My Spurs went jingle jangle clunk

We are underway northbound in the Atlantic ocean, off the coast of New Jersey. We've been waiting for this window for several days, but, as luck would have it, we are in thick fog. Visibility has been 1,000'-2,000', and we've had the automated fog horn running since we weighed anchor. I have a guard alarm set on the radar, and typing is slow because I need to look ahead every few seconds.

Saturday afternoon we made the Cape May Canal just before the tide turned against us, and had the anchor down off the Coast Guard station by 5:20. We lucked out and found a spot about as close to town as possible (map). We realized too late that we'd probably need dinner reservations on a Saturday in season, and the best I could do was 7:15 at Lucky Bones near the boat ramp, which would be a cold, wet dinghy ride.

We fished this out of the Atlantic just as I was wrapping up typing. It's under our deck chairs to keep from blowing overboard. I really wish these were outlawed.

I also noticed Port Marina Restaurant is now on Open Table, and I put in to be notified if a table came up. One did, making for a much shorter tender ride. When we arrived we learned that their inside dining was now open, and that's where our table would be. The outside deck takes no reservations. On a cold, damp evening we opted to keep our inside table, even though the inside dining turned out to be high-zoot, with an expensive and very limited menu. If you want a salad of any kind, you have to eat on the deck. Fortunately, they had an unadvertised burger, which was actually pretty good.

Around 10pm, winds picked up to 25-30 knots, and we found ourselves plowing through the soft mud bottom with our Bruce anchor. Louise had to drag herself out of bed so we could increase scope, which we did twice until we had 100' of chain out in jut 15' of water. Thankfully, we had the room.

Sunday morning I started calling around for a local diver to add the dampers to the Spurs line cutter, knowing we'd be here for a few days. I got a good recommendation on Facebook and was able to make arrangements with Shawn to meet on Tuesday. With that scheduled I was able to turn my attention to some critical projects.

At the biggest marina, it is a loooong walk to your boat from the parking lot. I counted at least 40 of these wagons, each with rod holders, chained up in the parking area.

Chief among these was to adjust the engine alignment. As soon as I got the shaft coupler nuts loose I could see it was way off, even though it had seemed OK when I bolted it all together in Hampton. I might have been too tired to notice. I don't really have the right wrenches for this, but I was able make an improvement with a pair of slip-joint pliers.

After I had the engine mounts all buttoned up and the shaft back together, I pulled up the sole plates to get at the fresh water pump, which has been acting up lately. I think the last set of well-pump pressure switches I bought are just really low quality, and I've had to clean the contacts on this one several times. On this occasion it was the pressure mechanism itself and I just replaced the whole switch.

We still had 100' of chain out, and in the afternoon we ended up chasing off two sailboats that both tried to anchor with overlapping swing circles. We are a bit gun-shy of late. And somehow we forgot it was Father's Day and that, therefore, we would again need a dinner reservation. Lucky Bones had nothing until late again, but we headed ashore anyway knowing that Tony's Pizza, while beer-free, would have room. It turned out that Mayer's Tavern right next door was able to get us in with no wait, and they had excellent scallops and good draft beer. This was our first time here -- we'll be back.

Cheers from Mayer's Tavern.

Monday was another cold, bleak, rainy day, and I spent the morning working on travel reservations. That included planning for our upcoming stop in Atlantic City, where we will again be pinned down for a few days and will be renting a car to take care of some errands. We're having our mail and some Amazon packages sent to neighboring Brigantine.

By 2pm it was dry enough to tender ashore, and a bit less chilly, so I landed at the boat ramp and walked the mile and a half to the Acme grocery store. We needed milk and veggies, and I needed the walk. The wind picked up while I was out and I had a very wet ride home; thus we opted to just go back to Port Marina for dinner. This time we ate on the more casual deck, where they had the wind breaks in place so it was comfortable. We were home in time for a 7pm video conference.

Under her personal Louise Hornor awning. Nice of the Lobster House to roll out the red carpet like this. (We did not eat there.)

Sometime later we heard a sailboat trying to call TowBoatUS, but they ended up talking mostly to the Coast Guard. They were disabled seven nautical miles from the Cape May inlet, nearly half way across the mouth of Delaware Bay and needed to be towed in. They were Brazilian with limited English and only a Brazil cell phone, so the CG was struggling. TowBoat finally arrived to the harbor with them around midnight, circled around behind us, and then brought them to the middle of the pack of anchored boats to drop their hook. My entertainment for the evening, but I'm sure a miserable night for them out in short-period five-footers. By this morning they had dragged partway into the channel and I had to go around them.

Yesterday morning we weighed anchor to go meet diver Shawn for the liner cutter work. His day job includes responsibilities at the Atlantic Capes Fisheries docks, and that's where we met. We had to go through the very narrow Two Mile lift bridge, which I remember crossing in Odyssey, then we turned down Mud Hen Gut and rafted up to the scallop boat Captain Danny (map). I spent ten minutes with Shawn in Captain Danny's galley going over photos on my PC and the instruction sheet from Spurs.

New damper pads installed.

Shawn jumped in right at noon when his lunch break started, and I had the Spurs pieces in my hands in less than five minutes. Sure enough, the dampers were missing altogether, and I quickly cleaned out the residue and gunk from the press-fit mounting holes. I pounded the new dampers in, put a pair of new screws on the unit, and handed it back to Shawn, along with new bearings, to install.

A couple of minutes later he was back on the surface to report a problem. A piece of the assembly broke off at the screw hole, and that was the end of the project. I had him hand me everything back, including the new bearings, and we called it a day. I think he felt bad about it breaking on his watch and was ready to waive his charge, but we insisted on paying him -- ten years of crevice corrosion and a stress fracture are not his fault.

Oops. Tiny end broke off right at the threaded hole.

