So this was it. This was the make it or break it cruise. It was my very first solo sail camping trip in my life. It wasn’t the first water based camping trip I’ve ever done. But given the sheer differences in equipment, and overwhelming lack of experience I had with sailing, it might as well have been my very first camping trip on the water.
After so much work on the boat the year before, I still had a fair amount of work left to do to get Ghe Ho Dep ship shape. I spent the previous weekend painting the inside. The next weekend was spent on final preparations for the trip. During those two weeks, after work, I was either on the computer looking for equipment purchases, modifying the ancient mast light with a lithium ion battery and modern LED light bulbs and mounts, cutting wood and varnishing it for the rear hatch mounts, since the hatch was too low to lay on the gaskets, varnishing the head/chart table, getting the new cooler, gear, and going through equipment lists.
At work, it was stressful. It was one of the most consistently busy seasons in the bike shop I had ever seen, which was unusual given the industry’s reports that most shops were seeing low business activity. I was burning out hard, and I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there. August 5th rolled in, and I left work a little early to get home and finalize my packing. I spent Thursday and Friday night shopping for groceries for the trip, packing, and going over lists and information.
Dean came over to pick me up, and we loaded up his Nissan Xterra, before driving out to the boat. Before we exited the DC area, we stopped at the U-Haul near New Carrollton to fill up one of the propane tanks. It was $15 to fill it up, and it weighed about 35 lbs full.
Along the way we stopped at Tractor Supply to get some wood chips for the head, since I needed something to cover the poop, a few tools that I needed for the kit, mainly a crescent wrench and channel lock pliers. We then stopped at Lowes to look for lantern fuel, which they didn’t have. They recommended we go to the Easton Hardware store, which was closed. I grabbed a 1 gallon gas container to see if I could find some kerosene, and then I went back in while waiting for Dean to get some more alcohol for the stove.
Afterwards we grabbed dinner at a local Japanese restaurant in Easton, where I ate a fried rice dish and we washed it down with some beer. I discussed my plan with him while looking at the chart page for the Saint Michaels area in my chart book, The Maryland and Delaware Cruising Guide.
“So I want to start in Dogwood Harbor, and sail down to Taylor’s Island, where Taylor’s Family campground is. There’s a marina in there, water, laundry and showers. I know the owner. Do you think that’s doable?”
“That looks totally doable. I think you have a good plan.” Dean replied before downing a Sapporo Beer.
“You’ll have a lot of down time, you brought a musical instrument and something to read?”
“Yeah, I did, but honestly, this is one of my adventure vacations. I’m still working, just it’s a different kind of work, so I don’t know how much down time I’d have. It’s not like a go to the beach with a Martini kind of vacation.”
“That’s true with how you do things.”
He knew me all too well. I live by this quote when it comes to adventure. “Adventure is 90% boredom, and 10% sheer terror.”
We got to the boat late that night, and went to sleep. The plan was for me to finish the final repairs the next morning, and then set up in Dogwood Harbor and drop the boat off in the water.
I checked the forecast, it was going to be a hot week. Early the next morning I installed the new hatch gasket seals, the varnished wooden blocks for the rear hatch, and loaded and sorted my gear into their various compartments.
I noticed the winds in the morning were pretty decent, and the Windy App did say that there would be around a 14-15 knot wind coming out of the Southeast. Which meant that we had head winds for the entire day.
Dean came out around noon, and checked my work. I cleaned up afterwards and got everything ready. The last time we setup in Dogwood Harbor, it was hot as hell, so this time, I pulled all the rigging out so we could setup in the yard under the shade. We got all the halyards, sheets, and clips installed on the mast. After that, we re-mounted everything, and secured the boat before attaching the trailer to the Xterra. Then we hit the road to Dogwood Harbor around 2:40PM, after a brief stop in the gas station store to get some ice cream and ice for the cooler.
At Dogwood harbor, we finished stepping the mast and attaching the stay cables around 3:15PM, and installed the sails and jibs. We finally put her in the water at 3:30PM. As we motored out of the harbor, we felt the strength of the wind. It was strong. In fact, I noticed that there were white caps on the water, and the overcast sky had a stormy look to it. Soon we had trouble making it across the bay with sails.
Dean had me do a bunch of sailing drills before we turned around and sailed up Cummings Creek into Dun Cove for the night. We worked on coming about, heaving to, and tacking. Dean had a blast surfing the boat with the waves, while I was struggling to control my sea sickness attaching the running lights to the front hatch as the bow bounced on the waves. I had to come up with a new running light attachment to the front, or build one into the boat.
The ride and the chop was rough, and I found myself questioning if my original plan was wise. I even began to think about just bringing it back to our friend’s house, and heading back home and doing a stay-cation for a moment, till I realized that I would be giving up on my adventure. Shaking my head at the thought, I said, “I will stay the course! I came out here to do this!”
While I set my mind to stay on track, I puked on the way there. I tried to ignore the fact that I got sea sick. We arrived in a secluded inlet, with wind protection on three sides. I put down the anchor, and pulled out the tarp to setup the boom tent, since it was starting to rain. Then I went to lie down in the cockpit on some cushions while Dean pulled out the vegetarian dinner he made and packed for us in his cooler. It was pasta salad. I checked the cabin to go about organizing it, and saw the galley laying on the floor. The galley had come off it’s perch, and fell on the floor from the rocking and rolling of the boat.
The cabin was crowded with our things, and the sight irritated me. I had to come up with a better organizational method for the boat to make it somewhat tolerable to sleep on.
“Man, I just don’t want this sail camping trip to be a suffer fest. It’s supposed to be my vacation.” I said.
“I was just thinking that there are some nice Museums to visit in D.C.” Dean said.
“Yeah, maybe my initial ambition to get to Taylor’s Island is a bit much. What are some other options to that?”
