grounded sailboat but not when it is sweeping you and your rudder further onto the hard stuff. In hindsight, poking our way through on the inside curve would have been smarter as the current would have pushed us off rather onto the substratum.

Our first ever assistance call to TowBoat US was not so reassuring as their ETA was over an hour away. Luckily, alert power boaters from Southall spied us clogging up the channel and came to our rescue in a skiff with one of those nice big outboards that we sailors usually disdain. After waltzing a bit themselves in the strong current they caught our line and pulled us off on the first attempt. Sorry clams!

Stay tuned for the launch of our new blog “The Sight of the Hind” where we’ll detail every unseamanlike maneuver we’ve ever tried and swear not to repeat!

The heat is on

It is a blister-popping 103 degrees outside. The key word is “outside”. After 4 weeks enduring temperatures in the mid to upper 90s with frequent forays above 100, we whimpered back to a dock in Urbanna, Virginia and fetched our drop-in Cruise-Air air conditioner from storage. These units are often considered marginal performers. Today’s statistics indicate the a/c is keeping the boat 10-12 degrees cooler than outdoors — it is 88 degrees in the salon directly under the air conditioner and 91 degrees at the nav station ten feet away. Marginal performance until you consider that many of the vessels in the slips around us were forced to shut down their heat pump style air conditioners. These units, usually considered more efficient, have one huge drawback in the Chesapeake Bay – their raw water intakes get clogged by the oodles of jellyfish that ply these waters in July. The jelly-fish are also the primary reason why boaters do not simply take a swim to cool off – better to swelter than be stung.

In order to boost our Cruise-Air’s efficiency, we’ve closed the v-berth off from the rest of the boat and the temperature there has topped off at 97 degrees. Using this measurement, we’ve adopted a scorched berth policy where we’ve committed to activities no more strenuous than napping for as long as Urbanna, Virginia continues to cook. Even napping requires more ambition than we can muster but it meets the goal to keep our hides away from the kiln-blaster outdoors. We’d really like to go out and talk global warming with the researchers from Duke University on the trawler next to us but their A/C has been stifled by jellyfish. If you question the significance of the jelly-fish, read here for the description of how one mucks jellies out of one’s strainer. There are too many researchers to fit into Yoohoo’s cooler salon so we just sit, ponder, and transude. Without benefit of academic input, I think the saying “if you can’t stand the heat, don’t tickle the dragon” suffices.

On the Capitol steps

We waded into Washington DC and immersed ourselves in culture until we were happily dazed. Within walking distance of world-class museums, galleries, monuments, architecture, gardens, fountains, music and, don’t forget, politics, we gloried in all-things American. We often set out in the morning with nothing in mind other than wandering, an approach that usually ended in unexpected finds. We stumbled upon a bike race one day and spent an hour mesmerized by the blur of colors streaming down Pennsylvania Avenue at great speed. A walk to see the far side of the Museum of Native Americans brought us to the gorgeous plantings on the terrace at the Botanical Gardens. We cruisers often seem to be an aimless lot but the rewards for rambling are great.

In every locale we attempt to experience something local. Every day in DC we had marveled at the throngs of natives swarming the Seafood Markets located right in our own backyard on the Washington Channel, next door to the Capital Yacht Club. So one evening Capt Claw donned his “Stinky’s House of Fish” t-shirt and we dinghied over to go buy some fish for dinner. In the 102 degree heat the crowd seemed to shimmer in the heat waves steaming off the pavement. Despite this, some happy

Botanical Gardens terrace

families were sitting on the parking space dividers, devouring their fish sandwiches in impromptu picnics. The lines parted and wound around those already partaking. Greg surveyed the fish, crabs, and crustaceans stacked on ice but the force 10 funky fragrance, heightened by the titanic temperatures, assailed my midwestern sensibilities. Capt Claw gave it a good go but, with me straggling on the periphery, failed to select and procure dinner.

Phew! We may be relishing our American heritage but we cannot yet pass as DC locals.

Anchored in view of the Washington Monument

In a sudden burst of decisiveness we burned our projects list, unplugged the sacred air conditioner and headed out of the marina for a summer cruise on the Chesapeake Bay. With our usual good timing we departed right in front of a very high pressure system fueling temperatures that hovered a few degrees either side of 100 for days on end. Who’d of thought that in July? Thinking it was perfect timing to celebrate the 4th of July in our nation’s capitol, we sweated our way up the Bay and into the Potomac.