We left the fish dock, came back through the Two Mile bridge, and right back to the anchorage, where a Krogen had taken our spot. We ended up another hundred feet west on a shorter scope (map). The good news is that the rattle we'd been working to remedy was gone, confirming that it was the lack of dampers on the Spurs. The bad news is that we still had driveline vibration, so I did not get the alignment quite right.

After we got settled I contacted Spurs, who are happy to send me a replacement for $400. A good machine shop could probably fix this one for maybe half that, but it all comes down to how fast we can have it. At this writing it's looking like having Spurs send a replacement to Brigantine will be the quickest option. Shawn is willing to meet us in Atlantic City to install it. He told us that he is one of only four divers from Cape May to Point Pleasant.

My attempt to capture the crowded anchorage. By nightfall I counted a dozen boats behind us and one in front.

I spent the rest of the afternoon once again aligning the engine; this time is was out in the other direction, albeit closer. I think it's pretty close now, but it is still a hair off in a direction I can't easily fix. With the harbor fairly calm, the third time was the charm, and we finally made it to Lucky Bones for dinner last night. Cape May is full of nice restaurants, but there are fewer than a half dozen walking distance from the docks, and this is really the best of that lot. We decked the tender when we returned home in anticipation of an early start this morning.

As I wrap up typing, with less than two hours to go, the fog has finally lifted and we should be anchor down in AC by 1:30. Our mail is slated to arrive tomorrow morning and we pick up the rental car just before they close tomorrow afternoon. There is a big storm coming this evening, and I am very glad to be out of the tightly packed anchorage in the soft mud of Cape May for it. I just hope we can get ashore at dinner time.

Jersey boy.

We are underway southbound on the Delaware Bay, bound for Cape May, New Jersey. We've had a string of excellent travel condition days and have been using them to make tracks, but that will come to an end here and we will likely be pinned down in Cape May for a while as we wait on an outside window to make progress in the Atlantic Ocean.

Vector staring down the Hooper Island Light. "This is a lighthouse, mate. Your call."

When last I posted here, we were docked at the Reedville Market restaurant in Reedville, Virginia. After dinner we had a nice walk to the end of the peninsula and back, and I went as far as the main road north of town. Absolutely everything in Reedville is closed Monday, and I was halfway through my walk when it occurred to me that we could have landed the scooters and ridden someplace else. There are a couple of Mexican joints in Burgess, about a six mile ride.

Our view from the Reedville Market dock.

We had another short walk in the morning, after the rain ended, before shoving off. Before reaching Smith Point, Louise spotted something bobbing in the water, and through our binoculars we could tell it was a deceased dolphin. I radioed the Coast Guard to see if that required a report; it did, and they took all our information. Later the Virginia Aquarium Stranding Response unit called me to get more details.

The lone gas station and mini mart in Reedville closed long ago. Not one graffito.

I was on the phone with them just as we were passing "Hannibal Target," where we were strafed by a jet fighter maybe 300' off the deck. This is a US Navy live-fire training target, and we were just outside the no-entry security zone. The phone call kept me from snapping a photo of the jet, but I got some of the USAS American Mariner, the Liberty ship scuttled here as a training target after the USS Hannibal had basically been obliterated by the elements and decades of live fire. We've seen her from a distance many times; this is the first time we've ever passed at just a half mile.

The remains of USAS American Mariner, nearly clove in two.

Going around the target was only a minor deviation from our straight-line course to the Honga River entrance, where we curved around to the east side of Hoopers Island and dropped the hook (map). There is nothing ashore here, so I grilled some chicken on board. This first comfortable anchorage in the river put us just a short ride from Hoopersville, and after dinner we splashed the tender and landed at the boat ramp there just to get a little walk in. We decked the tender as soon as we returned.

Wednesday we had a quiet morning at home. Louise had been in contact with the Hooper Island Light folks and they did not expect to arrive at the lighthouse until noon. With a two-hour cruise to get there, we left close to 11 to make sure they had a good head start and would be settled in by the time we arrived. That proved wise; as we approached the light maybe a half hour out it looked deserted, and we were nearly on top of it when we saw the crew zipping out in their Highfield RIB from the marina at the other end of Hooper Island. They arrived just ahead of us.

The lighthouse guys sent us a few drone shots. Photo: Rich Cucé

We sounded a Captain's Salute on the Kahlenbergs and dropped the hook 200 yards off the light. We tendered over to the base and spent about a half hour chatting with them from the dink. As we expected, insurance limitations precluded an actual visit. Louise has been supporting these guys on Patreon for a while, and it was great to meet Thomas and Rich and catch up a little before moving along. You can find their work on the Hooper Island and Wolf Trap lighthouses over on YouTube, here.

The small basin in Hoopersville hosts a fleet of crab boats, and will host pleasure craft of shallow draft.

After leaving the lighthouse we had a two-hour cruise to Solomons, where we dropped the hook in our preferred spot near the island known as Molly's Leg (map). We tendered over to the Island Hideaway for dinner, even splurging on a decadent dessert. This has become our favorite place on the island, and the food was good as usual. After dinner we strolled the riverfront a bit before heading home.

We left the dinghy in the water overnight, contemplating spending an extra day. A vibration is telling me I need to adjust the engine alignment since doing the transmission work, sooner rather than later, and I thought this would be a good place. But after looking at the weather and the prospects of busy waterways and anchorages for the holiday weekend, we decided to keep moving and do the work in Cape May instead.

A fellow boater at one of the docks sent us some pics. Sunset in Solomons. Photo: Liz Marks

Thus it was that we left first thing Thursday to have some fair tide to Annapolis. I would have skipped Annapolis altogether this time, except for the fact that it was the only reasonable UPS Access Point and that's where I had Spurs ship the line cutter parts. Amazon also insisted I pick a specific UPS store to return the bolts I did not need for the damper plate, and I chose one here.

Our anchorage off Hooper Island. There is nothing on the island to even provide a wind break.

