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Pete woke up about 3:30 a.m. to calm water. The forecast was for a northeast wind. Since we needed to head northeast, we did not want a northeast wind. The best thing for us to do was to get going before the northeast wind came. We woke Gregg and got ready to leave. We found our brand new chain and new Cleveland anchor covered with slimy Cleveland muck. As the electric windless raised the chain and the anchor, Pete poured buckets of water over them. Pete and the deck got spattered with mud. I stayed clear of that mess. The skyline of Cleveland twinkled behind us as we motored away in the quiet of predawn. Hours later, slowly the dark night gave way to pink colors to the east. Soon the sun rose over the Northeast Ohio coastline. We were cruising along at least a knot faster then Gregg. Gregg got even more behind when he changed his fuel filter. At 1 p.m. La Boatique was outside Ashtabula with Gregg so far behind that he was out of sight. We all agreed to push on to Erie, Pennsylvania. The northeast wind came and slowed us down. Pete and I took naps. Pete sanded the teak while I polished the bronze. As the shoreline passed by, so did the hours. We dropped anchor at Presque Isle State Park in Erie, Pennsylvania in a small cattail and tree-lined bay. Yesterday we had city lights, planes and trains. Tonight was quiet except for the frogs and crickets. We covered 91 miles in 17 hours. We were tired. We were worried about Gregg and no longer even had radio contact. But we quickly fell asleep.
On August 14, we were still worried about Gregg, but I could not resist the lure of distant meandering channels that connected with our bay. In the morning while I was having a wonderful kayaking adventure through the wooded swamps of the State Park, the Coast Guard called Pete and told him that Gregg was in Ashtabula with engine trouble. Gregg told the Coast Guard to tell us not to wait for him. Was Gregg giving up on his dream already - after only 4 days? Pete and I felt terrible. We moped about. Pete said that none of the seven sailboat friends planning to cruise south would make it to Buffalo to meet us. Would they have to give up too? We kept an ear to the radio with the hope of hearing something. Pete decided to call the Coast Guard. The Coast Guard tracked Gregg down and found that he was on his way to Erie. Gregg wasn't going to give up. Gregg finally dropped anchor at 10:30 p.m. He had lost all his fuel into the bilge. He replaced his fuel pump because of bad fuel. The threads were stripped and fuel spayed all over Gregg and the boat. Poor Gregg got sick from the fumes and the fuel.
The next day there was very little rest for Gregg. We took off at 5:30 a.m. for Buffalo. I don't know yet about Gregg, but we sure had a good time. The wind was at our back. We flew the spinnaker. We took sun showers on deck. We enjoyed the last of summer on Lake Erie. What a nice goodbye! Nevertheless I had tears in my eyes because Lake Erie was home and maybe I was not ready to leave home just yet.
Behind us were Lake Erie and our past. In front of us beckoned the city of Buffalo and the state of New York.
The Erie Canal
On August 16, my Mom and Dad (Joyce and Harvey Foote) joined us in Buffalo. We spent three days on the job of taking the masts down. The next leg of our adventure was a 338-mile passage on the Erie Canal. The Erie Canal cuts through New York State. We had to take the masts down because this canal contains many fixed bridges with some only 15 feet above the water. Just before the first bridge is a crane at a timeworn place called Wardell's. The crane is used to lift the masts and then set them on the boat. Mom and Dad brought wood, which we used to make tripods to hold the masts.
Mom and Dad headed back home as we headed on to our first lock in the canal.
The Erie Canal was the nation's first major transportation system. Construction of the Erie Canal began in 1817 and was completed in 1825. It allowed goods to be shipped to and from New York City and the Upper Midwest, starting the migration that created the USA as we know it today. The Erie Canal connects the Great Lakes to the Hudson River. The Hudson River then flows south to the Atlantic Ocean. The canal is 524 miles long and drops nearly 500 feet. The Erie Canal is no longer used to ship goods. Instead, it is used for recreation. There are 57 locks and 16 lift bridges on the Canal System. The lift bridges only lift to 15.5 feet above the level of the canal greatly limiting the size of the boats that can traverse the entire canal system. Canal System locks and lift bridges operate from early May to November. During the winter the canal is drained. The Canal System is operated and maintained by the New York State Canal Corporation, a subsidiary of the New York State Thruway Authority.