We knew the 100-mile trek up the river could be a battle of tides and also expected lots of boat traffic. Instead we saw no commercial traffic, only a handful of recreational vessels and one lone “Range Boat Three” busy mother-ducking us out of the way of a live-fire exercise. As there were no military vessels plying the Potomac I breathlessly stood by with my camera expecting the river to be strafed any moment by incoming aircraft. Nothing happened and we later wondered if they’d said “live-fire” exercise or “WiFi” exercise, you never know.

We continued upriver, enjoying the solitude. As we approached the upper reaches the breeze transported the

Too Close!

fragrance of fresh, not salty, water, instantly channeling me to my childhood on Minnesota’s lakes. If I squinted to blur out the mall-sized mansions lining the banks there would be no clear indication that I was not on the Mississippi River making me wonder if large catfish also lurked in these waters.

We cruised past Mount Vernon and anchored in Washington Channel within sight of the Washington Monument on the Thursday before the holiday weekend. With 12 boats anchored in the Channel, it seemed just a bit crowded but peaceful as there was no through-traffic. At least none from boats. We soon learned that we were parked under the flight pattern for all the helicopters hauling dignitaries to Reagan National Airport. Apparently only the low-level chumps in DC commute by car these days. From Thursday afternoon through the night and all day Friday a steady stream of helicopters buzzed overhead, flying no more than 100-200 feet over us. When you can actually distinguish whether the pilot is wearing wire-rimmed or plastic-framed sunglasses they are TOO CLOSE!

Friends on s/v Break Away about to be buzzed again

Despite the helicopters, this anchorage is cruising nirvana as it is situated just a few blocks from the National Mall and within walking distance of nearly every sight you’d like to see. We started exploring on Friday but got lost in the hordes of folks here for the 4th of July and soon concluded that we needed to wait until mid-week to do any serious touring. Meanwhile, back at the boat, the anchorage was slowly filling up with vessels. It was soon apparent from their shiny, clean topsides and curious anchoring techniques that these were every cruiser’s worst fear – 4th of July amateurs who only take their boats out for one big party held every 4th of July. By Sunday night the anchorage was packed with 62 boats, mostly portly, professionally detailed, multi-story power “yachts” chugging their generators 24 hours a day to keep the A/C flowing. Soon a sailboat sandwich had been formed with Yoohoo as the salami and two vessels Greg dubbed The Pride of Consumption I and II forming crusts as our very close neighbors. As we didn’t remember asking for a raft-up we chose to stay on board to defend our territorial circle against further encroachment.

Though we longed for a breeze to break the 100-degree heat index, we were happy the winds stayed calm so our sailboat sandwich remained unchewed. In the end, the Capitol fireworks display was worth the hullabaloo and even the crowded anchorage. We continued the celebration the next morning as all the shiny boats weighed anchor and headed back to their marinas for another year of professional detailing. Then the helicopters resumed shuttling big-wigs and we headed back to the Mall with all the other hot, happy tourists. Happy 4th of July!

My least favorite role on board Yoohoo is that of night helmsman. I’ve always loved the sensory rush of nocturnal sailing and I enjoy solo time at the helm. But my skills at sorting out all those fixed and moving objects at night rank clearly in the dark-deficient zone. Peering through a wall of black trying to decipher a multitude of little lights, each one representing an object to be avoided, brings up the point that I’ve never excelled at video games.

My confusion has lead me to believe a fixed light tower was chasing us in the Gulf of Mexico, mistaken the rising moon as a fiery molten object floating just off our beam, and once swore I saw a vessel off to starboard converging on us at great speed in reverse. “The vessel had to be in reverse”, I indignantly explained to Capt Claw as he took over the next watch, “because I clearly saw the green starboard light converging toward us on our starboard side.”

Dave on s/v Destiny, docked just a few slips down from Yoohoo, pointed out an aberration on a neighboring boat that makes me believe there is hope for me.

Yep, the bow light on this vessel has been installed upside down so the green incorrectly lights the port side of the boat and the red incorrectly lights the starboard side.

Now about that molten moon…..