Crab Pots??

The Sound

“When you leave Coinjock you can head out into the sound, set the autopilot and relax.” That’s a lie.  We cleared the entrance to Albemarle Sound and set course for Roanoke Island.  200 yards later Jan says, “so what are those white things??”  Crab pots. Hundreds of millions of crab pots.  Autopilot adios.

We started weaving between them for a bit then figured out, they are in a string – just like on Deadliest Catch.  The buoys, no bigger than a soda bottle, were laid in straight lines, cris crossing this vast stretch of open water. From the air it has to look like artwork drawn by a 3 year old.  There was no going straight for long.  All we could do was follow a string in the general direction of south, then jump across and pick up the next one.  I felt like we were tacking in a sailboat.  Maddening. No, it was worse.  We wanted to relax, enjoy this fine day and let the Cummins diesels hum us to our next stop.  Continue reading “Crab Pots??”

Coinjock –

Face Dock
Coinjock face dock

And away we go! Our maiden voyage.  Mile marker 7 on the ICW.  Leaving Chesapeake, VA took us down the Virginia Cut towards Currituck sound.  Our first big water.  Having grown up on the Great Lakes I was thrilled!  Finally our blue water boat would get to stretch her legs and we’d see how she handled.  As it turned out the trip was very – nice.  Calm seas and beautiful weather gave us time to enjoy the thrum of the diesels and take in the scenery.  At 7-8 knots, we had time to truly savor the ride.

Along the way we passed huge marshes alive with waterfowl. Nestled into the back of some sloughs were half sunken abandoned boats of all types.  What on earth?  Why would someone try to navigate into such an obvious dead end?  Later we learned this is the wet version of that long gone farmer’s field. Littered with old cars, rusty plows and refrigerators.  Boats, on their last prop taken to that eternal rest nestled in the marsh grass.

Our first stop on this maiden voyage was Coinjock, NC. Coinjock, really there’s a town by that name? Indeed. Coinjock with a face dock, whew!  Face docks are just that, long stretches of tired timbers lined against the shore.  Face docks are easy.  Nestle up alongside, toss the lines and snug her up.  Nothing to it.  Face docks in calm water with no current and no wind – nothing to it.  Thankfully this afternoon we’re at slack tide and light winds as we ease up to the dock.  Jan has the fenders out, ready with the lines. She is anxious to give instructions to the dock master.  “Throw me a bow line.” he says. And it begins. Continue reading “Coinjock –”