August 31st, 2019

I’ve enjoyed visiting lighthouses for a long time just to take a picture and add it to a gallery on my computer. I find them fascinating due to how tall they are and the sheer amount of work that went into making them. Plus it’s a good excuse to get out and visit new places that often have beautiful scenery. For the longest time the best photo I had of the Cape Charles Light was this blurry shot taken with a point and shoot camera from the bridge 3.5 miles away:Clearly, this just wasn’t cutting it and I’ve been meaning to take my canoe out there for years. The issue is the lighthouse is on a remote marshy barrier island on the Eastern Shore of Virginia. There are 4′ tides, strong currents, and open water from the Atlantic. Waiting for the right weather was paramount and finally everything lined up. It was Saturday and the weather was forecast to be in the mid 80’s with 5-10 mph winds all day. My wife and I loaded our canoe onto the car and drove two hours over to the Wise Point Boat Ramp.

Here’s an overview of the area. On the left is the Chesapeake Bay, on the right is the Atlantic. There’s a 1.25 mile opening between Fisherman Island and Smith Island and I imagine the waves can get rather nasty through here.

And here’s an overview of our trip. The green line is going out, the red line is walking around on land, and the yellow line is our return. All in all, it was 7.5 miles of rowing, sometimes against some fierce current.

Once we arrived at the boat ramp, we found a presumably free canoe/kayak launching spot. It was 10 dollars to launch at the main boat ramp, but I didn’t see any signs saying we needed to pay where we were. The launching spot is little more than a muddy slope into a stream in the marsh, but it worked fine. It did, however, add a mile to the adventure.

Free canoe/kayak launching spot

Once we set out, we followed the stream in the marsh out to a ~90 yard wide channel between the mainland and Raccoon Island. Let me tell you, the current was running something fierce through here. Forward progress simply halted as soon as the oars came out of the water and it was all I could do to claw my way ahead. After rowing all out for ~300 yards, we made it to an S shaped cut in Raccoon Island and the current dropped considerably. We used this shortcut to get us over to the open water side.

Looking back on it, it’s not surprising the current was so bad. We left the ramp at about 10:30am, so it was just after high tide and a ton of water was rushing back out into the Atlantic through the narrow channel.

Once we made it through Raccoon Island, we started heading for the lighthouse! It would have been a 1.9 mile crossing if we knew what we were doing, but the current pulled us a bit south and I didn’t keep the best course. Eventually we got close to Smith Island and I headed north toward the lighthouse.

Heading over with a patient and very understanding wife who would probably rather be sitting on the beach!

The land surrounding the lighthouse is super marshy, but from studying Google Earth, I found a winding stream we could take that would get us close and more importantly to what appeared to be firmer ground. As you can see from our track, I had a terrible time finding the entrance. The first attempt ended with shallow water, then I went way to far north, then too far south, finally I thought I’d found the entrance, but it was a dead end. I was almost ready to admit defeat and go home, but I stood up in the canoe for one last look around and I spotted the stream. The tide was still high enough that I could pole my way right through the marsh grass and into it!

Trying to find the entrance to the stream.

The main problem was the glare from the sun made using my phone difficult. The best I could do was put it in my hat, get an idea of where we were, row a bit, then check to see if we’d gone too far.

So close, yet so far away.

Once the nose of my canoe poked its way into the stream, the current shot us around backward. It took me by surprise that the current could be this strong, but looking back it all makes sense. Acres of land floods at high tide and it’s all got to go somewhere. Over time the flow carves out these little winding streams in the marsh on its path out to a lower level. Eventually we rowed, paddled, poled, and pushed our way to the firmer ground.

Making our way up the stream. We stopped straight ahead where all the marsh grass is flattened down.

I pulled the canoe up onto the shore which was perfectly dry. My wife decided not to come with me as she seems to be a magnet for bugs and didn’t want to be eaten alive. I took off towards the lighthouse, walking on a mat of flattened marsh grass and through a patch of what I think might be leatherwood. It was a large patch of shrubs about shin high with woody stems and thick leathery leaves that kinda looked like jade plant leaves. Eventually I hit a patch of bayberry and small pine trees. There is an ATV trail leading to the lighthouse, although it doesn’t seem to have been used in a long time. I can make out the tracks on Google Earth as well, but they seem to disappear out in the marsh.

I made my way through the trees and came out in a clearing where the lighthouse stood along with some rundown out buildings! There was what was left of the brick keepers house and some sheds in various stages of disrepair.

I read a blog post about a couple who climbed it in 2014, but that was five years ago and I hoped the Coast Guard hadn’t locked it up for liability reasons or something. Coming up on the entrance, I saw the door was open! I made my way inside and headed for the top.