Leaving Solomons we found ourselves in a conga line of northbound boats, including a phalanx of long-range trawlers that included a big Selene, two Nordys, and our friends on Vahevala, a steel hull similar to Vector. We had to alter course a bit to be overtaken by USNS Charlton, whom I had seen on the scope about twenty minutes out. Evidently, many of the conga line were caught unawares and had to scramble out of her way, just as the downbound bulker Macheras was passing. We chuckled when the pilot of the Charlton, making arrangements with Macheras, said "I'm navigating a flotilla here, so you have that to look forward to."

We arrived to Annapolis after 4pm, and opted to drop the hook in the choppy harbor rather than our preferred spot on Weems Creek, on account of the errands. We had the usual hunt through the borrow pits before finding a safe spot (map). As usual, the gaggle of racing sailboats passed us close aboard in the evening on their way back to the barn; right now we have sailboat impact PTSD and Louise watched them carefully from the pilothouse.

USNS Charlton overtaking us. I altered course 20 minutes ahead to be this far out of the way.

To get to the UPS store for my Amazon return we tendered to a new landing for us, at the end of Burnside Street, west of the Spa Creek drawbridge. That made it about a half mile walk to the shopping center, where we had a nice plate of ribs at Adams Taphouse. I was able to walk over to the UPS store before they closed while Louise finished her beer. There are no tourists in this joint.

Vector in Solomons at night. Photo: Liz Marks

On the way back to Vector we detoured down Ego Alley to the town dinghy dock, where I walked the two blocks to the CVS to pick up my Spurs parts. Even after dinner the temperature was in the high 80s, and with all the walking Louise hit her heat limit and waited for me in the air conditioning at Chipotle with a cold drink. We were back at Vector after only a little more than an hour or so ashore, and decked the tender for an early start. We have several friends in Annapolis, but with the late arrival, errands, and early departure we did not reach out to any. It was a pitchy, rolly night in the harbor, and in hindsight we should have gone to Weems and landed the e-bike ashore for the errands, but beach landings are never my first choice for that.

Yesterday morning we got an early start to catch the last of the flood. Before reaching the Bay Bridge we passed a crane moving giant roadway sections between barges. They looked shop-worn, not new, and we wondered if they were wreckage from the Key Bridge. As we passed under the bridge, we were whizzing right along at nearly max flood.

A barge full of old road deck segments, complete with Jersey barriers.

I had figured we'd make it only as far as the Bohemia River, but after passing the Patapsco we realized we'd have fair or slack current all the way to the canal, and we decided to press on to Chesapeake City. We ran out of push just past the canal entrance, and the last hour was a slog against the current, but we had the hook down in the Chesapeake City Anchorage Basin (map) before 3pm. The anchorage was quite full when we arrived, and even more so by nightfall.

An upscale candy store has recently opened in the old bank in Chesapeake City.

Weekend nights are something of a zoo here in the summer. Live music at The Deck at the Chesapeake Inn, Rummur outdoor rum bar at the Inn at the Canal, and Schaeffer's deck across the canal all compete for the ear, and if you stand on the town dock you get an interference pattern. We had a nice dinner on The Deck while it was still the quieter warm-up duo; the six-piece band complete with saxophone was much louder and we enjoyed the music of our era from the comfort of our own boat.

We had a nice walk around town and also offloaded the trash and recycling before returning to Vector and decking the tender, ahead of a forecast thunderstorm. That storm fizzled out just before reaching us, leaving all three music venues unscathed and the myriad open small boats that arrive every weekend evening mostly dry. After the music stopped at 11 we had a quiet and comfortable night, although I noticed a passing RoRo in the canal moved us a good 40' or so across our swing circle as it went by.

This photo does not really convey how crazy it is at the Chesapeake Inn on a warm Friday evening.

We seldom go all the way to Cape May from Chesapeake City. But today we had to make a very early start if we wanted any fair tide at all, and the math, coupled with the scarcity of anchorages, made it work out to do the whole stretch in one day. That means pushing through one entire flood but getting the benefit of most of two ebbs, so it all works out in the end. During the flood the plotter was giving me arrival times of 8pm, but now that we're into the final ebb the time is right around 5:15.

Unless the forecast changes, we'll be pinned down in Cape May for a few days, and I hope to align the engine and get a few other projects that have been backing up knocked out. My next post will be northbound in the Atlantic Ocean, whenever that may be.

Waylaid

We are underway northbound in Chesapeake Bay, two weeks behind our planned schedule, which is par for the course on a boat. We had hoped to skip the Chesapeake on this pass, and today's outside weather is actually pretty good, but not so for tomorrow, so we'd either have a miserable overnight passage, or else be pinned down in, perhaps, Chincoteague for an unknown period.

That period would be longer than the four days we'd save with an overnight passage, and so instead we're make a "delivery" run up the inside. Where by delivery I mean long days and only one-night stops. Not that we have any kind of deadline, but we're feeling our summer cruising season in New England slipping away little by little.

Vector departing Hopewell. Photo: Stacey Guth

Today is my first open-water day where I can type since we were downbound on the James a week ago, when I felt like it was a bit too soon. As luck would have it, I have since been "overtaken by events," as they say, and now I'm behind, so sit back while I catch up.

When last I posted we had just arrived in Hopewell, a pleasant detour mostly enabled by having to wait a week for the transmission damper to arrive from California. We had booked four nights at the dock there, but ended up extending to five when we worked through the downbound schedule and timing of the damper replacement. The whole stay cost a whopping $75, which is less than we would have paid for just electric power at many other docks. Such a deal.

Dinner aboard Stinkpot. Roast pork loin, home-made mac&cheese, and sauteed veggies. Photo: Dave Rowe

That gave us four more evenings with our friends Stacey and Dave of Stinkpot, who cooked for us one night. In addition to Carr's that I mentioned in the last post, we also ate at Sedona Tap House, another in the small chain that we remember fondly from our stay in Mamaroneck, and Trapezium brew pub in downtown Petersburg, which was very kitschy. They had some nice brews, and I enjoyed a maibock called, seriously, Mai Neck, Mai Bock (IYKYK). The final evening we went to the Salty Siren out on Jordan Point, which looks like it might be accessible by tender from a nearby anchorage.

