It was Saturday before Easter but it felt like winter. The wind howled through the screen outside our window and I somehow knew this was not a day we were going to cover any mileage. With temps in the 30s and high wind neither of us was itching to get in our boat. Clear skies and beautiful sunshine could not make up for the wind and cold. I don’t really think the cold had anything to do with it since we get quite warm while rowing and we have warm tights and jackets. But if the wind blows spray and causes waves that come over the side and we get wet, there is no solution. Rowing in wetsuits or even raingear is not comfortable and would cause other problems like catching on our slides or chafing. We decided it was a writing and emailing day in the hotel.
Cell phone coverage here is sketchy but even so we talked to several children and Heather’s mother and learned of the snows that have fallen at home. We have missed our new little Corgi, Kipper, who is at home with our house sitter. We hope he has had a good time keeping our two cats on their toes and getting an occasional walk.
Though frustrating not to add any mileage to our total we seemed to make good use of the day and, needless to say, we got some rest!
Easter Sunday without any grandchildren to hide eggs for caused a lump in my throat. (And just as I wrote that, Heather’s phone rang and it was 3 year old granddaughter Tasha’s voice asking for me!) This is the first time I have been homesick while on a rowing trip! The wind still howled and when I went out to check on the boat and temperature it felt like New Hampshire in February!
We took a ride to check out the ramps in both direction and come up with a plan for the next two days rowing as it is supposed to be less windy. We did the laundry and had fish and chips and chowder at the Clamdigger Restaurant. Then a couple hours later we had ice creams. For Easter dinner we will warm up the doggy box full of chicken fingers we brought back with us from Rick’s restaurant last night! Don’t feel the least bit sorry for us!
I also had a nice conversation with son Gunnar whom I had just thought about since he loves walking the beach looking for shells. I had seen a great tool for this activity that basically allows you to scoop up a bunch of sand and shells and let the sand fall out so you can see the shells. How he would have loved to have one of these when a boy years ago on Sanibel Island where we went a few times on vacation. I still remember the piles of shells he brought back with some that had little hermit crabs in them. Of course these died and reeked when we opened his box full a few weeks later! My nose has not been the same since! Let this story be a warning to all of you fathers of 12 year old budding marine zoologists.
So we end Easter Sunday thinking of our wonderful children and feeling a sense of guilt and selfishness that we are not with at least some of them watching children search for eggs! I hope they know how much we miss them all.
April 9
Having resolved last night that I was not going to let another day go by without getting on the water I was raring to go this morning and we managed to get over to the nearby boat ramp under the Walton Bridge and ready to launch by 9:00 a.m. It was cold enough to force us to put on the work gloves we had brought for the house building in Atlanta March 31. I had two tee shirts, a wool sweater, a polar fleece jacket and my wind and rain jacket on as we left the ramp. It did not take long before the jacket came off. Another quarter mile and the polar fleece joined it on the growing pile beyond my feet. Then in about a mile the sweater came off also. Down to my new TOTO/Rowing for Habitat shirt that Heather had made before we left home over a long sleeved white undershirt I was set for the rest of the row. The wind actually died to allow us a few miles on flat water. We got he swing back and without further stops we counted of the green markers on our port side until we were at the Surf City bridge and the ramp we had explored yesterday.
The posts with green markers along our way were, without exception, occupied by Osprey nests. And each nest had at least one bird! Some two! We also passed a large dolphin that rose up and puffed just behind the boat.
A large old steel hulled sailboat had been seen coming down the waterway in the distance when we left the ramp. It took a long time to finally overtake us putting along with its diesel engine. The two rather scruffy looking fellows on board waved and we waved our heads in return. They were from Boston. It is difficult to wave hands while rowing. In spite of the time we have rowed in our really rather stable boat I cannot get rid of the habit learned rowing in a racing scull which would immediately tip over if I were to let go of an oar handle! Just as well to preserve the habit in case some day I am lucky enough to get into one of those featherlike boats again! Imagine reaching full speed in three or four short strokes! We reach full speed of about five mph in about 10 slow strokes which need to be gentle on our backs because of the inertia in the mass of our boat which, loaded, weighs about 200 lbs not counting our own weight. But of course, we are not trying for speed and have no competitors and it feels very good to feel the boat move and see our puddles reach that vanishing point behind us.