About halfway up I snapped this picture looking towards the ocean. That box on stilts is a fire control tower that was used to direct artillery fire from nearby bases during WWII. There are three of them just behind the lighthouse.

Here’s a shot looking down the staircase from the top. The stairs seem solid, although there’s quite a bit of debris on the treads making them slippery. The handrail wobbles a bit and rust has eaten through the iron tube surrounding the stairs in places. It’s hard to imagine this lighthouse will be safe in another 50 years and repairing it seems like an expensive and daunting task. I think there’s a bit more needed than a new coat of paint.

Looking down the staircase.

I climbed another set of stairs into the lantern room, but there was no way onto the balcony. So I went back down to the generator room and went out onto the lower balcony. My wife took this picture back from where I left the canoe. You can just make me out on the right. There was a sketchy looking ladder that lead onto the upper balcony via a hole in the floor, but I decided not to press my luck.

Me at the top!

Looking down at the entrance.

Looking to the northeast. There are long lines of trees surrounded by marsh. Twice a day, all that water comes rushing down the stream on its trek to a lower level of potential energy. Then the moon drags it back up over the marsh as the earth turns and the cycle repeats.

Looking south towards the fire control towers and the Atlantic beyond. These towers would direct the artillery batteries on where to aim during WWII. U-boats definitely operated in this area and there were many ships sunk off the coast. U-230 and U-566 even laid mines in the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay.

Looking southwest towards the tip of Smith Island. Beyond is Fisherman Island which is the southernmost tip of the Eastern Shore. On the right is the Bay Bridge Tunnel and where I snapped my original photo.

Looking west back towards the boat ramp where we launched. That is Raccoon Island in the center, and Skidmore Island to the right.

Looking north to the stream we came up. You can just make out my wife in the canoe where the stream makes a hard 180º. There’s a bit of a trail that leads to the ATV tracks.

After a while, I came down and it was time to leave. This time the current whisked us along at a pretty good clip and shot us out into the open water. One interesting thing to note is at the entrance. Google Earth’s picture is from 2013 and that meander has cut through. It’s not an oxbow lake yet, but I imagine it will be one day.

Leaving the lighthouse.

The row back across the open water was a little slow as we were going somewhat against the current. We heard a mayday on the radio for a guy who was in a hit and run with a Carolina Skiff. The Coast Guard got the skiff operator’s cell phone number and I can only imagine he’s in hot water. As we worked our way closer to Holly Bluff Island, we turned more against the current and the going got tougher. Just before we turned the corner, it was back to zero forward progress as the oars came out of the water. But once we got in the channel, we were carried down to the boat ramp at quite a pace. Then it was a right hand turn to the canoe/kayak launching spot via a now much shallower stream.

Heading to the launching spot.

And with that, our Cape Charles lighthouse adventure was over! We loaded the canoe back onto my car and headed to Cape Charles for a much needed lunch. It was 2:30pm and my two hour trip had doubled.

6/8/19 – Rowing

In June of 2019 my wife, parents, and I took a vacation to Ocracoke Island on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. It’s a skinny island that is about 15 miles long with a small village at the southern end. The sound side is mostly tidal marsh grass along the Pamlico Sound, while the Atlantic side is one long sandy beach. Ocracoke sits between Hatteras Island to the northeast, and Portsmouth Island to the southwest. Portsmouth has been uninhabited since the 1970s, although it was a bustling lightering and fishing port from the mid 1700s to the early 1900s. There are still some old buildings there that are kept up by the park service that I wanted to check out.

Taking the ferry from Hatteras to Ocracoke. I stuck the spars through the forward bulkhead hatches with moving blankets wrapped around them to protect the varnish.

Here is the town and small harbor, Silver Lake. The public boat ramp is at the north end of the harbor on the sound side and the cottage we rented was in the cluster of docks along the southern side of the harbor. “The Ditch” is the narrow opening which is scarcely 50 yards wide. Nine times a day a car ferry from Swan Quarter or Cedar Island comes through and docks at the ferry docks which are at the northern side of the harbor. It is safe to say they have the right of way going through the channel.

The first launch! And it floats surprisingly!

After launching Moga at the public boat ramp, my wife and I rowed around the point, through The Ditch, and into Silver Lake. The cottage we rented was located at the very southern end, so the first trip was right around a mile long. The boat rowed well and I didn’t have much trouble. The homemade oarlocks could be improved, as well as adding a loop of line for a foot brace. But otherwise the boat was easily moved and tracked well.

