Running from winter

Best of luck to you Barry,  I spend my day putting the cover on my co26 so to say you are where I would like to be isn understandment.

John

Barry

Keep it coming, I am looking forward to you hitting some open water and reporting back.
Would it be fair to say you are making 50 miles a day?

John

Sounds like quite an adventure.  Thanks for sharing.  I'm off to look for the pics on facebook.  Sue

You're making us all jealous Barry. Keep up the posting! We love reading it!

I realize that a lot of my information is more than 100 years old (I am reading "Life on the Mississippi", by Mark Twain as research for this trip), but the rivers are not quite what I expected. 

The biggest surprise is just how controlled things are on the rivers these days.  They are slowed and leveled with dams, directed by weirs and wingdams, and hemmed in with levees.  I expected the levees and wingdams, but I am surprised at the extent of the work that has been done!  There are a phenomenal amount of rock walls in the river as wingdams.  I am glad that I have the maps (not charts!), because some sections look like they have been hatchmarked with wingdams.  They are invisible on the surface, and so could be quite a hazard.  The levees are impressive, too--massive quantities of earth have been moved in an effort to keep the river within predictable limits.

The most disappointing surprise probably has to do with some of these efforts to make the river more predictable--there is virtually no access to the towns and cities that lie along the river.  There are plenty of commercial facilities, but few opportunities for a recreational craft to tie up.  The towns have turned their backs on the river that was once their reason for existing.  Shopping centers are a 20-minute car ride from the waterfront, not a walk.  Because of all of the levees, revetment, and wingdams there are not many anchorages.  There used to be plenty of places to bring a boat up to the shore, or anchor behind an island.  Many of those opportunities have been engineered away.  St. Louis has no place for recreational craft to tie up--you have to pay to stay in a marina out of town, then rent a car if you want to visit.  I am going to take pictures from the river only as I float by...  It is 250 miles before the next place that I can fuel up.

Of course, I could have done more research before setting out, but I don't want to take all of the fun out of the venture!

So, disappointment over the lack of opportunities to explore ashore aside, I have to say that the scenery along the rivers is more than enough to keep my occupied during long days of motoring.  There are plenty of varied types of forests, marshes and creeks, lots of bird life (including plenty of bald eagles and other big raptors!), interesting structures (old bridges and loading terminals, houses, duck blinds), and high bluffs in places.  I like the fact that I don't know what is up ahead.  There is something interesting to see around each bend.

Now that I am on the Mississippi (I am writing from Alton, at mile 203 on the Upper Mississippi) I have a good fair current.  That means having to pay plenty of attention to turbulence and using skills like ferrying that I haven't exercised in a while.  The Illinois only offered about a .25 to .5 knot push.  Now I am getting about 2 knots, and it will be up to probably 4 knots after I pass the confluence with the Missouri river tomorrow.  The river is wider too--today I sailed for the first time in almost 300 miles!

Tomorrow I am heading for a famous stop on the river--Hoppie's.  I hear that it is de rigeur for river travelers to make a stop there.  It is also the last "marina" for hundreds of miles.  I put marina in quotes because Hoppies consists of 4 barges tied along the shore to which you can moor for $1.30 per foot per night.  I'll be glad when I can get back on the hook!

All the best,

Barry

Hi All,

I hope that everyone had a great Thanksgiving!  I have so much to be thankful for, but I hardly had a moment to take time for reflection.  I was definitely thankful that the boat was still floating at the end of the day.  She was bruised but not broken.

The day started early.  I had rafted up with a fellow who I had met back in Grafton.  We have been traveling in company and really enjoying ourselves.  His wife had to get off of the boat to take care of a sick family member when we reached Cape Girardeau, so it became even more important to have my hands available to help with things on his boat, a 36-foot trawler.  He is very capable of handling things himself, but I think we all are familiar with how nice it is to have someone else around.  His wife has never had to get off the boat before in the many years that they have been voyaging together.  It was too bad that she had to depart just before the holiday.

So there we were--anchored at about mile 7 on the Ohio River, just downstream of America Bar.  The river is wide at this point--more than 3/4 of a mile wide.  It is also quite straight.  This means that if the wind comes up there is plenty of fetch to build chop.  The weather forecast wasn't that bad for the night, and anyway I wanted to get an early start on cooking the food in the morning, so we didn't separate the boats.  When I went to sleep the wind was blowing straight up the river and against the current, creating about a 1-foot chop and making the boats lie beam-on.  I had stayed up until almost midnight making pie crusts and getting other things ready for the next day.  I didn't sleep well because the weather made me uneasy.

I was up at about 0445.  The wind had come up more and the boats were bouncing around dangerously.  It was now going to be very difficult to try to separate the boats because of the motion and the 25+ knot wind pinning the boats sideways to the 2-knot current.  I went below and found that the captain of the other boat was awake too.  We decided to try to move the boats as they were, which was against my better judgement, but it was dark and boisterous out.  I don't have any instruments or radar and there was heavy barge traffic on the river.  The navigational marks are not lit at night and are almost impossible to see without a powerful searchlight.  We only had about 3-4 miles to travel upstream to make it around a bend and find relative shelter. 