I had to hire a taxi to get back to the car again. No curious people to get to know well enough to ask for a ride this time. But it was not a long trip back and I was back in an hour to find Heather, looking a bit like a homeless bag lady asleep on the ground next to our boat. I found she had put on my polar fleece jacket like a pair of pants when she stood up. You’ll have to see the picture!
On return to the Holiday Inn Express, where we needed to extend our stay because of missing two windy days, Heather was asleep in minutes and I answered my 22 emails and here I am catching up with our saga.
April 10 (20.2 miles)
At last it looked like a very good day to row. We loaded up and drove to Surf City’s nice park and boat ramp where we stopped yesterday. The water was flat and the tide moved imperceptibly but I declared it was going our way. After parking the car and using the facilities we pulled out into the channel and headed southwest toward our destination, Scotts Hill marina, to close our gap. The drawbridge to Surf City opened shortly after we started letting two powerboats through that would need to come by us. Both were very thoughtful and slowed to reduce their wakes. We waved and I wished there were a universal hand signal for “Thank you” but I think they got the message. We didn’t have to stop to let their slight ripples go by. In fact, we were so glad to find good conditions we did not feel like stopping for two hours. Our rhythm was consistent and everything felt great. The current picked up and, as I thought, was in our direction so our land speed was about 6 mph most of the time. Smaller inlets pierced the marshes between the waterway and the Atlantic from time to time but their effect on the current was only temporary. At one point the boat suddenly wanted to turn to port and I fought to keep on course but within ten strokes this ceased to be a problem. We had rowed across a rip where an inlet, or outlet at this time, was pulling water out of the channel.
The green and red markers went by in sequence like frozen soldiers in my mirror that grew from tiny dots to real life as they passed. Most were crowned with a nest and an Osprey looking nervous that we were coming too close. More likely they were nervous because they had never seen the likes of this boat that made no noise and had two people moving back and forth in it. I reflected that their curiosity about us exceeded ours at this point. We moved on down the ICW at a pretty constant speed soaking up the rare pleasure on this trip of having everything going our way. I was startled to hear Heather announce that we only had another mile or less. I think she likes to keep things like this secret from me. We had not really stopped for a rest for 14 miles and I felt like I was good for another 14!
Pulling into the narrow harbor leading to Scotts Hill Marina’s ramp was an easy drift past the lines of boat slips filled with rarely used yachts. This is the nicest of all ramps we have used on this trip. It is not too steep and the surface is not as slippery as most. It was sunny and a pleasant place for Heather to be while I went to fetch our car and trailer.
Everything had gone according to plan. Now that was a rare occurrence!
Not being near enough to a Habitat Affiliate to expect that I might be offered a ride and being in a very quiet neighborhood with no nice curious people who might suggest that they would drive me, I found the number for Kat’s taxi and called them. I was told there would be a $15.00 surcharge because we were far from them and the meter charge would be added. I guessed that that might be another $20.00. Stiff penalty for not having done better at locating friends of friends of friends who might help. The cab came and I rode off with a driver who immediately explained that the sign on the dash that warned that if I was sick in the car I would be charged an additional $100.00, was really there for the sake of the drunken students that he picked up frequently at bars. His meter started clicking off increases in the fare at a rate exceeding a New York City cab’s meter. Having only $54.00 which I had thought ample for him to take me the 16 miles back to Surf City even with the $15.00 surcharge, I brought up that I was nervous that I might not have enough to pay him! He allowed that he would take a credit card! The meter turned to $40.00 as we turned into the park. I had a flicker of hope that he might donate the dollar I was short to Habitat for Humanity but he drew out a clipboard and started writing up the invoice for $55.00! If he had said anything about the fact that I did not add in a tip I was well prepared to tell him that I had added his tip to our collections for Habitat. Unfortunately he did not give me this pleasure. I got out and walked across to get in the car feeling more disgruntled than I sensed he was at getting no tip after driving me for 20 minutes for $55.00. I will confess to hoping that he would pick up a few really drunk students next who had no money.
