Trip with Tripp #9 THE REWIND: Back to Elizabeth City, the Dismal Swamp Canal, Getting to Cape Charles (2/21 – 2/23)

See where we’re at!

So we hit the seas from Morehead City around 0900, after the guys docked next to us almost gassed us out with their diesel engine at 0700. Carbon monoxide is a hell of a drug.

Tripp, though initially a little squirrelly about having opted for the safer route of being in the Outer Banks and having to retrace our steps back up Adam’s Creek, the Neuse River, the Pamlico Sound, and on to the Alligator River was soon convinced by the fair sailing, the Modelo, the sun, and the CONSTANT Channel 16 coast guard chatter about shit that was going on. Including:

A mast from a dismasted ship floating at large

A log.

A sheet of wood.

And a naval vessel that had capsized off Hatteras.

All of this relayed to us from multiple stations talking over one another incoherently every 10 to 15 minutes. Yet, somehow we never heard anything about the GIANT FIRE whose smoke we could see in the distance all morning.

Tripp decided to radio the coasties on a whim. “I bet they ask us to go investigate this thing.” And sure enough, they did. And were told, resoundingly, NO.

We anchored on the south side of the Alligator River-Pungo River canal that night, and headed out before sunrise on the 22nd.

Canals have been recognized by experts (me and Tripp, specifically) as the best part of the trip.

The 22nd concluded in Elizabeth City, where we tied off at the public dock we’d avoided last time. And then, left early once again to get back into the glorious Dismal Swamp Canal. And by early, I mean like 4:30 AM and it ended up being a damn 19 hour day.

Neil was tending the Deep Creek lock on the northern end again and he confirmed my suspicion from the way down that he does, indeed, go fishing on his lunch breaks. What a gig. After he sent us through and wished us safe travels, he radioed us to point out a bald eagle coming by with a fish, since he saw my huge tourist camera swinging around on my neck.

We got to the Gilmerton Bridge and the railroad bridge next to it in Norfolk having made good time. Then, we had to wait on the north side of the bridge for nearly two hours waiting for the train to come with zero communication from the bridgetender on Channel 13. The commercial traffic around us was even less pleased than Tripp, especially the captain of the tug Island Pilot. He blasted his horn at the bridgetender, when he was finally through, letting us know on the radio that

“And that horn wasn’t for you, that was for the bridge. That conduct was not just unprofessional, it was illegal.”

Then, when I went to take a picture of the Island Pilot as it passed us, I and one of the ABs over there noticed each other trying to get our camera’s ready and snapped each other at the same time.

Got some footage of goings on in the Chesapeake on the way up.

At 2315, we finally made it into Cape Charles. Except for an hour where I crashed so hard the engine couldn’t keep me awake, I’d been up for 22 hours, Tripp for about 19. We were so slap happy with the drunken feeling of sleeplessness that neither of us even thought about how loud and obnoxious our entry was for anyone possibly sleeping on their boats (and there were a few people there). Even beyond the engine, Tripp was sweeping the place with a spotlight looking for our berth in C10, while we were singing lines from some old Howard Stern bit about his limo driver in a bit on some crime show, which included the line “FBI, EVERYBODY DOWN ON THE FLOOR!”.

Listen to that remix here. I bet a spot light and “GET DOWN GET DOWN” pleased no one who heard it.

And when we got to the dock, I gave Tripp the bowline which, despite not having been undone at any point and used multiple times that day without incident, somehow was friggin’ unmade. So over the engine chugging, came Tripp’s “NICE F****** BOWLINE!” and then me taunting him about how he was too old to go to the bar. He decided to show me wrong.

Then, when the bar was closed anyway, we spent a good hour before falling asleep laughing about how absolutely delirious we had been to not realize how annoying we were being. And neither of us had registered mentally that the boat right next to us had a light and television on, in addition to tiki torches.

Hello Cape Charles!