Dean pulled out the chart book and we took a look in the glow of the LED lantern lights.
“I can drop you off here at Easton, and you’d work your way back up to Dogwood Harbor. This whole section is a fantastic place to explore.” Dean said as he pointed at the route in my chart book.
I stared at the chart. Despite the small sizes on the chart, the mouth of Cummings Creek looked massive, and the Choptank River, which I was sailing, looked like an ocean. You couldn’t even see the main bay of the Chesapeake. Given my skill level, shortening the plan to sail from Easton back to my home port made a lot of sense, especially given my current skill level. I’d only sailed this boat under his supervision three times, and motored it twice before.
I didn’t eat much, though we did finish off the peaches I bought, and threw the worst overboard. I bought the peaches the night before, but the bruising and hot temperatures was rapidly over ripening the delicate fruit, and they were attracting flies. The next morning I made us some Vietnamese Coffee, and we decided that the smart thing to do would be to go back to Dogwood Harbor, pack it up, and drop off instead at Easton, about an hour’s drive away.
I sailed us off the anchor, as the winds were now favorable in direction for us, and we motored back into Dogwood Harbor. We took down the rigging, put the sails and spars in the cabin, strapped everything down, and then drove into Easton. Along the way I filled up Dean’s gas tank and we checked the trailer’s tire pressures.
We made a stop at Easton’s hardware store where I grabbed a separate cooler for the bait, since mixing rotting items for bait with food is never a good idea. We also grabbed a carabiner for the Yankee Jib, lamp oil, and some D loops to repair the hammock shelf. It fell on Dean’s face the night before. It was my fault since I was trying to bend the metal hook up to hold the net better, and I probably peeled it right off the wall. I also grabbed some more 5200 caulk.
The Sail Camping Trip Begins with Thunderstorms
We then stopped at a gas station on the strip mall to get some ice, and then drove to the Easton boat ramp at Easton Point. It was well past 5PM, so everything was closed. I disposed the human waste in the dumpster. We unloaded the boat, and setup the rigging and sails. It was around 6:30 and I mentioned to Dean we should take a break to eat when he checked the weather, and said I had to leave immediately since several thunderstorm cells was headed our way.
I looked up and saw the thunderheads were really close to us, probably about five miles away. Into the cockpit I went, and turned on the engine as he pushed me off, and I motored out of there to Dixon Creek, and in the first somewhat guarded anchorage I saw, I dropped anchor.
Literally 10 minutes later, the wind started to howl, and the rain pelted me like bullets. I got a text from Dean to batten down and to immediately setup the boom tent. As soon as the tent was setup, the rain came down in sheets. I sat in the cabin on top of the cooler, with one foot in the cabin, and another in the cockpit, watching out the stern end as the wind and rain hammered the boat. The wind was wild, as it kept on changing directions. It forced the boat turn on its weather helm to match the origin of the wind. The wind kept going back and forth between one point of origin to another for an hour.
Luckily I chose an inlet that was shielded on all four sides, because if this was in a body of water that was larger, I would be getting hammered with large waves and froth. What a way to start my sail camping trip.
Dean texted me that the power was knocked out in the neighborhood where I kept my boat, and that he was going to hole up there until it blew over for the night. He mentioned that the rain storm was refreshing.
Refreshing? Immediately a large amount of accumulated water splashed my face from the tarp, which gave me an idea.
I stripped down, got up on the stern hatch which was exposed, and let the rain wash the sweat and grime off of me, before soaping up for a second round of rinsing. It was crisp, and after so many days in the August heat, it felt wonderful. My batteries felt recharged. I got back under the tent, dried off, and waited out the storm. The storm went for an hour, stopped for about 30 minutes, and then unleashed itself again for another hour, stopped for another 20 or 30 minutes, before one final blow out around midnight. It was raining so hard there was water coming through the forward hatch, as well as the vent hole.
The high winds continued though, and I felt the boat constantly shift directions with the wind as I fell asleep.
I woke up the next morning, to a semi overcast sky. I ate some of the leftover pasta dish for breakfast, before doing my morning routine. My morning routine was to brush my teeth, wash my face, go take a piss, and then a dump, wash my hands, and then make breakfast.
This is a boat that’s almost 50 years old, and the head on the boat, was probably about that old. Or at least, it’s from the 1990’s, which is still pretty old. It was also broken, and the seat kept slipping as I sat on it to take a dump, which was frustrating. The pine chips which I threw on it gave off a sweet sickly smell. Thankfully the head compartment sealed well, and with the new chart table on top, it stayed sealed.
Afterwards, I went through the boat preparation checklist in my head of how to get it ready to sail off the anchor. The wind was in my favor, as I needed to go east and south, and with the southwesterly winds, that gave me a beam reach for the most part when it came to sailing. I also needed to take down the main jib and setup
the yankee jib, as the day’s forecast called for winds at max of 10 knots, which was relatively safe for that.
I went up front, took down the main jib, and strung up the yankee jib. I attached the carabiner we bought at the hardware store to the jib and onto the furler.
My routine was to make sure the forward hatch was secure, stow away all items so they don’t fall off, put excess cushions in the cabin, and make sure the cabin was clean and somewhat organized.
Next was the preparations for sailing. I took the swing keel line and cleated it down to the cockpit cleat. Then I checked the gaff rig lines, aka the throat and peak halyards, and made sure they ran to the cockpit. Next I stowed the bumpers on board. Then I checked that the jib lines were free. Then I got on the deck to check the jib halyards and made sure any excess rope was cleated properly. Messy tangles of rope can get dangerous real fast.
I then turned on the engine, put it in neutral, and let it run. I went to the bow to retrieve the anchor line, and began pulling it in, flaking it in a figure eight pattern as I went. Once I felt that I was close to lifting the anchor, I waited and watched to
see if the weather helm pointed me in a direction that was advantageous to sail off the anchor.
