“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??”