I returned after “getting over it” and found Heather curled up asleep by the boat. We loaded up and, as we did, she commented that she would be happy to leave back at the Walton Bridge to row by myself the 5+ miles around to the Swan point ramp where we had been told to leave from to make it across Camp Lejeune. I was still riding a wave of energy from our beautiful but too short row down to Scots Hill. So I welcomed this idea and it made sense not to have to use another day to cover such a short piece. We stopped briefly at our hotel to check the wind forecast which proved to be hopelessly inaccurate. Then we went to the ramp and I fitted my RoWing in the middle of the boat. With very little weight the boat sat up higher in the water and seemed to accelerated much faster as I pulled out into a partial but not very bad headwind headed East this time toward Swan Point. I didn’t need to stop until I saw Heather standing there on the pier at the end of the entrance to the marina where there was a small and narrow ramp. She, of course, was taking pictures.
She had met a very kind fellow named Ian who volunteer to show us to a good restaurant where I could eat some local seafood! We followed Ian to his home where he said we should park the trailer since the Riverview restaurant had very limited parking. He then led us to the Riverview and we had a yummy meal of flounder, scallops and shrimp fresh from the boats next door. By the time we returned to pick up the trailer, talk to Ian and get back to the hotel, I was ready to sleep. So I added the 20.2 miles to our total and fell into bed. We had covered 14.4 miles on our row down to Scots Hill and I had rowed the other 5.8 miles up to Swan Point. This was finally a respectable entry in terms of mileage. It has been frustrating to me to cover so little mileage in the time we have been here.
April 12 (21 miles)
As Heather had commented to me, I will admit to being royally frustrated about the amount of mileage we have been able to accomplish since we started on April 2. Four “wind days” and other low mileage days attributed to poor tide current reading skills on my part have limited our progress severely. Today was a reprieve.
We drove up to the visitor center on the Great Dismal Swamp Canal, also a rest area on Route 17, after scouting out the hard to find boat ramps along the way. This took all morning and when we finally decided to put in at the Visitor Center it was after noon. We had stopped to see the Culpepper Lock in South Mills and learned the schedule. The next opening was at 1:30. Somehow I had it in my mind that there was only .8 miles to the lock which turned out to be 4.8 miles.
So after we put in at 1:00 p.m., I was motivated to put on some power and we chugged along at 5.2 mph in a perfectly straight channel the whole way to the lock. Of course we arrived there about half an hour after the lock had opened and were prepared to wait another hour and a half until the next opening. There being nowhere to take out, we had just nosed the boat into a clump of weeds in the bank to allow us to lie down and rest when a voice called down to us asking if we were waiting to go through the lock. We allowed that we were but we had missed the 1:30 opening. The very kind lock tender called back that he would let us through. So I rallied from my short rest to position us for the opening of the gates. Soon we heard grinding and whirring noises and the right half of the gate gradually moved. When it had reached 90% open he waved us in where we were told to put a line to one of the ladders. This was a challenge. We could not get close enough to the wall to reach the ladder easily. With the boat hook we managed. After the gate closed the water started to go out from under us as we were let down gently the eight feet to the level of the river heading south. Little did we know that we had just been given the time we needed to make it to a ramp before dark.
As the downstream gate opened Heather called to see if our friend who show himself for a picture. Shortly a head popped out over the wall and we thanked him and took our first few strokes further down the long straight-a-way called Turner’s Cut toward the beginnings of a winding long trip down the Pasquotank River toward Elizabeth City. It almost seemed nice to have to turn again. Rowing in the long straight canal allows you to forget that a little extra power on one side makes you turn. By the time we had to turn again we had rowed for almost ten miles in a perfectly straight line. That is a sculler’s dream! There were no wakes, no boats, no wind and only geese and ducks to accompany us along the way. Oh, Heather says she saw a few Hummingbirds.