I felt the wind pick up a bit, and watched as the bow soon pointed out of the inlet. At that moment, I raised the anchor completely, shook off any clay, flaked the line, and then I stowed the anchor on top, quickly, before making my way back to the cockpit.
Once I got back to the cockpit, I quickly checked the wind, and it was blowing from the stern. First, I let out the storm jib, and the boat began to move. Then came the yankee jib, and the boat began to sail. I took the tiller, and while the motor was on neutral, I sailed the boat out of the inlet, and into the Tred Avon River.
My destination for the day, which I reviewed the night before, was for Pirate’s Cove, up in Trippe Creek, a distance of about 5 nautical miles. I sailed for about a nautical mile before deciding to unfurl the mainsail. Once I did that, the boat started to heel, and I got myself accustomed to it without Dean’s presence and guidance.
I was enjoying myself, sailing and navigating the river. Thankfully, the Chesapeake Bay area is very well marked, so finding the navigation posts and buoy’s wasn’t a problem. I sailed down to the junction of the Tred Avon river and Trippe Creek, and there, I began to make my turn to port for the river entrance. It was here that I ran into trouble.
Nestled in Pirate’s Cove
I wanted to turn into the river, but I kept feeling like the boat was slipping every time I was trying to keep it on a straight course. The swing keel was about 2/3rds down, so I wasn’t sure what was happening. Between that, and a bad execution of the turn, the jibs started to flap wildly, as did the boom. I didn’t want to experience a bad jybe, but that’s precisely what happened.
Suddenly, the yankee jib snapped out of the furler, and was swinging wildly in the wind! I had a panic moment, when suddenly, the boom got knocked out of the mast during the turn into the jybe. I had to immediately get the motor started, bring in the storm jib, and then stand with the rocking boat at the bow, lower the yankee jib, dump it unceremoniously into the forward hatch into the cabin, then get back into the cockpit, lower the boom, and fold up the mainsail. My adrenaline was rushing the entire time.
The boom refused to lower itself past the boom rack, so I had to tie it up as best I could, and then motor into Trippe Creek. I kept motoring around the land forms that I learned to interpret from the charts till I got to pirate’s cove, where I set anchor, and collapsed from the adrenaline rush of getting the boat back under control again. I went into the cabin, and rested for about 30 minutes. My mind was calm, but the incident bugged me. What went wrong?
I texted Dean my progress and sent him a picture of where I was anchored, before doing repairs, fishing, and some crabbing.
While doing repairs, I assessed the damage. The wild thrashing of the wind on the jibs shook the yankee jib off the carabiner. That was the wrong component to use. I got inside and grabbed the bag with the main jib, took off the snap swivel that was in the large eyelet, and attached it to the yankee jib. I then went back out, and hand wound the furler since it seemed to have problems reefing the jib all the way in. Then I attached the yankee jib, and strung up the halyard really tight. Then I furled the yankee jib, checked the control lines with double figure eight knots, before collapsing inside the cabin.
After resting for a half hour, I got out and setup the fishing poles, minnow trap, and crab trap. I have two fishing poles with spinning gear, one light, and one medium. They’re my usual go to setup for most everything I fish for in the Chesapeake area, and I’ve caught everything from bass to snakehead with it.
But, this time, I figuratively caught a skunk. I didn’t catch anything. My minnow trap and crab trap didn’t fare any better. The minnow trap line got cut by the motor prop as the boat constantly shifted its weather helm, and then I lost the trap while taking it in and undoing the rope. It slipped out of my hand into the water, and dismayed, I watched it sink.
When I realized it’d been sliced, I got on my stomach and put my head in the water to feel around the prop to make sure nothing was wrapped around it. In the process, my arm swiped some sea nettles, and I got a pretty bad sting on my forearm. It even started to swell up. I had some vinegar in a spray bottle for the head, and sprayed it on. It didn’t seem to work, so I grit and bared it.
Evening came, and I at some more of Dean’s pasta salad for dinner. Then I laid in my bunk reading the Cruising the Chesapeake: A Gunk Holer’s Guide 4th Edition for that section of the creek, and went over the chart details of where I was at. The wind died down, but there was still enough breeze, so I kept the hatches open to let it in, before I went to bed.
The next morning, I slept in, since I felt exhausted from the sheer go go go effort of the last few days. I should’ve known better though, because the wind died down and things got really hot on board the boat. It must’ve been about 100 degrees Fahrenheit, and the heat was so fatiguing, that I spent most of the day in the cabin laying in the bunk.
I wanted to jump in the water, but the sea nettles were everywhere. I spent most of the day reading the cruising guide, and going through the chart of the area as to where I could go next. It wasn’t until 6:30 that I decided to motor the boat a bit towards a spit of land to look and see if it was a better point to fish from. I did that, and I noticed the water seemed really shallow.
I wasn’t at this point ready to try to beach the boat yet, and I was concerned that the tidal changes would ground the boat, so I motored back to where I was, reset the anchor, and then made dinner. All my frozen stuff was thoroughly defrosted, and I knew I had to eat the sausages quickly. Dean’s pasta salad by now had gone bad in the heat, so I dumped that overboard. I also dumped the rest of my catfish bait overboard.
I detached the galley and put it in the cockpit to cook with. I made some rice, fried sausage, onions and peppers. Then I sat relaxing in the cockpit to enjoy the cool of the evening.
Unfortunately, something else happened when the wind died down. The bugs came out, like mosquitoes. I improvised some protection with the mosquito nets I had onboard, and covered the front hatch with one of the ones that came with the boat, while my camping mosquito net was draped over the companion way hatch. I used some duct tape that I had wrapped around my Nalgene bottle to hold them in
place. It wasn’t a great solution, and I would need a better one, but for the time being, it did the trick.
