The Sounds – Noises

Rigging

Living in the ‘dirt house’ as long-term boaters refer to conventional homes, we get used to the noises.  That creak in the hallway floor.  The whine of the air conditioner.  That vinyl siding creeping on nail heads as it warms in the spring sun after a cold night.  Dozens of sounds.  The way the wind rattles the porch light and makes the cover on the grill flap against the metal lid.  We get used to them.  We know them by heart.

And now – new noises.  I’ve slept in my runabout before.  Heard the creaking of the dock lines.  Barely, but it sounded ‘shippy’ to me so it was pretty cool.  Our first night in Coinjock I heard a different sound coming from the dock lines.  That noise they use in movies featuring old wooden ships.  A base level creaking, not some wimpy screech but rather a creak with smoker’s cough.  Low, slow, more like a growl.  The movies do a good job on it – or else they recorded real ships pulling against the dock piling and cleats.   Continue reading “The Sounds – Noises”

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 –”