Almost Ready to Leave Mantra in Oxford

Since the beginning of the week, we have been working many, many hours each day getting the boat ready to be stored. Inside, she is immaculately clean from (and including) the ceilings to the floor boards. To keep her mold-free (or close to it) and dry, I will be putting out dehumidifier chemicals and plastic containers of bleach with vented holes just before we leave. I have placed covers on the wheel, life raft and compass, and the instrument covers are in place. The cockpit cushions and linens are all stored, and the open food has been removed from the pantry locker. I am doing the last of the laundry as I write. Peter has done a multitude of tasks, including draining the fuel from the smaller outboard engine, cleaning out the holding tank, equalizing the batteries, and consulting with engine and rigging specialists at the boatyard about jobs that need to be done in our absence. (His list was much longer than mine.) I packed yesterday afternoon. Next I need to remove the food from the refrigerator, take out the trash, make sure the hatches are tightly closed, and take out the trash.

My bags are ready

Our friend Lori is arriving from Washington, D.C. around noon to transport us to her house, after we have lunch and ice cream here in Oxford. I will be staying with her for a week and then going home for three and half weeks before joining Peter in England. Peter flies to London tomorrow afternoon, arriving the next day. 

The blog will be back when we are back on board.

A few more Oxford picket fence artworks:

Oxford Still

Yesterday, we took a break from work on the boat to walk into town for ice cream sundaes followed by a stroll along some of the streets. There are many lovely old homes, most with nice front gardens. The early spring flowers are mostly gone, but the roses in various equisite shades on the warm side of the color spectrum are stunning. 

Delicate pink rose unfurling its petals

Various shades of orange roses on the same plant

Orange roses (and a ladybug)

Yellow roses by an iconic Oxford fence

Pink rose buds and purple clematis

Also, this year's Oxford Picket Fence entries are on display. There are not as many as last year, it seems, perhaps because 2022 was the re-starting of traditions as COVID began to wane as a public health threat. We have two favorites so far; one is in front of St. Paul's Pilgrim Holiness Church, depicting crab pot buoys hung to dry, and the other is a great blue heron.

Buoys (They are three dimensional.)

Heron

Peter has equalized the batteries and done other tasks. I have scrubbed every surface, even the insides of locker doors, in the aft cabin and removed and washed the life ring, the life sling and other items from the stern railing. The cockpit cushions covers were removed yesterday evening, and I stored the stern rail items and the uncovered cushions in the bathroom's shower. This morning, I am at the marina clubhouse, laundering the cushion covers while Peter is working at his volunteer job as landscape committee chair for our neighborhood in preparation for a board meeting on Wednesday. 

On my way to do laundry, I passed an array of white, gourd-shaped purple martin houses. Birds were coming and going. Found throughout the United States, in the Eastern U.S., the birds nest exclusively in man-made nest boxes and bird houses. The sociable purple martins, North America's largest swallow, return to this area in March from their migration to the Amazon Basin and stay until October. Nesting season begins in May. The eggs are incubated for 15-18 days, and the nestlings stay in the nest for about a month. 

Female purple martins

We are steadily making our way through the perishable food on board, so we may go out to lunch today.

Oxford, Maryland

Bunnies are everywhere in Oxford

We are late for the best of the spring blooms, but there are still flowers to delight the eyes

Here in Oxford, we are winding down for the season, getting the boat ready to be stored until we are ready to sail again. We arrived here on Friday afternoon, and as soon as we were tied up at the dock (helped by our local friend Ted from the Ocean Cruising Club) and had turned off the instruments, we headed into town. The Scottish Highlands Creamery used to be located right by the boatyard, but Ted informed us that they had relocated to the main street. The brand new location is much bigger and offers more than the window service of the previous place. There is indoor seating, and the shop is right across the street from the town park and river views. The ice cream is unchanged, still flavorful and creamy, and we enjoyed two-scoop sundaes on a sunny bench outside the the museum next door. On the next block is the Oxford Market, and we dropped in for milk and fresh asparagus. 

