The Atlantic Intra-Coastal Waterway (AICW) – The Carolinas to New Jersey
July 10, 2024
After crossing our sister river, the St. John River, FL, the next travel legs took me through the AICW from the saltmarshes of Georgia and the Carolinas to Virginia, Maryland, Delaware, and New Jersey. An outside, ocean route is also an option for boaters, however, this spring and early summer have been very stormy which kept me inside on the AICW. I didn’t escape that ocean impact which hit me hard traversing the open bays or sounds of the bigger rivers. Some memorably bouncy passages were the St. Mary’s River, Satilla River, Altamaha River, Sapello River, Neuse River, Alligator River, and Albemarle Sound.
There aren’t many marinas in the saltmarshes and most nights were spent at anchor regardless of some heavy winds to 25 kts and 6-9’ spring/king tides. There were rocky nights with WW swinging through 360o. Sometimes the tidal current controlled the lie of the boat while the strong winds blew from the opposite direction creating a very weird perspective onboard. These conditions made finding anchorages a challenge. The most memorable anchorage was near St. Catherine’s Island, GA. I passed on a couple of sites that weren’t protected for the day’s conditions, but found a wind protected, narrow channel with just a 3-5 knot tide to spin us around through the night. That became one of my most eerie nights on the water. The water conditions were calm and flowing by the boat, and with a persistent drizzle as I fell asleep. At midnight I was awakened by an unbelievably brilliant light which illuminated WW. That was the lightening from the approaching storm (4, 3, 2, 1, 0 seconds) which felt like it was just a few hundred feet above the boat. This very slow-moving, low-hanging storm illuminated and shook the entire boat for an hour as it passed overhead. That was a night I won’t soon forget.
My friend and associate Derek Muir had arranged for me to meet a colleague in Charleston, SC. I stopped to fuel up out in the AICW before arriving. I asked at the dock if I was in Beaufort, SC: “sir do you mean be-u-fart ‘cause there is a bow-fort” to which I replied, “well I suppose I mean the one we are standing in…”. I am never too sure if I’m getting razzed by locals. I had a great couple of days in Charleston. John (water chemistry scientist) and Andrew (a water keeper) described for me the watershed and its challenges. I heard many stories that are repeated across so many watersheds, for example: 1) poor water quality because we don’t care and therefore adequately protect waters, especially source waters that supply the naturally cleaned waters that support many ecosystem services downstream, and 2) toxic substances persistently discharged to our rivers and coastal zones and bioaccumulating up the food chain. I also visited one of the historic plantation sites preserved around the city. I wanted to do this to better understand the slavery story that was a critical nation-building period for the USA, and which persists as a challenge in American society today. I wasn’t fully prepared to be overwhelmed by a sadness from sensing the pain, anguish, and suffering of slaves in that place on those grounds. I am a great admirer of trees from which an energy and sense of accumulated history often radiate, but on these planation grounds, the energy was barren and history screamed in anguish. I don’t need to visit any more plantations.
My next day’s northbound trip was again cut short by a massive thunderstorm which I sat through at dock in Georgetown, SC. A superyacht also arrived and nearly tore the marina docks from their moorings. A few days later I arrived in Belhaven, NC. It wasn’t a planned stop, but after another very rough open water stretch across the Neuse and Pamlico river sounds and yet another big storm chasing me, I decided to take an extra night off at dock to catch my breath. Belhaven Marina was just a place to hide and it turned out to be a hidden gem. The marina was small yet very well run with helpful staff, free laundry, and golf cart rides to the food and beer stores. The little village had a hardware store with that eclectic collection of stuff you need to solve most boat issues, and I had some to fix. There were at least three, 4+ star restaurants. I only ate at El Mariachi where I was surprised with my expedition’s best Margarita and most amazing ceviche. The village is also home to the Intracoastal Waterway Brewery. Thank you Belhaven for the rest and respite I needed.
I continued northbound with another very rugged open water crossing of the Alligator River and Albemarle Sound, a night in Coinjock, NC, and then my arrival to Norfolk, VA and Chesapeake Bay. I had passed through several big harbours, but the collection of ships and the added naval fleet at dock was quite amazing, even awe-inspiring to see the display of military power. There were boat tours of the naval yards and that would be a must-do when visiting this city. I wasn’t ready to take on the “Chessy” this day, but still stuck WW’s nose into the bay to experience its wind and waves. This is how I calibrate the weather/sea state apps (their models) to the real conditions. I tucked into the Bluewater Yachting Center in Hampton, VA for the night, had a swim in the pool, a quiet meal onboard, then was early to bed in preparation for the Chessy in the morning.
