Friday, November 1, 2013
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Happy Halloween
Our grand daughter's first Halloween.
Sweet Baby Lobsta
Fernandina is a neat little town. It'll be a fun week.
It's family week.... hadn't had one in a while. Looking forward to seeing the little dude, and the little girl. We really don't know her yet and Mel loves to squeeze babies.
Boo!
Istaboa
Again — That Plan Thing
And again, we bailed on it.
We pulled away from Cape Fear inlet with the intentions of heading south to Georgetown and making Charleston, SC the following day. We knew a front was heading our way and we'd be stuck somewhere for a week... so never having seen Charleston made it seem like a great place to be stuck.
Then, as we left the channel we were amazed, the seas were incredibly calm. So smooth in fact we had a change of heart. We were kinda surprised at ourselves because just the night before we'd both declared, "Never anymore overnighters with only the two of us aboard!".
I guess declarations are like plans.
We quickly did a little homework and saw the weather system would hold for another 24 hours across the portion of the east coast we wanted to travel down.
The same system that was forecast for the day before, the one that let us down, was finally becoming reality.
Cautiously, we set a waypoint for Charleston thinking if it got bad again we could jump off at either Georgetown or Charleston, throttled up to cruising speed, were delighted to see 9.7 knots of speed, and took off.
It remained unbelievably calm, the whole day and the whole night.
It was a very dark moonless night, but the stars gave off enough light that we could make out a vague horizon... unless we ran through a patch of fog... and we did find ourselves in many of those.
It was surreal. We ran for hours in total darkness without feeling the slightest bump, not even the roll of a swell.
Running through the night in these conditions seems like you're flying, though we were making less than 10 knots.
It's a very weird sensation... like you're falling. I think I've said this before, but it is and you have to have faith that if you can't see it, or it's not on radar... it's simply not there. Like you're flying blind.
I once read an article about a couple who'd traveled alone together with there little dog aboard a 46 Nordhavn. They were somewhere out to sea, thousands of miles away from anywhere, and they hit something. Struck it so hard their boat heeled over and water flooded into their cabin. They never knew what they hit, it was dark, but whatever it was didn't stop them. The next morning they found no damage. They shrugged it off and kept on going.
Of course, what else would you do?
During the night, I would walk out on the bridge to gaze at the stars and I'd hear and see the splashes of dolphin around the bow. It was so dark that the only perceptible sight of them was a dark shadow, underlit by the phosphorescence made from the spray of sea water they created while playing in our bow wake.
Shooting stars were numerous and the only sounds to be heard were Istaboa's bow plying through the soft seas, the quiet consistent hum of her engine, the occasional playful dolphin chuffing through it's blowhole, and a compilation CD of Bob Dylan tunes "Chimes of Freedom" covered by a very diverse collection of artists. (It's really a great grouping of about 75 songs and it lasts for hours.)
Oh yeah... our old friend, Sandy Carroll just released a new CD and we listened to her a couple of times. "Unnaturally Blonde"
It was one of those nights that makes you forgive the sea for those times like the one we had a couple of nights earlier.
Neptune must have felt sorry for us and decided to throw us a bone... just to keep us interested.
And the sunset —like the shot above and this one below— was equally extraordinary.
We kept pushing and made Fernandina Beach around noon; 28 hours all in all. It was a bit bumpy coming round St Simons and Cumberland Sounds, but the seas were on our stern and not bad at all.
Never a splash over the bow rail.
We also held that 9.7 knot average for the complete run. Guess that's what a freshly painted bottom and clean running gear will do for you.
Arrival—Perfect timing—Slack tide.
So here we are... tired, but happy we got a lot of miles done in a short time.
Now what?
Grand kids, Silas and Maddie.
Cheers,
Istaboa
ps... Talked to our friends aboard 'Two Drifters' this morning, they made Vero Beach last evening at sunset, safe and sound.
Non-Stop—Like all tough sailors do... as Dylan once sang.
We pulled away from Cape Fear inlet with the intentions of heading south to Georgetown and making Charleston, SC the following day. We knew a front was heading our way and we'd be stuck somewhere for a week... so never having seen Charleston made it seem like a great place to be stuck.
Then, as we left the channel we were amazed, the seas were incredibly calm. So smooth in fact we had a change of heart. We were kinda surprised at ourselves because just the night before we'd both declared, "Never anymore overnighters with only the two of us aboard!".
I guess declarations are like plans.
We quickly did a little homework and saw the weather system would hold for another 24 hours across the portion of the east coast we wanted to travel down.
The same system that was forecast for the day before, the one that let us down, was finally becoming reality.