Beacon Theater, Hopewell.

Most days I did project work, a fairly long list having built up, and I also tried to get out and walk, at least when it was not raining. Downtown Hopewell is a long walk from the dock, and is clearly struggling to stay viable. The one nice restaurant, the Boathouse, is actually out closer to the marina and not downtown. They did have a very nice public library, with lots of comfortable seating and workspaces and decent WiFi. A bit closer to the marina is the small but very well-stocked Randolph's Market, which had an impressive selection of beers.

Tiny Randolph's Market, a short walk from the dock, was well-stocked.

Dave and Stacey joined me for what ended up being my longest walk, all the way to Grant's Headquarters on City Point, by way of a detour to the riverfront boardwalk. Tons of history here at the confluence of the Appomattox and the James, which I will leave as an exercise for the reader.

This unassuming cabin on the palatial Eppes estate was U.S. Grant's HQ. About 10% is original.

Early in the visit, we met Dave and Stacey's local friend Robert, who owns the same model boat as Stinkpot and who has been helping Dave keep her in fine fettle, including, most recently, fabricating replacement fuel tanks, which is ultimately why they were in Hopewell to begin with. Robert treated all of us to lunch at the American Legion and we were happy to make his acquaintance. He turns out to be a good guy to know, as he is well-connected in the region.

My kind of beer aisle.

On the project front, the big item was the repair of the granite counter top, which spanned parts of three days. Dave supplied me with the epoxy for the project, which was, as I had hoped, very runny, to penetrate into the very thin space of the crack. I used heat and vibration to move it along while injecting it with a syringe and a #18 needle. That turned out to be so effective that epoxy came out the bottom of the crack and onto the cabinet; in order to stop it running down both inside and outside the cabinet I hurriedly pried the false drawer front off the face frame under the sink so I could get tape on both sides.

Injecting the epoxy. I had to hold the needle onto the syringe to keep it from popping off.

The other steps involved scraping off the excess when mostly cured, and sanding the surface after the full cure. The drawer front had been (poorly) secured with finish nails that I had to pry out from the back and which I could not easily replace, so I ordered a set of tip-out hinges to the next stop. The repair is not invisible, but it should do the job to keep the crack from spreading any further and to keep  contaminants from getting in.

Clamped and mostly cured. I am removing masking and scraping off excess with a razor blade.

In addition to the walking and the projects, I joined Dave on a provisioning run out to Walmart and Aldi, and I was able to stock up on a bunch of things we only buy at Walmart. Had I been thinking clearly, while I had access to a car, I should also have bought a couple of five-gallon pails of motor oil, but, alas, I did not.

When I was not out and about or doing projects, I was online doing research or making arrangements regarding the damper plate project. I had to have a diver on call to adjust the line cutters, I needed to order fresh bolts and washers for the damper, and ensure I had all the correct thread lock, anti-seize, and grease. This final item proved to be a challenge, and I am guessing I spent no fewer than four full hours trying to determine the correct grease to use on the splines. Apparently it is a state secret, or else everyone else is just as clueless as me and there is no real consensus.

Hopewell has a very nice, modern library. "Ship" in back is the children's section.

Having determined the tide was favorable to get back downriver to Hampton in just two days, we dropped lines Monday just at the turn of the tide, after the four of us took a short walk around the neighborhood and we said our goodbyes. We had a great push downriver and arrived at our intended anchorage just off the Kingsmill resort (map) by 3:15. Winds were supposed to be northerly, clocking to south but light after dinner time. But at 3:15 they were already southerly and well above forecast, and it was clear we would not be comfortable here.

I had chosen this spot because we hoped to tender ashore for dinner, but on the way in I learned that you have to actually take a slip at the marina for $186, which provides a temporary "membership" to the club, in order to dine. They were willing to get us in somehow anyway, but with the anchorage, and dinghy ride, untenable, we waved off, weighed anchor, and moved along.

Dinner and drafts at Trapezium brew pub in Petersburg. Photo: Dave Rowe

That had us following the old and now abandoned river channel, past the "ghost fleet" and into Burwell Bay, where we dropped the hook at the first comfortable spot in the now partly westerly wind (map), off Bailey's Beach. That spot was just a half mile from a boat ramp, but nothing to get to ashore, really, so we just stayed aboard and had a quiet dinner. It was a very quiet spot overnight.

Tuesday morning we weighed with the tide and just skated over a part of the old channel that has silted in to just under eight feet on our way back to the main river. As we angled back to the main channel we noted that the US Army Vessel (yes, really) Harold C. Clinger was gaining on us, and the math said we'd reach the James River Bridge at the same time. They called for a full lift (we need none at all), and rather than tangle with them in the main channel, we went through a different span that still had enough height for us. I only had to clench a little as we whizzed through the narrow space between the unfendered concrete supports with a knot behind us.

Historical markers at Grant's HQ, Petersburg National Battlefield.

The early start and the fair current had us tying up at the Downtown Hampton Docks (map) before lunch. The damper plate was waiting for me in the office, having arrived the previous afternoon. We were surprised to see the Custom House Marina, next door but run by the same dock office, had been closed down and roped off, with a handful of derelicts sporting removal notices. We later learned the city will rebuild it into a large-yacht marina.

After lunch we put one scooter on the ground, and I headed off to West Marine for the grease I ultimately settled on, and the Amazon locker for the bolts and the tip-out hardware.  While I waited for the engine room to cool down, I installed the tip-out hinges and a little bin made to go between the sink and the panel. Then mid-afternoon I moved our free-standing air conditioner into the engine room and got started on tearing apart the transmission.

New tip-out tray, entirely a consequence of having to remove the dress panel when gluing the top.

