Whispering Jesse Sailing Blog by John Lichty

Devil's Canyon Hike

noreply@blogger.com (John Lichty) — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 04:36:00 +0000

One of the best things about living in Grand Junction is the mild winter climate. Great skiing is less than an hour away up at Powderhorn, yet there is very little snow down below. It is possible to hike year round on trails that receive sufficient sun to melt the scant snow, and Devil's Canyon is one of those trails. It is located just to the west of the Colorado National Monument's western boundary, so it is open to dogs, unlike the Monument itself. If I'm going to take a hike, I want to include my dog Scout because he enjoys hiking even more than I do.

Early on Saturday morning, Scout and I left home and drove west on Broadway/Highway 340 to just past the Monument's western entrance, took a left at King's View Road and then another left onto Devil's Canyon Road to reach the trailhead parking lot. My hiking buddy John Sasso showed up a few minutes later, dropped off by his wife D on her way to the annual Beer Run, a 9.3 mile race in the Fruita area that ends at the Hot Tomato Cafe. John, Scout and I didn't waste much time getting underway because it was windy and still below freezing. We followed trail D1 to D4 to D3 to work our way up the sunny western side of the canyon. There is a network of well-marked trails that loops all over the area, but they can be confusing, so it's a good idea to check the trail map inside the shelter at the trailhead before heading out. There are also maps that are free for the taking from a metal box a few yards up the main trail.

In the canyon, out of the wind, we were soon shedding shells and gloves to keep from overheating. Scout was warm, too, and backtracked frequently for squirts of water from my CamelBak. We paused frequently to admire the Wingate Sandstone walls and spires, and the occasional granite extrusions that are rare in this largely sedimentary area. John speculated about the "climbability" of some of the cracks and chimneys we passed and guessed that most of them had already been climbed. Off in the distance, above the top of the canyon's box end, I could see the antenna farm that dots Black Hill. It is the highest point in the area, so high that I can see it easily from my office window at work several miles away on the north side of town, near the airport.

About an hour and a half into the hike, the trail dropped and climbed through a series of side drainages and then curved left into a flat area where there sat an old shepherd's cabin. Scout ran ahead to investigate but we were the only ones around. There was a campfire ring and log benches in front of the cabin, and the area smelled of old, wet cinders. The cabin was made of weathered wood covered with tar paper, and the cracks were chinked with new-looking spray foam. It appeared to be at least fifty years old and looks to have been maintained in a somewhat haphazard fashion, with new pieces of wood nailed into place as needed over the years. Remarkably, the glass windows on either end are still intact. At the south end of the cabin was a small, roofed corral that must have been used to protect sheep at one time. Inside the cabin, there was a small table, some shelves, a sheet metal woodstove and a built-in plywood bunk bed but no mattresses. There was also a large collection of relics and graffiti left by previous travelers. I commented that it looked like a cozy place to spend a night but John didn't think so.

Instead of backtracking down the trail we had come up, we went down the trail on the eastern side of the canyon. It receives less sun than the western side, so we needed to contend with occasional patches of snow and mud. John was carrying a hiking pole and I wished that I had thought to bring one myself after a few slips in the wet conditions. Scout used the snow as an opportunity to cool off, rolling on his back and grunting his pleasure. In an hour, we found ourselves back at the point where the western and eastern trails split, completing the loop that had ended at the cabin. From there, it was an easy hike out the way we had come in. We passed small groups of hikers and dogs along the way. They were getting a later, warmer start than we had experienced when we started a little more than three hours earlier.

Back at the trailhead, Scout still had the energy to jump into the back of the SUV. Then we were off to meet up with the Beer Run finishers at the Hot Tomato Cafe and join them for a slice of pizza and a well-deserved beer.

"Learn to Vote"

noreply@blogger.com (John Lichty) — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 04:11:00 +0000

When Nan and I arrived back in Grand Junction after our New Year's vacation in Isla Mujeres, Mexico, there was a surprise waiting under the windshield wiper of our car in the airport parking lot. It was a computer-generated note that said, well, I'm not going to repeat what it said. That's a photo of the note, over to the left. You may read it for yourself.

I have an "Obama 2012" bumper sticker on the back of my car. The note is an obvious criticism of my choice for the upcoming presidential election, but it comes off more as a criticism of my ability to vote. Trust me. I have had plenty of practice in the voting booth. This year's election will mark the tenth time I've voted for president. My choice doesn't always win, but he did in 2008 and I'm confident he'll do it again in 2012. Oh yes we can!

New Year's Eve in Isla Mujeres

noreply@blogger.com (John Lichty) — Tue, 10 Jan 2012 03:40:00 +0000

Nan and I are just back from another trip to Isla Mujeres, our tenth in fourteen years. Usually, we go in the spring, after the ski season is over, or in the fall if we went somewhere else in the spring, but we had never been there around the holidays before.

The first thing we noticed was how busy the island seemed. In the spring and fall, most of the tourists are Americans, Canadians and Europeans, but most of the tourists we saw were Mexicans. They packed the beaches, the streets and the restaurants. It was good to see them vacationing in one of their own resort areas, and the island appeared to be prospering as a result. There were new shops and restaurants, and a new Walmart-type store, Chedraui, that carries just about everything. Our local friend, Juan Gomez, who lives in one of the mid-island colonias near the new store, told us he goes there almost every day. No more shopping trips to Cancun for those difficult-to-find items!

There were no vacancies at Color de Verano, where we normally stay, so we spent five nights at Elements of the Island and two nights at Ixchel Beach Hotel. Elements is a little three-unit boutique hotel and cafe in the Centro recently purchased by French Canadians, Madjid and Jean. Ixchel is one of the big new luxury hotels on Playa Norte. Both were fine, though very different in their levels of accommodation. Color de Verano will always be our first choice.

Most mornings, we went for long walks either around the north end of the island or south along the street that fronts Playa Sol, as far as the Soggy Peso bar. One morning, we visited Isla Animals, the local dog rescue facility, to play with the puppies. There were probably close to thirty of them, ranging in age from about eight weeks to four months, chasing each other around the yard and falling asleep in spontaneous piles.