I went to run up the mast light, and discovered that it was out of juice, after just two days running it, which meant that the bulb was most likely not a 1 watt bulb. Luckily I had the two emergency running lights on board, so I strung one of them up the pole. They ran on triple A’s, weren’t as visible, but it was better than nothing. I decided to run it upside down, and the light lit up the boat like moon light.
I made some Tang to improve my morale, and played some music while I enjoyed the evening. During my reading and planning, I realized that I was very much out of my element, and since my next day’s destination was Oxford/Town Creek, I wanted a moment to to reset my expectations, and figure out some proper boat routines to make the trip easier.
Dean responded to my text about it being ridiculously hot, saying there was a wind scoop on board. Wind scoop? What’s a wind scoop? I looked it up online, and realized that it was the skinny bag in my starboard bunk. I pulled it out, and examined it. I’d never used one of these things before. So I strung it up the storm jib halyard, and checked it before going back inside. It seemed to make the wind go through the cabin a little bit faster. The cabin seemed to get a bit cooler too.
Meanwhile, I kept hearing popping sounds all around my boat, so I grabbed my spot light, and checked the water. There was bait fish everywhere! Silvery bait fish, pipe fish, sea nettles, and the occasional crab swam all around the boat. It was kind of a shock to see, given how barren everything appeared during the day. At first I wondered if the soft music I played brought them around, till I turned off the mast light to look at the stars. Suddenly the popping sounds stopped, and when I checked the water, there was nothing. So I turned the mast light back on, and again, all the fish came back up around the boat. It was the light’s glow on the water that brought them around. I realized that it simulated moon light.
I got into the cockpit, and standing on the seat, gave myself a sponge bath to refresh myself, which was another morale booster. Not leaving my boat for two days gave me cabin fever. In regular camping, I could go for a hike. In sail camping, while anchored in a place where there was no shoreline, in water full of stinging jellyfish, I couldn’t go anywhere. I was starting to get stir crazy.
“I can make this go better,” I muttered to myself. After all, this is supposed to be my vacation, not a suffer fest. I got back in the cabin, stripped down, and lay naked in the bunk listening to some light ambient music, while thinking through the procedure for tomorrow. I also checked the Windy app’s wind report for the next
day. There was very light winds, about 4-5 knots, westerly. I decided against deploying the sails for the next day, as I’d already had enough trouble with it, and elected instead to motor to Town Creek.
The Cruising Guide said to avoid Oxford, and instead dock in Town Creek, the neighboring town, as it was easier to find a more secure place to dock and resupply. I checked the charts again, before falling asleep.
The next morning, Thursday, I woke up to overcast skies, and cooler temperatures. I went through my routine, and for the head – $#itter – I added some extra bags, which kind of helped to contain the smell a little. My frustration with my head had come to a head – no pun intended – so I knew it was time to buy a new one. I made a breakfast of eggs, avocado’s, and washed it downed with some Tang. The winds weren’t in my favor, which meant motoring out of there. My only concern was how much gas I had in the tank. I had two propane 20 pound cans on board, one that was full, and the other one was a new purchase, which comes about 2/3rd full.
I motored out to a very busy water way where watermen set trot-lines for blue crabs. Blue Crabs are the major export of the area, and they fetch high prices in the local area markets up and down the East Coast. It’s the signature seafood of Maryland, other than Striped Bass, colloquially known as Rock Fish. Oysters used to be the major export, but habitat destruction, overfishing, and pollution removed many oyster areas. That said, there was still a lot of oysters to be had, as I later found out.
Oxford/Town Creek
As I motored, I sometimes idled the motor to let the watermen go on their way, and to wait for their trot lines to settle. On my way out, at the junction with the Tred Avon River, I had trouble trying read the navigation markers, and for a moment, I was lost. The compass that came with the boat was very slow in settling in the right direction, so I had to use my hiking compass to get a proper bearing. I finally found the right channel heading towards Oxford. I only motored about 3-4 nautical miles, and found the entrance to Oxford. As I went in, I went into an inlet on my port side thinking it was Town Creek, but I misread the land form, so I made a circle and kept puttering into Town Creek.
Ahead of me, I noticed the wind started to suddenly pickup. The shortwave weather radio, which I made a habit of listening to twice a day, had indicated storms starting in the afternoon. I got to the last marina on the port side, Campbell’s Marina and boat yard, and as the wind picked up, decided to dock there.
Unfortunately, the wind picked up fast, and as I scrambled on the deck to drop the bumpers and attach the dock lines, the motor reared up out of control, causing me to panic and run back to the cockpit, kicking the vent cap off into the water in the process. I managed to guide the boat into the dock, but it came in fast and with a thud. I jumped off with the line in the heat of the moment, causing the boat to float off the dock, so I had to run and jump back in as I only had one line in hand, which meant I didn’t have it under control.
The boat banged up against the dock, finally stabilizing in the wind, so I got out and quickly secured the stern and bow lines, in that order. I then secured the spring line, and then I spent some time tying up the bumpers so that they would come between the boat and the dock. I took a picture and sent it to Dean to see what he thought of my tie up job. After that, I got in the cabin, grabbed a zip lock bag and some bicycle tubing that I made into a rubber band, and sealed the open vent hole. It would have to do.
In the cabin, I went through my things and packed my day bag, as the rain came down in sheets. After 20 minutes, the rain finally stopped, while the wind picked up and howled around the boat. I got out, and went up the dock to the office. It was locked, and no one was there. I went to the bathroom and washed up, before looking for a place to eat on Google maps. Doc’s Grill was open in town. I started walking in that general direction, after going back to the boat twice to check on it and make sure that I did a good job tying up the dock lines. I used clove hitches, but sometimes there wasn’t always enough rope to tie a good hitch, so I’d add an extra wrap with the tail end of the rope to make sure.
