Buoyed with confidence!

We had a beautiful two-day weather window for our planned overnight trip along the New Jersey shore to Cape May.  From here on out, we must consider tides and currents as well as wind direction and weather when we plan our routes.  All were in our favor and we enjoyed a great motor-sail around Sandy Hook and south along the Jersey shore. It was at dusk that Fred noticed our charging system gauge acting up.  He went below and found the wires to the alternator shorting out!  We shut things down while he went to work re-wiring, and when we powered up again things seemed right, and we were on our way.  Ten minutes later he went below to check things, and this time sparks were flying off the alternator!  We shut everything down once more, but now it was getting quite dark and we had no power – therefore no running lights.  The good news was that we were only three miles offshore from a large harbor where there would be help.  The bad news was that the harbor was Barnegat Bay, known for being shallow and having a tricky entry depending on the wind, tide and currents. Since we had planned to give this inlet a wide berth, we never looked at whatever amenities might be offered. We discussed the option of simply continuing to sail, but there were several fishing boats in the distance, and it seemed unwise to be out there with no lights and no radio.  Thank God for our cell phones – we could call for help and use the chart app on the phone to give our coordinates – as long as they stayed charged. For the first time in almost 30 years of sailing together, we called the Coast Guard.

The Coasties were great – they contacted a tow boat for us, and then announced they were coming out to stand by since it might be 30 minutes or more before that boat would arrive. Randy, with TowBoat U.S., called about 20 minutes later to ask if we could see his lights (no….); or if we could see the lighthouse light (there were 200 different colored lights around the entry and we were three miles out, so no…); he finally shined a giant spotlight – bingo! Fred was shining a flashlight on our sails so he could see us, and he quickly threw us a bridle, with strict instructions to steer directly behind him as he brought us through the choppy inlet and into a small anchorage.  There was an empty mooring ball, but we had no boat hook with which to grab it (see the previous 79^th St. Boat Basin saga…), so we dropped the anchor.  By now it was 10:30 pm, and the agreement was that he would return at 7 am to take us to a boat yard for service.  We lit some candles, had a BIG glass of wine and some snacks, and actually had a peaceful night.

Randy appeared at 7 am sharp, and Fred hand cranked our all-chain rode and 50 lb. anchor up (this exercise really makes one appreciate a windlass).  This time the towboat tied to our port side and we moved through the marked channel of Oyster Creek, hugging the green buoys to stay in enough water for our 6 ft draft.  We bumped bottom three times!  To be fair, Randy had wanted to begin at 6 am due to the tide, but Lisa argued for 7 so we would have some daylight.  An hour and a half (7.5 miles!) later, we were led up the Forked River and coasted into a slip at Tall Oaks, a marina that specialized in sailboats.  The locals pronounce this river as two syllables -fork / ed – but you can imagine the “forked” jokes that ensued.  We were pleased that an electrician was on the job by 1 pm, and after replacing a 200 watt burned out fuse, an insulator and some wires, and checking numerous other connections, everything seemed to be functioning as it should. 

We had a nice dinner down the street, and left early the next morning to get back to the ocean while there was enough water in that creek!  Although Randy had suggested we call him for an escort, the marina manager encouraged us to just go. “Stay in the middle of the channel and you will be fine”, he said, and buoyed with confidence (pun intended) we struck out on our own. The inner half of the bay is wide and 9 to 10 feet deep, and we made good time to Oyster Creek. These “creeks” are not of the Michigan variety, but simply dredged channels through the estuary, and it can be difficult to see the red and green markers. Following the chart, we entered the marked channel and stayed in the middle.  At the third set of buoys we bumped bottom, and got stuck. Try as we might, we could not get out of the mud. The big sport fishing boats flying past with their huge wakes only served to push us further towards the edge of the channel. A tow boat approached, but it was not Towboat U.S., with whom we have unlimited towing through our insurance. He grudgingly agreed to call Randy, who arrived within 15 minutes, giving us an eye roll. “WHY didn’t you call me this morning?” he quizzed, and “why didn’t you follow the green buoy side of the channel?” Ahh – pride goes before the fall.  He easily pulled us off the mud, and admonished us to stay on the green side. We thanked him and promised, and we were once more on our way. As we approached Myers Hole, where we had previously spent the night on anchor and knew the water was deeper, we relaxed a bit. The inlet was not too far, and soon we would be in the ocean again.  All of a sudden the boat lurched forward and really ground to a halt!  Lisa had taken her eyes off the chart, and had mistaken a miscellaneous can buoy for green. (In my defense, it had green tape all around the top). Fred is colorblind, so he was looking for pointy top markers (red nun buoys) or flat can markers (green cans).  Our position on the chart showed us clearly stuck on a marked shoal. When Randy answered his phone, he didn’t even say hello, just “You’re stuck again, aren’t you?”.  He came to our rescue once more, only this time it took quite a bit of effort with his huge twin engines to pull us off. Once freed, he insisted on leading us out the inlet, with strict instructions to continue north one mile, then east at least two miles, before we made the turn south, in order to miss the infamous rocks and shoals that lay on the south side of the inlet. Thus ended our adventure in Barnegat Bay (sounds like a sea chantey in the making!).