On the way back to the docks, we stopped in the small museum (and storeroom) of Cutts and Case boatbuilders. The shipyard near the water was founded in 1965 by yacht designer and builder Eddie Cutts Sr. and John Case, an IBM executive and computer pioneer. The firm, which designs, builds, restores and maintains boats, is run now by Cutts' sons. The side of the main building facing the street is all glass, showing various shiny custom boats. There is no formal entrance, no admission and only a couple of signs with information. We wandered in through the large sliding barn door opening. Inside are an electric array of not only boats but furnishings (sofas, dressers, bookcases, etc.), shells, lanterns, a very old battery, boat engines, compasses in wooden boxes, sextants, antique motorcycles and parts of Christmas displays. The wooden boats include two rowing shells, a custom-designed rowboat, and the motor vessel Foto, famed America's Cup photographer Morris Rosenfeld's 33 foot, 1929 yacht which he used for capturing his shots.

Shipyard sign

Shiny, perfect brightwork at Cutts and Case

Two custom built boats

M/V Foto

Row boat commissioned by a local woman as a birthday present for her husband

Racing scull

Life-sized nutcracker in the rafters

Jobs large and small were waiting for us back on the boat, and we got right to work. I gathered up four loads of laundry and went to the marina clubhouse to use the washers and dryers and also take a shower. While I like taking a shower on the swim platform in warm climates, I always look forward to hot water pouring down on me from a fixed shower head. 

There were sailboat races on the Tred Avon River at 6 p.m., so Peter and I took a break to watch the competition. It was partly cloudy but warm, and the wind was great for sailing. Ted and his wife Ann were sailing with friends in their boat. They won since they were the sole boat in their class!

Racing on the Tred Avon River

Boats of different classes

On Saturday (May 20), we awoke around 6 a.m. and then decided to stay in the warmth of the bed and slept some more until after 8. It was a productive day. I cleaned the entire cockpit so that it is pristine and scrubbed the navy blue flexible seats which are usually aft of the wheel, where they collect a lot of salt spray. Peter started getting the sails ready to be removed, hoisting the staysail and leaving it to dry in the sun. 

The mainsail on the deck

The genoa drying in the sunshine

We took a break from our work to attend Safe Harbor's annual May picnic. An abundance of food was available. We sat on the deck of the clubhouse with three other people, Jerry, Karen and Greg, from Delaware. Both men had careers as engineers, mostly with DuPont, one specializing in polymers and the other in fibers. Jerry's wife Mary had died about a decade ago; the two couples had been the closest of friends for decades, sailing, going on cruises and camping together throughout the years and living only three miles from each other. Jerry and Greg are extremely knowledgeable engineers, and Peter was delighted to discuss engines and boat systems with them. After we had finished our food, Karen and I excused ourselves to go elsewhere to talk of other things. 

The picnic included games, and Peter won the bottle of wine on our table, and both of us (well, actually, everyone) won a free shirt. I got a lightweight hoodie and Peter has a new red long-sleeve T-shirt. We also got to chat with other boaters, which was quite enjoyable.

And then it was back to work. Luckily, the wind was negligible and the sun was shining, so we were able to remove and fold up the staysail, the genoa (also washed down and dried) and the mainsail. Jerry and Greg came over to help us with the main, which is large and heavy. Peter and I have taken it down and folded it ourselves, but it is much easier to handle with help. Peter was gone quite a while when he went to fetch them and, as I suspected, had spent time looking at their boat, an older Hunter. After we finished with the main, they came aboard to see our boat, and the three men talked more about engine mounts, shafts, hydraulics and the Tiny Pilot we use as our autopilot. They actually understood all the programming and the mechanical elements and could read the data on the screen for the autopilot (What is gain?), and Peter, I'm sure, was delighted to have an intelligent conversation with people who actually understood at least as well as him, if not better, what he was talking about. (I simply nod my head and pretend I comprehend when he is forced to talk about electronic or mechanical issues with me because I am the only one available.)

The chatting delayed us a bit, so the no-see-ums were flying in my eyes and up my nose and taking nips at my skin by the time we were folding up the genoa at dusk. While Peter gathered up tools and tidied up the deck, I made pasta primavera. After doing the dishes, it was time for bed for me, and Peter quickly followed.