On my way there, I walked down the road before I realized I was going the wrong way, and walked back. Once I got back on track, I passed by a restaurant inn called Pope’s Inn and Tavern where a brunette lady cleaning out front said hello. I asked for directions to Doc’s Grill, and she pointed me in the right direction, then she told me to come back for dinner.
I walked about a mile down the road, turned right, and found Doc’s grill. It was on the water facing the opening of the Choptank River, which looked like an ocean. I went inside, sat down, and ordered some fried calamari, orange juice, and then a main course of fried shrimp, fries, and sauerkraut for lunch. I then plugged in my chromebook and phone to charge up, while watching the ballgame on TV.
The bar folk were very friendly, and I told them what I was doing. The bartender mentioned that he knew the boatyard owner/manager, and that he was a cool guy with me docking while the storm blew over. He said everyone was super chill in that town, which was great to hear.
My food came out at the same time that the storm hit, with high winds and sheets of rain. I was glad to be out of there before that happened.
While eating, my sea legs hit me hard, and I was literally getting sea sick just sitting and having lunch in the bar. I asked the bartender for another glass of pineapple juice, while checking for some parts online. There was no way they’d get to me in time, but I wanted to make a note of what I’d have to get to replace the vent.
At 4PM, the rain finally stopped. I paid my bill, said thanks, and headed back to the boat yard. There, I met the owner, Daryl and told him my situation. He said it was $2 per foot, so my boat would cost $40 for the night. That was great. I could stay on the boat, use the showers, conference room, and relax. There were even bicycles! He said to talk to Susan in the morning about making payment.
I went back to the boat and took the trash and head waste to the dumpster. I brought the chargers to the conference room to recharge the mast light and back up battery. Then I took a shower. That felt fantastic getting a good shower! I then grabbed a bicycle and biked to the general store in town to get more D cell batteries for the camp lantern, which was running down the rechargeable batteries that I had on there, and more triple A’s for the mast lights. I also treated myself out to some ice cream, before getting a bag of chips and juice for the evening. My plan was to go out for dinner, grab a beer, then head back to watch a movie or TV show and relax.
I got back to the boat to unload, and then biked around town to tour it a bit and see what was around. Oxford and Town Creek are both very small bay towns, with Oxford having a combination of working boats and pleasure craft. Town Creek had a small number of facilities mainly to pleasure craft and the occasional working boat.
I then biked to Pope’s Inn and Tavern where I had an expensive Italian dinner, clam fettucine alfredo with a side of cheese cake, before biking to Doc’s Grill for a Corona and some internet time to catch up on emails. I also asked the bar tender if there was a bar where cruising sailor’s hung out at. He said that they didn’t get many cruisers like me, but tomorrow there was a big regatta, the Saint Michael’s to Oxford Regatta where they would receive a lot of cruising sailors that evening.
Around 10PM, I pulled out the cruising guide and chart book and took a look at what I wanted to do for the day. I was now half way in my trip. I figured I would sail/motor to Irish Creek, which according to the Cruising guide is a difficult sail due to the numerous numbers of shoals that you can run aground on.
I biked back to the boat yard, and went to watch the Black Lagoon anime on the chromebook in the conference room and check on the charge of my batteries, before heading back to the boat. At the boat, I adjusted the dock lines to compensate for tidal changes, and checked the bumpers to make sure they were rubbing against the dock and not the boat. Then I turned in to sleep.
I woke up the next morning, got washed up, and headed to the office. Susan was there, and I explained to her my situation the previous night. Apparently Daryl also told her about my situation as well. Susan said if I paid cash, it was just $20 per night since she wouldn’t have to do any paper work. After paying her, I bought some ice for $3, which I put in the jar in the outdoor freezer. I then headed to the main yard to get my recharged batteries, and then with a bike, biked into town to get some breakfast and to check out some of the other places in town that I didn’t get to see the day before.
I biked back to the end of town to check out the historic Robert Morris Inn and to get some breakfast, but I got there ten minutes after the kitchen closed, so I biked to Oxford Social, a small coffee shop in the center of town across from the General Store.
After a chai tea latte and egg roll up sandwich, I biked back to the boat yard to begin preparations to leave. After I finished the morning preparation routine, I motored out to the main channel, and motored my way south from Oxford towards the Choptank River Light marker.
Overshooting Irish Creek into Broad Creek
The winds for the day were light, at about 3-5 knots westerly. Which meant that I might have a beam reach, which at this point I was most comfortable sailing with. I knew that as soon as I reached the Choptank River light and turned north west, it was all headwinds, which meant I would motor the entire way to the mouth of Irish Creek.
While I was motoring, I followed a large 38 foot sailboat that was motoring out ahead of me, while another larger 45 or 50 foot boat was also motoring out into the main Choptank River. I matched speeds with them, and watched them raise sail as soon as we hit the mouth. The 38 footer raised sail and soon was off in the distance. The other one started raising sails. I decided I wanted to motor to one more marker
to make sure I had enough room to deploy sails for the 4 nautical miles I would travel to the river light marker.
I deployed the storm jib and yankee jib, and as soon as I had some thrust, I turned off the motor. I then raised the mainsail, and that’s when Ghe Ho Dep took off with some actual speed. By now, I was used to the heeling of the boat, and I was comfortable with how she heeled. I still didn’t have enough understanding on how to properly set the swing keel height though.