The Chesapeake Bay has a reputation of disquietude among boaters. At the crack of dawn, I was outbound knowing that the Chessy was going to challenge me for a few hours northbound to Solomon’s, MD. There were 2’ waves on WW’s nose and starboard beam as we left the more secluded bay, and these rose to 3-4’ and joined by 4’ rollers in the big bay that were the SE swells built over the last few days. My northbound path put the swells on my starboard stern and SW wind on my port stern. These are “favourable” conditions when running in heavy sea states. There were two longer, open waters to the west to pass which elevated the waves to 4-5’ for about 10 NM a couple of times, but eventually as predicted, the bay settled down the farther north I travelled. I even got to swim as I turned westbound into the protected Patuxent River and Solomon’s Island. Grabbing my towel as I boarded after my swim, I noticed two fins closing fast on the swim ladder; definitely an eyebrow raising moment given I just emerged from that place.
It was the 4th of July. Entering the harbour required that WW join the celebration’s annual boat parade. It was a long stream of local boaters all decked out in Americana, and one Canadian flagged boat. The docks were lined with people waving flags and double taking as WW passed. A few close to the parade route shouted questions about Canada, “I came all the way from Canada to celebrate with you today” which was followed with their hoot-hoots and horn blasting. I enjoyed the barge of fireworks that night. At the dock I met the racing sailboat, Reindeer. Captain Ross sails the eastern Atlantic from Newfoundland to Florida and out to Bermuda. He described with some resignation encountering fewer marine mammals now and no marine bioluminescence anymore. That is a broad spectrum of marine life seemingly lost – mammals to bacteria.
I was in a pensive state exiting the harbour the next morning because I had lost the boat’s autopilot pump coming up the bay. It made for some difficult helm time fighting the heavy seas. I need the autopilot system to keep the boat on course, i.e., the steering, while I focus on navigation. I set a heading and then the computer drives the pump which controls the rudder. It was despairing because of the potential physical and mental health challenges the loss would create with so many miles ahead of me. And it was yet another technical and mechanical issue to resolve. However, my despair diminished as WW passed slow and close to the University of Maryland’s research vessel - it was the Rachel Carson. Rachel had found yet another conduit to re-invigorate me and my journey.
I was underway to Annapolis, MD and planning to spend a couple nights. That became a week as I worked on the autopilot pump. First, I learned from Garmin’s technical support that the original pump was too small. You might recall that I replaced it once already because of a faulty plug. They assessed and selected the correct pump for WW (based on her size and weight), I was assured it would be a “plug-and-play” replacement for my system, and they expedited a shipment to me along with another big bill. I was miraculous lucky to book a mechanic to do a power purge of my hydraulic lines, Chesapeake Dockside Services, once I got the pump was installed, e.g., another shop had a month’s wait time. Austin arrived as I was re-installing the pump and took charge which was fine by me. The last step in this 2-hour process is connecting the pump to the ECU (Electronic Control Unit). My supposed “plug-and-play” pump failed its “plug” part. The locking collars on my new plugs didn’t fit the old ECU, a discovery leading to a duet of profanity from myself and Austin. I bid Austin adieu and started chasing Garmin for a solution again.
First, Garmin decided to ship the cable collar adapters that were supposed to be in my original package. I quickly double-checked these online and realized they wouldn’t fit. A second Garmin technician found the correct collars and shipped those too. I had already been delayed with the pump because “expedited” shipping in Garmin’s language means ‘maybe tomorrow but more likely 4-5 days thereafter’. The newly shipped collars took another day to arrive. By then, I had mulled over my many Garmin experiences and decided that the new cable collars which required destroying the original collars (cutting them off) was not a good idea because I couldn’t know for sure the new collars would work until installed. So, I DIYed a solution without the new collars, and which is still holding today. C'est la vie sur un bateau!
I did enjoy my days in Annapolis, and it turned out to be a good break from the stresses of boating all day every day. I explored the Naval Academy – go there if you love architecture, took a historical tour – very interesting seafaring town, and ate the very best crab cakes, and I have consumed many this past year! I didn’t enjoy watching a lifejacket-less child come off the boat beside me and fall in the water between the boat and dock. There were scary moments of mothers screaming as I began racing over and another man pulled the child back onto the dock - a near miss on drowning and being crushed. I hope they learned some lessons about wearing lifejackets and protecting children around boats. I always meet fascinating boat people with great stories at the dock, and I am proud of my own boat expedition, but I was deeply humbled when I met the captain of the Nerunt who had sailed mostly solo from the UK and was spending the summer in Annapolis; both his legs had been amputated. Yet another truly amazing person and lifestyle added to my collection of stories.