We hauled the anchor and started across the stream. We could not point directly downwind because of the bar between us and the channel.  We had to cross it, which made the boats roll. 

When we were about halfway to the channel a big set of waves hit us.  Both boats rolled rail-down.  They did it at different rates of course and Cavendysh's rail got pinned under the rubrail of her bigger neighbor, forcing all of the fenders out.  i cut the throttle and turned the trawler away from her tow.  The boats crunched together sickeningly a few more times before their way came off and the change in course moved them apart. 

Now we were near the eddge of the channel and there was barge traffic coming at us.  We had to be sure not to hit a buoy or get caught in the way of a tow.  It was difficult to steer at slow speeds with the wind wanting to push us around.  We got straightened out and got the fenders back between the boats.  I got in Cavendysh and started the engine and loosened the lines to give me more room to steer off.  I wanted to separate the boats, but we still had the problem that we had before--we risked more damage as we separated.  So, I just steered along and the captain of the trawler drove his boat. 

We had to turn around to try to find some shelter so that we could work things out.  As we made the turn there was more contact between the boats as the trawler turned too fast, driven by the wind.  At least we were pointed upstream now and running down the waves, so things were more controllable.

I sat and steered for about an hour before things calmed down.  Once we were in calm enough water to separate the boats safely it was Ok to just stay together and tow Cavendysh, which is what we did.  At that point the damage was already done, so why worry?  We still wanted to enjoy a good meal together, which wouldn't have happened if we went our own ways.  I got back on the trawler and began to cook everything for a full Thanksgiving spread.  Things were looking up.  I waited for daylight so I could inspect the damage to our poor boats.

We soon came to a lock that needed to be transited to continue up the river.  We called the lock and learned that it would be a few hours before we could get through, which is typical when there is a lot of commercial traffic.  We anchored out of the channel and I could concentrate on cooking as the wind was now blocked.  The sky looked dark because a front was forecast and about to come through.  We both hoped that we could make it through the lock before then.

Around 1300 the front arrived and we were still waiting for the lock to open.  The wind switched 180 degrees and instantly we lost our protection.  I hoped that there wouldn't be too much wind to go with the dark clouds, but soon the wind was up over 30.  I went back to the galley and tried to finish working on stuffing and a bean casserole.  The waves only took minutes to build.  I went back outside when we heeled over in a gust that was definitely over 40.  It spun us around and my Cavendysh was now pinned by the current against the bigger boat again.  In the new, stronger wind (recorded up to 43 and it was solid, not gusty) the waves came up again in an instant.  Rain reduced the visibility to less than 1/4 mile and the temperature dropped from near 60 to the low 40's in minutes.  I was soon pushing fenders back in and calling the other captain to bring more over.  There was nowhere to go--we were in a cul-de-sac.  I just hoped that the wind would blow through quickly as I stood out there in the driving rain (it was blowing so hard that I barely got wet as it all went over the boats) and tried to keep my boat from getting crushed and rolled under the rail again.  The fenders were getting cut on all of the jagged edges and loose screws from the earlier bumping.  I pulled screws in between rolls to try to save the fenders.  I was lucky not to get a hand or finger caught between the fenders or boats!!  I was also thinking about the things that I had left on the sotve and in the oven, but I couldn't leave even for 30 seconds to turn off the burners.

The wind did die down after about 20 minutes.  A half-hour after that it was below 20 again and the waves were calming down.  Whew!  No more damage done (except a lot of wear on the fenders and one that split under load) and well, things were OK again so I went back to cooking dinner.  The lock called us to come through at about 1400.  We were lucky that a hole in the lineup for the lock opened up.  I had heard a tow asking for assistance because he had been driven onto a shoal in the wind.  That may have been what helped us get through without more hours of waiting.

We focused on enjoying what was left of the day and got into the eggnog well before dinner.  We continued to tow Cavendysh alongside, as we made it to the Tennessee River and it is twisty and narrow and offers good protection.  I surveyed the damage--two bent stanchions and one bent/partially pulled-out stanchion base, a bent stud on my port shroud (shroud needs to be replaced), some evidence of movement in my two after port chainplates (breaks in the sealant--I have to pull the chainplates later to inspect them and the knees), a crushed genoa car and turning block, and plenty of gouges in the anodized rubrail and topsides.  Nothing structural, just gelcoat.  I will fix the gelcoat.  That's no big deal.  The only thing I can't fix is the anodized rubrail.  It will always have a story to tell about Thanksgiving day 2010.  The trawler suffered fiberglass damage to the rubrail, which is also the hull-deck joint, and a 6-foot section of ripped out and bent stainless rubbing strake.

We still managed to enjoy the rest of the day.  The boats can be fixed.  We are both experienced boaters and knew the risks of what we were doing!  Was it worth it?  Well, there's a good story to tell...