I wrote this project up the last time we did it, so I am not going to repeat it all here. Suffice it to say that I got as far as pulling back the propeller shaft, and disconnecting the shift cable and hydraulic pump before dinner, and after dinner I got back to work until about 9:30 or so unbolting the mounts and getting most of the housing bolts out.

Transmission, left, separated from engine.

At dinner time we walked down to Walgreens to pick up a couple of scripts for Louise and then circled back to the downtown restaurant district, where we ended up at old stand-by Brown Chicken, Brown Cow for dinner and drafts. Two of our favorites, Legend Brown and Devil's Backbone Vienna Lager, are on offer in several of the downtown joints here.

Legend Brown at Brown Chicken Brown Cow in their signature glass, looking a bit shop-worn.

I had made arrangements for a helper, Jerry, to meet me Wednesday morning. He was a referral from Robert, whom I mentioned was a good person to know. Jerry is a mechanic at the Smithfield plant as his day job, but has a side hustle diving boats. He agreed to come over around 9 after his Smithfield shift ended, with his dive gear to take care of the line cutters as well.

I got started around 8:15 and had the rest of the bolts out and the cases split by the time he arrived, and was just starting on the damper bolts. Perfect timing, as removing the last bolt requires someone to be holding on to the damper. The two of us worked through the morning; the new damper went right on, and they had even shipped me the correct bolts and washers (the ones I ordered on Amazon will go right back), but getting the transmission back on to the engine and the shaft back on to the transmission took over two hours. We ended up using a come-along and a bottle jack to unweight the engine enough to get the splines aligned.

Mid-project chaos, captured during a short break.

Jerry was in the water for the line cutters before noon and was on his way before 1, so my initial estimate that it would take us four hours was right on. I finished reconnecting the shifter and hydraulic pump while he was under the boat so we could test it all before he left. I spent the afternoon torquing everything to spec and cleaning up.

This would all have been a very upbeat day, if not for the fact that about a half hour after Jerry arrived, while we had four hands on the engine, an out of control sailboat crashed headlong into Vector from the anchorage. Not a casual drift or anchor drag like our last encounter; no, this guy sailed right into us, his rusty anchor taking a big chip our of our nice new paint.

Down in the engine room, the sound was indistinguishable from a large metal object being dropped on the deck, and my first thought was that Louise was puttering around outside and had dropped a boat pole or maybe the big bag of recycling with its many glass bottles. Louise, likewise, initially thought we had dropped something heavy in the engine room. She had to come down to tell me what happened, and then, of course, all work stopped while I went upstairs to deal with it.

Out of control sailboat sails right into us.

It was some kid in a 30' Tartan with no engine, and not enough skill. When I came on deck he was sailing away, so I went apoplectic; another boat that appeared to be buddied up with them came over to explain they had no motor and were trying to get to the dock to deal with it. Since Jerry was on the clock I left it all to Louise to deal with and we went back to work.

Deep gouge maybe 2-3" long. This will become roughly a 1" x 6" rectangle of not-quite-matching paint.

When next I circled back to this, the buddy boat, which turned out to be the guy's mom, was on the dock exchanging insurance info with Louise, and someone who had captured the whole thing on his phone from a second-story window came over to give us the video. The Virginia Marine Police arrived to take a report just as Jerry was leaving; apparently the marina was required to call them because it happened on their dock.

It's a good sized gouge, fairly deep but thankfully not down to the steel, and a big scrape on the rub rail. We're back to the same pain-in-the-butt process we had with the last damage, where now we need a yard with a painter to fill the hole and touch up the paint, which will never look right no matter what, and spend hours with insurance adjusters and claims specialists getting it all paid for.

Scuffed-up rub rail will need to be polished out.

The marina staff felt terrible about the whole thing, even though it's really no fault of theirs, and they dug through their drawers and gave us all the free drink tokens they could find, which turned out to be three. We converted those into draft beers at dinner that night at Pour Girls.

These tokens have the weight and feel of actual casino chips. Apparently made for some upcoming city events.

The marina gave us a late check-out on Thursday, and in the morning I rode to the bank, having given Jerry the last of my cash, and Walmart for the oil I should have gotten with Dave's car. I had to settle for two 2.5-gallon jugs, which I can easily fit on my floorboards. I also stopped at Air Power Park and strolled the indoor and outdoor exhibits at this free museum; this area is really the birthplace of what ultimately became NASA as well as the US Air Force.

Air Power Park. This looks like a toy rocket but it is a genuine Little Joe with a Project Mercury test article on top. This was the backup rocket for the escape tower testing at Wallops.

After topping up the water, getting the trash off the boat, and a free pump-out from the marina, we dropped lines and shoved off for the anchorage around the corner near Phoebus. It was too late in the day to get any farther, really, and I needed the rest of the day off, as I was pretty tired from the damper project. We also wanted a short day to sea-trial the work.

NASA Harrier; I remember these flying out of Moffett Field. The building houses mostly models and was purpose-built as a museum in the 60s.

Sadly, the rattle was still with us on the trip over. The last time we changed the damper plate the rattle disappeared immediately, so our hearts sank as the realization set in that it might be a more serious problem. Things were a little quieter, and there was plenty of evidence when I removed it that the damper plate was due for replacement, but clearly this was not the main underlying cause.

These rubber fragments and dust came out of the old damper, indicating it was end-of-life.

We made our way in to the Phoebus anchorage, passed the phalanx of sailboats already there, and dropped the hook fairly close to the fish plant (map), which appears to now be defunct. My plans for a relaxing afternoon on board were out the window, as I deployed the tender and the e-bike to go ashore for oil. Transmission rattles are sometimes hydraulic in nature, so I wanted to change the fluid, top it up, and change from SAE 30 to 15W-40 to see if that made any improvement.

I was happy to see these all over town (along with the 125th anniversary banners). We missed Phabulous Phoebus. which happened while I was in NJ.

