03/22/2024
What could go Wrong?
The prior post about our planned journey was met with discouragement.
Weather presents windows of opportunity, and challenges to progress. It is often stated that “a schedule” is dangerous sailors.
The four of us assessed the multiple weather multiple models. An outside passage would be ridiculous. We saw an option to move the boat to avoid the weather. But it involved moving the boat down the ICW from Norfolk to Albemarle Sound, in the dark. We assessed the route and saw many options to stop safely and hide or return to Norfolk. I had some experience navigating this ICW and shared my concerns. I have had more experience than most navigating in the dark paddling and night sailing in at least 4 different sailboats. Far from an expert, but not naïve. Paddling was the best training for this as you can’t get more vulnerable than a kayak, in the dark, in the ICW.
Realistic risks were assessed as: boat damage, grounding, hitting a bridge, and getting inconveniently weather bound. Agreed, injury is more likely at night than during the day. We weren’t concerned about sinking, drowning, or dying. Mostly, we were concerned about being embarrassed.
We agreed not to do this without 4 people to share watch. With the well-founded discouragement (online and off) we were now down to 3. We tried boat neighbors, and out of state sailors but found nobody that could jump to our aid with our 10-hour window we had.
So, off we went. Jessie (who did not oversell his experience or sailing credentials) and Corrie, and Steve. After picking them up from the airport and re-briefing the concerns and bail out options, and a safety tour of Hope & Glory, we got an early start at 5:08P leaving Norfolk. The 10 miles from Norfolk to the Elizabeth River were the calmest I have ever. All prior trips for Janine and I were in the face of freezing temps, nasty winds, overheating engines, and out of control dinghies.
After negotiating our limited space with the container ships and Naval Vessels, we turned South onto Elizabeth. I was the first to go down below to don bibs, boots, turtleneck, and grumpy hat for the night. Jessie took the helm, only to be backed down on by another container ship leaving the berth without signals, VHF Security, or apparently checking behind him before pulling out. Jessie made a few evasive wide circles and we continued underway.
Next, we received a new Security (Security is a USCG concerning announcement) that Glimerton Bridge would again require 2-hour notification before opening. We had covered our bridges and had them sorted out. This was new. We phoned Glimerton Bridge. They were great and very accommodating.
The sun set as we rounded Hospital Point, near Waterside Marina. We had the usual tugboat traffic to contend with. When we made the Glimerton Lift Bridge we slowed, and they opened right up for us. We have always had a protracted wait.
Just past the Deep Creek entrance to the Dismal Swam (currently closed to navigation) we encountered our first sea monster. Bright overwhelming lights leading their way, we discovered a pair of tugs with a ¼ mile of (cable, snake, tubing) strung between them. They did not respond on C16 or C13. We wallowed in the mud near Deep Creek until they revealed what they were, and what they were doing. In the dark as something unknown gets closer to you, at some point it becomes identifiable. When all you can see is an unresponsive spotlight it is hard, we stepped aside, waited, and they passed.
We passed one more of these sea monsters before making it to Great Bridge Lock. This sea monster pushing a barge. They responded on VHF, but not intelligibly.
The Great Bridge Lock was super accommodating. The open for North bound traffic first. We phoned 20 minutes before our arrival, and when we arrived, they were open, waiting for us. Not that we could tell as there were so many lights, mostly red. We couldn’t read the lighting until we were uncomfortably close, then it was easy to see what we should do. Through we went, without even. Had a nice chat and laughed with the lock-master.
They had the Great Bridge open for us as we arrived. The bridge tender cautioned us to give a wide berth to an overly lit up beached barge that still took up too much of the fairway. There were several more that followed that. We had several more bridges to negotiate, and spent time liberally asking the swing bridges, identified by their red lights in the darkness, with side was preferred for passage and if we needed any other clarity as we approached from out of our darkness. Some were gracious, some were gruff.
I learned from paddling that if you use a bright light to aid in navigation, then your world is limited to what is illuminated by that light. We had a waxing nearly full moon, and calm conditions. We could see the water reasonably well when we weren’t shining any flood lights. We had many eyes on numerous phones (3) with Navionics and other apps, we had two chart plotters that gave us information about other vessels (like sea monsters), markers and where we should be in our fairway. If we lost our modern navigation equipment, we would be forced to stop.
We expected to be slow and cautious. We had hoped to average 5 knots. Still feeling cautious, much of the time we were pushing 7 knots. We did need to start shining for markers regularly once we hit the twisty North Landing River. We lost most of our shore lights (finally, happy for that). We found two more sea monsters after North Landing River opens, and before we arrived at the Coinjock canal. Both answered their radios, one spoke understandable English. Both needed to get withing 1,000 yards before we could start to ‘see’ their layout and what they were.
After going through the very narrow Coinjock canals and navigating the twisty North River we came Albemarle Sound. We had planned on arriving here at noon on Friday, but as our speeds were unhindered, we arrived at 4:30 am on Friday. The sound grew blustery and bumpy as we crossed but posed no issues. Alligator Creek Bridge opened promptly for us just after sunrise and displaced 100s of birds who were waiting for the day to warm up.
As it was daylight now, we took turns sleeping (one on deck, one down below) while the odd man manned the helm. Alligator River, the canal between, and Pungo River were nice and relaxing to navigate as wind speed picked up. None the less, we had long periods of sunshine and had to manage getting too warm.
The folks at Dowry Creek Marina we super helpful in getting is docked. I think we had 5 people there to assist with our lines. We had planned on arriving after midnight, but we arrived at 12:45P.
Observations:
I was less anxious during this trip than I was for my first two trips South via the ICW. We had no near collision with any aids to navigation. In my past I did collide twice with the 18.5’ sailboat: once in a race after a jibe (I could see nothing), and once in the dark in Pine Island Sound during a multiday race (we weren’t paying attention).
Comments:
Nighttime navigation is something to be avoided if you can. Your ability to see is greatly reduced and this increases the risk of injury and misjudgment. Yet, nighttime sailing in open water is a beautiful thing to experience.
I had no idea there would be this many tugs and barges working through the night in the ICW. This was a surprise. The experience became more predictable with each passing sea monster (just as it would during the day).
I still would want to have 4 people on board as there is a lot more ‘reconciling of observations’ that occurs at night.
Dock & Lock Masters, and bridge tenders are much nicer in the dark!
All comments and concerns were appreciated and taken to heart. We reevaluated our decisions. Thank you.
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