We rented a golf cart for only one day because of the holiday premium rates, and we used it to check out the marinas a little more closely than during our last visit. If plans work out, we will sail Whispering Jesse, our 1980 Valiant 40, down to Isla Mujeres in the fall of 2013, and we will want to keep it somewhere safe. Puerto Isla Mujeres would still be our first choice. It has reasonable rates, the nicest facilities and a security gate at the entrance. We also checked out Enrique Lima's Marina, which has the advantage of being downtown instead of further south in Laguna Macax. If we spend any time swinging on an anchor in Isla's large bay, a downtown marina would be handy to use for its dinghy dock.

On other days, we used the ubiquitous red taxis to get around the island, taking one to Teresa and Louis's house one afternoon to check out the progress Louis is making on his sailboat refit project. In addition to fixing some of the inherited damage, he has designed and built some ingenious interior features, like a beautiful Mexican teak table that folds down and out from a forward bulkhead. We look forward to forming a sailing flotilla with the two of them once we get our own boat down there.

The highlight of our trip was the time we spent with Juan and his family. We met Juan, his wife Paula and his daughter Paulina in the plaza downtown for New Year's Eve, which the island goes all out for. There was a huge stage set up in front of the Palacio Municipal. The plaza in front of the stage was filled with formal tables featuring flowers and white tablecloths, which were all reserved, so we sat on the steps of the Catholic church to watch the festivities, along with hundreds of other people. The entire area was packed.

According to my watch, midnight came and went, but the announcements from the stage went on for another couple of minutes before the countdown to the New Year. Confetti and streamers filled the air and fireworks blazed overhead. People cheered, hugged and kissed. And then the band started up. We made our way closer to the stage, where people were dancing. Nan and Juan's family joined in but I hung back and watched the band. It featured at least nine players, all doing a synchronized dance to their Latin music, which featured a brass section and was oh so loud. They kept up a constant medley of songs, with no breaks in between, and worked up enough of a sweat, despite the chilly night, that they were peeling off layers of their band costumes and flinging them aside. By one o'clock, our ears were buzzing and we were ready to go. Nan and I walked Juan and his family to a taxi stand and then walked back to our hotel. We found out later from Juan that there was a party in his neighborhood when they returned home, and they didn't get to bed until six in the morning. ¡Muchas cervezas!

On our last afternoon, we took a taxi to Juan's house for a late lunch of guacamole, ceviche and chicken with mole sauce. Paula and son Manolo were there, along with Dookie and Muñeca, two of their three Chihuahuas, who were wearing tiny t-shirts to stay warm. Over the course of the afternoon, family came and went, including Paulina, other son Juan Jr., Paula's twin sisters, and nephews Daniel and Paul. We struggled to communicate with everybody using our limited Spanish until we were mentally exhausted. Juan gave us Christmas gifts: a bottle of Mexican tequila that I'm sure isn't available in the U.S. and a Sol baseball cap that is probably also unavailable here. It was all over much too quickly, both the afternoon and the vacation in Isla Mujeres. We told Juan we would try to return in September or October. Until then:

¡Feliz y Prospero Año Nuevo!

Christmas Letter 2011

noreply@blogger.com (John Lichty) — Sun, 25 Dec 2011 14:00:00 +0000

Christmas 2011

Dear Family and Friends,

Where we live now, on the high plateau just to the west of Colorado’s Rocky Mountains, autumn sometimes extends all the way to Christmas, or at least that’s how it feels. Sure, it gets cold at night and the leaves are off the trees, but the days are sunny, warm and dry. What’s missing from our early winters here is the snow. Our card photo, taken on December 10, would have looked pretty much the same, except for the jackets, if it had been taken back in September. It shows the three of us standing at the top of a hill in the Tabeguache area, about a mile from our home. In the background are downtown Grand Junction, Mt. Garfield, Chalk Mountain and the Grand Mesa—but no snow!

Nan and I are fully settled in Grand Junction now, both living and working. I started a new job in January as a programmer analyst with Quality Health Network, and Nan started in the spring as a pharmacy technician at St. Mary’s Hospital. It’s good to know that in our recessed economy, there is always demand in healthcare. Scout has settled into a new routine of his own, spending Tuesdays and Thursdays at doggie daycare, where he romps all day with his dog buddies.

With the new jobs, we didn’t get to travel as much this year. We spent a quick week at the end of April in what is becoming our home away from home, Isla Mujeres, Mexico, where we hung out with our local friends, tried new restaurants, and read novels on the beach. We also checked out the accommodations at the local marinas, with the idea of sailing Whispering Jesse down there in a couple of years.

The refit project on our sailboat took several months longer than expected. I flew out to Solomons, Maryland to check on it in May, and then Nan and I both flew out there in July for Nan’s first-ever look at the boat. The photo above shows her climbing a ladder to the boat while it was out of the water.

By September the boat was almost ready to go. Two friends from Aspen, Mike and Kurt, flew out with me to help make final preparations to move the boat to Savannah, Georgia. We departed a week later, three days later than planned, sailing overnight on Chesapeake Bay to Norfolk, Virginia. Then it was three days of motoring through the Intracoastal Waterway, emerging into the Atlantic Ocean at Morehead City, North Carolina. We sailed continuously to make up lost time, but we were overrun by a terrible storm on the second morning and pulled up short in Charleston, North Carolina. Mike and I flew out a month later to finish the move, sailing overnight to Savannah, where Whispering Jesse is now slipped at a marina near my folks’ vacation home on Skidaway Island. Plans are now in the works for a Lichty family rendez-vous there next spring, featuring day sails and bad golf.

Nan made a few trips home to Manitowoc, Wisconsin during the year to visit family and friends, most recently in October, when she attended the wedding of her niece. Congratulations to Laura and Chris! The next day, she and her friend Gail ventured to Lambeau Field to watch the Packers add to their undefeated streak with a victory over the Denver Broncos.

Until a few days ago, we were reconciled to a brown Christmas. But then there was an overnight dusting. And last night there were a few fresh inches. Now it seems we’re on course for a real white Christmas, our annual wish come true. Here’s hoping all your wishes come true this holiday season and in the coming year.

Love,

Midship cleats?

noreply@blogger.com (John Lichty) — Fri, 23 Dec 2011 17:30:00 +0000

With Whispering Jesse safely slipped at the Delegal Creek Marina in Savannah, my thoughts have turned to boat improvement projects. The list is long, but one of the simpler projects would be to add midship cleats for securing spring lines.