I spent a half hour on the O-Reilly web site cross-referencing everything they had in stock with the list of approved oils from ZF; while they allow pretty much any SAE 30, there are only a few approved 15W-40 oils. There was just a single match, Rotella T4, and I headed over to pick up a couple of gallons. On my way home I stopped at the Grey Goose bakery, recently moved to Phoebus from downtown Hampton, and picked up a couple of bagels for the morning.

As soon as I was home we turned around and headed back ashore for dinner at Mama Rosa's, with decent Italian fare about 3/4 mile from the dinghy dock. On the way home we checked out our other options, thinking we might spend a second night since I never got my downtime, and I still had to do the transmission fluid in the morning. We left the dinghy in the water when we got home for the same reason.

Sunset from the Phoebus anchorage.

That idea evaporated at 7:30pm when I got a text from my cousin in New Hampshire. I'm not going to go into details here, but suffice it to say my folks are in their mid 90s, with all that implies, and he was going to fly to NJ Saturday morning to meet up with his brother and dad for a family welfare visit, and within the span of an hour, I also had flight reservations to NJ, departing out of Norfolk at zero-dark-thirty. Louise and I spent the rest of the evening figuring out where she and the boat were going to stay and how I would get to the airport.

The ideal answer would have been to take the boat to Norfolk and dock at one of the marinas for the duration of the trip, but this weekend was the annual Norfolk Harborfest, and literally every marina on both sides of the harbor was sold out. We could maybe anchor at hospital point, with Louise dropping me off and picking me up in the dinghy (at 4:30am and 1:30am respectively), but even that was likely to be a zoo. We did the fireworks there one year and we were lucky not to be hit by the gaggle of unskilled skippers on day hooks.

I caught Norfolk and Portsmouth from the plane window on departure. I can see the Hospital Point anchorage packed to the gills.

I decided to Uber in from Hampton. We though about just staying there in Phoebus, with Louise schlepping me to and from the dinghy dock, but that anchorage can become miserable if the wind picks up out of the west, and then there would be nothing she could do about it. We ultimately decided to just go right back to the Downtown Hampton Docks and take two nights there.

And thus it was that Friday morning I booked the marina before descending to the engine room to change the fluid. I was relieved to find nothing at all in the little filter screen and just a bare minimum of filings on the magnet, nothing that would suggest internal transmission damage. I drew a sample of the fluid for lab analysis later.

Strainer (left) was clean. Magnet (right) had an insignificant amount of filings for 5,200 hours.

After lunch we weighed anchor for the 45-minute trip downtown, just a mile and a half away as the crow flies. The dockmaster welcomed us back (map) and we spent half an hour chatting about the collision and things in general. After packing for my trip I tried to work up the energy for a long walk around town, but I was so tired the best I could do was poke my nose into the Virginia Air & Space museum and the Hampton History museum for a couple of minutes apiece before heading home. We walked to Baked Bistro for beer and pizza, which was pretty good.

Saturday morning Uber picked me up at 4:30 and dropped me back off at 1:30 Sunday morning. In between I had decent flights and a nice visit with my parents, uncle, and cousins. Also, way too much food, with my uncle insisting on buying us dinner at the Spanish Tavern in Newark on the way back to the airport (excellent Spanish food). My cousin and I hung out in the United Club at the whizzy new Terminal A until his 8pm flight, and I stayed until they booted me out at 10, since my only evening flight option was 11pm.

Vector, with her trawler leprosy, in the Phoebus anchorage, a ways from the sailboats.

Yesterday morning I slept in, and dockmaster Allie once again gave us a late checkout. We shoved off after lunch and in a bit of deja vu once again headed to Phoebus (map), where I took the aftenoon off. I've always wanted to visit Fort Monroe, and with the afternoon to myself I had a pleasant walk to the fort and even made the 3pm ranger tour. I made a quick stop at the grocery store on the way home, and we immediately returned ashore for dinner at El Diablo Loco Cantina, which was quite good if a little inauthentic.

The moat at Fort Monroe.

As soon as we stepped back out of the restaurant, the heavens opened, and we went right back in for another beer until that cell passed. About 8pm the weather radio started going off every half hour, and we got hit with a wet, fast thunderstorm that gave the boat a good fresh-water rinse and probably moved some of the sailboats around the anchorage. They were all behind us so we rested easy.

We are now well past done with being stuck in Hampton Roads, and since the tide way favorable for an early start, we weighed anchor and got underway first thing. Neither one of us is on the right schedule for an overnight today, but we looked at it anyway and it was a no-go, with a multi-day outside window also not forthcoming.

Fort Monroe never left Union hands. Confederate President Jefferson Davis was imprisoned in this former casemate after the war.

As I wrap up typing, the plotter says we'll be in Ingram Bay by 5pm, and we have some chicken thawed for the grill. None of the restaurants in the area is open Monday, so we might not even go in as far as the dock. In the morning we will continue north, making tracks toward New Jersey.

Update: As is so often the case, I did not get all the photos loaded before I had to drive up the river and into town. We are now docked at the Reedville Market restaurant in the eponymous town (map). The restaurant is dark Mondays and so I grilled some chicken. We docked anyway so that we can get a nice walk in. In the morning we will continue north toward Solomons, although we are looking into how to swing past a lighthouse near Hooper Island, whose renovation Louise has been following online. My next post will likely be underway southbound in Delaware Bay.

James River cruise

We are upbound on the James River, headed for the town of Hopewell, Virginia. This morning found us anchored in Cobham Bay, adjacent to the nuclear power plant, where the condenser outflow added ten degrees to the water temperature and kept us comfortable on an otherwise chilly night.

When I posted from our early stop on the North River on Saturday, I was eager to get the blog posted as already written. What I did not mention in that post was that we were barely two hours out of the boatyard when Louise asked "what's that rattle?" The deaf guy, of course, detected no rattle until it was pointed out. We spent a half hour underway changing rpms and shifting in and out of gear until we recognized it as the death knell of the transmission damper plate.