Cautiously, we set a waypoint for Charleston thinking if it got bad again we could jump off at either Georgetown or Charleston, throttled up to cruising speed, were delighted to see 9.7 knots of speed, and took off.
It remained unbelievably calm, the whole day and the whole night.
It was surreal. We ran for hours in total darkness without feeling the slightest bump, not even the roll of a swell.
Running through the night in these conditions seems like you're flying, though we were making less than 10 knots.
It's a very weird sensation... like you're falling. I think I've said this before, but it is and you have to have faith that if you can't see it, or it's not on radar... it's simply not there. Like you're flying blind.
I once read an article about a couple who'd traveled alone together with there little dog aboard a 46 Nordhavn. They were somewhere out to sea, thousands of miles away from anywhere, and they hit something. Struck it so hard their boat heeled over and water flooded into their cabin. They never knew what they hit, it was dark, but whatever it was didn't stop them. The next morning they found no damage. They shrugged it off and kept on going.
Of course, what else would you do?
During the night, I would walk out on the bridge to gaze at the stars and I'd hear and see the splashes of dolphin around the bow. It was so dark that the only perceptible sight of them was a dark shadow, underlit by the phosphorescence made from the spray of sea water they created while playing in our bow wake.
Shooting stars were numerous and the only sounds to be heard were Istaboa's bow plying through the soft seas, the quiet consistent hum of her engine, the occasional playful dolphin chuffing through it's blowhole, and a compilation CD of Bob Dylan tunes "Chimes of Freedom" covered by a very diverse collection of artists. (It's really a great grouping of about 75 songs and it lasts for hours.)
Oh yeah... our old friend, Sandy Carroll just released a new CD and we listened to her a couple of times. "Unnaturally Blonde"
It was one of those nights that makes you forgive the sea for those times like the one we had a couple of nights earlier.
Neptune must have felt sorry for us and decided to throw us a bone... just to keep us interested.
And the sunset —like the shot above and this one below— was equally extraordinary.
Still no Green Flash.
We kept pushing and made Fernandina Beach around noon; 28 hours all in all. It was a bit bumpy coming round St Simons and Cumberland Sounds, but the seas were on our stern and not bad at all.
Never a splash over the bow rail.
We also held that 9.7 knot average for the complete run. Guess that's what a freshly painted bottom and clean running gear will do for you.
Arrival—Perfect timing—Slack tide.
So here we are... tired, but happy we got a lot of miles done in a short time.
Now what?
Grand kids, Silas and Maddie.
Cheers,
Istaboa
ps... Talked to our friends aboard 'Two Drifters' this morning, they made Vero Beach last evening at sunset, safe and sound.
Non-Stop—Like all tough sailors do... as Dylan once sang.
Today's Pic
Not sure where it was taken...
Probably somewhere around Oriental, NC.
Got a lot of good shots between Bellhaven, SC and Fernandina, Fl.
Haven't processed yet.
Later.
Cheers,
Istaboa
Probably somewhere around Oriental, NC.
Got a lot of good shots between Bellhaven, SC and Fernandina, Fl.
Haven't processed yet.
Later.
Cheers,
Istaboa
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Monday, October 28, 2013
It has been pointed out...
That if you look at the Marine Traffic Website, the name of our vessel is not 'Istaboa', it's 'Memphis'.
We made this change deliberately. It's a long story, but since we've made that change, we are hailed on the radio more often and have had more useful communications resulting from being contacted.
Me thinks... Folks find it difficult to pronounce 'Istaboa'.
We've heard:
Itsaboat
Istabola
Ebola
Isabella
We answer to those names also.
Thanks, Larry T.
(edited when I could think using a nearly functional brain.)
We made this change deliberately. It's a long story, but since we've made that change, we are hailed on the radio more often and have had more useful communications resulting from being contacted.
Me thinks... Folks find it difficult to pronounce 'Istaboa'.
We've heard:
Itsaboat
Istabola
Ebola
Isabella
We answer to those names also.
Thanks, Larry T.
(edited when I could think using a nearly functional brain.)
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Well...
We had great intentions.
Pulling into Beaufort just in time to make the inlet in daylight, we forged ahead with a weather forecast that appeared to be near perfect... and it proved to be so for about 3 hours.
The seas looked so good out from Beaufort that we dropped Plan A and went with the quicker route toward Charleston.
And, that's where it all went to shit.
The farther out we went, the worse it got. At about 10PM we made a course change to head back west toward shore; in hopes of finding smoother seas and some sanity.
Needless to say, the boys weren't happy and we weren't either. The seas weren't deadly, they were more like water torture. Constant water torture.
So Plan A was right all along. Should've stuck too it.
