Norfolk

So we're charging north:  Alligator River to Coinjock to Norfolk.
Part of my morning routine is to check the oil, check the belt and the coolant level
This morning the coolant level was out of sight.  Started the engine and saw a steady leak of coolant into the bilge.  Not good.  We had a window for getting to Deltaville and it closed.

I did a very bad thing.  I assumed the worst.  After an hour of investigation I said it's a blown head gasket and that's not something I'm going to fix.  So I said OK, we're done. 

But after another hour of investigation I saw that the leak continued without the engine running so it couldn't be a head gasket which would only leak under pressure.
Just like the raw water pump that I replaced in the Bahamas, this was the closed cooling system pump and I just happened to have a spare on board.  (I love you Wes Eldred!)
So I spent the day changing out the pump.  It was not an easy job.

Success.  Or we hope so.  We need to run this puppy foa while before we can claim victory.  But had I not checked the coolant level thid  morning, we could have been in big trouble in the Chesapeake as a big norther  headed our way.
As a chronic optimist, I have always assumed the best.  As a ship's captain, my job is to assume the worst and plan for it. 
So we're at a free dock in Norfolk (actually Portsmouth) and may not be able to head north until Friday or Saturday because strong northerly winds.
We will prevail!
So will you!

Oriental and more

So the second short half of the gale wind day took us to Oriental, a real boating town.
We tied up at the town free dock and endured a ton of gawkers and admirers.

You can always count on meeting great people and seeing great boats here.  This one came in a day before us direct from St Vincent, single handed.  A young Dutch sailor.  Prinsis Mia is a steel hull beast built for the several ocean crossings she's done.

I like the hand-cranked windlass.

And the cleats.

And the midship vice.

And here's the cockpit.

What a boat!

And just something to remember the deep south by as we fight our way north.  Zoom in on this flagpole.

Tonight we're in Bellhaven, tomorrow Little Alligator River.  Then we leave N Carolina.  We're bummed that the Dismal Swamp canal won't be open.  It's a ditch 60 miles long that was surveyed by George Washington.  Pretty cool  But Army Corp of Engineers are working on a lock.

In addition to the empty towns and waterways I realized today that everything is so quiet.  Even the usually chatty VHF is quiet.  It is eerie.  We heard that a lot of Canadians that are usually heading north now have left their boats and flown home before the border shuts down.

I mentioned today as we crossed mile market 860 that we are more than halfway home.  That was a mistake.  Lacy and First Mate assumed we were a lot closer that that.  But we do have 700 miles to travel to Catskill NY where we will probably leave Rosie for a few weeks until the canal opens.  And as I said earlier, the fun stops we had planned for the return trip ain't happening.  So we plunge on, watching the news and hoping wildly that Vermont will flatten the curve before the rest of the country.

Stay safe.  Stay home.  We are.

Short day

Gale force winds today so we only made it to Morehead City (near Beaufort), NC.  But once again we were able to tie up to a dock in front of a closed restaurant  (Sanitary Fish Company, since 1932).  We go great protection from the wind and shore leave for Lacy.

Spring is coming here too.  When we run out of signs of spring we'll have to slow down.

Actually we're on a pretty tight schedule to be at the top of the Hudson by April 21st so we're hoping we don't get slowed by weather.

It's impressive how everything seems to have come to a halt

Lonely trek

This picture tells the story.  We are ahead of the snowbird fleet (Quebec navy) and the waterway
is eerily quiet, which is a good thing because even in the south people are taking the virus seriously.  So we're on our way home.  230 statute miles to Virginia and the Dismal Swamp.  We typically have the waterway to ourselves.

Time to get home

Well this voyage has changed, like everything else in the world.  We're now just intent on getting back to Vermont as quickly as we can as healthy as we can.  Most of the fun things we had planned for the trip back are no longer possible.  Like baseball games in Baltimore, visit with our dear friend Captain Owen (who's 82 and not leaving the house.).  So it's head down, full speed ahead.  We may leave Rosie somewhere on the Hudson and pick her up later.

We're out of South Carolina.  8 more states to cross.  But we're following spring north.  Wisteria and young leaves along the waterway.

Last night we anchored in the Calabash Creek off the Little River Inlet.  As so happens when we anchor in a channel somewhere, we're surrounded with sights like these which were just off our stern and pretty symptomatic of where this country is right now.

Please be careful out there!

Live from the ark!

When the rains stop and things return to normal, this little ark will land on a mountain top in Vermont and we will emerge, whole and healthy.  Hope some of you are still around.

