"My phone's about to die no wait that's the red buoy what?!"
A question I asked myself while rehearsing a night departure out of Cape May Harbor, a departure that was intended to lead to my maiden voyage up the Delaware Bay.
Every report I'd heard of the Delaware Bay was told with bug-eyed horror, nothing but tales of nasty fast moving currents, tales of dodging giant ships over a huge stretch of open water, a brutal bash.
Oh yeah, and then there's the FLASHING RED LIGHT.
That gray November Saturday began with an uneventful windless motoring from Atlantic City to a Cape May Harbor jam packed to the gills with hundreds of buzzing sport fishing boats many moving at max wake velocity.
So, after dropping anchor in the artificially confused waves of the harbor, an artificial chop that caused an ongoing OOMPH! inside a hornets' nest of buzzing engines, I asked myself, "WHAT am I doing here?"
Oh yeah, the Delaware Bay.
The famous painting of Washington crossing the Delaware (river) flashed in my thoughts and inspired confidence. I later learned (a few minutes ago) that the original painting was destroyed in an air raid. Glad I didn't know that then.
While getting shoved OOMPH! by the wakes I decided to charge my phone and so plugging it in I see that it exhibits a FLASHING RED LIGHT. "What's up with this?" I think as I attempt to turn the phone on and nothing happens.
Before departing Atlantic City I left a facebook post saying something like, "finally got a weather window, next stop Cape May." One friend commented, "keep us posted Bill. We're worried about you." Another friend already in Norfolk commented, "What's the holdup?!" As we both departed Newport at the same time. That comment led to still another friend commenting, "?????!"
I felt like I needed to tell them I was OK at Cape May, but that FLASHING RED LIGHT on the phone.
The plan was to depart Cape May at 0130 (MLLW-- super low tide) and then there's that scary stretch between the two FLASHING RED LIGHTS and then to the bridge.
It also seemed a whole lot easier when the whole world didn't know my business in real time.
The frantic fugue from creeped-out-ville-feel like a pathetic idiot continued. My Facebook friends needed answers (thank you Pavlov and Facebook and a dead phone with a FLASHING RED LIGHT) and I needed to be comfortable with a night departure out of Cape May Harbor (thank you Fl R 4s 15ft 4M "12" and Fl R 4s 12ft 3M "14" and the plethora of boat traffic safely navigating between those 2 FLASHING RED LIGHTS-- the plethora of boat traffic that became a cheap de facto fleet of pilot boats).
A little while later the sun set, darkness reigned, the boat traffic all but disappeared (no more de facto pilots and no more OOMPH!), the FLASHING RED LIGHTs on the two channel markers of concern kept flashing, the phone continued to exhibit a FLASHING RED LIGHT and was still dead, the strong current still raced through the harbor, and I continued to try to fix the dead phone with the sickness motivation of not being able to post on Facebook.
I finally fitfully snoozed for a few hours and then awoke at about 0030 to see that the usually fast moving current of the harbor was at a stand. It was MLLW (super low tide). It was time to depart. I fiddled again with the phone a bit and still got not nothing but a FLASHING RED LIGHT. "F*&% the phone" I thought. "F&^% Facebook. Before all this technology nobody knew and therefore nobody cared and I didn't have this paralytic aura over the whole thing."
I fired up the engine, pulled up the anchor and was underway. Slowly, nervously in the dark moonless night I made way through the harbor. Arriving at the first FLASHING RED LIGHT of concern I became hyper aware. I saw the second FLASHING RED LIGHT in the distance. Slowly, cautiously I aimed a little to the left of the second FLASHING RED LIGHT. I felt as if I was traveling over and along a very skinny narrow canyon. I was concerned about a side current but thankfully the current was still at a stand.
Safely I left the second FLASHING RED LIGHT to starboard and soon after I was in the Cape May Canal. Ahhhh. Now just stay in the middle of the Canal. No problems.
Exiting the canal after passing the sleeping ferry boats I entered a glassy windless Delaware Bay with the beginnings of a favorable current. Onward I continued up the bay with the current ever increasing. Dawn had me approaching the Ship John Shoal Light (a white light). Sunrise had me just outside the red side of the shipping channel (the big ship avoidance method). Mid morning with about a 2 to 3 knot favorable push I was abeam of the Salem Nuclear Power Plant. Early afternoon had thick fog at the entrance to the Chesapeake and Delaware (C&D) Canal. I circled a buoy for about a half hour waiting for the fog to lift as a huge oil tanker made way outbound. After the fog lifted I made the jump into the C&D Canal with still stronger favorable current. Pretty cyclists waved from the canal service roads. About mid to late afternoon I made way into the Chesapeake with still a raging favorable current. At the end of the day I dropped anchor in Veazy Cove.
The phone still didn't work.
Fair Winds.
Captain Bill.
