Blow Out in Cape Fear

Being a morning person, and particularly so when I've got somewhere to go, it's fairly frustrating to sit around all morning waiting for something to happen. In any event, here we are sitting at the Ashley Marina in Charleston Harbor waiting for the tide to turn to take us out of the harbor. Just like days of old when the tall sailing ships waited for a fair current, so are we. I suppose that we could have just motored out against the incoming tide, but that would be pretty pointless. Our destination is the Cape Fear River Inlet, about 120 nautical miles distant (about 20 hours travel time) and leaving too early may put us in before dawn the next day anyway. So at 11:00 the torrid current slacks off and we head out of the harbor under clear skies and warm temperatures. Just as soon as we clear the nearby Coast Guard Station, the wind fills in from the south; we hoist sail, cut the engine and fly out of the harbor surfing at 7-8 knots. Not a bad way to spend my 39th birthday.

And it turns out that a few other sailors have the same plan for one sailboat is just ahead as we clear the breakwater and we learn that Collette a J34, is about an hour behind. At high tide such as it is now, the north breakwater is almost completely submersed and hard to see until you are quite close. One the other hand, the southern breakwater stands well above the water and angles such that it is highly visible. In fact, we at first mistook the southern breakwater for the northern breakwater as we approached. I go into this detail because this is the site of a recent tragedy that claimed the life of four sailors and shook the foundations of the Coast Guard in the inquiry that followed. In late December 1997, the 34 foot sailboat Morning Dew sank after running up on the rocks of the northern breakwater during the night. Only one brief May Day got out, but without no known location or any other details the Coast Guard felt it didn't have enough to initiate a search, although hours later near dawn another vessel reportedly heard cries of help near the breakwater. The Coast Guard later admitted that it missed an opportunity to attempt a rescue and in the end the father, two teenaged sons and nephew died in the chilly water. For further details of this tragedy, refer to the speech Lessons Learned From Morning Dew given at the U.S. Naval Institute.

So we are thankful to clear the breakwater and gain some sea room. Outside the harbor, the breeze is fresh and on our stern. We set the spinnaker and enjoy a fast ride. The breeze builds a little towards dark so we douse the spinnaker and carry on under jib alone through the night. If this sounds a little conservative, keep in mind that we have averaged over seven knots for the first 8 hours and find ourselves needing to slow down some to not get in before sunrise. We are also trying to play the tides at the other end as well. The currents in the Cape Fear River are pretty fierce and getting there on the flood will make for a much more pleasant ride the ten miles or so upriver. Our speed under jib alone is still above 5 knots anyway. Aside from the incessant roll, things are quiet and comfortable but sleep is still difficult. We keep in radio contact with Collette even though we are now too far ahead to see their running lights. Lots of strange goings on at night in this part of the woods. Along our course is a series of large obstacles, navy type structures, that obviously someone wants you to notice. The collection of navigation lights associated with these structures is like Vegas at night, various yellow and white brilliantly flashing lights that we see for many miles. Later, we witness two intervals of orange glowing balls in the sky that sort of hang in one position for 30 seconds and then disappear. Collette sees them as well and calls the Coast Guard reporting them as flares, perhaps from another vessel distress. I'm not sure what they are, but I am quite sure that they are not flares. They are too stationary, not having any up or down motion as would be the case with a flare shot from the surface. And they don't fade out, they just sort of turn off like you would turn off a light from a switch. I write it off as just another communist plot to take over America and sail on.

In the morning, we hear Collette on the radio again with the Coast Guard. They've had an interesting night. Seems that they were towing their dinghy and in the building waves the dinghy began surfing down into their boat. Belatedly, they realize that they should have put the dinghy on deck before going offshore. In a matter of time, the dinghy holed from slamming into their boat, then took on water. Unable to retrieve the dinghy with it now full of water, they had no other option but to cut it loose, thereby sacrificing a $2,000 piece of gear and their only ‘car'.

At sunrise, we are just 10 miles off the Cape Fear River, the wind has continued to lighten during the night so that we are now making just more then 4 knots. We put the spinnaker back up and immediately our speed improves and the rolling motion eases. By 8 am we are off the Cape Fear sea buoy and by 9 am we are inside the headlands and into the river. The channel is deep and well marked, but just outside the channel the breakers are a little unnerving. The wind has picked back up, but still astern so we carry on under spinnaker up the river. A half hour later, the wind is stronger still and the river curves a bit bringing the wind more on our beam. It's really time to take the spinnaker down, but we have only one more mile to go before Snow's Cut when will have to take it down anyway. A strong gust hits us and the boat rounds up under the huge press of canvas. Unfortunately, that was our first and only warning. The next gust hits moments later, we start to round up again, the spinnaker starts to flog and then in an instant later, the whole thing falls gently into the water with the spinnaker sheets trailing behind. The spinnaker has blown out! At this point, we are not sure what has given way, but right now we have to gather the soggy spinnaker aboard and start the engine.