Unlike most modern sailboats, which feature a toe rail mounted around the perimeter of the deck, our 1980 Valiant 40 features a full cap rail. It essentially lowers the deck about six inches below the top level of the hullsides, offering protection from slips as well as a place to stand on the leeward beam when the boat is heeling. There are hawseholes at the bow and stern to accommodate bow and stern cleats for securing dock lines, but there are no hawseholes at the beam, obviously, because the beam is frequently underwater while the boat is underway.

Thus, there are no cleats amidship, and spring lines must be rigged from the bow or stern, as shown in the photo above. This is inconvenient for a couple of reasons. In some docking situations, the spring lines end up being excessively long, reducing their effectiveness at holding the boat in place. And because of their position, the spring lines tend to rub against the hull and cause minor damage, especially when they are occasionally dipping into the water, picking up sediment and sea life. Before Mike and I moved Whispering Jesse to an adjacent slip at Delegal Creek Marina the morning after our arrival there, the overnight rubbing of a spring line caused some damage to the boat's adhesive name letters on the port side near the stern. So adding a pair of midship cleats might not be a bad idea.

Searching the Internet, I found that New Found Metals (http://www.newfoundmetals.com/), the manufacturer of our boat's spiffy new stainless steel portlights, also makes ten-inch stainless steel cleats that look just like our boat's stock ones. I'm thinking they could be attached directly to the cap rails, but I will get advice from a boatyard first. It might be more prudent to mount them to the deck, near the closely-spaced chainplates on either beam, and then also attach chocks on the cap rail to limit chafing.

It's looking like Nan and I will be headed out to Savannah in early April, along with assorted family members, to work on the boat and do some sailing to nearby destinations, perhaps Tybee Island or Hilton Head Island. I will keep you posted on plans for the trip, as well as on other future boat projects.

Hidden Valley to Moab Rim Trail

noreply@blogger.com (John Lichty) — Wed, 07 Dec 2011 04:38:00 +0000

A few weeks ago, Nan and I were in Moab for a race she wanted to run. It was a cold, wet and miserable Saturday morning, but she seemed upbeat and excited when Scout and I dropped her off in the muddy campground parking lot off Kane Creek Road. I told her we would pick her up in a couple of hours and then backtracked up the road to the parking lot at the trailhead of the Moab Rim Trail. It's the trail that connects with the Hidden Valley Trail, which I have hiked several times as an "out and back," first with Charlie and then with Scout. There is a chapter in my book, Raising Charlie, that details Charlie's and my last hike together on the Hidden Valley Trail, just weeks before he died.

As Scout and I hiked through the drizzle up the steeply sloping slickrock, I thought about what it would take to hike the entire distance of Hidden Valley and Moab Rim. It would be six to seven miles one way, so having a car or an arranged ride at each end would be necessary. When Scout and I reached the top of the Rim, where the trail overlooks the city of Moab, I tried to gauge the distance and direction to the Hidden Valley trailhead, far out of sight around the Rim to the south, off Highway 191. Looking out ahead to where the trail would lead us if we had more time, I saw that it disappeared quickly among a series of loaf-shaped sandstone bluffs. Someday, I thought.

Well, someday came quickly. Last Saturday, Scout and I, along with my friend John Sasso, did the entire Hidden Valley to Moab Rim hike. Nan and John's wife D were running the annual Moab Winter Sun 10K, and we drove down separately, so we had the two cars we needed. I had asked John earlier in the week if he would be interested, knowing that he's always up for a hike, and then it was just a matter of working out the logistics.

We dropped the wives off at the race and left John and D's car at the finish area, then drove down Highway 191 to the Hidden Valley trailhead, off Angel Rock Road. It felt good to be hiking the trail again. It had been since the same weekend last year while Nan was running the same race that Scout and I had hiked it. There had been snow that day, but only wind and cold on this day. It had been months since John and I had talked, so we used our hiking time together to catch up. Before I knew it, we were at the top of the initial steep, rocky section of the trail and standing in front of the juniper tree where Charlie and I had stopped for a drink on our last hike. It made me feel melancholy to picture him again sitting under the tree and smiling at me. I gave Scout a drink from my CamelBak and we continued up the trail and into the first of two giant sagebrush meadows.

Before long, we reached the side trail to the wall of petroglyphs, where I took the cover photo for Raising Charlie. John was impressed by the figure of a single man etched into the rock and asked me how old I thought it was. I guessed, at least a thousand years, knowing that the Anasazi who lived in this area had moved on more than eight hundred years ago when the climate became too arid. I asked John to take a photo of Scout and me in front of the "map" petroglyph, which I believe is a representation of the access trail and two meadows that lead up to the wall from the valley floor below. Then I took one of John, with the valley and the La Sal Mountains in the background. I stopped and turned around as we were leaving the wall, again picturing Charlie as he had been that day. I will always associate him with this special place.

We backtracked to the main trail and then, instead of heading back down the way we had come, as I had done so many times before, we continued up and over a low pass to the Moab Rim Trail for the very first time. At this point, I was no longer on familiar terrain and needed to pay close attention to the trail, even though it quickly turned into a double-track, because it wound crazily over and around extensive slickrock sections. Off in the distance, we saw three jeeps negotiating difficult spur trails, but they were the only other human activity we had seen to that point. We had been hiking for more than two hours when the trail seemed to loop back upon itself and head in an uphill direction, contrary to what I was expecting. But then we came around a curve and I spotted the trail sign that Scout and I had marked as our turnaround point on the Moab Rim hike a few weeks before.

The three of us paused to admire the view of Moab from the overlook and then headed down the steep slickrock toward the trailhead. I was looking ahead to see if Nan and D might be waiting for us down there, but I didn't see them. John had only one bar on his Verizon cell phone when we reached the parking lot, but he was able to call Nan and D and ask them to pick us up. John, Scout and I walked up Kane Creek Road a ways to meet them, piled into John and D's car, drove around to pick up our car at the Hidden Valley trailhead, and then drove back to the Moab Brewery for a well-deserved lunch before heading back home.

Google Maps on the iPhone

noreply@blogger.com (John Lichty) — Sat, 19 Nov 2011 21:22:00 +0000

It didn't occur to me until several hours after Mike and I finally found our way to the Delegal Creek Marina after being somewhat lost up the Vernon River that I had had the technology we could have used to find our way clipped to my belt the whole time: my iPhone.