A question I asked myself while rehearsing a night departure out of Cape May Harbor, a departure that was intended to lead to my maiden voyage up the Delaware Bay.
Every report I'd heard of the Delaware Bay was told with bug-eyed horror, nothing but tales of nasty fast moving currents, tales of dodging giant ships over a huge stretch of open water, a brutal bash.
Oh yeah, and then there's the FLASHING RED LIGHT.
That gray November Saturday began with an uneventful windless motoring from Atlantic City to a Cape May Harbor jam packed to the gills with hundreds of buzzing sport fishing boats many moving at max wake velocity.
So, after dropping anchor in the artificially confused waves of the harbor, an artificial chop that caused an ongoing OOMPH! inside a hornets' nest of buzzing engines, I asked myself, "WHAT am I doing here?"
Oh yeah, the Delaware Bay.
The famous painting of Washington crossing the Delaware (river) flashed in my thoughts and inspired confidence. I later learned (a few minutes ago) that the original painting was destroyed in an air raid. Glad I didn't know that then.
While getting shoved OOMPH! by the wakes I decided to charge my phone and so plugging it in I see that it exhibits a FLASHING RED LIGHT. "What's up with this?" I think as I attempt to turn the phone on and nothing happens.
Before departing Atlantic City I left a facebook post saying something like, "finally got a weather window, next stop Cape May." One friend commented, "keep us posted Bill. We're worried about you." Another friend already in Norfolk commented, "What's the holdup?!" As we both departed Newport at the same time. That comment led to still another friend commenting, "?????!"
I felt like I needed to tell them I was OK at Cape May, but that FLASHING RED LIGHT on the phone.
The plan was to depart Cape May at 0130 (MLLW-- super low tide) and then there's that scary stretch between the two FLASHING RED LIGHTS and then to the bridge.
It also seemed a whole lot easier when the whole world didn't know my business in real time.
The frantic fugue from creeped-out-ville-feel like a pathetic idiot continued. My Facebook friends needed answers (thank you Pavlov and Facebook and a dead phone with a FLASHING RED LIGHT) and I needed to be comfortable with a night departure out of Cape May Harbor (thank you Fl R 4s 15ft 4M "12" and Fl R 4s 12ft 3M "14" and the plethora of boat traffic safely navigating between those 2 FLASHING RED LIGHTS-- the plethora of boat traffic that became a cheap de facto fleet of pilot boats).
A little while later the sun set, darkness reigned, the boat traffic all but disappeared (no more de facto pilots and no more OOMPH!), the FLASHING RED LIGHTs on the two channel markers of concern kept flashing, the phone continued to exhibit a FLASHING RED LIGHT and was still dead, the strong current still raced through the harbor, and I continued to try to fix the dead phone with the sickness motivation of not being able to post on Facebook.
I finally fitfully snoozed for a few hours and then awoke at about 0030 to see that the usually fast moving current of the harbor was at a stand. It was MLLW (super low tide). It was time to depart. I fiddled again with the phone a bit and still got not nothing but a FLASHING RED LIGHT. "F*&% the phone" I thought. "F&^% Facebook. Before all this technology nobody knew and therefore nobody cared and I didn't have this paralytic aura over the whole thing."
I fired up the engine, pulled up the anchor and was underway. Slowly, nervously in the dark moonless night I made way through the harbor. Arriving at the first FLASHING RED LIGHT of concern I became hyper aware. I saw the second FLASHING RED LIGHT in the distance. Slowly, cautiously I aimed a little to the left of the second FLASHING RED LIGHT. I felt as if I was traveling over and along a very skinny narrow canyon. I was concerned about a side current but thankfully the current was still at a stand.
Safely I left the second FLASHING RED LIGHT to starboard and soon after I was in the Cape May Canal. Ahhhh. Now just stay in the middle of the Canal. No problems.
Exiting the canal after passing the sleeping ferry boats I entered a glassy windless Delaware Bay with the beginnings of a favorable current. Onward I continued up the bay with the current ever increasing. Dawn had me approaching the Ship John Shoal Light (a white light). Sunrise had me just outside the red side of the shipping channel (the big ship avoidance method). Mid morning with about a 2 to 3 knot favorable push I was abeam of the Salem Nuclear Power Plant. Early afternoon had thick fog at the entrance to the Chesapeake and Delaware (C&D) Canal. I circled a buoy for about a half hour waiting for the fog to lift as a huge oil tanker made way outbound. After the fog lifted I made the jump into the C&D Canal with still stronger favorable current. Pretty cyclists waved from the canal service roads. About mid to late afternoon I made way into the Chesapeake with still a raging favorable current. At the end of the day I dropped anchor in Veazy Cove.
The phone still didn't work.
Fair Winds.
Captain Bill.
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| Cape May Canal Bridge as viewed from Cape May Harbor back in August of 2009. |
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