Day 92: The Great Dismal Swamp to Elizabeth City – 13/10/12

We need to be at the South Mills lock for the first opening of the day at 8.30 am and when I am up and ready to go, I realise that we are the last but one boat to leave the dock.  The only one there is the one who made such a mess of docking yesterday – they are probably too embarrassed to show their faces – I would be!

We start off behind the other boats, now last in the little line of ducks instead of being almost at the front.  It is another cold morning but clear and bright.

  Photo:  Off we go again heading for the next lock

The South Mills lock opens to northbound traffic first at 8.30 am first, followed by southbound traffic.  At this time of year there is very little northbound so we are fairly sure that we will be going through early.  There is a double 65-foot fixed bridge to go under but since we have already been under one of these Mike is unconcerned and approaches it dead centre at our canal cruising speed of 5.8 knots, slowing down a little more just as we arrive. 

Photo:  The bridges look innocuous enough

We go under the first one with no problem, not even the tinkle of antennae touching concrete but just yards further as we are going under the second one on there is a terrible crashing and scrunching noise followed by the noise of debris hitting the decks and coach roof.  What the f**k?!

We both rush out from under the safety of the bimini to look.  Both of our VHF antennae are broken off, one hanging at an angle to the mast and the other straight down.  Shocked rigid by what has just happened we allow Jeannius to swing out slightly and the mast touches the trees overhead bringing leaves, twigs and little acorns to cascade all over the boat.

Photo:  Tree debris litters the decks

Mike straightens the boat up and then comes out to survey the damage again.  “At least it’s not the expensive bit” he says, quickly followed by '”Oh shit, it is!”.  Mike rarely swears, not like his foul-mouthed wife.  He has seen that the wind vane is also hanging down and then we spot bits of our navigation lights.

We continue on, unable to understand what has happened.  How can we go under two 65-foot bridges only to crash into a third just yards from the second one?

Our lovely journey through the Dismal Swamp Canal is now completely ruined.  It had been such a lovely change to go through this sort of water, making us think wistfully of doing some travelling on the French canals.  At least the French don’t have as many cars though – or bridges!

A bit further on, and still angry and upset, the little line of ducks comes to a gentle halt, waiting for the bridge at South Mills to open.  Stopped as they are in the canal, most of the boats start to drift gently sideways across the water, bows and sterns heading deep into the foliage at either side, although thankfully not into the mud.  While we wait we hear different people talking on their radios – most have had ‘altercations’ with trees and branches (one removed a three–inch thick branch from one tree with it’s mast and stays) and most are covered with leaves and twigs like we are (and worse) but we are the only one to argue, and lose, to a bridge, not surprising as we have the tallest mast in our little convoy.

Photo:  Waiting for the bridge to open

Photo:  As soon as the bridge closes, the traffic flows once more

We wait for 15 minutes or so and then the bridge is opened for us.  By the time we arrive at the lock just a few hundred yards on, the gate is open and the boats are piling in and tying up.

Photos:  In the South Mills lock

This time we are lowered 8 feet and there is much less tension on the lines as the boats don’t try to swing out.

We continue our journey, the canal taking on a different turn after about 10 miles.  It widens out and meanders like the river it has now become – the Pasquotank River in fact.  The surface of the water is covered with a thick, green algae and being the last in the line of ducks we just follow the clear line straight down the middle which has been made by the previous boats. 

Photos:  Sailing through an emerald sea

Silver Moon, who had emerged from the lock ahead of us, pulls into one of the many widenings and waits for us to catch up, and we continue towards Elizabeth city together, going through another two bridges (thankfully opening ones – I don’t think our nerves could take another fixed one today) before arriving at the town dock.

Photos:  Coming through the Pasquotank River to Elizabeth City – and more bridges!

Elizabeth City offers free docking on the town dock for 48 hours to transient yachts.  Unfortunately, they do not have room for catamarans so we continue on a couple of hundred yards towards a wall with cleats that already has one small yacht tied against it.  After putting out all our lines and fenders Bob notices a sign saying ‘No docking’ but on closer inspection, Mike realises that it actually says ‘On docking’.  We decide to take their spelling error to our advantage, throw the lines to helpful members of the public and tie up.  This takes quite a while as the dock wall has pillars placed at regular intervals rather than having a fixed edge, and we have to jiggle horizontal fenders around until they rest in just the right place to protect the boats.

Photo:  Tying up at the town dock

Getting off is interesting and involves climbing up onto a 9-inch wide piling then walking across a 4-foot gangplank before scrambling over a fence.  Not for the faint hearted and only to be done when sober!

We stand at a distance – me, Mike, Maggie and Bob – and survey the damage to Jeannius.  Our mast with all it’s add-ons should have been able to fit under a 65-foot bridge, and did fit under two.  It’s a complete mystery.

Photo:  Poorly sick boat – but thankfully no damage to the mast itself

Maggie and I go off to look at the town and what it has to offer, while we leave Mike and Bob pondering our next move.

The town is pretty in the centre, but as usual, we need to walk out over a mile past the strip malls and fast food joints in order to find a supermarket.  Spotting a Wendy’s, I suggest that we stop as I have never sampled their ‘delights’.  A junior baconburger and cheese and chilli fries later, I declare it sampled and have no need to try again.  I would like to say it is gross but it isn’t.  It’s just that that particular culinary delight is now crossed off my list of things to try!

Photo:  Proof I ate at Wendys!

We find the supermarket, rather basic, do our little bit of shopping and make our way back.  I find Mike in a somewhat desultory mood.  It would appear that we could be stuck between a rock and a hard place as far as the ICW is concerned.  Our charts show us two paths which we could take next.  One has a 64-foot bridge, and if we hit a 65-foot one, we can’t take that route, and the other has depths that, if correct, would leave us beached like a whale.  Our third option is to go back up the Dismal Swamp Canal (now that everything has been removed from the top of our mast, no further damage should occur) all the way to Norfolk, and go around the outside in the Atlantic.

Maggie and Bob have invited us over for supper but neither of us feel like we would be good company.  Then Bob comes up with the idea of climbing our mast and measuring the bloody thing.  Mike has three different heights recorded for it and we need to find out once and for all what it actually is.  Bob is also interested to find out what his mast measures too, so he will go up both in the morning.  Armed with a plan we join them for supper after all, now in slightly improved frames of mind.

Bob has gone out and bought a whole load of oysters and they are there gleaming, in all their shiny, slimy-looking splendour on the table.  Neither Mike nor I like them and when Maggie turns them down as well, he just has to eat the lot himself.  We settle happily on Maggie’s hearty soup, something she had to make because her fridge has a tendency to freeze things as well and the kale was stiff as a board when she checked it earlier!  I know that problem.  Many is the time I have altered our meal plans because of what the fridge has done to my fresh produce!

We don’t stay too late.  There are boats to measure and plans to make in the morning.

 

Position:  36 deg 17 min N, 76 deg 13 min W

Distance so far:  2881 miles