The Outer Banks

The “graveyard of the Atlantic” turned out to be full of life.

To prepare for this 30 hour, 220 NM passage, we studied weather forecasts during the weeks prior. We picked a weekend that offered:

  • The longest days of the year
  • A full moon visible most of the night
  • Favorable southerly winds
  • Clement weather

 

Everything came together as forecast, so we were “go” for an 0800 departure. We left at the same time as Winter Wheat and Vagamonda. Well, not the exact same time. Everyone left a little earlier than planned as sailors are prone to do.

We had to head south about 20 NM to clear shoals, which are typical at the mouth of southern inlets, before turning northeast to begin the rounding.

Tom, who’s truly knowledgeable about local waters, told us that when we reached a depth of 100 feet, we’d likely see flying fish. Well, at 100 feet to the inch, we saw schools of flying fish scooting across the ocean’s surface. They look like shiny silver hummingbirds and they stay aloft for 100 yards before plunging back into the water.

 

 

We were just far enough offshore to pick up a 1 knot push from the Gulf Stream current, which passes close offshore of North Carolina before crossing to Europe, where it acts as a great natural heater, bringing warm water from the Gulf of Mexico. The water in the Gulf Stream is a beautiful translucent blue, unlike the usual grayish hue of the Atlantic. We couldn’t stop staring at it and following the sun rays as they penetrated the surface.

We organized the trip into two hour watches and rotated between watch skipper at the helm, watch mate assisting with sail trim and break, when we caught up on sleep. The crew fell into a natural rhythm and we had a fantastic time, enjoying the natural beauty, the full moon and great sailing conditions. We were able to fly our big red asymmetrical spinnaker (a.k.a. gennaker) most of the way. We were spoiled with an amazing sunset followed shortly by an equally amazing moonrise and finally the sunrise.

The wind picked up to about 20 knots as we entered the Chesapeake Bay and it was challenging to sail into the wind through a relatively narrow gap in between the two bridge spans of the Bay Bridge Tunnel while dodging 600 foot freighters stacked with containers.

Eventually, we turned west into the Hampton Roads toward Norfolk, Virginia. This is a huge naval base and we passed multitudes of giant aircraft carriers and warships docked along the Elizabeth River.

Just before we entered our marina at Portsmouth, across the river from Norfolk, the wind kicked up and was gusting in the high 20s. While that’s great wind for sailing, it’s not fun to dock in those conditions so Dan, usually a calm sailor, was feeling stressed in anticipation of the looming disaster. Fortunately, the marina was sheltered by some nearby buildings so it turned out to be uneventful, although our keel did bump the bottom a few times as we entered the fairway to our dock. It was a particularly low tide, typical of full moon periods. Note to crew: let’s leave at high tide when the time comes to move on.

Tom’s wife, Hope, and Gracie the dog, were waiting at the dock. They drove up from Wilmington to retrieve Tom.

It was a bittersweet moment as the high of a beautiful overnight passage mingled with the lumps in our throats from having to say goodbye to North Carolina, and to our new and dear friends whom we’ll miss.

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