Delaware Bay to New Jersey (19/4/13)

The guide said the wide, forty-mile long Delaware Bay "can feel like it's 400 miles long" and it did. The currents run hard and we had the wind against us. At first, we hugged the shoals and passed close to the Salem nuclear power station in the murk to escape the ferocity of the tide in the main channel. James had suggested sitting it out until the tide turned to help us down the bay. Fortunately we didn't as conditions were slower and tougher when the tide turned. The wind over tide kicked up a nasty short and steep sea. Under power, we were barely making 2kts progress and April the autohelm's off course alarm was perpetually sounding as she lost steerage and blew round. We found the best tactic was to raise a triple reefed main and bear away thirty degrees, still under full power, which allowed us to make four to five knots' progress as we tacked up the main channel. Night fell and we still weren't out of the bay and again we were fighting the flood but at least the sea was smoother. Shipping was heavy and the fog was patchy – a massive dry dock passed a couple of hundred metres from us under tow up to Philadelphia, and another vessel hailed us in the dark to ensure we would remain clear.

In the early hours, we rounded Cape May shoals and bore away up the New Jersey coast and enjoyed the silence of being under sail. The morning dawned with lighter winds and dense fog. It was eerie to be at sea again with nothing in sight nor on the AIS and no shoals or marks to dodge. Our first landmark was Atlantic City. The hotel and casino towers punched out the top of the fog looking like the deformed bows of massive ships. Atlantic City held no attraction to us save for the availability of an easy and safe inlet if we needed to dodge inland to escape the forecast gales. We saw nothing else of the coast that day. Late evening, the forecast southerly gales began to build rapidly. We reduced sail to three reefs and a slither of genoa poled out as we swerved downwind and surfed the building waves. A steady current with us prevented the seas from building badly and within a few hours we were approaching the shelter of our destination – Sandy Hook. The fog had thickened but the sea was still visible in the darkness under a pervading sodium glow from New York to our north. Entering the channel to round the Hook, James took the helm as I stood on the foredeck to try to spot the channel lights, but most we just heard as we passed them.

At the top of the hook, the fog lifted rapidly and then the temperature rose over ten degrees in a matter of moments. We had rounded the north end of the spit and the wind now had a long land track up the warmed New Jersey dunes. It felt like standing under a hand dryer. To our north, the lights of downtown New York glistened behind the Verrazano Narrows Bridge. We were still making nine to ten knots with just the triple reefed main but had to motorsail once more as we headed south for the breakwater and mooring of the Atlantic Highlands Municipal Marina. We followed the New York ferry in and James deftly picked a path through the minefield of deserted moorings, posts and shallows to a safe spot for the night.

Aftermath of Sandy (20/4/13)

We were glad of the shelter by dawn. The southerly gale had turned northwesterly but we were safe and secure behind the breakwater, listening to the wind howling in the rigging. We were looking forward to the shower, laundry, wifi and playground facilities of the marina but didn't even fancy the trip across to the shore as even here the water was choppy and the wind cold. Then James looked more closely at the marina – there were no boats in the water, all the moorings were abandoned and the strops looked like they had been discarded a long time, the pontoons were missing, there was a boat on its side on the shore and many construction barges and cranes. James tried to hail them on the VHF and then by telephone but there was no response. We began to remember the destruction of hurricane Sandy last autumn and that this was the area it made landfall. I'd seen a New Jersey bridge destroyed and the recent charts did indeed show a bridge "under construction" nearby.

We telephoned another nearby marina to try to secure a berth but again got no reply. We intend to move on to New York but need shoreside facilities and information before we commit to moving into that busy harbour. James also recalled that many of the smaller marinas opposite Manhatten had also been hit hard by Sandy and may not have reopened. If anyone back at home can find out some information and ring us on James' phone, we'd be grateful!

Northern Chesapeake (17/4/13)

Leaving Annapolis, we immediately passed below the Chesapeake Bay Bridge which joins the east and west coasts of Maryland. The wind had turned squally and was against us as we tacked hard up the bay past the Magothy River. By evening, we had reached Baltimore. We had been alongside her namesake in Annapolis and had been invited aboard for a tour of Pride of Baltimore II by her captain. She is of similar vintage to the Amistad which we saw in San Juan. Such fast schooners were made illegal after the war of 1812 due to their exceptional performance, so those that continued to sail tended towards smuggling and privateering.

