TripSailor.com® Sailing Blogs

6-22-08

We left Portsmouth late because of two things; we wanted to see the Cock Island race in which over 100 boats participated, and, also, our water pump was continually running and needed to be fixed.  We debated whether to go across town to West Marine (another taxi ride) or to just turn the control on and off as necessary.  First, we walked over to see the start of the race, done in heats, with the loudest cannon imaginable to start each heat.  My right ear drum is still suffering the after effects.  It was fun to see them jockeying for position and setting off.  After watching for awhile, we returned to the boat and Bill (Mr. Fix-it) found the manual for the water pump and in an incredibly awkward position turned some little adjustment screw that eventually cured the problem.  I regret mentioning the fact that boats develop problems in my last blog.  Anyway, we think the problem is cured, and we set off around 1:00 in dense smoke to anchor outside the Dismal Swamp lock.  We had to go under two bridges, one a lift bridge and the other a bascule bridge, but both tenders were obliging, especially the bascule bridge.  We turned into the Dismal Swamp Deep Creek canal and were met by a police boat that informed us that a ski-boarding contest was taking place and to stay to the starboard side of the canal.  We traversed the area, watching the tricks and turns of the ski-boarder with a further warning from the police boat to keep right, but Bill had to watch out for a boat anchored in the way.  Finally, we passed the competition and the anchorage where we thought would be a great place to anchor for the night.  Robert, the lockmaster at the north end of the Dismal Swamp, had advised that anchoring there on a weekend would be our worst nightmare, and we soon saw why.  All the weekend warriors were out in full force, so we proceeded to the lock, fully intending to anchor before the lock.  We were contacted and asked our intentions.  We were told we could lock through and tie up to the dock in the swamp which we chose to do.  Robert, whom I’d talked to earlier, gave us information about the docks and the bascule bridge beyond.  He also demonstrated amazing talent with a conch shell.  He seems to be a great guy and said he’d invite us for coffee in the morning!

We are safely secured to the dock just inside the lock.  The WalMart party people at the park just beyond the lock have departed, and we only have locals in the parking lot at present.  We cooked hot dogs, and as we were cooking them, a young couple were strolling the dock.  They were both here from the Ukraine.  Ireni, the young lady, had only been in the U.S. two days, but her companion Vittle (pardon my misspelling if inaccurate) had been here a month.  They were both working at a nursery on a work visa.  They were delightful with excellent English and so glad to be here. 

We spent a fairly restful night at the dock with the exception of two carloads of people pulling into the parking lot at 3:30 a.m.  Bill heard them, but I slept through the whole thing.  They didn’t come down to the dock and they weren’t loud, but it was a little creepy with them there, so Bill didn’t sleep well.  In the morning Robert came by with his dog U-turn and apologized that he couldn’t offer us coffee as there was a broken water main to his office.  I walked up to the lock to get a Dismal Swamp brochure and watched U-turn make a mad dash toward the lock when Robert let him out of his truck.  “Where is he going in such a hurry?” I asked.  “Oh, he’s just going to say good morning to Fred.”  Just then a large blue heron, squawking either in protest or in greeting flew by us.  “That’s Fred, and he’s lived here seven years.  Every morning U-turn goes to greet him, but he’s not very sociable!”  There was no southbound traffic on the other side of the lock, so Robert let us through the bascule bridge, and we were on our way.  The swamp is beautiful, though we expected to see more wildlife.  Perhaps it’s because of the smoke from the wild fires.  We did have about a mile and a half of smoke, but then it lifted and we were clear most of the way.  It’s really funny that US Highway 17 runs right beside the “ditch” for most of the 22 miles.  The canal seemed deep enough for the most part, except for a shallow part by the feeder ditch, but it was narrow and there were logs and sticks to be avoided.  We stopped at the Welcome Center and had lunch, then headed the last 4 miles to the South Mills lock.  We only passed two northbound boats on the entire canal – one small motor boat and one sailboat.  As we approached the bascule bridge before the lock, we called the lockmaster on the radio – no response.  I called on the phone and the line was busy.  I called again and got an answer.  I told him where we were and that we wanted to lock through.  I also said we’d called on the radio but got no response.  He said, “I heard somebody calling the Deep Creek Lock, but not the South Mills Lock.”  Well, we’d called the South Mills Lock, but I guess he was chatting on the phone.  That should have been an omen.  After meeting Robert, we expected the same kind of service on the south end – WRONG!  We had no place to tie up at the bridge and the canal was very narrow, so we put the anchor down on a short chain and settled in to wait the 30 minutes for the bridge.  We did o.k. for the first 20 minutes until the wind shifted and spun us around.  What a fire drill – I can’t even remember the sequence, but Bill got the motor started, the anchor up, and we started back up the canal.  Then, Bill had to turn our 36 foot sailboat in a 25 foot width canal, with stumps and mud on either side.  He did manage it – how I don’t know.  In the meantime, the lockmaster had called and said he’d open the bridge in 5 or 6 minutes.  I said, “Good,” and explained our situation.  After about 10 minutes had passed and no open bridge I called him on the radio again and asked him to please get the bridge open as we were in a real tight spot.  There was no response, but agonizingly slowly the bridge opened and we made our way into the lock.  Tying up was accomplished, but not with the same ease as at Deep Creek Lock.  “Going down 8 feet, Captain,” were the only words spoken by the lockmaster.

We did successfully navigate out of the lock, scratching our heads at how different the two lockmasters were.  We passed through Turner Cut and into the Pasquotank River filled with water skiers and float riders out on a Sunday afternoon, reminding us that we should not travel on weekends if at all possible!  The Elizabeth City Bridge was open on request, so we approached the free city docks where boaters can stay for 48 hours of free dockage.  We found only one other boat docked and we proceeded in and safely got tied up with plenty of help from our fellow boaters.  This is a neat town, and I’ll write more about it later.