On August 18 La Boatique and Atlantic High began the journey along the Erie Canal. The first day would take us from Buffalo to Middleport, New York. The morning was rainy and cool, but the rest of the day was beautiful. Our first lock was a surprise. Instead of one lock, we went right from the first lock into the second lock. We dropped a long way down - about 65 feet. The canal was narrow and often we were above the surrounding landscape. Pete noticed a man running on a trail beside us. He was running as fast as we were motoring along. We were worried about our new refrigerator. It was running all the time and using way too much power.
We liked Middleport with its soft green grass and towering trees. We had all of this for free - nice dock, electricity, water, shower, and bathroom. The small town more then met our needs. The laundry was inexpensive and right by the dock. A near-by produce stand had the best sweet corn of the summer. We also enjoyed Hershey's ice cream cones. We worked on the radar and cleaned up the boat. Waiting for the refrigerator repairman to come was a welcome break. The repairman found that our system had too much refrigerant and must have been overcharged at the factory.
August 20 was a long day (and night). We went through Rochester and finally stopped at Fairport at 9:45 p.m. Fairport had signs reporting a charge of $5 to dock, but we didn't see anyone collecting money nor any place to pay. We left Fairport and headed east at 9:30 a.m. the next morning. We had another beautiful day with perfect weather. Not much was left of civilization. We were deep in the woods. We stopped for the day at a lock east of Clyde at 4:15 p.m. This was the place to be to get away from everyone. There was the forest, the lock, the canal and our two boats.
August 22 was a winding scenic cruise on a narrow river. Gregg said he was hungry for pizza, so I got out some yeast and flour and made pizza dough as we traveled along. The refrigerator was working so well that we were freezing all our food. We kept setting the gauge warmer and warmer. We had pizza for dinner at the lock before Brewerton. We were ahead of our schedule.
In Brewerton, New York, we stopped at Ess-Kay Yards for fuel - $1.15 for diesel. Then we crossed the open expanse of Oneida Lake. Small boats were sailing in the gentle breeze. But not us, our mast was still down and strapped to the wooden tripods. Sunday afternoon we spent at Sylvan Beach. Sylvan Beach has a long sandy beach and an old time amusement park. The only things we found worthwhile at the park were chicken wings and "fried dough". The dock next to the park was free which is, of course, where we moored.
We left Sylvan Beach early - 7:20 a.m. While I steered the boat through the canal, Pete trimmed out the top of our new refrigerator with black and white marbleized tile.
Little Falls was another great stopping place - free dock, showers, pavilion, and electricity. The river running next to the canal splashes over large boulders making the "little falls". The grocery was well stocked, but most stores closed at 5 p.m. We were tracking the hurricanes heading toward the East Cost with some concern. Each day along the canal brought us closer to the Atlantic Ocean.
On August 25 we motored on from Little Falls to Amsterdam, New York. We enjoyed the views of rocky rugged cliffs and old towns. We glided along listening to tranquil piano solos by Jim Schroeder from Toledo, Ohio, on our CD. I sewed a pouch for my computer parts while Pete steered the boat. I also steered and was able to practice docking through many of the locks.
We had been on the canal for over one week. I was finally comfortable, well, almost, managing the boat through the locks. I steered the boat through all 10 locks in one day with very little screaming from Pete. Often the canal joined various rivers. One portion of the river had rock cliff walls. We weaved through rock boulders large enough to be islands. The depth dropped 30 feet. This was rugged terrain, similar to the North Channel in Northern Lake Huron. I noticed Gregg wander just outside the channel. I blew our horn to warn him, but he didn't hear it. He saw the channel marker and turned hard, too late!
Crash! Atlantic High was high all right!
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The Chesapeake Bay Area
We seem to be on a circle tour of New Jersey. On September 6 we completed our New Jersey visit and ended the day in Chesapeake City, Delaware. We started the day at 5:30 a.m. going through the Cape May Canal. Then we sailed around the southern end of New Jersey up through the Delaware Bay. We saw our first dolphins. We then turned west across Northern Delaware through the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal. We dropped anchor in a bay filled with other boaters enjoying the holiday weekend. I kayaked into a quiet tidal marsh inhabited by wildlife. What a great day!
September 7 was an adrenaline day. We started the day with a fuel dock crash and ended the day with stormy nasty weather on Chesapeake Bay. The day started out very windy. The tidal current was strong in the C&D Canal. We were tied to the fuel dock at Schaefer's Marina. Pete and I were both at the stern of the boat when an inexperienced gas dock attendant tried to loosen up the bowline so that we could leave the gas dock. Once the line was loose, he could not hold on and the wind blew the bow of La Boatique toward the channel. Since two stern lines were still firmly attached, we were in big trouble. By the time Pete got to the helm, La Boatique had already turned around. In another second our dinghy and davits were wedged against the dock while the port side of our boat was rubbing hard against a large houseboat that was moored behind us. The tide would not turn for another two hours. I wondered how we were going to get out of this mess. Pete found a way.