We still had to head east and dig back into it to get around a 15 mile long shoal—and that turned out to be the end of our long run with Two Drifters.
Rich and Ronnie have 10 days to move their boat to Florida... we don't have a schedule.
As we passed through Frying Pan Shoals Slue and we were still having our asses handed to us, Crew Istaboa made the call to change strategies and head back to shore to seek protection from the wind.
Even that didn't help.
So we bailed... and while we're comfortably tied up at Southport Marina off the Cape Fear River, Two Drifters are still out there slogging through the muck.
We truly hope the forecasts have finally been realized and Rich and Ronnie are having a beautiful evening amid very calm seas.
I just read an email from Active Captain where they made a point that applies well in this situation... The *most* dangerous thing to have onboard is a schedule.
Tru Dat!
Cheers,
Istaboa
ps... got some great pics as were leaving Beaufort. Will process later.
Pulling into Beaufort just in time to make the inlet in daylight, we forged ahead with a weather forecast that appeared to be near perfect... and it proved to be so for about 3 hours.
The seas looked so good out from Beaufort that we dropped Plan A and went with the quicker route toward Charleston.
And, that's where it all went to shit.
The farther out we went, the worse it got. At about 10PM we made a course change to head back west toward shore; in hopes of finding smoother seas and some sanity.
Needless to say, the boys weren't happy and we weren't either. The seas weren't deadly, they were more like water torture. Constant water torture.
So Plan A was right all along. Should've stuck too it.
We still had to head east and dig back into it to get around a 15 mile long shoal—and that turned out to be the end of our long run with Two Drifters.
Rich and Ronnie have 10 days to move their boat to Florida... we don't have a schedule.
As we passed through Frying Pan Shoals Slue and we were still having our asses handed to us, Crew Istaboa made the call to change strategies and head back to shore to seek protection from the wind.
Even that didn't help.
So we bailed... and while we're comfortably tied up at Southport Marina off the Cape Fear River, Two Drifters are still out there slogging through the muck.
We truly hope the forecasts have finally been realized and Rich and Ronnie are having a beautiful evening amid very calm seas.
I just read an email from Active Captain where they made a point that applies well in this situation... The *most* dangerous thing to have onboard is a schedule.
Tru Dat!
Cheers,
Istaboa
ps... got some great pics as were leaving Beaufort. Will process later.
Saturday, October 26, 2013
The Long Run
Yesterday's run started out kinda bumpy. Crossing Albemarle Sound turned to be as rough as we've been told it would be in a blowin' WNW wind. The boys didn't appreciated that at all.
After the 2 hour crossing everything settled down.
The plan was to meet our friends on Two Drifters, but we made good time and the winds were brisk/northerly/cold and the designated anchorage didn't look too inviting so we pushed on the Dowery Creek Marina in Bellhaven, NC — about 30 miles further
This morning we start the first, and hopefully the only leg of our long run back to Florida.
We'll meet Two Drifters early this morning somewhere between here and Morehead City then try to make Beaufort Inlet in daylight.
After that? The long slog in —what we're told will be— fair seas.
Our plans are to stop in Fernandina if there's daylight, on to Cape Canaveral or further south if not.
Normally we do straight shot point A to point B runs, but this trip, due to the westerly winds, we'll be running fairly close to shore in order to take advantage of the calmer seas. A little longer, but less annoying.
If you care to, you can follow us via spot... here
I'm not sure Marine Traffic is working, but you can try... here
Of course, this whole plan is weather dependant... if it's not good as we go out the inlet at Beaufort... Never mind.... we'll try again.
Wish us luck, please.
Adios,
Istaboa
After the 2 hour crossing everything settled down.
The plan was to meet our friends on Two Drifters, but we made good time and the winds were brisk/northerly/cold and the designated anchorage didn't look too inviting so we pushed on the Dowery Creek Marina in Bellhaven, NC — about 30 miles further
This morning we start the first, and hopefully the only leg of our long run back to Florida.
We'll meet Two Drifters early this morning somewhere between here and Morehead City then try to make Beaufort Inlet in daylight.
After that? The long slog in —what we're told will be— fair seas.
Our plans are to stop in Fernandina if there's daylight, on to Cape Canaveral or further south if not.
Normally we do straight shot point A to point B runs, but this trip, due to the westerly winds, we'll be running fairly close to shore in order to take advantage of the calmer seas. A little longer, but less annoying.
If you care to, you can follow us via spot... here
I'm not sure Marine Traffic is working, but you can try... here
Of course, this whole plan is weather dependant... if it's not good as we go out the inlet at Beaufort... Never mind.... we'll try again.
Wish us luck, please.
Adios,
Istaboa
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)