We clear Snow's Cut an hour later and head in to Carolina Beach to a $10 a night marina. Our plan from here is to follow the Intracoastal Waterway to Wrightsville Beach and then go offshore again to Beaufort, NC. At an offshore distance of only 70 miles, it's only a long daysail, but one in which speed is of the essence to arrive before dark. But at the moment, we are tired, the boat is a mess and I've got a spinnaker to fix. We rest up that afternoon and then lay over in Carolina Beach another day. We stayed here in the fall when Hurricane Irene was approaching the area and things seemed quite different now under warm, sunny skies. The wind has remained steady from the south at 20-25 knots, a little to much wind to comfortable anchor in Wrightsville Beach given its exposure to the southerly winds.

Upon inspection of the spinnaker, it turns out that the nylon material which comprises the spinnaker has parted from the large stainless steel grommet at the head. The spinnaker is little more then a large light triangular shaped piece of cloth with one corner being the head which is hoisted to the top of the mast when set. It is this that has torn away under the tremendous loads and shearing forces when the spinnaker began to flog. I concoct a fix from a 2 inch stainless steel ring that I just happen to have in amongst my spare parts and set to work with needle, thread and several pieces of tubular nylon. Four hours later and several needle stab wounds, we have what appears to be a functioning spinnaker again. I'm anxious to try it out!

We arrive early at Wrightsville Beach the next day after a short but frustrating motor 13 miles up the waterway. Not at all scenic here. Lots of power boats now and despite their best efforts, their wakes roll us mercilessly. And the powerboats aren't the only hazard. Shoals encroach or sneak up on the unwary skipper. We pass one sailboat hopelessly aground with their full rudder and most of the keel above the water. The boat is lying on its side, the occupants no doubt walking on the cabin sides waiting for the tide to change.

The beach at Wrightsville is disappointing. This has been the first opportunity we've had to walk on the beach since leaving the Bahamas. The water color is a murky dark green, the sand is course dark sand, no pretty shells to be found, lots of development, and the beach is crowded with sun seekers. But, it's still nice to wriggle our toes in the sand and enjoy the nice weather.

First light the next morning we are underway at 6 am just as soon as we can see the channel markers leading to Masonboro Inlet. This is our kind of inlet, short, well marked, little traffic and once outside, you're in deep water. How nice! Not much is moving around this early in the morning and we exit the cut with few other boats in sight. In fact, once we are outside, we can barely see the shore line in the haze. Sure hope the visibility improves. The wind is light such that we motor sail to keep up our speed until noon when the wind fills in from the southwest. We set the newly repaired spinnaker. It works...our speed is good.....and minutes later we cut the engine. The haze remains limiting visibility to about 3 miles. Off in the distance towards shore we here the retort of large guns as we approach Camp LeJune. Firing exercises are underway but little did we know that an aircraft carrier is involved in these exercises. Just a little later, we are directly abeam of Camp LeJune and that air craft carrier appears through the haze, looking like it's heading directly for us. It takes us a few moments of excitement to get a bearing on the carrier and to realize that its not moving anywhere very fast. ‘We are making trees on it', that is to say that there is a bearing change and we are not on a collision course. We see that we will pass safely ahead but we keep a wary eye until we are well clear.

We raise the Beaufort outer sea buoy just before 5 pm on Friday having made good time under spinnaker and later main and jib when the wind piped up. By six we have the anchor down in Town Creek on the north side of the town. We spent the weekend visiting Beaufort and Joyce's friend Sally Anger and her husband Jim. Joyce had a pleasant walk on the beach with Sal and even collected a few more shells. On Sunday we visited the North Caroline Maritime Museum which has quite an impressive collection. In the evening we joined Sal and Jim for another wonderful feast along with Sally's Mom Betty on Mother's Day. Walking the docks we happened on a the familar site of the Chesapeake's Whitbread entry 'Chessie Racing' in a truly sad state of affairs. We saw her dismasted and badly damaged on her starboard side. If anyone happens to know what dreadful thing has happened to Chessie, please let us know. (Note: "Dismasting Halts Wild Ride" and other race reports from the Key West to Baltimore Race of 2000. Formerly known Chessie Racing is now racing under the name Beau Geste in the China Sea -- August 2002).

There is something to be said for coming back to someplace that you've been before. No longer is everything new and unfamiliar such that we look not for what's here, but for what's changed since the last time we were here. It's comforting to know what to expect when you arrive, where to anchor and where to go for all the essentials. We realize that we are no longer ‘babes in the woods' but starting to become waterway veterans.