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We had not cruised for over a month. Would we remember how? We started off easily. After an uneventful motor trip to Selby Bay, we dropped the hook on October 13. Adventure and excitement seemed to come when we least expected it. The evening was so boring that Pete fell asleep on the couch soon after 7 p.m. At 8:30, I was reading in bed and Pete was snoring next to me. The wind began to whistle through the rigging. Where did this come from? It wasn't supposed to be windy. The lights on the shoreline were moving by outside the porthole. Were we moving or were we just swinging around in the wind? I watched the shoreline carefully. We didn't seem to be dragging our anchor. I laid down and closed my eyes. I was tired.
"Tick". That sounded like the kayak hitting the stern of the boat. I looked out the porthole. I touched Pete and said, "I don't remember that boat next to us."
Pete said "What?" and flew out of bed leaving his glasses behind.
We were sliding toward the boat I saw. We ran to the cockpit in our pajamas. We were filled with nervous tension.
Pete shouted, "Turn on the engine. Turn on the windless so that we can raise the anchor."
I turned the key and the engine started right up.
Pete was on the bow. Pete said, "Get going, we are going to hit that boat!"
I was confused. What boat? Go where? I could not see a thing outside the cockpit. The anchor light was on in the cockpit and shining right in my eyes. The light was reflecting off the plastic windows surrounding me. I wondered if I should put the engine in gear or try to find out how to stop the light from blinding me? There was not enough time. I put the engine in forward idle. I then unplugged the light. My eyes adjusted. Oh, that boat was close! I drove a little faster.
Pete said, "Watch out for St. Pauli."
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Bermuda
We decided to treat the boat and ourselves by staying at St. George's Dinghy and Sports Club in Bermuda for 6 or 7 days. The temperature was in the 70's and 80's.
We found Bermuda to have perfect weather. The island and bays were beautiful, colorful and very clean. I was so glad we were able to spend time there. I was able to take two walks to some of Bermuda's most beautiful beaches. One walk was with Barbara from St. Pauli while the other walk was with Marge from Dream Weaver. Joe and Marge on Dream Weaver were tied next to us at the dock. We did not know that we would see Dream Weaver again and again in the Eastern Caribbean. While Pete installed a fuel purification system on Dream Weaver I paddled along on a kayak trip through the bay. I was surprised to find Bermuda to be not one round island but many small slender islands linked by bridges. Between the islands are bright blue bays filled with tropical fish and corals. The only problem I could find with Bermuda was extremely expensive food.
Winter was coming. We had to move soon. As we contemplated our departure, Julius and Sally on Argonauta arrived. We barely said a word to this unfamiliar couple from New York. We had no way of knowing we would depend on them when Pete got a hernia followed by kidney stones. They had no way of knowing they would depend on Pete to keep their diesel engine running. None of us knew that this chance meeting would blossom into a lasting friendship.
Seven days and nights alone on the Atlantic Ocean
On November 18 a cold front arrived bringing north winds. It was time for us to head south. We sailed away with three other boats - St. Pauli, Glide, and Mecca.
This adventure brought the unexpected.
I expected that we would be close to at least one of these boats for the trip. But out in the ocean we never saw any of them again. We were alone - no television, no radio, no phone, no mail, no land, and no other people. I expected to be a little sea sick at the beginning and then be fine. However, I felt great the first day, pretty good the second day and awful the third day.
I did find a routine. If I could, every two or three hours I would use our GPS (Global Positioning System) and our Yeoman Sport (electronic chart plotter) to mark our progress. I felt like we were accomplishing something as my pencil line traveled down the chart.
Our first two days out were good conditions with La Boatique sailing along on a beam reach, a very comfortable ride. But dark clouds were on the horizon. Our third day, November 21, was tough on me. Squalls, large waves, and strong gusty winds came during the night. Neither of us got much sleep. Imagine trying to sleep on a roller coaster - not an easy task.
As the sun rose between even more dark clouds, I felt weak and tired. I had no appetite, but I was very thirsty. Simple tasks were a great effort. For example, I needed to lie down and rest after using the bathroom. As the boat was on its roller coaster ride, I climbed down the companionway steps grabbing handholds to get through the galley and the master stateroom. Then came the toughest part, the head (bathroom). I could not get my clothes on and off without falling into something. Afterward, as I lay down in the cockpit, a flying fish trapped in the scupper died. If the fish had been somewhat smaller he could have ridden out through the scupper along with the salt water flowing off the deck. I did not have the energy to push him off the boat. I could barely lift my head high enough out of the cockpit to see the sun set.