Seriously, this is crazy!  After a lot of agonizing about what a socially responsible business should do, we decided to close the Public House.  Then today the Governor decided that all restaurants are to close effective tomorrow.  We will survive!

I apologize for being so late with this post.  We're revisiting some of the sites we shared with you on the way down and I hate redundancy.  But then I realized a lot of you are locked down with nothing to look at but the idiot box.  So here are some stories and pictures from the ark

Cumberland Island is wonderful but it is rife with ticks.  Yeow!  Lacy had a bunch.

I showed you the car carrier on the hard in St Simons Sound.

Here's the back story from some locals. The Korean ship was delivering Kias to the east coast and on a tight schedule.  The ship had a problem with the ballast pumps and called in a crew of mechanics to fix it from Korea.  But the captain needed to get to Charleston and told them to work on it while underway.  As they headed out the sound the ship began to list 30 degrees.  A pilot was in command of the ship at the time and made the decision to beach it.  He's now a hero.  No lives were lost.  Just money.  They're going to cut it up in slices.

The Brunswick bridge is beautiful.

So is this craft.

This one was a little too close.

So we're anchored in Deewees Creek, just north of Charleston.  For the second night there's been no shore leave for Lacy.  Nothing but marsh for miles and miles.  But there's a neighbor one creek over.

And I was able to get the third coat of varnish on the pilot house trim.

As the world falls apart Kathleen and I really want to be home to offer whatever support we can to whomever needs it.  And yet, at our ages, we think we are pretty lucky to be self-quaranteed on Rosie.  But we are thinking about you all and how hard this must be.  We might quicken the pace of our return voyage just a teensy.

Thanks for checking in on us.  We are just about at 5000 views.  I'll try to do better with the posts.

Cumberland Island and Brunswick

We left on Sunday and stopped at Sister Creek, a free dock at a park on the St Johns River that leads up to Jacksonville.  Had a guest for dinner.  Bill on an Endeavor 37.  Good talks.

Then on to Cumberland Island.  We went up to the north end of the island into the Brickhill River and hiked over to the ocean.  It was a longer hike then we expected, about 3 miles each way, but well worth it.  We hit it at low tide.  Lacy loves to run on the beach and after the 3 mile hike she had a ton of energy for the beach.

 We walked back past the little Andrew Carnegie summer camp seeing our first signs of spring.  Azaleas!

Got back to Rosie who was sitting at low tide also.

And the bartender says "What'll it be cap'n?"

Then it's on to Brunswick Landing marina.  First slip since Bahamas.

Cumberland Island

https://photos.app.goo.gl/MDNCyivBEHd13CNW6

Update

The strategy for the way home is to wait for good weather (tail wind, sun, fair tides) and hammer it.  So from Vero we went 54 miles to Cocoa, 68 miles to Daytona and 51 miles to St Augustine averaging better than 6.5 knots.  Pretty good.

Now we're waiting out a stiff north wind and cold weather.  We'll leave Sunday.  There are 8 states to traverse before our beloved Vermont.  We'll knock off Florida on Monday.

Sitting at our mooring ball yesterday we were thrilled to see another Lord Nelson approach.  Hull #5, Miss Willoughby, owned by Beau and Mariah Hicks from Urbanna, Virginia.  Hope we get to spend some time with them before we head north.  They're hanging out here for a couple of months.  She looked real good.  Built in 1983, repowered with a 150 horse Yanmar in 2010.  Brightwork was Cetol and it actually looked pretty good.

Northward

As of today we've logged 160 days and 1900 miles on this voyage.  We have 61 days and 1500 miles to get to the top of the Hudson where Kathleen and Lacy will head back to retake possession of our house.  Rosie and my itinerary will depend on weather and canal openings.

Leaving Vero Beach tomorrow with fair winds and currents, heading to Cocoa Beach or maybe even Titusville.  The remainder of the trip will be a balance between the warmer weather in the south with a need to get north.  The trick will be to ride the sun north.

I managed to get the alternator back into a very very cramped space and it's working well. Can you find it?

Nine years ago when we did this trip we had Langworthy's, Donnelly's and Kirbachs with us for portions of the trip and other buddy-boats that were traveling in the same direction at the same speed.  For some reason, this has been a much lonelier voyage.  Maybe power boaters are less social.  But we hope to find some companions for the trip north.  Makes it more fun.

Some of you may envy our warm weather but all of you should envy Kathleen's cooking!  How about some chicken pot pie!