Actually, we have two boats. One, our home on the water, the second is our dingy. Affectionately call a ‘dink’ in boating circles. Ten feet long it is known as a RIB – Rigid Hulled Inflatable boat. Sounds pretty cool, ‘eh? How could one go wrong leaving the dock in a boat that’s both solid fiberglass hull and inflatable? But then again. .
Our dink sits atop the roof of the stateroom in a solid wooden cradle. Part of the charm of our old trawler is the mast and boom which work in tandem to manage the launching and retrieving of the dingy. It’s far too heavy to manhandle over the side considering it has a fiberglass hull and 15 hp outboard. Launching the dink is easy. Continue reading “The Dink”
“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??”