I eventually headed north on a very calm Chesapeake Bay. Stormy weather was chasing me again so I knew I wasn’t going too far and I’d have to wait two nights in the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal. There were many gulls flying about and picking away at floating dead fish, most appeared to be decaying Stiped bass (Morone saxatilis), 30-40cm long. I was experiencing one of the Bay’s sadly frequent, fish kills. The Bay’s shoreline is lined by humans and their activities – homes, municipalities, farms, and industry – that dump many sources of nitrogen and phosphorous into the bay, plus a suite of toxic chemicals. While regional and local efforts are improving effluent issues, there remains the woefully familiar legacy of bad behaviour buried in the bottom of the bay. I added to my storyline yet another example of how our post-1945 activities, a.k.a. progress and development, disconnected us from our environment to our own demise,
The storm passed and I headed out into Delaware Bay and then south to Cape May, NJ. It was a calm day on the upper bay and then smooth 3-4’ swells on a long period as the bay opened to the ocean. I was being chased by another big storm so no swimming that day. And then 5 NM from entering back into the AICW, a heavy fog mysteriously appeared and engulfed WW in a difficult navigation zone full of shoals. Added to this was a collection of recreational boaters buzzing about on a Saturday afternoon. It took about 30 minutes for the fog to lift, but blind, instrument navigation (radar and charts) is stressful especially with close by boats only visible on radar.
I spent the night in Cape May, NJ, which was described to me as the New Jersey Hamptons. The next morning was a planned 80 NM run up Atlantic coast on the ocean side because the sea state from sunrise to 1400hrs was predicted to be near perfect; <5 kts from the SE and smooth swells 4-5’ on 8-10 sec from the SE. At the dock, I met the Anodyne also heading north and thus a buddy boat for the morning. Sunrise was 0600hrs, but it was hard to tell because a very dense fog had engulfed us. A few days later, a couple of local captains matter-of-factly said that heavy fog is common for the Jersey coast in July – you won’t find that in the guidebooks. Back at the dock, we sat and discussed our weather information, decided to set off at 0800 as the visibility was improving now about 0.5 NM, and with various predictions that the fog was going to lift over the next few hours. We didn’t get to the harbour’s exit before that fog rolled heavily onto us reducing visibility to just beyond the bow flag, I think. The sea was its predicted, perfect calm with smooth swells. With local fishers unperturbed and buzzing past me (I heard them before their close passes), I radar locked on Anodyne and together we headed NE to get >5 NM offshore before turning north. We were making about 8 kts and we weren’t alone. Every boater moving north or south was taking advantage of the sea state. We spent the next 2 hours on the radio chatting with radar targets making sure we all saw each other. Eventually the fog became patchy which allowed us to increase speed and Anodyne sped off to New York City. The rest of the ride was mostly the calm swells, even allowing for a swim, but also dodging the buzzing-about fishers as I moved in and out of patchy fog. While not a perfect day, I was very glad that the sea state allowed a long, smooth ocean run which can be rare for this coast.
It was getting rougher as I approached the Manasquan River and Brielle, NJ. I entered the river on a sunny Sunday to enjoy the highly anticipated, crazy-town boater adventure. There was about 1 NM that included rough seas fighting a falling tide in a narrow river, crazy boaters of limited skills, jet skiers zipping around, fishers anchored in the middle of the channel rocking heavily, and swimmers along the very close shoreline. I needed fuel at Hoffman’s Marina which was located on the outside dock with all this crazy traffic bouncing me while fueling. If there were “NO WAKE ZONE” signs, they were certainly full of bullet holes. Leaving the fuel dock, I was rocked back into their piers smacking Theodore II and loosening one of her mounts. I had to bow into my slip on the inside docks because my first pass at a stern docking proved impossible in this cacophony of waves and water flow. All that fun cost me $200USD for the night and nothing else at this dock. I was very happy to leave early the next morning and at least the craziest of boaters were still in bed.
My next target was New York City and then my return to fresh waters.
Allen
Somewhere in Erie Canal