Again, I awoke before 6 a.m., but it was warm snuggled in bed, so I allowed myself to sleep for another couple of hours with Peter. The sun is shining now, but the breeze is chilly. I have made a schedule for my work over the next five days and am happy to be working inside today. Since we arrived, we have been able to access continuous public radio broadcasts of classical music, which I missed when we were in the Bahamas. 

Approaching Oxford, MD

After 11 hours of traveling yesterday (Thursday, May 18), starting around 6:30 a.m., we anchored outside of Solomons's Island, Maryland, along with five other sailboats heading north, with a 10 knot south wind and an opposing current which made the stay a bit rocky. It was 59 degrees with 16 knots of wind from the east when we set off. Only a couple weeks ago we were in the warm and sunny Bahamas with jewel-toned blue water around us and colorful life beneath the surface. Now we are definitely not in the butter latitudes, that ideal place where unrefrigerated butter stays solid but is smooth and easy to spread. We have been wearing jeans for days now, usually with a sweater or fleece top over a long-sleeved shirt. While we are sailing and not in the shelter of the pilot house, we wear our foul weather jackets. Peter has his usual Australian felt hat on and I have a thick knitted beanie. The slippers have come out of the lockers. Yes, I miss the Bahamas!

We sailed all morning on a starboard tack, close-hauled, which translate to heeling or tipping at a 10 to 15 degree angle--not my favorite point of sail. However, even with 2 reefs, we were flying along at 8-9 knots even with only 13 knots of true wind. Between 11:30 and 1:30, the wind was under 10 and we had to use the engine, then we sailed for another four and finally resorted to the engine again to make to the anchorage. We had planned to anchor in one of the creeks around Solomon's but we saw two other boats anchor on the south side of the mouth of the Patuxent River and we decided to join them, making our departure this morning easier. 

Peter and Sherri bundled up for sailing in the Chesapeake

Today, we seet off at 8:45 a.m. and have been sailing on a broad reach (much more comfortable) for hours.  We are now in the Choptank River, and we be turning north into the Tred Avon for Oxford in about 10 minutes. This is it for the year! We had planned to spend the summer on the boat, but our plans have changed for various reasons. A week from today, Peter flies to England from Washington, D.C., and after a few days staying with my friends Lori and Germán in  D.C., I will return to California on June 1. 

We are looking forward to the delicious ice cream at the Scottish Highlands Creamery in Oxford this afternoon.

Made It to the Chesapeake

On Monday afternoon (May 15), Peter finally solved the mystery of the engine, why it wouldn't go into high revs and why white vapor spewed out the exhaust pipe when the engine was out of gear and the revs exceeded 2200 rpm. Taking things apart and investigating the turbo charger and the exhaust elbow, he had found that they seemed to be fine. He had already put cleaner in the injectors with no improvement. We had resigned ourselves to leaving the boat in Beaufort, North Carolina instead of Oxford, Maryland, and Peter had spent the morning and early afternoon making phone calls and arrangements for storage and work. (Beaufort does not provide as good as hurricane protection as Oxford, so this was a major concern as the season approaches.)

When we returned for a walk around 4 p.m., Peter decided to try one last thing, checking the engine's fuel filter (not to be confused with the Racor filter--although I don't know the difference--which had recently been replaced). Lo and behold, problem solved! He called the mechanic who was scheduled to look at the engine on Wednesday morning, and he agreed that sometimes something simple like that could be the problem. We ran the engine at high revs for a quarter of an hour and decided we could depart. I checked Chris Parker's synopsis, and the weather window was still open. 

Quickly we battened down the hatches, stowed things down below and got everything ship-shape for a passage in record time. Before 6 p.m., we were off the dock and on our way! As soon as we could, we hoisted the main and the genoa and killed the engine, sailing with an easterly 10 knot wind on a port tack, close-hauled. We were averaging 7 knots speed over ground. 