Ghe Ho Dep took off , and soon I put the 48 foot sailboat far behind me, and I soon saw a marker on a stone platform in the water. I didn’t realize it was the river marker light, and I blew past it, about 1.5 nautical miles to a marker that when I checked it on the map, was about 1.5 nautical miles from the marker light. Go figure! On realizing my error, I turned the boat heading to North West, about 45 degree’s. I doused the sails, and turned on the motor, as I had a long motor journey ahead of me.
With the sails down and the motor running in idle, I looked around me. I couldn’t make out what the land forms were versus the chart. All I knew was I had to keep the landscape to my right, but I saw land forms all around. I was confused, so I used the old boat compass to see if I could take a bearing, until I realized that the compass
didn’t correct itself like my hiking compass, and I ended up going 15 degree’s in the wrong direction.
Soon I saw multiple large sails in the horizon, some with multiple colors. That had to be the regatta! I was headed in the opposite direction, but since I had trouble making out the land forms in the horizon with those of the chart, I figured that their point of origin was Saint Michaels. So as long as I headed in that direction and kept the land forms to my right, I was doing alright.
I motored a bit more to the south west to give the regatta a wide berth, before taking my bearing and heading due northwest. About 6 nautical miles later, I spotted a tiny speck on the horizon. It had to be a marker. I motored for it, hoping it was the marker for the entrance to Irish Creek. Unfortunately or fortunately, when I got
close to it, I saw that it was the marker for Broad Creek, a very large, and apparently not often cruised area, due to the difficulty in getting supplies. According to the Cruising Guide, the only place you could get supplies was Oxford, as the one landing Neavitts was in a tiny town with almost no facilities, while the other dock in the
backdoor of Saint Michael’s didn’t have a landing, nor facilities. You had to walk about a mile mile and a half to get them.
Since I was already in Broad Creek, and about a day ahead of time, I motored up to an unnamed anchorage in Leadenham Creek. I did 13 nautical miles, the longest so far of the trip. Once I set anchor, I checked all the equipment, setup the wind scoop, and rested. It was about 4PM.
Around 4:30, I decided to replace the sail lacings that Dean and I jury rigged with sail ties. They kept getting caught on each other, and jamming on the boom rail, which made taking the mainsail down aggravating every time I had to do it. The tag ends made a mess of things too. So I grabbed some left over rope that came with the boat, cut the ends to a much shorter length than the sail ties, sintered the ends with a lighter, and re-laced the sail with them. They did look a lot neater.
Dinner was vegetarian Korean Bulgogi from Trader Joe’s that my Mom recommended, and rice, washed down with Tang. I then setup the mast light to shine upside down, and settled in for the night. I was much more relaxed now, since I finally had an established routine for the morning, day, and evening, and that kind of structure brought a sense of understanding to the boat and its systems.
Having that is very comforting for me, since the first few days, I was out of my element. I rode a bicycle across South and Central America for 2.5 years, so having a good routine with your equipment gives you a lot of confidence in your abilities and in what you can and can’t do. I didn’t have that with the boat, nor an idea, until I finally got some sense of it.
Since I was feeling a lot more relaxed, I played some Pink Floyd, and broke out my fiddle to play some music. The spot I anchored at was behind a farm field with a screen of tree’s. I think someone heard me playing, because above the treeline I saw a drone go up in the sky and come relatively close to the boat, before retreating.
I played the Tetris theme song, El Sol Ce Requesta (from Black Lagoon), and some Pink Floyd songs, before putting it away. Then I heard light splashes in the water, and that’s when I realized that the boat was literally surrounded with life. This time the crabs swimming around were very large, so I grabbed my crab net and caught a few. I also caught some of the minnows and pipe fish that were swimming around to examine, and for bait.
I was having a great night so far. The sky was clear, and the stars were up. I wanted to re-acquaint myself with the night sky again, so I reversed the mast light, and turned on Stellarium on the computer. It’d been a long time.
Once upon a time, when I was an outdoor ed science teacher, I knew most of the sky. I could find and spot constellations very quickly. I also knew of the easiest deep sky objects to find with a decent telescope. And I taught and inspired many a student in my field groups with the joys of astronomy.
I badly missed those nights when I went out on my own into the field after a long day of teaching and field group, and spent an hour or two with telescopes to find deep sky objects, planets, and other sky phenomena.
It took me a while to re-acquaint myself with the sky again. Cassiopeia was an easy one to find. So was Ursa Major. Ursa Minor was a little trickier. Draco, Epsilon Bootes, Pegasus, Cygnus the Swan, soon the familiar names and patterns started feeling familiar again.
I reminded myself to add a much larger set of astronomy/hunting binoculars to the equipment checklist, as opportunities like this were too good to pass up. I had my green laser pointer, but I should’ve brought my planisphere, Guide to the Stars by Ken Graun, which is what I used when I was teaching. Running the Stellarium program on the chromebook constantly messed up my night vision, but unfortunately my pricey Princeton Tec headlamp was crapping out on me. So I had no spare red light led to work with, other than the spot light, and that was way too bright to use.
For me, when I was a kid, I was a total space cadet. I wanted to be an astronaut, I wanted to go in space, to travel amongst the stars. Now, as an adult, I finally got myself a ship, and in a way, I was still traveling in the stars. It was pure bliss to realize this. I set up for the night to go to bed, and after a sponge bath, I lay in my bunk amazed at where I was.
Not more than four years ago, I was in dire financial straits. My tech startup was going no where, I had literally nothing to my name, I was living on a thread, and I had to take a lowly mechanic job at a bike shop to survive.
Now I was sailing in my own boat, enjoying Nature, solitude, and the skies. I finally have some semblance of financial security, a working business, and I manage that same shop, and soon another one. I gave my thanks to God, and expressed my
gratitude. Tomorrow, since I was ahead of schedule, I would make my way to a set of islands in Broad Creek, just three nautical miles away.
