Holeing up in Back Creek, Annapolis, in an attempt to avoid the worst of Sandy turned out to be a good decision but left us cold, damp, and drained. We had to get South but, believe it or not, a serious cold front materialized out of the aether waiting for us at the bottom of the Bay promising very strong winds and rain. We thought that if we could get down to the bottom of the Chesapeake fast enough, we could duck into the Elizabeth River and maybe even the ICW before it strikes. In bicycling that’s called riding on the rivet which, back in the day, bike seats were made of leather and riveted together and the last rivet on the horn of the seat was where you ended up riding if you were maxed out, but too tired to stand on the pedals.
We averaged over seven knots on our journey to Norfolk and that’s without use if our mainsail, which is something I really don’t want to talk about, except to say mistakes were made. But with the help of friends we were able to straighten out the mess and, as they say in North Carolina, we lucked up!
We found a mini hurricane hole at the ferry dock in Portsmouth which we are tied to as I write this. No services but the price is right.
That’s life on the water.