By 9 p.m., the wind had shifted to the ENE so that we were forced to motorsail almost directly into wind. Later, it clocked to the south but was under 10 knots, so we had to keep motoring. I tried to sleep early in the night but could not. Peter lay down for about an hour, but then he was up again. Between 10 and 11, I fell asleep and Peter (my hero!) stayed awake all night. I do not know how he does it. At 5:30 a.m. (Tuesday, May 16), I took watch and Peter spent the morning sleeping for less than an hour, then getting up, then going back to bed, then getting up and on and on. By mid-morning, he was up for the day.

Sunrise on the Atlantic of the coast of North Carolina

By 11 a.m., the wind had shifted to the SSW and we were once again sailing, averaging 8 knots speed over ground on a port tack, broad reach. About a dozen boats were racing to the Chesapeake along with us, trying to get in before the predicted thunderstorms and squalls. Most of them were keeping up with us, but they were using their engines (cheating). Mantra was flying with the power of nature. 

By 7:30 p.m., we were following the main channel into the Chesapeake, hearing distant thunder to the north. The mouth of the bay is huge, so we had to travel some distance to reach an anchorage protected from expected north winds. As we traveled beside the shipping channel, I tidied up down below and washed the dishes we had used on the trip, mainly because flies were starting to be a problem, although I think the proximity to land was more of a factor than the miniscule amounts of food on plates and bowls. Before we anchored, I had killed dozens of them. They are not particularly quick insects. 

We dropped the hook in a pouring rain just east of Langley Air Force Base 20 minutes before midnight. Peter put out the sacrificial zincs and we closed up the boat and went to bed. The water is not as warm here as it is farther south, so there was no symphony of sea life. 

Today, Peter worked on the engine again, finding that an O-ring was missing from the fuel filter connection (and had been for a couple years). He put in a brand new filter and spent some time pondering and finally identifying when exactly a filter had been installed with an O-ring--by a mechanic, not by Peter. He is surprised that the lack of proper installation hadn't caused a major problem before this time.

After breakfast, I got to work cleaning the boat. First, I got a blade and acetone to scrape and clean off adhesive from tape which had been used on the bottom side of the table to affix a plastic cover over the real wood. The previous owners had probably done this because the hatch above it leaked, but we have new hatches as of last spring, so we decided to remove the cover earlier this year. Peter was puzzled about what I was doing under the table, because he had not noticed the sticking residue.

Before we leave the boat the middle of next week, I need to thoroughly clean the boat--ceilings, walls, shelves, doors, floors, cockpit. Even though in February I meticulously removed the small amount of mold and mildew that had accumulated over the winter, new fungi had appeared, particularly on the ceilings. Peter had not noticed this either. Today I tackled the bathroom, and I am happy to report that all fungi has been eradicated. 

I also cleaned the refrigerator and made a list of all the food that needs to be consumed in the next week. We have been working toward getting through all the perishable food for the last couple weeks, and I think we will be able to do it!

The Beaufort Blues

We continue to be tied up at Beaufort Docks. Every morning here, we awake to the enchanting sound of birdsong. We are not particularly skilled at recognizing birds by their vocalizations, but there were a variety of melodies and chirps and tweets. When we have been walking, we have seen and heard mockingbirds, house sparrows and European starlings.

As the sun sets, the crustaceans and fish get busy communicating with each other. The small snapping shrimps each possess one outsized claw. As the claw closes, it jets out a stream of water so fast that it creates a cavitation bubble. This bubbles implodes rapidly, creating a shock wave that stuns prey, deters predators, and sends signals to other snapping shrimp. Alpheus heterochaelis is the only known species to produce sound using this cavitation process. The snaps are extremely broadband, with energy extending from a few hundred hertz to about 200 kHz. These signals are among the loudest bio-acoustic sounds in the ocean. The crackling and popping, similar to the sound of hot oil bouncing in a frying pan, gets amplified by the hull, but it is pleasant.

Adding to this constant nightly background music is the call of oyster toadfish (Opsanus tau), which spawn in warm Atlantic coastal estuaries from May through August. Males create nests and then advertise their availability by resonant foghorn-like or burping sounds created with their swim bladders. After mating, it is the male who cleans and defends the nest as embryos develop. Other local fish also produce sounds with their swim bladders, including croakers, sea trout, weakfish and red drums, adding to the nightly percussion performance. In addition, silver perch make a rat-a-tat-tat sound as a counter beat.

