October 31, 2007

Norfolk was terrific. The Waterside Marina, run by the city is adjacent to a waterfront park, a sort of restaurant mall, and the downtown with the slogan: safe, clean and friendly, and it is. There’s an upscale mall a few blocks away - usual stores, but good for replacing some clothing necessities - a first class supermarket, and a diner a block away with a cheap breakfast: two eggs, bacon, toast and coffee, $4.00.

We received a wonderful missive from our friend Roland who witnessed Boston’s celebration of the Red Sox World Series victory. He captured the transformational excitement of great public celebrations. Maybe the high of these things is there is so little in American life these days that takes us out of ourselves into joyful community - no ideologies or politics, only celebration.

We listened to the series on ESPN radio streamed on the web first by a station in Connecticut and, when that failed, a station in Austin, Texas. We’d almost forgotten the magic of baseball on the radio that allows imagination to create a picture more vivid than any television.

First day on the waterway…

Yesterday we motored from Norfolk to Coinjock, North Carolina through the Southern Branch of the Elizabeth River, Albemarle and Chesapeake Canal, North Landing River, Coinjock Bay and North Carolina Cut (another canal) where lies Coinjock which is mainly two marinas for transients: clean, basic Motel 8 equivalents on the waterway.

We trailed the crowd of boats. An aerial bridge for trains that cruising guides say is always up, went down in front of us, sat there an empty span, then a coal train crawled on it, stopped, rested, stretched and then grudgingly went on. The bridge was empty, but stayed down. A guy walked down two flights of a steel stairs from the operator’s house the middle of the span at the pace of a retiree going down the front porch steps to retrieve ora newspaper, moseyed along the span looking down and to the side as if he was trying to find something, disappeared from view and the bridge went up too late for us to make the Jordan Highway aerial bridge two tenths of a mile away that only opens on the half hour, about 29 minutes from when we arrived.

A single hander named Tony on a home-built, one-of-a- kind 40 foot sail boat was also caught and liked to holler advice as we circled and waited. He became our best friend at the Great Bridge Lock, 8 miles further on, where we politely allowed other boats to enter ahead of us. They filled both sides. We called on the radio asking advice, received none, eased in between the two lines of tied boats, assuming we could raft, and M. informed me that I was being yelled at by the lock tender, who wondered just where we thought we were going. Yelled back that we thought we could raft. Yelled in response was “not without permission of another boat,” and behold, Tony on the starboard side who allowed us to raft.

Without hollering or yelling while waiting for the lock to left us from tidal to the non-tidal water beyond, we learned that Tony some years ago took an early retirement from being an economics professor at a Boston university, a job he hated. He now raises 50 Morgan horses in New Hampshire, has made this trip at least 15 times, and was heading to the Caribbean and perhaps beyond. The only reason he was in the ICW and not offshore is he wanted to make some progress south while waiting for tropical storm Noel to move up the coast. His wife, hired hands and volunteers take care of the farm and she’ll probably meet him somewhere by driving their 40 foot motor home.

Tony thought he would make Coinjock that night. We needed to stop to pump fuel in and to pump “other” out at a Marina just beyond the locks and lost site of Tony, and later didn’t find him in Coinjock to our regret.

There are good manners on the waterway. Most power boats approaching from behind, call Journey on the radio, and alert us that they will pass us on port or starboard, some saying “one whistle” or “two whistles.” One is the signal for passing on starboard, two for passing on your port side. We slow, so they can get by faster. We rocked quite a bit after one power boat went by and he radioed apologies for throwing more wake than he expected. Trawler yacht captains, the closest subspecies to sailors, are the politest.

Elizabeth City

The voyage on Wednesday, Halloween, was from Coinjock to Elizabeth City, via a short trip on an unusually placid (5 knots out of the southeast) Albemarle Sound, then backtracking a bit up the Pasquotank River to Elizabeth City. Roland B. and I sailed by Elizabeth City last May on Ibis, his 17 foot catboat, on our way to the entrance to the Dismal Swamp route of the ICW with not enough time to stop in what is billed as a cruiser-friendly city with lots of interesting old homes. Cruising guide author and guru, Claiborne Young, writes: “It’s difficult to overstate the enthusiasm Elizabeth City has for developing a rapport with the cruising community.”

Well I guess so! Mayor-elect, Steve Atkinson, helped us into another tricky piling slip without smacking the bow on the steel bulkhead of the waterfront, told us all about what to see and do, and where to eat. He stopped by again this morning and we learned more. He came to Elizabeth City in 1999 after a career as head of purchasing for several Ford Motor plants based in the Norfolk area. Was quickly asked to join the planning commission, became its chairman, decided to run for Mayor and beat the incumbent.

Painted on Elizabeth City’s water tower is its slogan: “Harbor of Hospitality,” that grew from a man named Fred Fearing who created a group of volunteers that began in 1983 to give roses to arriving boaters. He died just a week ago at age 95, but Steve and other volunteers are committed to continuing to give roses and host wine and cheese parties for cruisers. Steve also has big dreams of public-private partnerships to expand services to boaters, attract conferences and create jobs.

No wine and cheese party for us from the friendly volunteers as the dismal swamp canal route of the ICW closed the day before we arrived and there wasn’t the usual influx of eight boats or more coming out of the swamp canal lock that dumps boats a few miles upstream from Elizabeth City into the Pasquotank. We took on a bit of celebrity for our effort of backtracking to visit here.

Two fellow cruisers, Brian and Sue, invited us to an ad hoc bring your own wine and cheese gathering that continued through dinner. They are from Marblehead, MA, also first time cruisers on the ICW. They left today. We’re laying over likely a couple of days to wait out up to a 40-knot blow out of the northwest. We won’t test Albemarle Sound’s reputation.

Last, it was another high-risk day. We both got haircuts, me at Sammy’s, twelve bucks; Marlene at Stillwater’s Salon and Spa, bucks almost equal to the best of Boston. Guess whose came out the best.