The sport of canoe sailing is currently showing signs of a healthy revival as shown by the success of the Harry M Wilmshelmhurst Sailing Regatta at last year's WCHA assembly. After the regatta a few of the participants discussed the possibility of a week long sailing cruise.
Tom Tompkins, the head of the Regatta Committee, found that it took little convincing to get Bill Whalen to go along. Don Boehl, who finished second in the Regatta behind Bill, was also quick to sign up for the cruise! The canoes were Don's 1923 Old Town OTCA, Bill's 1917 old Town Ideal, and Tom's Atkinson Traveler which he built himself. The Atkinson was fitted with a wood and canvas foredeck which extended past the mast. The OTCA had a full spray skirt supported by hoops inserted in the gunwales. WANDA , Bill's boat, wore only a short "mini-skirt" extending about four feet back from the bow.
The itinerary for the cruise was one of historical significance -- in 1875 Nathaniel Bishop followed this same path -- that trip was immortalized in his book, THE VOYAGE OF THE PAPER CANOE. We would follow in his wake through the Currituck, Albemarle, and Pamplico Sounds along the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Leaving Virginia Beach on a Sunday, we hoped to be in Cape Hatteras (130 miles away) by the end of the week.
A description of the sailing on this trip becomes a catalog of every sailing technique and every sailing condition! Aside from icebergs and being marooned on a deserted island, we met just about everything. (Wait a minute... there was a deserted island stranding!)
RUNNING. On a run, the wind comes in over the stern of the canoe. This is often the most pleasant point of sailing in a cruising canoe, because the canoe will not be heeled over and control of the mainsheet and rudder is not too critical. We often found ourselves running downwind as we put in each morning -- winds early in the day were from the Northeast. During runs, we sailed in a group, conversation was easy.
REACHING. A boat is reaching when the wind comes in across, or just aft of, the beam. The reach is the most exciting point of sail for most skippers. The canoe is heeled over, and a judicious coordination between hand on the mainsheet and teh hand on the tiller maintains the balance. As the morning winds veered to the East in mid-morning, we would find ourselves easing into a reach. Differences in canoe design began to make differences in efficiencies -- the longer boats handled the wind driven waves better.
TACKING. A famous quote says that a canoeist never needs a compass, because his destination is usually upwind. This is true in canoe sailing too. We found that we had to tack -- sailing as close into the face of the wind, weaving our way back and forth -- very often. To make it to a good camping spot, to get into the mouth of a channel or to reach a nice looking beach for a lunch break -- yep, it was all upwind!
BECALMED. During the trip you could almost set your watch by the onset of NO BREEZE! About noon each day we'd notice that our boats were slowing and that the sun's glare on the water was increasing -- soon the rigging would be slapping on the mast and all forward momentum was gone. Oh well, time for lunch anyway! If we were close together, we often beached as a group and had lunch on shore. This period of calm usually lasted about an hour, then the wind usually came up from the South or Southwest -- we'd spend the afternoon fighting into the "teeth" of the wind.
BEFOGGED. The meteorlogical phenomena of sea fog -- cold air rushing across the warmer waters of the Sound -- layed us low on one memorable occasion. As the wind picked up after the noon calm, it also backed to the Northeast. The mid-day sun had warmed up the waters we were in, and the backing wind picked up the chill of the Atlantic Ocean only a few hundred yards and a sand dune away from us. As the 20 knot gusts drove fog across the surface of the water, we were forced into a reach to avoid being pushed downwind and out into the Sound. The longer boats -- the two Old Towns -- were able to maneuver in the increasing chop. Don and Bill were able to find safety under the lee of two deserted islands. Tom, in a lighter, shorter canoe with less freeboard, was forced to maintain a reach, and he rode out of the fog to the lee shore of the Banks.
LEE-SHORED. The graveyard of the Atlantic is on the ocean side of the Outer Banks -- during storms, ships would be overpowered by the winds and be driven onto the shore. While we did not find it to be our graveyard, being forced ashore by Southwest winds which raised three and four foot waves turned our water route into a boulevard -- we had to walk. On two days we found that our only late afternoon method of making any headway was to walk along the shore and tow the canoes behind. In this manner we'd gain a little way into the wind and often find
DIS-MASTED. The horror in the face of the seaman as the mast and rigging fall about the decks, the shouts of the officers and mates as they try to regain command, and the sorry sight of a vessel with scandalized sails driven into a lee shore! Well, it could have happened that way. Bill's mast step did break loose, and he did fix it once, only to have it fail again. WANDA seems to be contrary like that; it always takes three times to satisfy her complaints.
The sailing canoe is the ultimate cruising machine. While the group didn't cruise as far as planned -- they only made it to Roanoke Island -- they went in a style unseen on the Banks for many years. The roomy boats carried more than enough gear -- there was room for everything including a case of wine. The appearance of the canoes upon shore brought out the hospitality of the region, the travelers were treated with kindness and respect. Of course, some would say "it's the company you keep", and they would be right -- always travel in the company of sailing canoes.