Saturday (May 13) was a lovely, sunny day. Peter and I went to the Farmers Market, where there were many more arts and crafts booths than ones selling produce. Of course, it is early in the season, so most of the vegetables were brought in from Florida. We enjoyed live swing-style music; sampled local wine and, impressed with the lively, fruity flavor, bought a bottle of the peach wine; and purchased a jar of cooked and salted Virginia peanuts from the Methodist Mens Association.

Live music at the Farmers Market

After that, we went to the North Carolina Maritime Museum a block away from our berth. On the waterfront side, there is a cavernous boat building and repair space where staff and volunteers work on restoring and making new boats. There were exhibits on the first outboard motors, local fishing craft and keel construction. On display were pieces of oak from live oak trees, ready to be finished and fitted for the knees or bracing. The rounded hulls of the great wooden ships of the 18th and 19th centuries were strengthened against the pounding seas by a series of these braces fashioned from the naturally curved limbs, or knees, of live oak trees (Quercus virginiana). Once live oak is seasoned it becomes as hard as iron, and the grain running with the curves makes it even stronger.

Early outboard motors

Knees from live oak trees

Tools and a wooden boat being restored

In the main museum, there are many fascinating exhibits. We watched a film on the US. Life Saving Service, which preceded the Coast Guard. I doubt that I would be capable of such bravery and endurance.

Also, there were many artifacts from the wreck of the 103-foot frigate Queen Anne’s Revenge, the flagship for the pirate Blackbeard, which he ran aground in Beaufort Inlet in June of 1718. Built around 1710, she was transporting enslaved Africans when, in November 1717 in the West Indies, Blackbeard captured her from French sailors, who had stolen her from the English a few years before. He used her to attack British, Dutch and Portuguese merchant ships in the Atlantic before participating in May 1718 in the blockade of Charleston harbor. When he ran her aground, he transferred his crew and supplies to some of his smaller ships, disbanding his flotilla and escaping from pursuit by representatives of South Carolina’s governor. (He was killed in November 1918 after he returned to piracy.)

The shipwreck of Queen Anne’s Revenge was discovered over 275 years later, in November 1996, lying in about 28 feet of water about one mile offshore from here. Very little of the hull is left, but 30 loaded cannons were found. Expeditions since the discovery have found or recovered a one-ton anchor, loose ceramic and pewter fragments, ballast stones, a sword guard, a brass coin bearing the image of Queen Anne, and sixteen fragments of paper found in a cannon—pages of a sea-faring book that were probably used for wadding. Many of these objects are on display in the museum.

Also of great interest was the skeleton and heart of a 33.5-foot adolescent male sperm whale that came ashore on Cape Lookout in January 2004. The heart went through a process of plastination at the University of Tennessee in Knoxville, a technique which replaces the water and fat with synthetic material. Because of the process, the heart can be touched and does not smell or decay. We were extremely lucky that an employee or docent had opened the glass case to show it to two local women, and we were able to touch it. It felt like plastic, but all the parts—chambers, valves, muscles, veins and arteries--were clearly articulated.

Sperm whale heart

After the museum visit, we enjoyed a quick lunch with waterside seating at Rhumbar. Back on the boat, Peter was back in the engine room trying to diagnose and fix the mystery of the engine and I rinsed all the salt from the deck and stainless and then washed the deck thoroughly. It looks good, but not as good as every surface, large and tiny, on the megayachts at this marina, and there would be no sense in trying to compete.

The temperatures cool off quickly after sunset, so we donned jeans and sweaters before going out to dinner at the Dockside Restaurant and then immediately falling into bed for deep sleep, dozing off quickly to the cadence of the sea life.

Mother’s Day (Sunday, May 14) dawned with no sign of the sun behind gray, overcast skies. We took a walk around town, revisiting the Old Burying Ground and looking at lovely houses, and along the waterfront and were contemplating kayaking in the afternoon when it began to rain. 