Sail Camping on the Deserted Island
The next morning, I got up at 7:30, felt the heat of the sun, and setup the boom tent over 2/3rds of the cockpit. This was becoming routine now, and it helped to block out most of the heat, while the wind scoop funneled air in to cool things off. Since the wind was a southerly wind of 3 knots, I had to motor off the anchor, but then after rounding the fourth marker, I turned north, and with the low winds, gingerly jybed the boat towards the island. I barely got any wind, but I did shut off the motor, and even with 3-4 knots of wind, I reached the island in the last nautical mile. I got in close to the shore, about 100 feet, and set anchor.
I had to go to the bathroom, and thought about how to avoid the sea nettles until I realized I had a skin suit. I gave myself a dope slap. This entire time I could’ve gone for a dunk in the water to cool off because I had the skin suit, and I completely forgot about it! I put it on, grabbed the scraper from the toolbox, and reminded myself to include a hand trowel in the essential boat equipment list, or at least a camp shovel. I threw in the toilet paper, soap, water spray and water bottle into the dry bag.
I setup the swim ladder, and got in the water. It was only about 2 and a half feet deep. I walked through the water to the beach, and noted that I didn’t get stung at all. The skin suit worked well.
I climbed over the high tide mark onto dry land, and in the woods of the island, found a spot, and dug a cat hole to do my business. Now this, this was what I was used to when it came to doing the poo. You dug a hole, pooped in it, wiped, buried it, covered it up, and let Nature do its work. You gave the tree a rich fertilizer deposit to benefit it, didn’t stink up the cabin, and you don’t have to deal with wood chips or strange smelling deodorants. No fuss no muss.
I walked around the spot I found, and saw some suitable spots for camping. There was also no evidence of anyone visiting the island, other than a few beer cans and bottles, which I picked up to clean off the island. I finally found a place where I could put the camping in sail camping.
The plant life on the island comprised of what looked like Lob Lolly pines, American Holly Tree’s, Roundleaf Green Briar, with shoots on the tops that were delicious to break off and eat. It tasted a bit like asparagus. For some odd reason, a lot of the briar shoots had large ants on them. The ants on the island were large, on average they were 1/4 inch long, red and black colored, and they reminded me of some of the massive ants I saw in the Amazon. There were bumble bee’s buzzing around flowers and raspberry bushes.
And strangely, there were cockroaches. Lots of and lots of naturalized brown cockroaches living on the island. They darted everywhere around the leaves and brush. At first, I thought I was looking at a strange beetle, till I recognized their shape and movement. I’d never seen cockroaches outside of an urban setting before. I reminded myself to make sure to double check my bags before leaving the island.
I went back to the boat, put my things back in, and then walked around the shoreline in the water. There were fallen trees on both the western and eastern side of the island, but at the points there were no tree’s, indicating that the incoming and outgoing tide tended to keep these sections clear. As I walked around, I stepped on something hard with my crocs. I reached down and pulled up a massive oyster.
My eyes practically bugged out. This was huge! It was the size of my hand! I walked and felt some more, and pulled that up. Another huge clump of oysters. Pretty soon, I had a dinner’s worth of oysters.
I brought them back to the boat, and did a full sweep around the island, making a circle around it. For the night, I decided to sleep on the boat, but not till I explored the island’s fishing grounds some more.
Evening came, and the sun set behind a sliver of the island. I pulled out the box galley into the cockpit as the air temperature dropped to a cooler, more tolerable feel. I setup a makeshift steamer using a steel colander on top of a small soup pot. After about an hour wrestling against a 5 knot wind that seemed to diminish the burner, I gave up trying to steam the oysters. I also got out of the boat to reposition it by resetting the anchor, hoping to get a sweet spot of breeze to keep cool.
Instead, I boiled the oysters, and while boiling them, the wind completely disappeared. I also ran out the first alcohol can, but luckily I had another can to use. I almost had a mishap when I tried to pour more alcohol in while it was running. Some of the alcohol splashed out, and lit on fire, which I put out after turning off the stove.
Dinner was pasta and tomato sauce with boiled oysters. I knew I had a chance to catch crabs and oysters, which is why I brought lemons, salt and pepper. I sliced them up, and had a delicious meal of steamed oysters and pasta, while enjoying the night sky.
The lack of wind brought more bugs than usual. I quickly setup the mosquito nets, but without the breeze, the night time temperatures were a little warm. I set up the ice water cooling unit that I brought with me to see if it would take care of the temperature inside the cabin. It kind of worked, but the wind scoop was much better at funneling what little wind there was into the cabin, which wasn’t much. There was so little wind that there wasn’t even a weather helm, so I slept naked.
The next morning I went back to the island to do my bathroom routine, and decided to camp for the night there. After all, this was supposed to be a sail camping trip.
It took about five trips to transport the things I felt I needed for the camping portion of the trip. I noted that I should’ve brought my hammock tent setup, and a smaller camping stove. In fact, I was annoyed with the fact that I had to bring the entire galley to shore to cook.
On land, I used the tarp that I had for the boom tent as a ground tarp, and setup the lines for the mosquito net, which is an Amazon rainforest style camp. I hadn’t set one of these up in almost 16 years, which was the last time I was in the Amazon rainforest. The boat cushions made a decent sleeping pad.
After setting up, I took a nap. When I woke up, I saw heavy dark clouds in the horizon. Fearing an impending thunder storm, I rearranged the camp so that the tarp was a shelter, went out to the boat and took down the scoop, and closed the hatches.
There was no storm. It passed over without incident, so I went for a water hike through the water to the other island, which was about a mile away. The maximum height of the water was about three feet, and along the way I found more oysters. The other end of the island was a tiny spit of land with a single pine tree, a juniper bush, and some smelly marshes. I walked back to the main island, where I found more oysters. They were the size of my hand. I put them on the beach to clean for later, and grabbed my fishing gear to walk around and fish the island.
