[Kyle]
Day Nine and Ten (April 12th & 13th)
The leg from our Alligator River anchorage to Elizabeth City, North Carolina was open enough and windy enough that we got to do everything but the ends of it under sail, giving us a welcome break from the recent piling-up of engine hours.
One amusing moment came when Maryanne called the Alligator River Bridge operator to request an opening. The process went pretty much by the book. Then he apologized and said he needed to ask a few more questions. Apparently, the higher-ups at the State Capitol in Raleigh had come up with a plan to curb drug smuggling by requiring him to have all boats passing his bridge to answer a short questionnaire about themselves and their boat. It was the first day of the new policy and he clearly thought it was ineffective.
"Are you Americans?"
"Yes."
"Do you have any drugs on board?"
"No."
"Well, off you go, then!"
Smugglers foiled!?
That's not the amusing part. The amusing part was that when he was talking to Maryanne, he threw in more Darlin's and Sweetheart's than cars waiting for a drawbridge. When he signed off, I was surprised he didn't ask her if she was free on Saturday night.
When the woman on the boat behind us called for an opening, I was expecting more entertainment, but the process was pretty business-as-usual. Same with the next one. Hmm? I suspect the difference had to do with their distinctly American accents versus Maryanne's adorable British one. I guess making a bunch of semis wait for a boat isn't as romantic as holding up a line of lorries for a yacht.
Even though we already finished circumnavigating AGES ago, Elizabeth City is the first place that we returned to put the boat in the same (general) spot after passing it going the other way to begin the aforementioned voyage. As such, it was time to dig out all of our courtesy flags and dress ship for our arrival. The tradition is a bit show-off-ey for my taste, but we only have to do it once per time around, so that's not too bad. We actually did do the thing, though, so it's not like we're trying to con anyone.
Begonia arrives in Elizabeth City, NC
Actually, Begonia looked pretty good flying all the colorful flags of the countries through which we have been lucky enough to sail. Closer inspection showed them to be in a wide range of condition, from ones that only had been a few days aloft in calm conditions to tattered rags that had been shredded by months of use in storm after storm. Our current Australian flag, for example, is our fourth and has lost half its length to the whipping winds. That makes them each not so much decorations as little stories.
We did not arrive to cheering crowds. We were in the quiet gap between the morning departures and the late afternoon arrivals. Most of the few people that were there when we tied up didn't even see us show up. Later, a few ambled over and some of them even asked what the deal was with all the flags. Most just shrugged at the answer, but we did get a few "Attaboy"s.
We were meeting our friend Ron, who we have known since we each had our boats at Ocean Marine in Portsmouth, Virginia in 2003. He was kind enough to let us bury him in package deliveries until we arrived and also offered to take us anywhere that we needed to go while we were there. We called and he said he would be at the boat in fifteen minutes.
Ron is "getting on a bit" as he puts it and he has been keeping us up to date with his medical adventures over the almost ten years since we had seen him last. Thus, at the appointed time, I spied an older gentleman painstakingly making his way from the parking lot to the boat. Ron said he was going to meet us at his car, but maybe he had changed his mind.
The thing is, this guy kinda looked like Ron, but also kinda didn't. It was hard to tell from a distance if that was him or if it was just another passerby. When he saw me in the cockpit, he hailed me and I went to say hi. A lot of years had passed. It could be him.
Then Maryanne came out and her face lit up. She climbed over the lifelines and gave the man a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. That was my cue to join in. {Maryanne: In fairness, Kyle had already called down to say "It's Ron" and by the time I exited the boat he was chatting to a very Ron-like gentleman, I just assumed it was Ron, I had no idea that Kyle was still deciding}
After a few seconds of small talk, she silently mouthed to me, "This isn't Ron."
Maybe not, but now he's got no reason to think sailors aren't just the nicest people.