The winding Pasquotank meandered all over the swampy valley we followed toward Elizabeth City. I commented that it was like following a colon out of the swamp. The name of this place does it a great injustice. The Cyprus trees with their little knees surrounding their conical stumps rising out of the water are beautiful and unfamiliar to one from a northern forest. The knees look like a protective guard patrol of gnomes there to tell you to stay away from their master. It is very hard for me to figure out what conditions caused this evolutionary quirk. But the gnomes stood by faithfully at the base of every tree. Often a Cyprus rose from a raised platform with waves lapping ad its underside. This looked like a few of these gnomes were carrying their master on their heads. We occasionally found green floating masses of water weeds called arrow arum, (Heather says Peltandra virginica!) mid stream. We ran straight into the first one that did not show up in my mirror. It slowed us to almost a stop as it was cut in half by our passage. I stopped and backed up to be sure we had not picked up any hitchhikers on our fin. Only a few floated up when I did so. I am sure they joined the clump again after we passed.
Time and miles passed as did thousands of pull-throughs and an equal number of recoveries and catches and finishes. Heather had misread the chart and estimated our location incorrectly telling me that we only had a mile or so to go before we passed the Sawyer Creek ramp. It seemed that making it all the way to the park in Elizabeth City would be a piece of cake. Encouraged I was given more energy and when I announced I saw a green marker in my mirror I heard her say “Holy Smoke, then we must be way up here!” My energy level faded a bit as she restudied the chart and then said it was another five or six miles to the Sawyer Creek ramp which we had scouted out in the morning as a potential place to stop just in case. It was already 5:30 and we had a minimum of six miles to go. The wind was picking up as the river was wider here allowing some stretches enough fetch to build some waves. Most of the time it was a following wind but as the river turns the wind does not necessarily follow!
By the time we reached the opening of the Sawyer Creek to row the last mile up to the ramp it was 6:45 p.m. We would need to call a taxi since the Habitat Affiliate’s phone answering machine had a recording saying that if I left a message they would get back to me within five days! I judged that this was not a large active affiliate. We pulled into the ramp at 7:00 p.m. after rowing 21.0 miles and started to unload. While I was doing this I called the first taxi service on the list that the helpful lady at the Welcome Center had copied out of the Yellow Pages for me.
The girl at Moore’s taxi had no idea where we were when I told her that we were at the Wildlife ramp at Sawyer’s Creek. But she thought that her driver would know. So after hanging up I walked across the parking lot to a fence around a ball field where a girl’s softball team was practicing and asked a father waiting there if he could tell me where I was. He said I was at the Camden Elementary School. So I called the girl at Moore’s taxi to tell her. She seemed to recognize this and the cab would be on its way. Well, after about half an hour it had not shown up. I called again and she assured me he would be here soon. I waited another twenty minutes before my patience had been lost. We were now in the dark with only the light of the ball field allowing us to see. On the fourth call I asked the poor girl (whose fault it was not) if I needed to call a different cab. She said she would try again to find the driver and to call back in two or three minutes. I did. She had not found him. We had waited an hour and a half! I called number two on the list. No answer. Number three I could not understand. Finally after repeating myself several times I think he asked me “and where do you want to go?” He said he would see if he could find me a driver but it would take a half hour to get here. I explained that though it was not his fault, we had already been waiting since 7:00. He said to call him back in five minutes.
Shortly after I hung up an SUV drove up and a very nice lady, Monica Carawan, and daughter Lacey stopped and asked if we were in any trouble. I explained our situation and Monica immediately volunteered that she and Lacey would drive Heather to the car. Heather hopped in and away they drove. The lights on the ball field soon went out and darkness prevailed. I spent my time calling children to tell them about our wonderful day! At about 9:15 a van from Moore’s Taxi drove in very slowly. I appeared out of the shadows and informed the driver that he was too late! His toughest competition, a good Samaritan, had beat him to the fare. Heather returned in about an hour and we loaded up in the dark again. We headed north thinking that we would find a motel as soon as Rte. 17 left the Swamp. We might have just gone to the Microtel we had stayed at in Elizabeth City but the plan had been made earlier. After a full hour of driving around the Norfolk area we finally found a Hampton Inn in VA Beach that had a room. Dinner was out of the question. We fell into comfortable beds and were asleep in minutes. The last five hours were a bad end to one of the best days of rowing we had ever had. The best part though was our hysterical laughing at ourselves as we drove along one dead end to another looking for hotels where they don’t exist.