Vector in her element at High Street, Portsmouth.

Long-time readers will know we've been through this before, and I wrote up the replacement process in this post six years ago. That damper went out right at 5,000 hours, and we just rolled past 10,000 a couple of months ago, so the folklore that these last about 5,000 hours is dead-on. One thing we knew from that experience is that our damper is fail-safe and we could safely continue at our normal horsepower, which is quite low. We've eliminated the daily 80% power run-up and I am watching my maneuvering rpms.

The replacement can be done in the water, but pushing the shaft back into place and re-aligning the line cutters would have been easier while we were still on the hard. Oh well; we'll have to get a diver to do the line cutters, just like last time. I spent most of Saturday afternoon trying to source a replacement damper plate and refreshing my memory on what was involved in the process. I found a brand new damper plate in stock at the distributor in Oxnard, California, but of course I could not make calls regarding shipping until Tuesday.

We had a spectacular sunset from our anchorage on the North River.

Our plan before this event had been to continue to Hampton Roads and take the first outside weather window to jump around the Delmarva peninsula to New Jersey. That plan was now at least on hold, if not out altogether in favor of the Chesapeake Bay route. In the meantime, out friends Dave and Stacey have been tempting us to Hopewell, where Dave has the proverbial boatload of exactly the epoxy I need to fix the granite counter crack I mentioned in the last post. Not to mention a $15/day dock where we might do some of the work.

Of course, we always love to see Stacey and Dave anyway, and we can usually count on some of Dave's wonderful home cooking during the course of a visit. It's a 100+ mile detour to our already somewhat delayed northing plans, so the epoxy and the inexpensive dock were just the final sweetener on the deal. We also hoped we might connect with our friends Steve and Sandy, who live near Richmond, as long as we're up here.

Vector was all alone at the bulkhead in Great Bridge. Two boats were at the wood docks on the other side of the bridge, including our friends on Calypso.

After I was done scouring the 'net for dampers and redoing the routes to take us up the James, we had a nice dinner on board and a quiet night. A couple of other boats pulled off-channel near us for the night. We kept the boat pretty well buttoned up and dark, as we have entered midge season.

Sunday morning we weighed anchor based on timing the gantlet of Chesapeake bridges, and immediately found ourselves in the middle of a northbound conga line. In short order we were overtaken by a gaggle of motor yachts and sportfishers, and even a tugboat towing, I kid you not, one of those tourist jet boats. By the time we passed through Coinjock most of the boats that had passed us a day earlier were already gone. I did notice that they have renovated much of the face dock at the old Midway marina across the canal, where we stayed on our first time through.

When I saw this new venue for Vino my heart sank. I figured it meant the end of the one near the dock.

We did a pretty good job timing our departure and were only a few minutes early for the North Landing Bridge. Then we slow-rolled all the way to Great Bridge, with a full 90 minutes to close just seven miles. This is a luxury afforded us only on the weekends, when the Centerville Turnpike bridge is on demand. Several motor yachts, who did not get the memo about bridge schedules, overtook us in a huff and then spent a half hour or so station-keep for the Great Bridge Bridge. A couple tied to the park docks to wait it out, then insisted on crowding into us when the bridge opened.

As soon as we cleared the bridge we tied to our usual spot on the Great Bridge bulkhead (map). We had the whole bulkhead to ourselves, and, unusually so, we were alone there all night. I relaxed for a few minutes after we were tied up, but then I had to dive right in to the errands we had scheduled here, starting with a mile-and-a-half hike out to the Amazon locker. The much closer Amazon locker, in the Rite-Aid, is closed due to the imminent closure of the store as part of the bankruptcy.

The tail end of the Memorial Day parade going by across the basin as we tied up.

On the way to the locker, and nearly the whole way there, I passed by a brand new Vino restaurant, which looked to be mere hours from opening for business. Our plan had been to eat at the Vino right next to the dock, which Google and their own web site had said was open, and which looked no different when I passed it, but after spotting the new store I learned the dockside location was closed for good. Drats.

On the way back to the boat I made a provisioning stop at the Kroger supermarket and the Dollar Tree store. When I passed the old Vino again just before getting home, there were trucks outside loading up fixtures to move.  This is the second time a favorite eatery near these docks has closed up; Vino had become our new go-to after our long-time favorite El Toro Loco was forced to move a few years ago.

All secure. Our ensign is at half staff until noon.

By the time we had all the provisions stowed it was time to go to dinner. With Vino gone we fell to one of our long-time backup options, the Lockside Bar & Grill across the canal. Fortunately, it's on the correct side of Battlefield Boulevard, which is so difficult to cross that we've been known to wait for the bridge lift to cross the street. The food is decent and they have some nice drafts. It was a long driving day with a big walk and I pretty much collapsed after dinner and turned in early.

While we had a short day Monday, we needed to get an early start to have slack tide when we reached the Top Rack Marina, where the docks are perpendicular to the current. So we dropped lines to make the 9 o'clock lockage, after first hoisting the ensign to half staff for Memorial Day. We were secured in the lock in plenty of time to watch the conga line of boats come through the 9 am bridge lift and then enter the lock with varying degrees of skill, our morning entertainment.

In a decade we have yet to try this restored theater, where you can order dinner and wine with your flick. This movie was tempting, but I had too much to do in our single evening.

We arrived at Top Rack mostly at slack water as planned, and had no trouble tying up. This is mostly a dry stack marina, and Memorial Day would normally be very busy, and they staffed accordingly. Today, however, was rainy, windy, and cold, and the place was dead. Consequently we got both dockhands, bored to tears, down at the dock to help with our ten-dollar pump-out. Normally we are here for an hour fueling up, but we are still mostly full from the cheap stop in Fernandina Beach.