After the laptop's battery died, I turned to paper charts and my Garmin eTrex Vista handheld GPS for an idea of our position. But the edge of the chart cut off the inland detail we needed and the GPS's tiny black-and-white screen showed only the grossest detail in clunky geometric blocks. Thus, we missed our turn and took a scenic tour up the river until we figured out where we were.

I'm sure I'm not alone in having the tendency to think of my iPhone primarily as a phone instead of as a small computer with almost unlimited capability, including the built-in Google Maps app. If I had pulled out my iPhone instead of squinting at my GPS, we would have known exactly where we were, but that thought never occurred to me or to Mike, who was texting his wife that morning from his own cell phone. Oh, well. It's true what they say: Life is a "live and learn" proposition.

Tybee Island

noreply@blogger.com (John Lichty) — Fri, 11 Nov 2011 04:30:00 +0000

After Mike and I cleaned up and secured Whispering Jesse for long-term storage at the Delegal Creek Marina, we returned to my parents' home for one of my mother's fantastic lunches. Then the four of us headed out to Tybee Island for the afternoon. I had not been out to Savannah's famous beach spot since 1997, when my parents hosted a family reunion shortly after buying their vacation home on Skidaway Island. All I remembered from that visit was the beach, the pier and a little ice cream shop. Tybee Island didn't leave much of an impression that day.

This time, I was very much impressed. Tybee Island reminded me of a smaller, less commercial version of Key West. Even though it was a Monday in mid-October, the beach was busy and the streets were bustling. Of course, the weather was beautiful, so you couldn't blame people for coming out to take advantage of it.

My main purpose in wanting to return to Tybee Island was to scout it out as a possible day-sailing destination. It is only about a twenty-mile sail from Delegal Creek Marina, so I imagined sailing up there, stopping for lunch, and then sailing back. The eastern, oceanfront side of the island is nothing but beach, which would require anchoring and dinghying in, but the western, sound side of the island has a restaurant with its own deepwater dock, A-J's Dockside.

We drove down Butler Avenue, the main drag, peeking toward the beach at each intersection to locate the Tybee Island pier. Unlike most beachfront communities, which have their main drag right next to the beach, the island's was set back a block, making the beach quieter and more inviting. We found a paid parking place on Strand Avenue, near the south end of the island, and walked out to the pier. It was busy with sightseers and fishermen. It's legal to fish off the pier and there were people who looked like regulars, with their wagons and their coolers, manning multiple fishing rods.

The tides at Tybee are dramatic. In the time it took us to walk to the end of the pier and back, the ebbing tide revealed almost forty yards of additional beach. Kids were boogie boarding in the retreating water, and families were looking for shells in the wet sand. Mom and Dad went to check out the aquarium display while Mike and I took a walk on the beach.

We regrouped at the car and went to find A-J's on Chatham Avenue. The parking lot was empty, but a man out front was watering the flowers, so we figured they were open. The man informed us that they were not but that they would be promptly at four o'clock. We had an hour to kill, so we went off to see what else the island had to offer. We had spotted the Tybee Lighthouse at the north end of the island on our way to the pier and backtracked to find it. It was impressive but not as impressive as Fort Screven, right across the street. The walls were immense. My dad, who is a history buff, said that when this part of Georgia was contested territory, Fort Pulaski, located almost three miles up the Savannah River, and Fort Screven would fire cannonballs at each other. Mike and I tried to imagine cannon big enough to fire balls that far. No wonder the walls were so thick.

The hour went quickly, and we were back at A-J's for their early dinner opening. We took a table on the back deck, overlooking the dock, and ordered beers, a Mexican Sol for me and Yuenglings for everyone else. We ordered the conch fritters appetizer to share and studied the menu. Jimmy Buffett was playing on the sound system, but he was singing someone else's song. I made a comment that was heard by a passing waitress, who rolled her eyes and told us that the restaurant was almost always tuned to "Margaritaville" on the satellite radio. I smiled and kidded her, "All Jimmy, all the time!" She groaned and walked away.

While we waited for our fresh seafood dinners, I got up to check out the docking situation and then to inquire about overnight rates. The manager told me that the rate was $2 per foot per night, which is pretty steep. The marinas we stayed at on the sail down from Solomons ran from $1.50 to $1.75 per foot. I asked what amenities that included besides easy access to the restaurant, and she just smiled. In the summer, she said, the dock was always crowded with boats, implying that the rate was not a factor. I thanked her and told her I would be sailing her way soon, hopefully next spring.

The food was good, the service was excellent, and the atmosphere was mellow, made the more so by the constant Jimmy Buffett assault. We had definitely found our first Savannah day-sailing, or possibly overnight sailing, destination.

Charleston to Savannah: A Comedy of Errors

noreply@blogger.com (John Lichty) — Wed, 02 Nov 2011 03:44:00 +0000

Whispering Jesse is now safely slipped at the Delegal Creek Marina on Skidaway Island, southeast of Savannah, Georgia. My crewmate Mike and I sailed her there over the weekend of October 15-16. Mike was a tremendously good sport to join me after last month's storm adventure (Just a Squall? No, not at All!), especially considering that he had had surgery to repair torn thumb ligaments from a work-related accident the previous week and was wearing a cast on his right hand. He had enough trouble holding a fork; I couldn't imagine him trying to work the boat's many lines.

It should have been a simple trip, just a hundred miles down the coast from Charleston, South Carolina, but things started to go wrong before we even started. The plan called for my parents to pick us up at the Savannah airport on Friday evening and drive us up to the City Marina in Charleston, but Mike and I were on separate flights and his arrived more than an hour and a half late, too late to make the drive up to Charleston. We spent the night at Mom and Dad's house in Savannah instead and left early the next morning.