The original Pride of Baltimore had been involved in action against the British. The Americans had declared was on Britain by invading and occupying part of Canada, as they believed the British to be too preoccupied by Napoleonic France. They were wrong and the British retaliated by burning Baltimore and taking the flag. A poem written by a witness to this fall was later put to music and became USA national anthem, 'The Star Spangled Banner'.

Higher up, the Chesapeake narrows and becomes less populated again. The perpetual trip hazards of the trotlines and bait pots in the water lessen and the water becomes much quieter. We anchored in Still Pond (actually a small bay) overnight then continued up into the Elk River. This soon leads into the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal or C&D Canal as it is known colloquially. Given the cold, overcast and wet day, we decided that it better stood for the Cold and Dank Canal. Even the ospreys looked bedraggled and needed to shake off the rain in flight.

Leaving the canal into the Delaware Bay, it is obvious this is a very different body of water. The Delaware is saltier and once again we have to contend with currents and tidal ranges. There are few creeks and rivers and its shores are very shoal with just a narrow ship channel through the wide bay. There were few vessels other than the ships and tugs running up to Philadelphia or through to Baltimore, and no signs of fishing.

The forecast was for decidedly miserable weather to come and so we steamed against the wind and tide to escape the Delaware and head up the New Jersey coast before the forecast winds would cut us off from New York.

Annapolis

We are now entering some of the denser populated areas in The Bay. We left the wilderness of Rhodes River under a trickle of wind, tacked up past the Thomas Point Lighthouse – the last screwpile lighthouse on the Chesapeake still in its original location, and now a National Monument – and into the Severn River. In the bay, rows of immense and empty bulkers sat at anchor waiting for an upturn in the economy.

Annapolis skyline

Up river, the skyline becomes dominated by sailboat masts and impressive classic architecture. The iconic dome of the chapel of the US Naval Academy rises over 18^th and 19^th century rooftops in the historic downtown area. The city dock remains almost as it was a century ago. The bustling bars, restaurants and souvenir stores remain in store fronts untouched by modern progress. As you amble up Main Street to the State Circle and then along Maryland to the Academy, it is like being in a living and working museum. There is no modern architecture anywhere and many of the houses are now museums or historic inns.

Historic homes in downtown Annapolis

The Academy itself is open to visitors. The whole campus is constructed of white stone and verdigris. The Halls are lavishly decorated with classic paintings and hung with chandeliers. The whole is a combination of the Old Royal Naval College at Greenwich and the Royal Yacht Squadron at Cowes, but on a much larger and even grander scale. The museum houses important naval history artefacts from before the birth of the nation right up to present conflicts.

Inside the USNA

On arriving back at the rib, a passer-by with his dog asked if we were “off that cutter in the bay”. He had watched us arrive and reckoned we’d be the “prettiest boat in Annapolis all season”. He’d even rung his brother who’d passed on the message to all their friends to get down to see us. Another dinghy later hailed us and said they’d been the yacht that we followed into Solomons through the torrential thunderstorm the other day. They were here from Florida to see their son graduate from the USNA this weekend.

USNA chapel

Finally, the culmination to the Annapolis hospitality came as we had to leave our mooring. We were invited to come alongside at the City Docks next to the historic schooner Pride of Baltimore for free, ‘on loan’ to the Sailing Hall of Fame. We get to spend a couple more days here, enjoying the fantastic seafood and architecture whilst acting as a living museum exhibit. Thank you, Annapolis!

Sunrise on the Severn River

Environment Under Pressure

The Chesapeake has deep rooted historical and ecological significance to Americans. The area was where the first British colonies were founded as the bay gave access and shelter, as well as plentiful natural resources. The Native Americans taught the settlers how to grow corn and what to fish for. Most of the towns on the shores were founded around the fishing industries and still hold a great emphasis on the sea.