At the graveyard, we again noticed that, because the elevation is near sea level and the ground is hard, the graves are not very deep. The shallow graves were covered with concrete or brick semi-cylindrical mounds, sometimes looking like fallen columns, to keep the cadavers safe from above ground predators. One tomb has a cannon barrel surmounted on top, taken from the deceased's ship Snapdragon. Captain Otway Burns, a naval hero from the War of 1812, recognized for his prowess in plundering British ships from Nova Scotia to South America, was actually buried in a pauper's grave, but his grandsons prospered and honored his wish to have one of the cannons from his ship mark his final resting place. Near his grave is the grave of the Girl in a Barrel of Rum. The story (not documented in historical records) is that her family had immigrated from England when she was an infant, and she persuaded her parents to allow her to visit her homeland when she was still quite young. Her mother was apprehensive, but her father, a sea captain, promised he would return her safely. When the girl died at sea on the return voyage, her father could not bear to bury her at sea as was the custom, or break his promise to his wife, but chose to preserve her body in a barrel of rum so she could be intered in Beaufort. The sad story obviously rouses sympathy from tourists, who continue to decorate her grave with shells and Dollar Store type objects, making it by far the most colorful spot in the cemetery.

Row of graves covered with half-cylinder shaped tops

Otway Burns' gravestone

Grave of the Girl in a Barrel of Rum

19th century monuments

Around 5 p.m., we went ashore for ice cream, but the creamery was already closed. Instead of a sweet treat, after a walk by the water, we ended up having dinner al fresco at Finz, where, unfortunately, the key lime pie was sold out. However, we had a nice chat with three sailors at the next table who were leaving the next morning for the Chesapeake despite less than ideal conditions. They could handle it, though, I am sure. Two of them were graduates of the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis (a few decades ago) and all had many years of experience on the water.

Southern magnolia blossoms

Goldenmane tickseed (Coreopsis basalis)

Old house with goldenmane tickseed and clover for a front lawn

Marina Willis House, 1872

Today, we awoke before 7 a.m. After breakfast and a hot shower for me in the marina bathhouse, I borrowed one of Beaufort Docks four vehicles—all funky and old—and went to Morehead City to get a much-needed haircut, some things as CVS, and a wonderful fountain Diet Coke (with ice!) from McDonald’s. Peter got to work contacting boatyards and mechanics in the area, since he was unable to identify or correct the engine problem over the weekend, meaning we will probably have to leave the boat here instead of in the Chesapeake Bay for a few months while we spend time with family in England and California and Maryland this summer. It’s not ideal, because there is less protection from hurricanes in the Carolina lowlands, but we may have no choice. The port captain for the Ocean Cruising Club contacted us yesterday evening and provided us with offers of transportation and the use of her washer and dryer as well as good local information.

At the moment, Peter is once again down in the engine room, doing the dirty job of changing fuel filters on the remote chance that this might help. Even if it does solve the problem, we then have to decide whether to face adverse conditions to reach the Chesapeake. Stayed tuned!

Breaking news: Peter did it!!!!! We must leave immediately to reach the Chesapeake by tomorrow night. Photos later.

 

Detour to Beaufort, North Carolina, on the way to the Chesapeake

On Thursday, May 11, we pulled up anchor in Winyah Bay before sunrise, at 6:15 a.m. The wind was 15 knots from the east, but once we were out on the open water, it dropped to 10-12 and clocked to the southeast, remaining steady throughout the day. We sailed on a starboard tack, close-hauled, at around 7 knots speed over ground for hours and hours, heeled over significantly. The 2-3 foot waves were closely spaced, so the ride was bumpy, but we were happy to be making good headway.