By the time we thanked my parents for the ride, prepped the boat and checked out of the marina, it was almost noon and the tide had turned. Instead of helping to ease us out of the slip, the current was preventing us from leaving. I needed to back up and to starboard to avoid the boats on the adjacent pier and move out into the seaway, but the current was so strong that it pushed the boat sideways as soon as it cleared the slip, pinning it against the slip's finger pier. I started to wonder when the tide would turn again to free us when two gentlemen who had witnessed our predicament came to our assistance. They helped Mike and me get the boat back into the slip without crashing into the pier and coached us for a more successful exit. I stood on the forward side of the boat's wheel, facing the stern for more effective steering, and put the engine into reverse. The gentlemen released the lines and we motored smoothly backward until we cleared the slip. But as I turned to starboard to miss the catamaran behind us, the current took control and pushed us sideways again, brushing us past the two boats between us and the seaway. Finally free of the pier, I looked for the fuel dock on the other side of the seaway, where we had planned to top off the tank, but there was no way we would have been able to stop there given the current, so we motored on, trusting that the new fuel gauge really was wired backwards, as we suspected, and was reading almost full, not nearly empty.

With the strong current, it felt like we were really motoring through Charleston Harbor, but the knotmeter was registering zero. In the quick month that the boat had been slipped at City Marina, the hull must have picked up enough sea creatures to foul the meter's little spinner. It made me wonder about what else might be growing down there. The anemometer wasn't working either. Mike said that he remembered it registering better than 35 knots during last month's storm, right before it stopped working entirely. Well, at least the depth gauge was still functioning. We would be sailing through shallow waters and would be dependent on it.

As we turned southwest at the second or third buoy after passing Fort Sumter, I looked at my watch and tried to figure out how long it would take us to reach Hilton Head Island, our planned stop for the night. At an average speed of five knots (according to my handheld GPS), for a distance of about sixty miles, we would arrive shortly after midnight. So much for that idea. We would be sailing overnight instead, as we had done sailing from Morehead City to Charleston, after negotiating Chesapeake Bay and the ICW from Solomons, Maryland the month before.

The wind was out of the west, and we were able to cut the engine and sail a near reach for a while in the early afternoon. The jib would have been flapping at that angle, so we flew the Yankee-cut staysail instead. It worked reasonably well for a while, until the wind moved to the south and picked up strength. It seems no matter what tack I take, the wind follows around until it is right off my nose. We fired up the engine again and doused the sails. Soon we were crashing directly into three- to five-foot waves.

We hadn't planned on cooking dinner, but Mike is resourceful. He cut up and fried a sausage we had in the cooler and served it on Saltines. Washed down with a beer, it wasn't too bad, just a little salty. We watched the sun set as we finished our beers and then prepared for the long night ahead. We flipped on the running lights, put on warm jackets and checked our position using my laptop's charting software. We agreed on two-hour watches, and I took the first one while Mike napped below.

There is a line of lighted buoys about five miles off the coast, and we spent the night following them while dodging the many shrimp boats. The boat continued to pound into the waves, which worked loose the electrical connection to the bow's portside running light. I hoped the tri-color on the top of the mast would be sufficient for us to be seen by the shrimpers, who were lit up like daylight as they worked the shallow waters off the coast.

The night passed uneventfully, though sleeping was a challenge due to the boat's up and down motion through the waves. The wind began to wane toward dawn, and I was able to get a couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep. Mike woke me up at six to take the last watch and I took a quick look at the laptop's chart. We were almost directly across from the entrance to Ossabaw Sound. I flipped on my headlamp to check the full-size paper chart for better detail on the depths we would encounter. There were shoals to be avoided, and they were complicated by the fact that high tide was still six hours away.

When I sighted the first lighted buoy inside the sound, I ran down to check the laptop for a position, but it would not come up. I had not planned on running it all night and the battery had run down. I checked the handheld GPS instead, but the detail was woeful. At least it gave us an idea of where we were, along with our latitude and longitude, which we could check against the paper chart, which unfortunately cut off at the edge of where we hoped to pick up Delegal Creek. The northern track through the sound looked like a narrow slot through treacherous shoals, so I opted for the southern track, south of Raccoon Island, which joined up with a dredged channel that is part of the ICW.

We inadvertently steered to a buoy too far ahead, missing the closer one that was way off to port, and hung up on a sandy shoal. Fortunately, the tide was coming in by now and we managed to bump our way into deeper water, but not before missing the entrance to Delegal Creek. I checked the GPS and it looked nothing like what I was expecting. I kept waiting to see an inlet off to starboard, but it never materialized. We continued to motor up the sound, passing marshes, piers and nice waterfront houses, until I spotted the Diamond Causeway, which is the bridge that connects Skidaway Island to the mainland. We had gone quite a ways up the Vernon River and were now way around on the west side of Skidaway Island. I turned a quick one-eighty in the narrow channel and headed back the way we had come, knowing that if we kept the island to port we would eventually find Delegal Creek.

Almost an hour later, across an expanse of marsh, we spotted the observation tower that marks the Delegal Creek Marina. Mike and I looked at each other with expressions that said, "How could we have missed it?" We both figured we were so busy trying to get off the shoal that we didn't look in the right direction when we should have. We rounded past the signs that mark the marina's entrance and warn of a buried electrical cable, motored up the creek and found an empty slip at the marina. I called my parents to let them know we had arrived safely and to arrange a ride, and Mike and I took our time securing Whispering Jesse in her new home.

Google Map of the Trip from Charleston to Savannah

noreply@blogger.com (John Lichty) — Sun, 23 Oct 2011 17:00:00 +0000

Since the intended sailing trip from Solomons, Maryland to Savannah, Georgia came up short due to a bad storm that forced us to end the trip in Charleston, South Carolina, it became necessary to return and finish the trip. Mike and I did just that last weekend, sailing from City Marina in Charleston to Delegal Creek Marina in Savannah in about 24 hours. That wasn't the plan, but like so many complicated undertakings, things went wrong. Again. More about that later. In the meantime, I have put together a Google Map of the SPOT messages we sent out during our quick trip. You can click the map image above to see it.

Check-in/OK message from Whispering Jesse SPOT Messenger - 10/16/2011 12:07:42 EDT

noreply@blogger.com (John Lichty) — Sun, 16 Oct 2011 16:07:00 +0000

Whispering Jesse
Latitude:31.89
Longitude:-81.06207
GPS location Date/Time:10/16/2011 12:07:42 EDT

Message:This is the crew of Whispering Jesse checking in. All is well. Click the Google Maps link to see where we are.