When Ron did arrive, it was SO obviously him. I can't believe I doubted my own eyes. Our reunion was warm and instant. We knocked a few errands out and then he took us to dinner, where we finally had a chance to properly catch up on each other's last decade.
Quality time with Ron: an old friend and fellow sailor
We did a longer version of the same the next day, except that this time, we finished at the area's best Mexican restaurant, owned by the same family for something like thirty years. Oooooh, man, that was good! I have soooo missed American-style Mexican food in all of its spicy, saucy, cheesy goodness. My eyes were rolling back in my head. That was such a treat. When we got back to the boat, my stomach felt like I had just got home from Thanksgiving dinner at Mom's, but what a great meal that was.
Farther along the ICW, they were having bridge and lock trouble. Great Bridge was having some sort of electrical fault in their control panel for the lock and bridge there. We weren't going that way, but we were expecting a lot of boats to divert to the shallower and slower Great Dismal Swamp route we were planning to use. The problem we had was with the Gilmerton Bridge, just beyond the Dismal Swamp. They had construction going on with a reduced opening schedule starting tomorrow afternoon. The only way to get there in time would be to go through the Elizabeth City bridge a day early so we would have time to be at the first locking into the Dismal Swamp Canal the next morning. We bid Ron farewell, squeezed in a visit to the very well presented visit to the very well presented Museum of the Albemarle, and at the next opening, went through the bridge and anchored for the night in a quiet section of the Pasquotank River.
Leaving Elizabeth City
Day Eleven to Norfolk (Apr 14th)
We were surprised when we got to the South Mills Lock, at the beginning of the Great Dismal Swamp Canal, to find only one other boat waiting. By the time the lock keeper was ready, we had both been joined by two power boats as well.
Once we were all tied up in the lock, we were finally close enough to converse. The first subject was how fast we planned on going through the canal. We answered 4.5 knots since that is the speed we would need to make to get to the Deep Creek Lock on the northern end for its 1330 opening (actually, it was 4.3 with a buffer). The other three boats had the same 1330 goal, so we all agreed no passing would be necessary and we would all maintain our current sequence for the duration.
About two minutes after leaving the lock, the boat behind us gave us a call on the radio. "Hey, Begonia. Our speed transducer doesn't work too well at these low speeds. What does yours read?"
Mine reads I know you have a GPS like every other boat in the world and you know exactly how fast we're all going. "I've got four point seven right now" I said.
"Uh, do you mind if we slide by you real quick?"
It sure beats having you breathing down our necks all morning. "No problem. We'll ease out of the way for you."
At this, the second power boat announced he was going to pass us both. Fine.
An early start again, but calm waters and bright sunshine made for a pretty day (full of reflections), most of it in the Great Dismal Swamp
The Great Dismal Swamp Canal is very straight, but because of the natural horizon and the overhanging branches, it is only possible to see about two or three miles ahead. Over the next couple of hours, all of the boats in front of us gradually disappeared into the foliage. We kept plodding along and between our GPS and the canal's well-placed mile markers, we made sure we were staying just ahead of our goal of eleven minutes, fifty-one seconds per statue mile.
As we approached the lock and bridge at the Deep Creek end, we emerged from the trees (one of which had taken our masthead wind vane as a trophy) to find the other three boats loitering around in the narrow canal. Forty minutes later, they were still doing so as we coasted to a stop behind them. Five minutes after that, the bridge was lifted and we all went through. These are the people who will always beat you to the next red light.
Once out of the lock, we turned the corner into what I have previously said is the ugliest section of the entire Intracoastal Waterway. I still stand by that, although I must admit they have tidied up about a fifty-foot section of it since then. It is within this section that the Gilmerton Bridge lies at the apex of a sharp bend. We got through it okay before the construction closure.
On the other side, for the first time in ten years, we could see the buildings of the Norfolk, Virginia skyline. We made it! We made it!
We Made it back to Norfolk (the area we'd spent 4 years as our home)