April 13-15
We woke up late and tired on Friday the 13th It looked like a sunny day and we decided that we would go back to the canal and row the three mile side canal called the Ditch in the afternoon and come back to the car so we would not need to worry about getting a ride. That was a good idea but after answering lots of email and doing other procrastinated work we didn't get started until rush hour had begun. As soon as we got on Route I 64 we discovered we were in a line of stop and go traffic that went forever. We endured it for half an hour before we realized that we were starting out much to late to carry out our plan. So we got off and reversed our direction. We had skipped dinner the night before because we were so late. Tonight we felt like we needed to make up for it! So we looked for a steak place and pulled into a Lone Star Steak House reeking of Texas lore and decor. Our waitress, dressed in cowgirl attire was really very nice and helped us eat a meal that surely filled our deficit. She also gave us directions to the hotel we had not been able to find our way back to! The cluster of cities I always think of as Norfolk is has a very confusing layout and it is easy to get lost. So Friday the 13th turned into a work and eat day.
We had resolved to go and row the Ditch Saturday morning before the predicted rain arrived. We were on our way by 8:00 a.m. and by 9:00 we could see the canal but the Great Dismal Swamp Stomp had begun and thousands of runners were crowded along the small road that parallels the canal and police had blocked off all access to the ramp we intended to launch from. We explored alternative routes in but each was blocked. When I noticed rain drops hitting the windshield that weren't predicted to come until evening I decided with sadness that the rest of the canal would have to wait for another year and that we better get ahead of the storm. Severe storms were predicted for the next day from Norfolk southward to Florida. It was supposed to last for days. We turned back again and headed for the Chesapeake Bay Bridge and Tunnel.
We drove out of the rain until we stopped on the bridge just before the tunnel to look at the water. Would we ever row across this? It would take a very calm day when we were well rested since it would be about a 22 mile crossing if we could find a ramp close to either end. HMMM! The rain started again. It was chasing us. While we had stopped at the bridge rest area a couple from Ocean City, MD had been admiring our boat but could not find us. Later on we stopped at the Wildlife Visitor Center and they pulled up beside us and we had a very nice chat about Adirondack Guide Boats with the Dagstani family. They seemed to be about to buy one!
The rain came again and we headed north and for a few hours actually drove away from it and found the sun. We stopped neat Rehoboth beach Delaware when I saw a Brooks Brothers Outlet store. I have been telling Heather that I needed a suit to wear at the several upcoming meetings and shows since the moths had eaten my grey suit. She has never been with me in thirty four years when I shopped for clothes. That might be because it had been that long since I had.
The stop took an hour and we came out with more than the suit! She had added some shirts a new blazer and three pairs of slacks! So, needless to say, the clouds had thickened by the time we started out to drive to the ferry to Cape May. When we arrived we were told the next one was in two hours and we could stand by but reservations had been made to fill it. We decided to wait. At 7:45 p.m. the long line of cars with reservations loaded on and they started to wave on the stand by lane. It was dark and we could just barely see the lights of Cape May. We did not arrive there until 9:30. We saw no sign of hotels as we started up the Garden State Parkway. It was almost midnight before we found one near Tom's River, NJ. We fell into bed and watched the forecast. It did not look good. A major Nor’easter would hit the Northeast tomorrow with 50 mph winds and 3-7 inches of rain and possibly 2-3 feet of snow at home.
Sunday morning I looked out to see that the winds were blowing heavy rain horizontally. I would have to walk through about 200 yards of this to get the car. We decided to go for it and try to get home before we were shut out completely. The drive home was slow and wet. Wind gusts that rocked the car and large puddles that cause the car to plane were common. Fortunately there was not much traffic. We did not start to see snow until about an hour from home. That last hour was very slow moving. We drove in during a lull in the wet snow/sleet/rain and managed to unload before it got really wild. By midnight the full brunt of the storm hit. The power went out. We went to sleep listening to the wind and trees snapping. The storm lasted for three days and we were without power for four. Finally I am able to write of our misadventures!
We are happy that we made it home.
I regret that it had been such a low mileage trip. We spent more time waiting for the weather to change than we rowed, so it seemed. But our memories of that last row through the canal made it a successful trip. We look forward to taking up where we left off at Swan Point and filling the gap on another leg of our trip.