Click the link below to see where I am located.
http://fms.ws/6Edon/31.89N/81.06207W

If the above link does not work, try this link:
http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=31.89,-81.06207&ll=31.89,-81.06207&ie=UTF8&z=12&om=1

Whispering Jesse

You have received this message because Whispering Jesse has added you to their SPOT contact list.

Every day is an Adventure. Share Yours.
http://www.findmespot.com

Check-in/OK message from Whispering Jesse SPOT Messenger - 10/16/2011 09:36:05 EDT

noreply@blogger.com (John Lichty) — Sun, 16 Oct 2011 13:35:00 +0000

Whispering Jesse
Latitude:31.92109
Longitude:-81.10336
GPS location Date/Time:10/16/2011 09:36:05 EDT

Message:This is the crew of Whispering Jesse checking in. All is well. Click the Google Maps link to see where we are.

Click the link below to see where I am located.
http://fms.ws/6EZnL/31.92109N/81.10336W

If the above link does not work, try this link:
http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=31.92109,-81.10336&ll=31.92109,-81.10336&ie=UTF8&z=12&om=1

Whispering Jesse

You have received this message because Whispering Jesse has added you to their SPOT contact list.

Every day is an Adventure. Share Yours.
http://www.findmespot.com

Check-in/OK message from Whispering Jesse SPOT Messenger - 10/16/2011 06:25:05 EDT

noreply@blogger.com (John Lichty) — Sun, 16 Oct 2011 10:25:00 +0000

Whispering Jesse
Latitude:31.85542
Longitude:-80.87424
GPS location Date/Time:10/16/2011 06:25:05 EDT

Message:This is the crew of Whispering Jesse checking in. All is well. Click the Google Maps link to see where we are.

Click the link below to see where I am located.
http://fms.ws/6EWWB/31.85542N/80.87424W

If the above link does not work, try this link:
http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=31.85542,-80.87424&ll=31.85542,-80.87424&ie=UTF8&z=12&om=1

Whispering Jesse

You have received this message because Whispering Jesse has added you to their SPOT contact list.

Every day is an Adventure. Share Yours.
http://www.findmespot.com

Check-in/OK message from Whispering Jesse SPOT Messenger - 10/16/2011 00:54:59 EDT

noreply@blogger.com (John Lichty) — Sun, 16 Oct 2011 04:54:00 +0000

Whispering Jesse
Latitude:32.13887
Longitude:-80.53967
GPS location Date/Time:10/16/2011 00:54:59 EDT

Message:This is the crew of Whispering Jesse checking in. All is well. Click the Google Maps link to see where we are.

Click the link below to see where I am located.
http://fms.ws/6ERv-/32.13887N/80.53967W

If the above link does not work, try this link:
http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=32.13887,-80.53967&ll=32.13887,-80.53967&ie=UTF8&z=12&om=1

Whispering Jesse

You have received this message because Whispering Jesse has added you to their SPOT contact list.

Every day is an Adventure. Share Yours.
http://www.findmespot.com

Check-in/OK message from Whispering Jesse SPOT Messenger - 10/15/2011 15:52:41 EDT

noreply@blogger.com (John Lichty) — Sat, 15 Oct 2011 19:52:00 +0000

Whispering Jesse
Latitude:32.5677
Longitude:-79.96671
GPS location Date/Time:10/15/2011 15:52:41 EDT

Message:This is the crew of Whispering Jesse checking in. All is well. Click the Google Maps link to see where we are.

Click the link below to see where I am located.
http://fms.ws/6EEVg/32.5677N/79.96671W

If the above link does not work, try this link:
http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=32.5677,-79.96671&ll=32.5677,-79.96671&ie=UTF8&z=12&om=1

Whispering Jesse

You have received this message because Whispering Jesse has added you to their SPOT contact list.

Every day is an Adventure. Share Yours.
http://www.findmespot.com

Check-in/OK message from Whispering Jesse SPOT Messenger - 10/15/2011 11:27:59 EDT

noreply@blogger.com (John Lichty) — Sat, 15 Oct 2011 15:27:00 +0000

Whispering Jesse
Latitude:32.77673
Longitude:-79.95038
GPS location Date/Time:10/15/2011 11:27:59 EDT

Message:This is the crew of Whispering Jesse checking in. All is well. Click the Google Maps link to see where we are.

Click the link below to see where I am located.
http://fms.ws/6E5J1/32.77673N/79.95038W

If the above link does not work, try this link:
http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=32.77673,-79.95038&ll=32.77673,-79.95038&ie=UTF8&z=12&om=1

Whispering Jesse

You have received this message because Whispering Jesse has added you to their SPOT contact list.

Every day is an Adventure. Share Yours.
http://www.findmespot.com

Just a Squall? No, not at All!

noreply@blogger.com (John Lichty) — Sat, 08 Oct 2011 20:52:00 +0000

When Mike woke me up shortly before the end of his three-to-six watch, he said, “John, you should come up and look at this.” I was in the cockpit moments later, staring at the wall of darkness off our stern. Even in the pre-dawn light, it looked ominous. I checked the wind. It was still blowing lightly out of the south, enough for us to have the mainsail up in conjunction with the diesel engine to keep us moving southwest toward Savannah.

We were far enough offshore that the VHF weather channel would not come in clearly. Neither Mike nor Kurt, who had joined us in the cockpit, could remember any storm forecasts. It’s just a squall, I thought, like the ones that blow quickly through the Caribbean at this time of year.

Within minutes, the wind had clocked around one hundred eighty degrees and piped up to almost twenty knots. The sail started flapping and I told Mike to steer into the wind to avoid an accidental jibe. The sea lumped up in a hurry, with swells approaching eight to ten feet. Now we were pointed directly into the wind and the sail was flapping like crazy. I had Mike fall slightly off the wind to keep the sail full and the bow pointed into the waves. Cold rain fell like BBs, mixing with the warm spray coming off the waves. As the boat crested, I looked for signs of lightness beneath the dark clouds, but there was only blackness from sea to sky. The sun had come up, but it was not penetrating the clouds anywhere that we could see.

We took turns at the helm as each of us went below to put on rain gear. As time went by, we commented on how much distance we were losing toward our destination. Still there was no lightness below the clouds. Waves crashed over the boat and drove water through the leaky hatches and into the cabin. Everything below was getting soaked. Anything that was not secured had been pitched onto the floor. We could hear the cooler crashing around, but nobody wanted to go below to secure it. We had each thrown up by now, and Mike admitted to having thrown up twice. Going below would only trigger another bout.