As we headed south towards Cape May, the winds unexpectedly switched and we found ourselves motoring into growing waves with the wind on our nose. We had hoped to run with MT Pockets, a boat we had met in the Forked River, which was also headed south, but there was no sign of them. Due to the building seas and uncomfortable ride, we decided to go into Atlantic City for the night. As we neared the inlet, we heard MT Pockets hailing the Coast Guard. They had gotten broadside to a big rolling wave in the entry, and temporarily lost propulsion. They were able to recover and enter the harbor, but our anxiety grew about what to expect in that inlet!  We stayed 2 miles offshore and entered the inlet with the rollers behind us, literally surfing into the harbor.  On either side of the jetties, huge curling waves were crashing onto shore. It looked like Hawaii Five-O, no kidding!  We were happy to drop the hook in quieter water in an anchorage just inside the harbor.

The morning brought calm winds, and we could not see any white water as we looked out the inlet. Over our coffee, we were trying to decide if we should stay or go, when MT Pockets called. They had left 2 hours earlier and found good conditions in the ocean. We were soon trailing them toward Cape May. It was a lovely day motor sailing, and we entered the inlet uneventfully and anchored near the Coast Guard station along with 10 other boats.

Cape May is a charming historical port and we were looking forward to spending a few days here. Settled by whalers and fishermen in colonial times, the entire town is on the National Register of Historic Places. We walked the streets lined with 19^th century Victorian homes, and watched the large commercial fishing boats and whale watching excursion boats come and go from the harbor. We also listened to the new Coast Guard Cadets as they went through training. So much yelling – dawn to dusk. But it was fun to hear Reveille and evening Bugle Call. It reminded Lisa of summer camp, except for the yelling!

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It was on our second morning here that we noticed the amp meter acting up and realized our charging system was still off kilter. We had to find a marina slip so we could plug the boat in and get our batteries charged again. We found ourselves three slips down from MT Pockets (Mike, Tiffany and dog Penny). Fred had several phone conversations with the electrician who had worked on the boat earlier in the week, as they tried to pin down the cause of our troubles, and Mike helped Fred go through some of our systems. They discovered that a starter battery post had melted off (can’t be good), and he let us use his account at West Marine to get a new battery (the last one in stock!). Again we find boaters to be a friendly and generous tribe.  

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Figuring we could get two days of running with our batteries and solar panels, and then take a slip for charging things up, we left with MT Pockets at 7 am the next morning for the run up Delaware Bay to the C and D Canal, which would connect us to the Chesapeake Bay. This is a storied passage where tide, currents, wind and shipping lane traffic can make the 50-mile run unpleasant. We lucked out with calm seas which allowed us to shortcut the shoals around Cape May, and ride the flood tide up into the bay. We only passed 2 freighters, and had the tide against us for just a few hours later in the day. We entered the canal around 4 pm, and by 6 we were tied up to the west end wall at Schaefer’s Canal House and Docks.  As we secured Ritual to the dock posts, someone yelled from the balcony above, “Hey Traverse City!”. 

Fair winds, Fred and Lisa