6/9/19 – Sailing on Silver Lake

The next day I decided to sail around the harbor to get some practice with the sprit rig. I finished the boat the day before we left, so I didn’t even have time to test it at home. I rigged the boat while tied up to our dock, then set off! The winds were pretty light and the harbor is well protected, but there was always enough wind to ripple the surface of the water. I probably spent 2-3 hours making laps around the harbor and taking my wife and mom out for sails.

The very first sail! The harbor was full of anchored sailboats, so I had to dodge them as I was figuring the boat out.

Coming by on the starboard tack. More tension on the snotter would help the diagonal crease in the mainsail, and I need to make a tiller extension to get my weight closer to amidships for better trim. Dragging an immersed transom creates a lot of drag.

After getting a bit of practice I took my wife out for a bit. It was easier having her manage the jib sheets instead of having four things to keep track of. We got some great compliments from people motoring out in a dinghy and some other cruisers sipping wine on their sailboat.

One of the first things that stuck out to me was how powerful the rig was and how easily the boat moved. I didn’t know it until later, but sprit rigs generate more power than a Bermuda sail of equivalent area, and can be up to 30% more efficient to windward. You can really spread a lot of canvas on a simple unstayed mast, but the downside is that it’s hard to reef. I unrigged everything each day, but I later learned it’s easier to leave the sail hoisted and just brail it up. I’ll definitely be adding the brailing line and tackle to the sail later.

6/10/19 – Portsmouth Island Adventure

A big reason for bringing my sailboat to Ocracoke was because I wanted to explore the abandoned village at Portsmouth Island. It’s approximately 5.25 miles across the Ocracoke Inlet to a dock which leads to the old village. The inlet is strewn with sandbars that may be covered by only a few inches of water, and I’d imagine some pretty fierce waves can come in from the Atlantic. However, we picked a really nice day to go.

Our path from Ocracoke to Portsmouth while dodging the sandbars.

On our way to Portsmouth Island! I spent about 20 minutes wondering why the main sheet was so heavy before I realized I’d rigged the ratchet block backwards. After reversing the block it was much easier to trim the sail.

Docked at Portsmouth Island, looking towards the old village. This was a nice dock made from concrete, although a long bolt put a nasty gouge in the transom. I filled it with thickened epoxy and sanded it smooth when I got home.

Walking down the main road from the dock to the village. There were a few mosquitoes, but it wasn’t too bad.

It started to drizzle just as we got to the village, so we hid under the porch at the Theodore & Anne Salter house until it slacked off.

The post office and general store. The mosquitoes and green heads were starting to be a little more of a nuisance, but not too bad.

We walked across a small bridge to the Methodist Church where we were promptly swarmed by every flying pest on the island. It was unreal how bad they were, despite the fact we’d used a lot of bug spray. We literally must have had 30 flies buzzing around our heads in a constant cloud, and the only way to keep them off was to swing our hats madly and sprint back to the boat. All I can say is that something must have changed since people lived here, because there is no way I could. Maybe back in the day there were enough people to go around for the flies, but let me tell you, today they are vicious.

Heading across the inlet back to Ocracoke Island after surviving the insect apocalypse. My wife is admiring all my hard work to build the boat…

Approaching the entrance to Silver Lake.

Coming through The Ditch into the harbor after a long day. We sailed eleven miles and the boat did a wonderful job. I’m really pleased that I chose this design… it took a lot of work to build, but it is really rewarding in how well it sails.

6/14/19 Sunset Sailing

Unfortunately Friday came around and our vacation would be over the next day. It had been a bit cloudy and rainy at times, but today offered a perfect opportunity for a sunset cruise. My wife and I took the boat out from the cottage’s dock and around to the public boat ramp to haul it out. While we were out, we sailed around waiting for the sun to set so my mom could take some pictures of us.

Tacking through the crowded anchorage in just a hint of a breeze.

Tacking through The Ditch was tough. It’s only 50 yards wide and the wind was nearly gone. I just about pulled out the oars, but a puff of wind got us through and into the sound.

Once we made it out of the wind shadow of the harbor we had better sailing. Those are the Cedar Island and Swan Quarter ferries behind me.

After heading out into the sound a bit we got an impromptu opportunity to do a man overboard drill. A gust of wind blew my hat off so we did a figure-8 to get back to it which avoids gybing.

Sailing around waiting for the sun to set.

The Ocracoke Lighthouse peeking just above the tree line.

Getting closer to sunset!

Here’s a picture my mom took of us over by the boat ramp. There was quite a crowd gathered watching the sunset and we got a number of compliments when we landed. We later searched through social media and found three pictures and one video of us!