After two hours of fore-reaching, we decided it was pointless to believe we would eventually sail out of the storm’s leeward edge. This was no squall. No, not at all! We were about thirty miles away from Charleston Harbor, and I suggested that we try to sail there instead of continuing on to Savannah. I offered to pay for a hotel room if we made it. Thoughts of hot showers, good food and warm beds immediately focused our efforts. To reach Charleston, we would need to turn around and resume a southwesterly heading. But the mainsail would need to come down first.

Mike volunteered to go forward and manage the sail as Kurt lowered it. With the boat pitching wildly, Kurt and I did not envy him. Mike moved carefully to the mast as I steered the boat directly into the wind, causing the sail to flap dangerously. Kurt released the cam on the halyard and it went flying through its brake but hung up on a slipknot when the sail was only halfway down. Mike threw his body over the boom and lashed a sail tie around what he could. I punched the autopilot’s button and ran down the companionway stairs to grab a marlinspike for Kurt. Mike returned to the cockpit and worked with Kurt to untie the knot, then went forward again, but not before putting on a harness and clipping its leash to a lifeline. He had come close to falling overboard the first time and was taking no chances. He managed to get the sail tied well enough and returned to the cockpit.

I turned the boat around and aimed for the sea buoy that marks the beginning of the shipping lane entrance to Charleston Harbor. If the boat had been pitching before, now it was rolling dramatically from side to side as we surfed up and down the faces of huge waves at an angle that was the shortest path to our destination but also uncomfortably close to beam on. We wedged ourselves into corners of the cockpit and trusted the boat to fully right itself before the next wave surged beneath us.

Through it all, the trusty diesel engine kept up a steady two thousand RPMs, moving us to safety at six knots. By late morning, we had spotted the sea buoy, about fifteen miles offshore, and knew we were on course for Charleston Harbor. The red and green buoys that followed were up to a mile apart and difficult to locate. We scanned with the binoculars at wave crests to spot them and adjusted course accordingly. More than an hour later, I spotted the immense Arthur J. Ravenel Bridge through the mist, our first sight of land in almost two days. The sea turned slowly from blue to green, and the waves died down to a point where the boat was no longer surfing but merely lumbering.

I checked the signal strength on my cell phone, then called my parents in Savannah to let them know we were safe but that we would be ending the trip in Charleston. They had not been aware of the bad weather but agreed to drive up and get us the next day.

The stars and stripes that fly above Fort Sumter came into view. I thought about the fort’s historical significance as the place where the Civil War began and tried to imagine cannonballs hurtling toward ships sailing in the same waters we were now motoring through. It was a sobering thought. We continued past the fort and followed the buoys up the Ashley River to City Marina. By three o’clock, we were safely secured in a slip, where Whispering Jesse will stay until Mike and I return to sail the remaining distance to Savannah next week.

Photos from the Sailing Trip

noreply@blogger.com (John Lichty) — Mon, 03 Oct 2011 03:20:00 +0000

Here is a selection of photos with captions from the September sailing trip that give an idea of our route and what we experienced along the way. Click the photos to see full-size versions.

The morning of Saturday, September 10. Whispering Jesse is finally ready to go after a week of preparation. My crewmembers, Mike and Kurt, and I departed from Spring Cove Marina at about 11:00, bound for Savannah, Georgia by way of Chesapeake Bay, the Intracoastal Waterway and open ocean.

Sunset on Chesapeake Bay, Saturday, September 10. We sailed overnight to Norfolk, Virginia to make up for starting two days later than planned. Note the almost complete lack of wind. The mainsail was up but we motored through the night.

Mike and Kurt in the cockpit at sunset on Chesapeake Bay. The autopilot was not working for the first two days of the trip, so we needed to steer manually and follow a compass heading.

Sunday, September 11, the tenth anniversary of 9/11. Sailing into Norfolk Harbor, we passed the USS Cole, which was attacked by terrorists on October 12, 2000 while it was in the Yemeni port of Aden. There were many military people and civilians on hand for a ceremony in the harbor to commemorate the attack, with flyovers, and gun and shell salutes.

Whispering Jesse at the Waterside Marina in downtown Norfolk, located at Mile Marker 0 on the Intracoastal Waterway. My old Aspen friend Keith, who lives in Virginia Beach now, met us for breakfast at a local cafe. It was good to see him and catch up after more than twenty years.

After breakfast with Keith, we departed Norfolk Harbor and entered the Intracoastal Waterway. Here we are temporarily tied up to the wall of the Great Bridge Lock. After the lock filled to the waterline visible in the photo, the gate at the far end opened and we were on our way.

Just a half-mile from the Great Bridge Lock, we passed beneath the Great Bridge Bascule Bridge, which is timed to open in conjunction with the lock. Both the bridge and the lock were damaged by Hurricane Irene in late August, so we were happy to see them both working again.

We spent the night about three miles farther on, at the Centerville Marina, not wanting to negotiate the ICW in the dark, even with a nearly full moon. The next morning, Monday, September 12, when this photo was taken, we were past the Centerville Turnpike Swing Bridge before its rush hour closing at 6:30. The ICW at this point is a narrow canal through swampy wasteland.

One of Mike's photos, taken later in the day as we were motoring in Albemarle Sound. We might have been able to sail if there had been any wind, but the water was extremely shallow. Note the tannin brown color of the water.

Approaching the Alligator River Swing Bridge at dawn on Tuesday, September 13. We spent the previous night at the Alligator River Marina. The little cafe there had the best crab cakes of the entire trip. It rained hard after dark, and there was still significant water on deck the next day. Note the truck headlights on the causeway.

Later in the morning, between East Lake and Belhaven, we encountered a bear swimming across the canal. Mike was at the helm and steered around what he at first thought was a "tree trunk iceberg." The bear was spooked by the boat, turned around and swam back the way he had come. See his nose and ears?

One of Kurt's photos and one of the few of me, probably from earlier in the trip, that shows the boat's new bimini and sunshade as seen from the companionway.

Another of Kurt's photos, an artistic self-portrait reflected off one of the dorade cowls.