The explosion of population in the last century has put great pressure on the ecology of The Bay. Each town has its own maritime museum, and each tells the same story. As the population grew, more fish, crabs and oysters were harvested. At the same time, more fertilisers and sewerage ran into the water. It was not until the 1960s that treatment works began to remove the nitrates from the sewerage, but already the increased nutrients in the water had led to more severe algal blooms and less aquatic vegetation in the waters. Around Solomons Isle, the submerged aquatic vegetation has been recorded as receding through the second half of the last century down to nothing in the late 1980s, and it has yet to recover. Other museums cite a drop in the oyster population to a mere 1% of that recorded a century ago.

Small scale fishing fleet on The Chesapeake

The 1960s also saw increased use of pesticides including DDT. These almost wiped out the osprey population before they were banned. Even the “beautiful swimmers”, the native blue crabs, are under threat from alien European green crabs which compete for food and habitat.

However, it isn’t all bad news. The environmental issues are much better understood now and the public are better educated. The Smithsonian has an environmental research center on the Rhode River and monitors the ecology there. The ospreys are back in abundance, oyster fishing is on the increase and the Bay continues to provide more crabs for human consumption than any other body of water in the world. Sewerage treatment is state of the art and residents are encouraged to limit their use of fertilisers on their lawns and to avoid flushing toxins such as medicines down their toilets.

Osprey fishing on Rhodes River reserve

The shores of the Bay are home to several major US cities – Washington, Annapolis, Baltimore and then joined via the C&D Canal to Delaware and Philadelphia – but also still hold hundreds of miles of true undeveloped wilderness. It seems that here, man and nature can exists side by side.

Cambridge MD

We were greeted at our mooring in Cambridge, Maryland, by a line handler from the marina and also by Eric Sirulnik. We had first been introduced to Eric on the quayside at Bridgetown, Barbados, and had taken him sailing in the rally race after the Transat Classique. Now here he was here with an invitation to his smallholding on the Choptank River. He was apologetic that his own boat wasn’t yet in the water, but we spent a wonderful day and night as his guests. 

Cambridge MD - home of Annie Oakley

Cambridge was the birthplace and final home of Annie Oakley – and Eric continued her tradition with an awesome private arsenal in his "Second Amendment Lounge". The kids rode his 1949 Ford "Red Belly" tractor and explored every nook and cranny of what seemed like a personal maritime museam. Eric knew how to treat cruisers adn gave us free rein of his laundery, showers and TV. Eric’s company was as warm as we remembered and the children even got to watch a Harry Potter movie with surround sound.

E drives a 1949 Ford tractor

At last - a television!

At dawn, the mist was hugging the surface of the Choptank River as the resident ospreys began their day’s fishing and the deer came out to raze the fields. All was still and quiet at the municipal marina on the river front. It still seems odd to see Croix des Gardes moored in a public car park. We were hoping to sail up to Annapolis, but the lack of wind has other ideas.

The lighthouse at Cambridge MD

Mid Chesapeake

The next front arrived with cooler weather and cloudy skies. We left Reedville as the rain fell and the vultures and ospreys awoke. Heading north, we passed the mouth of the great Potomac River but have decided not to visit Washington. Instead, we shall continue and try to reach New York before the end of the month.

Flying the spinnaker doesn't always got to plan...

The land here is slightly higher than further south. The coast is interspersed with low orange cliffs which are filled with marine fossils from when this whole area was a shallow sea. We stopped as a vicious thunderstorm passed in Solomon’s Isle on the Patuxent River. The museum here has a fossil excavation exhibit where the children dug for genuine relics. Matthew found a snaggle-toothed shark tooth whilst Elizabeth kept a sand tiger tooth and a ray’s dental plate. The museum had other fossils including an extinct megadontal shark skeleton and a touch tank with more horse-shoe crabs, starfish, skates and terrapins. James admired the boats in the historic small craft section – both on display and still in commission on the water. Then we all climbed the wooden light house and explored the rooms where the lighthouse keeper lived with his wife and children.

Continuing north, we crossed to Maryland’s eastern shore and the Choptank River that leads past Oxford and into Cambridge.