I didn’t catch anything, and I remembered that in the summer, during the heat of the day, the fish migrate to the deeper parts of the water ways to stay cool.
As I walked around the island, I found a clearing where someone made a primitive shelter. I got up on land to get a closer look and there were turtle shells around a fire pit. I tried to walk back to camp, but there were so many fallen tree’s that blocked the way, I had to get back into the water to get back to camp again.
As night fell, I made a fire, and roasted the oysters on the embers, while making a proper pasta with the leftover noodles, tomato sauce and parmesan cheese. I sat back against a tree to admire the view and enjoy the oysters. This was a great way to finish up the trip.
After dinner I took down the tarp shelter, and re-setup the mosquito canopy. Then I went to the beach to explore a bit, and saw swarms of silvery bait fish swimming in the low tide. An American eel swam in the water next to my ankle, while blue crabs scavenged the shallows.
I went back to camp, washed up, took a sponge bath, and then retired into the mosquito canopy to sleep. It was nice to be out in the woods again, on my own deserted island, after a feast of fresh oysters. Come to think of it, the last time I camped in a deserted island was during a seven day canoe trip through the Everglades in 2009.
All through the night I heard geese landing in the waters, and a family of storks screeching like some ancient dinosaurs as the mother or father fed the hatchlings.
The next and final morning, I woke up to the sounds of working boats chugging their way to their trotlines, and far off in the distance, the high pitched whine of lawn mowers and wood chippers. I cleaned up, and packed everything away. It took about four trips to the boat to put everything back in.
I got a text from Dean that he would be late getting to the pickup point, so I spent part of the morning taking notes and exploring a bit more around the island. Then I got in the boat, and motored away and back into the main channel. Once I rounded
the point, I deployed the jibs, as I had at most a 3 knot southerly wind.
It took about two hours to motor back to the town of Wittman, but by the time I got to the boat launch, there was an incoming thunderstorm. My timing was impeccable. I had a mishap at the concrete launch because as soon as I approached, the wind caused me to bounce against one side. Once again, I only managed to grab one
dock line in hand, and I had to run and jump back in the boat as it drifted to the other side, bouncing off the other side of the launch. I got back out, and pushed it with the wind back to the other side, and managed to set the dock line.
I messed up my dock approach again, and I reminded myself that I needed more practice. But I got back safe and sound, the boat despite some of the bumps, was in great shape, and I had a fantastic experience. I did a total of 40 nautical miles, and I was still using the same tank I started the trip with.
I took down the sails and the rigging while waiting for Dean to bring the Xterra and trailer. When he got there, we loaded the boat up, and drove around the block to our friend’s house. We celebrated my trip with two shots of rum, while I started unpacking and getting things loaded up in the truck. Several neighbors came over to congratulate me on a successful sailing trip, since they knew how little experience I had with not just the boat, but also with sailing in general.
One of the neighbors invited us over for snacks and dinner, where I recounted some of the troubles I had sailing the boat. Luckily he was an expert sailor, and a racer on top of that, so he gave me good advice to how I was to approach the jybe parts of the sail. I went back to the boat to finish unloading while he cooked dinner, when the sea legs combined with the two shots of rum got the best of me, and I couldn’t move since everything felt like it was spinning around me. I lay on the couch when Dean came over, and apologized for being knocked out. By then the storm was incoming pretty hard, so we crashed the night, and left the next morning.
My sea legs kept going for another two days.
Addendum
So after a trip like that, there are a lot of areas that I can improve on. Here are some notes and observations:
1.) A new bucket head! That’s an absolute must!
2.) A boat electrical system for the running lights, stern light, and mast light, as well as the cabin lights, with an inverter for charging devices.
3.) Shelves! Re-attaching the hammock hook, and cutting and making some new fish net shelves for the bow bunks, and getting some bedside caddies for the port and starboard sides, as well as the aft of the cabin to hold stuff and organize with!
4.)Reduce the amount of stuff I brought! I didn’t read any of the books I brought other than the cruising guide, and the chart book.
5.) Put a sun shield on top of the cooler to block the sun’s heat. The ice I got held it’s own, but it could’ve lasted longer if the cooler wasn’t getting heated from the sun constantly.
6.) Get a 1 Watt or less bulb for the mast light. It only lasted two night with the new bulb. Also integrate a light sensor to turn it on or off.
7.) Bring a camp shovel/trowel for when camping on land, and a machete for cutting through brush
8.) Bring smaller foot fins
9.) Bring a separate camp stove with fuel cannister
10.) For areas with tree’s, bring a camping hammock and tarp, for area’s with no tree’s, the four man tent and sleeping pad/ air mattress
11.) Have a live bait well on board
12.) Bring a lot less clothing! Check the revised list
13.) Bring a funnel for pouring alcohol into the stove
14.) Cut a piece of plywood for underneath the cockpit space for the battery and sine wave converter.
15.) Get another steel cup for storing on board
16.) Get two steel spoons
17.) Find a better place to sail where I don’t wake up in the suburbs every day! Everyday I woke up to the sounds of a lawn mower, wood chipper, etc. It would be nice to find some primeval places to sail, where there is literally nobody.
18.) Install a new battery in the chrome book.
19.) Running the sails with the motor in low winds is a win win. It helped with regards to efficiency and getting to my destination faster.
20.) I need to get a new snap swivel for the top of part of the Yankee Jib
21.) I’d like to replace the thin lines of the Yankee Jib with a thicker, easier to cleat line like what’s already on the other jibs.
22.) I need to get some teflon, and specialty glues to stick the teflon onto the steel neck of the Gaff rig to make it frictionless on the mast.
23.) I need to replace the nuts on the some of the turn buckles, and to have some spares on hand.