We left the ICW behind at Morehead City, North Carolina and entered the open ocean on Wednesday, September 14. After five straight days of motoring through calm water, there was finally some wind. It was a joy to hoist the sails and turn off the engine. We celebrated with a Captain's Hour at sunset.

Google Map of the Trip from Solomons to Savannah

noreply@blogger.com (John Lichty) — Fri, 23 Sep 2011 03:01:00 +0000

Over the course of Whispering Jesse's sailing trip from Solomons to Savannah, I sent out fifteen SPOT messages to give people on my email list and readers of this blog an idea of where we were and let them know that we were safe. Now I have put them together into a Google Map that shows the entire trip. Click the map image to the left to see the full-size version.

You might notice that the trip appears to end in Charleston instead of in Savannah. We encountered some terrible weather and huge seas on Friday, September 16, starting at about 5:30 AM, and we decided it was best to cut the trip short. The SPOT off the coast from Charleston was to let people who were following the weather know that we were OK and give them the idea that we were heading in to Charleston. The final SPOT is from the next day, at City Marina, where Whispering Jesse will be slipped until we can return next month to finish the trip to Savannah.

Check back for more details about the trip in upcoming posts.

Check-in/OK message from Whispering Jesse SPOT Messenger - 09/17/2011 09:38:11 EDT

noreply@blogger.com (John Lichty) — Sat, 17 Sep 2011 13:38:00 +0000

Whispering Jesse
Latitude:32.77676
Longitude:-79.95038
GPS location Date/Time:09/17/2011 09:38:11 EDT

Message:This is the crew of Whispering Jesse checking in. All is well. Click the Google Maps link to see where we are.

Click the link below to see where I am located.
http://fms.ws/5_CRG/32.77676N/79.95038W

If the above link does not work, try this link:
http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=32.77676,-79.95038&ll=32.77676,-79.95038&ie=UTF8&z=12&om=1

Whispering Jesse

You have received this message because Whispering Jesse has added you to their SPOT contact list.

Every day is an Adventure. Share Yours.
http://www.findmespot.com

Check-in/OK message from Whispering Jesse SPOT Messenger - 09/16/2011 09:19:03 EDT

noreply@blogger.com (John Lichty) — Fri, 16 Sep 2011 13:18:00 +0000

Whispering Jesse
Latitude:32.63605
Longitude:-79.20432
GPS location Date/Time:09/16/2011 09:19:03 EDT

Message:This is the crew of Whispering Jesse checking in. All is well. Click the Google Maps link to see where we are.

Click the link below to see where I am located.
http://fms.ws/5-cMh/32.63605N/79.20432W

If the above link does not work, try this link:
http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=32.63605,-79.20432&ll=32.63605,-79.20432&ie=UTF8&z=12&om=1

Whispering Jesse

You have received this message because Whispering Jesse has added you to their SPOT contact list.

Every day is an Adventure. Share Yours.
http://www.findmespot.com

Check-in/OK message from Whispering Jesse SPOT Messenger - 09/15/2011 20:25:11 EDT

noreply@blogger.com (John Lichty) — Fri, 16 Sep 2011 00:24:00 +0000

Whispering Jesse
Latitude:33.23375
Longitude:-78.69977
GPS location Date/Time:09/15/2011 20:25:11 EDT

Message:This is the crew of Whispering Jesse checking in. All is well. Click the Google Maps link to see where we are.

Click the link below to see where I am located.
http://fms.ws/5-Nqf/33.23375N/78.69977W

If the above link does not work, try this link:
http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=33.23375,-78.69977&ll=33.23375,-78.69977&ie=UTF8&z=12&om=1

Whispering Jesse

You have received this message because Whispering Jesse has added you to their SPOT contact list.

Every day is an Adventure. Share Yours.
http://www.findmespot.com

Check-in/OK message from Whispering Jesse SPOT Messenger - 09/15/2011 07:20:09 EDT

noreply@blogger.com (John Lichty) — Thu, 15 Sep 2011 11:19:00 +0000

Whispering Jesse
Latitude:33.78738
Longitude:-77.5267
GPS location Date/Time:09/15/2011 07:20:09 EDT

Message:This is the crew of Whispering Jesse checking in. All is well. Click the Google Maps link to see where we are.

Click the link below to see where I am located.
http://fms.ws/5z-Ec/33.78738N/77.5267W

If the above link does not work, try this link:
http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=33.78738,-77.5267&ll=33.78738,-77.5267&ie=UTF8&z=12&om=1

Whispering Jesse

You have received this message because Whispering Jesse has added you to their SPOT contact list.

Every day is an Adventure. Share Yours.
http://www.findmespot.com

Check-in/OK message from Whispering Jesse SPOT Messenger - 09/14/2011 16:46:27 EDT

noreply@blogger.com (John Lichty) — Wed, 14 Sep 2011 20:46:00 +0000

Whispering Jesse
Latitude:34.64853
Longitude:-76.73019
GPS location Date/Time:09/14/2011 16:46:27 EDT

Message:This is the crew of Whispering Jesse checking in. All is well. Click the Google Maps link to see where we are.

Click the link below to see where I am located.
http://fms.ws/5zhXZ/34.64853N/76.73019W

If the above link does not work, try this link:
http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=34.64853,-76.73019&ll=34.64853,-76.73019&ie=UTF8&z=12&om=1

Whispering Jesse

You have received this message because Whispering Jesse has added you to their SPOT contact list.

Every day is an Adventure. Share Yours.
http://www.findmespot.com

Check-in/OK message from Whispering Jesse SPOT Messenger - 09/14/2011 13:23:59 EDT

noreply@blogger.com (John Lichty) — Wed, 14 Sep 2011 17:23:00 +0000

Whispering Jesse
Latitude:34.80564
Longitude:-76.68488
GPS location Date/Time:09/14/2011 13:23:59 EDT

Message:This is the crew of Whispering Jesse checking in. All is well. Click the Google Maps link to see where we are.

Click the link below to see where I am located.
http://fms.ws/5zZsf/34.80564N/76.68488W

If the above link does not work, try this link:
http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=34.80564,-76.68488&ll=34.80564,-76.68488&ie=UTF8&z=12&om=1

Whispering Jesse

You have received this message because Whispering Jesse has added you to their SPOT contact list.

Every day is an Adventure. Share Yours.
http://www.findmespot.com