The early start and short service stop had us arriving to High Street Landing in Portsmouth before lunch. We were a bit worried that we'd arrive to find the landing busy with the annual Memorial Day celebration, and were prepared to continue to the anchorage to avoid disturbing it, but the city has instead returned to the traditional parade, and as we were tying up we caught the last ten minutes of the parade coming down High Street and turning onto Water Street. The inside bulkhead was occupied and so we tied on the outside (map), rather than risk damage at the wood docks from the low pilings and the water coming over the docks.

Marine patrol towing in a log. You can barely see it below the surface.

After lunch we briefly thought the jig was up, as we watched the Portsmouth PD marine patrol boat approaching us from the river, lights blazing. You can't park there, mate. Just before reaching our stern they turned into the basin, and we could see they were towing something. That turned out to be an enormous log they had found in the river, and they struggled to get it alongside the dock. I went over to lend a hand, but even three of us could not lift it from the water, so they tied it to a piling. I suggested I could get it out of the basin at high tide when the water would be well over the dock, and Sergeant McGee gave me his card. I took a nice stroll around town.

With several places dark on Monday, we walked to the Old Towne Public House for dinner. We've walked out of this place in the past because it can get very noisy, but tonight was fine and they had decent food and some nice drafts. At 9pm or so I went outside in my watermen's boots and was able to wrestle the errant log up onto dry concrete, texting a photo to the good Sergeant and calling it done.

I was able to float it across the awash docks and lever it onto the concrete at high tide.

Yesterday morning we took a quick walk in our only chance to get off the boat, then dropped lines at 8:30 to have a fair tide on the James. That meant pushing against some flood on the Elizabeth, but at least the harbor traffic was at a low simmer. I did have to drive over a dredge pipe as I made my turn past Craney Island, but the leverman was very responsive and said we'd have no trouble with it.

As we crossed the Middle Ground we passed an anchored tug and barge that I noticed right away because it had a distinct color on the chart. It was the boat our friend Tim was skippering up until his retirement just a couple of weeks ago. Regular readers may know we tied up to that tug in NY harbor last year for a quick visit. Tim and his lovely fiancé are sailing across the Atlantic, halfway to the Azores now, and you can follow them at svPaquita on YouTube.

This nice park in Old Towne has a modern play structure, but they still found a way to hang an honest rope swing from the old tree.

Coming into the James we were following a bulker, Lefkes, upriver, and we could see the James River lift bridge open for her. Louise pulled her up on AIS and said she was bound for USHPW and wondered where that was. I knew immediately, because I had entered it in our own AIS when we left the dock -- she was bound for Hopewell, just like us.

We had a fine trip upriver, passing the Newport News shipyard, the lift bridge, and the James River ghost fleet. After lunch I called the parts distributor in Oxnard to confirm they had a damper plate and to get the skinny on shipping. That turned out to be via FedEx ground, and Louise and I spent some time figuring out where we could get a FedEx delivery about a week out.

Still there in the daylight, this shot shows how difficult it would be to remove at this tide level.

One option would have been to have it sent to Hopewell, where we have inexpensive dockage. But that would have us there well over a week, and there are not a lot of resources outside of myself and Dave should anything go sideways with the project. If we should end up needing a yard or haulout it would be a very long tow.

After a lot of back and forth, we decided to book a night at the city dock in downtown Hampton. Long-time readers may remember we spent a week there while we had the steering rams rebuilt, so it's a familiar place and I know I can get most anything I need with a short scooter ride. Should things go pear-shaped, the Bluewater Yacht boatyard is right next door. We booked an arrival of Tuesday to coincide with when we think the damper will arrive, and then I ordered the damper plate.

A follower snapped this shot of us on our way out of Portsmouth, with Norfolk in the background. Photo: Russ Dykstra

We had following current all the way from Hampton Roads, and I would have run another hour or so upriver past slack. The forecast, however, was calling for 30 mph winds out of the east to southeast overnight, which sent us to the chart to look for an anchorage with enough protection in that direction.

That turned out to be the aforementioned Cobham Bay, adjacent to Hog Point and the Surry nuclear power plant, where we dropped the hook just upriver of the plant's canal (map). This plant pulls its cooling water from downriver using giant pumps, then discharges it upriver into the bay. Other than the hum of the plant, it was quiet, and mostly dark, with just a skyward glow from the plant that was behind a thick cover of trees.

USS John F Kennedy still under construction, and USS Enterprise being dismantled. I took the same photo five years ago and they don't look much different today.

This morning we waited until 10:30 to weigh anchor, to have a fair tide upriver. I hoped that start time would also put us into Hopewell toward the end of the flood, with slack water giving us the option to dock in either direction. It was not to be; the flood has been stronger than the NOAA tables predicted, and we've been racing upriver all day, with a projected arrival a full hour before slack. We left in limited visibility in misty rain, but things have been improving all day.

Update: We are now docked at the city marina in Hopewell (map). We made such good time that I had to set the blog aside unfinished to navigate the last few miles of the James and the turn into the Appomattox. As we approached the turn, so did the tug Jeanie Clay from the other direction, pushing an empty scow, and we held back and followed him upriver.

Lefkes at the pier in Hopewell as we approach the Appomattox. We started upriver right behind her but she arrived a full day ahead of us. 

Dave, Stacey, and dockmaster Billy met us on the face dock as we spun around and came alongside, and we were all tied up, secured, and plugged in by 4pm. We headed right over to Stinkpot to catch up, collect our mail that we had sent here, and steal Dave's epoxy supply. And then in honor of National Hamburger Day (really), Dave drove us to the local burger bar, Carr Brothers, for excellent burgers and a few beers.

Tomorrow I will get started on fixing the counter top, and trying to collect all the supplies I will need for the damper plate replacement, including fresh bolts and some very specific grease for the shaft splines. I've asked the Hampton marina if they have a list of divers to deal with the line cutters, and I am also looking for an able assistant to help me muscle the tranny around.