Night came. Pete needed sleep. I needed to force myself to be on watch. As Pete tried to sleep, I tried to stay on a routine. I would go below and study the radar screen. I tried to see if I could find the other three sailboats. I couldn't. Sometimes I saw squalls on the screen. Sometimes I saw merchant ships. Usually the screen was blank for 24 miles around us. Then I climbed the companionway stairs and studied the horizon for storms or ships. The sky was mostly clear of clouds. Next I watched the stars. There are so many more stars to be seen in such a dark place. I saw lots of shooting stars. One night I saw two stars that seemed to explode and then disappear. After stargazing I checked the instruments - oil pressure, RPMs, water temperature, boat speed, wind speed, and wind direction. Our Navico 8000 Autopilot (Clyde) was steering. Sometimes I would adjust the course a little. Once in a while I would adjust the mainsail or the jib. Next I would lay back and rest for ten minutes. Then I would start the routine again. I counted the hours as they slowly passed by. I tried to give Pete three hours of undisturbed sleep. Rarely did he get it.
The hours passed by. The days passed by. The weather got better. I got better.
About sunset every evening we would listen to Herb Hilgenberg provide each and every boat with a weather forecast for the boat's location. We both were excited when he would mention St. Pauli or La Boatique. We would provide our latitude, longitude, and current weather. Then, like a fortuneteller, Herb would tell us whether tomorrow would be stormy, windy, or nice. Form Herb's single side band radio show we realized that every day our distance from St. Pauli grew. St. Pauli headed way east of the rhumb line while we decided to stay on course. We were getting way ahead of them.
On Monday, November 23, we seemed to have a charmed day. There were squalls all around, but we stayed in sunshine and nice wind. The waves began to build as the sun set on enormous thunderheads. We assumed the storms would not bother us. They would dissipate. Wouldn't they? We double reefed the main as usual for nighttime conditions.
The Rogue Wave
The first storm arrived soon after dark. There was little time between the first and the second. The wind blew and the waves built but La Boatique cut through the waves at speeds above 7 knots. We were making great progress south. Pete and Clyde (autopilot) took turns steering. Near midnight I was at the helm adjusting Clyde when necessary. The wind was at gale force with gusts coming from various directions. We no longer were cutting through the waves. The confused seas were tossing us about. Salt water sprayed from stem to stern but we stayed dry under the dodger, bimini, and side curtains. We wore life jackets and harnesses. We were tethered to the boat so that we couldn't be washed overboard.
Pete looked up to see a wall of water towering above us. I saw him put his head between his knees. Why? I did not see the rogue wave. Pete figured there would be little left on deck after this wave.
Whoom!
La Boatique seemed to be under water. First to take the water was the mainsail. Water shot through every crack and crevice of the dodger and bimini. The water tumbled off the back of the bimini and right on my head and down my back. I immediately began to shiver more from fear then from being doused. Water was filling the cockpit and running down the stairs into the cabin. But by now we were back on top of the water and out of the rogue wave. La Boatique seemed as concerned and surprised as we were. She about slowed to a stop as she tried to rid herself of the water. Minutes seemed to go by as the water trickled out of everything and then out the scuppers. We were not going fast like before. We seemed low in the water.
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Swimming with the Dolphin
On the morning of December 26 Pete saw a dolphin's dorsal fin coming toward the bow of our boat. Pete whistled a few times. The dolphin turned toward La Boatique. Pete, wearing his white underwear, then jumped in the water next to the boat. The dolphin swam over to Pete. Pete reached out and petted the dolphin. The skin was soft like vinyl. The dolphin swam over to other boats and made a large circle around our boat. The dolphin came near but never close enough for us to swim with him again.
Late in the day we decided to clean the bottom of the boat with a brush and a scraper. While we scraped off barnacles and scum, six-inch long skinny silver fish eagerly gobbled the items we removed. The fish then nibbled away at the things still clinging to our hull. Watching the fish eat made cleaning the hull a fun job.
We motored back to St. Thomas for a few days to get our mail, the clothes washed and buy some supplies. Then we motored back to Maho Bay, St. John. We enjoyed New Years Eve on La Boatique with Barbara and Manfred. We played a dice game. We watched our favorite movie, Captain Ron. We toasted in the New Year with ice-cold Champagne under the full moon. The temperature was in the low 70's.
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