The Contessa stood up very well to a couple of solid thumps.  The t-track for the genoa and the car took most of the load of being pinned under the rail of the trawler.  That is what caused the damage to the other boat.  The rig took a bit of strain because of Cavendysh rolling towards the other boat as her rail was forced down; same for the stanchions.  The only real problem was a deficiency that I knew about and had planned on fixing (It was already on "the list")--the stanchions are only backed with whimpy little washers instead of backing plates or at least oversized washers.  The boat will be better than ever after the repairs.  I plan on stopping in Dog River on Mobile Bay because I heard that it is cheap to stay there and that there are good suppliers close at hand.

We temporarily repaired the trawler's rubrail with thickened epoxy covered with duct-tape--no more sharp edges!  Cavendysh is going to spend some more miles towing alongside, as this is a good arrangement that allows socialization between the crews while underway and saves hours on the little Bukh without costing a noticeable amount of speed or fuel to the trawler.  We are heading down Kentucky Lake right now and hope to be in Mobile in two weeks.

Until next time...

Best,

Barry

Yeah, us Contessa owners....er, i am not one yet...we are crazy tho'! ;-)   

Barry, do you wear glasses, if so, on your facebook page: WHERE ARE THE BOAT PICS?!  We need drama, send us pics!! Wow, you are having an adventure!  Map?! 

Is there an "ADVENTURES" area on this site, Adrian?! ;-)

John_Co26, I know now you are not John Lee, as you are still sailing an John Lee owned Cavendysh....Barry that is so cool you are sailing her! ;-)

Hi All,

I have certainly let this thread languish too long...  I see that I haven't really updated anything since Christmas! I am going to have to update this in a couple of posts because a lot has happened in the last few months.

I am now in Jacksonville Beach, FL, and will update with the latest news first.  Here's a description of my trip here from the Keys:

I left from Key West with a forecast for a north wind that would be turning northeast.  As it turned out, the wind was more easterly (on the nose), and then turned northeast as I followed the Keys around to the north.  That made for slow going!  I sailed in the Hawk channel for the first half of the trip, and then on the ICW behind the Keys up to Elliott Key, which is just south of Miami.  The inside channel was beautiful, with emerald green waters shallow enough to watch all of the patches of sea grass passing just below my keel as I sped (OK, 5 knots feels fast in my boat...) over the flat water.  It was fascinating to lean over the side to watch the bottom go by.  It's too bad I had to keep looking up to see where I was going!

When I left from Elliott Key I decided to sail offshore at least up to north of Ft. Lauderdale to avoid all of the congestion and bridges (with restricted opening times) in the Miami area and the next 50 miles to the north.  I sailed to the Biscayne pass, which is to the south of Key Biscayne and the site of the famous Biscayne stilt houses of Stiltsville.  The houses were all boarded up with nobody inside, but according to some articles on the Internet they are still in use.  There is a Miami law says that the houses cannot be repaired, so they are slowly falling into disrepair.  I motored out of the pass against the last of the flood tide, which I had timed on purpose to help lay any seas flat in the pass. 

Once on the outside, I set the sails and beat into a feeble northeast wind, slowly gaining distance to the north and east.  Soon I was in an area of very confused seas.  I turned on the GPS and saw that my speed over the ground was almost 7 knots even though I was only moving at about 3-4 through the water, so the "washing machine" was the edge of the Gulf Stream and I was being tossed about by one of the world's great currents.  My dinner that night was a fried egg sandwich, with the eggs ending up scrambled in the pan by the lively motion of Cavendysh being buffeted by short, steep seas from all sides.  Later that afternoon the wind gained strength and I was soon moving on a close reach at consistent speeds over 9 knots over the ground.  During the night the wind switched around to the northwest, making my course again closehauled.  The next morning at noon I calculated my day's run at 197 nautical miles in 24 hours!  That's the straight-line distance noon to noon.  I had a couple of wind shifts during the day, so I sailed a bit farther overall.  In any case, it is a new 24-hour run record for Cavendysh.  I continued to sail as close as possible to the wind, but ended up about 70 miles offshore before I was close to the latitude of Jacksonville.  At that point I tacked over to begin to make some westing rather than head for Bermuda.  Within a few hours the wind turned around to the west.  It somehow knows where I want to go and comes from that direction, which is why I am glad to have a boat that sails well upwind!  I have heard that cruising sailors never go to windward and other rubbish like that, but I spend at least half of my time sailing upwind.  The wind eventually died to nothing and I motored west over a flat sea for a few hours in order to catch the flood tide at the St, Mary's river entrance.  I am glad that I did, because I got a push at up to 3 knots as I headed upstream to make the turn to Jacksonville Beach. 

I pulled up to a dock in Jacksonville Beach last Sunday afternoon and began to tidy up the boat.  My brother came down to meet me within an hour, and I am now enjoying catching up with him and his family.

All the best,

Barry