The stove is gimballed so that it is level even when the boat is not

Waves drenching the windows on the port side

Around 7 p.m, we turned on the engine to head almost directly south into wind to navigate around Frying Pan Shoals. This took 3 hours. Around 10 p.m., we turned the engine off, relishing the lack of noise, and resumed on ESE course along the Carolina coastline. With many miles to travel on the same tack, Peter went to bed after we were sailing again, and I took the first night time watch. The sun set in an orange lit sky, and I used a small light to do crossword puzzles and read from time to time, always aware of the angle to the wind and wind speed, the sound of the wind in the sails (which indicates if the wind has changed), the direction of the boat, the depth and other factors, adjusting course as necessary to maintain the angle to the wind and speed. The sun set, the waning quarter moon rose, the stars appeared, the instruments provided me with information. And so it went until 5 a.m., when the sky gradually began to lighten in the east and the wind changed to southwest and dropped to less than 8 knots, forcing me to turn the engine on. Off course, this awakened Peter, and after he was assured that everything was under control, obeyed my command to go back to bed until 7 a.m. The sunrise was nice, heralding another long day--and night--of sailing. (These photos are not in order, and I don't care to deal with it.)

Beginning of daylight, 5:30 a.m.

Sunrise, 6:10 a.m.

Sunset yesterday, 8:00 p.m.

Moonlight on water, 4:30 a.m.

The instruments in the pilot house

Peter was concerned that a front was going to make it impossible to get into the Chesapeake before squalls set in, but he was able to talk with Chris Parker, the weather guru, on the single sideband radio, and was reassured we could arrive in time to find a safe anchorage. And so, it was full speed ahead with the engine! That is, until Peter noticed that the engine was not developing full power. He went down into the engine room and put some stuff somewhere in order to clean the injectors, but this did not help. He listened to the turbo charger as I increased the revs while in neutral until noxious white smoke was pouring out from the exhaust at the stern (at which point I went back to idle), and he thought that the turbo charger might not be spinning properly. In any case, we decided that since there were no quick fixes, we had to change our plans. Going around Cape Hatteras without a dependable engine would not be wise, so we altered course and headed to Beaufort (Bo-fert), North Carolina. One of the marinas has a full-service yard and is a dealer for Yanmar engines, but they would not be able to work on the engine for over a week. However, they gave Peter the names of a couple local mechanics who could come to a different location, the Beaufort Docks on the historic waterfront where we are now situated. 

Actually, this made me happy for several reasons. First, we can sleep together in our bed this evening in flat calm water--no second night of watch! Secondly, Town Creek Marina (and yard) is not near to the heart of the historic district or anything at all, really, so I wasn't disappointed that we could not get in there. 

As we approached the entrance to the channel, Peter noticed dark birds skimming over the waves, dipping their feet in the water. He was able to identify them as Wilson's storm petrels.

So now we are at Beaufort Docks. The two dock hands were perhaps the most efficient pair we have ever had help us tie up. I checked in at the office, and then we had a quick lunch on board. I spent about three hours exploring the town and going to the Beaufort Historical Association Visitor's Center and the Cape Lookout National Seashore Visitor's Center, where I enjoyed talking with volunteers about the area. 

The town of Beaufort, the third oldest town in North Carolina, was colonized by the English in 1709. Prior to that, the area was inhabited by the Coree Indians and later French Huguenots. The town was laid out in 1713 by Robert Turner, the holder of the original land grant, and named in honor of his friend, Henry Somerset, Duke of Beaufort. It was incorporated in 1722. By the late 1700s it was an active seaport inhabited by sailors, privates, privateers, fishermen, soldiers and planters. Still standing are over 100 homes from the 19th century as well as several private residences over 200 years old. The houses range from traditional cottages to elaborate Queen Anne and Greek Revival styles. The predominant feature of all of them are the deep porches; some houses have porches both the first and second stories. Around some of the houses are unusual picket fences with an up and down pattern created by pickets of different lengths. They may have a connection to an early law stating that pigs had to be kept in the yards. Pigs found outside of the fences could be slaughtered by the finder, although half of the meat had to be given to the church wardens to feed the hungry.

Parterre garden behind the John Manson House, 1825

Large home on Front Street

Queen Anne style house

Potter House, 1903

Beautiful garden

Dr. James Manney House, 1812

It is getting late. Peter has been working on solving the engine problem himself; no mechanics are available until next Thursday at the earliest. We are both hungry and must soon find a restaurant for a decent meal.