Blog 026 – Cape Lookout, Dolphins, Turtles and Tears

We have family visiting. Liana’s sister Lita and husband Joe are here on a well deserved vacation. So we’re all going sailing. The morning we left the marina I had butterflies in my stomach. Silhouette has been tied to this dock since July and it’s now October. I did my best to not allow the “what if’s” to get in the way, as we readied to go to sea. The previous day I locked the tool boxes and strapped down everything in the engine room. This morning as Liana stowed the salon and galley, I checked the oil in the main engine, the coolant level, and belt tension on the alternator. Then I did the same for the generator. I took one last look around and went topside to start them up. Both kicked over right away and with a small puff of blue smoke and the familiar glugs of water from the exhaust, they are both running perfectly. In a few seconds the smoke was gone and the diesels were humming. Joe and Liana topped off the water tank and I brought in all but two lines. Our neighbors from Loralei, a 1965 Hatteras trawler came over to cast us off. I still have a few butterflies. This harbor is tight quarters for a 50 foot boat to make a complete three hundred and sixty degree turn. But I eased her into gear and turned on the bow thruster and we were off. Captain Fatty, a sailing author that I have read most of my adult life has a term for maneuvering a boat in close quarters. “Slow is pro”. So I did just that; a three quarter turn, back down to starboard, tap the bow thruster to port, slip back into forward, and we cleared the last obstacle – a piling that sticks out from the end of the last dock.

The water was calm and still as we quietly slipped free. I radioed the Cunningham Bridge operator on channel thirteen and arranged for an opening. Soon the bars came down across the roadway and the horn on the bridge signaled a warning to motorists that it would be opening soon. We eased closer to the bridge and the butterflies were gone. Now just excitement as we would soon be in the open waters of the Neuse River. This was Joe and Lita’s first time going through a cantilever bridge on a sailboat. They were standing on the front deck watching the mast clear the towering sections of roadway now pointing towards the sky. I radioed a thank you to the operator for opening for us and he bid us a safe trip. Five blasts on the horn and the bridge started to lower for the motorists waiting patiently. Two more bridges to go, both 65 feet tall, fixed bridges that cross the Neuse River. This day they were only at a 62 foot clearance because the river was still running at flood stage after Hurricane Mathew. We still had a couple feet of clearance but it always looks like we are going to take the top of our mast off on these.

It took an hour to get out of the shallow river channel going from one marker to the next and then the river opened up to deep water several miles wide into Pamlico Sound. A beautiful morning but not a breath of wind. The water was blue at a distance but up close dark as tea from all the flooding. I wished we could raise the sails but still no wind and we were dodging tree limbs and floating grass mats. The grass looked just like a green lawn floating down the river. Soon the school bus ferry passed in front of us and another carrying vehicles going the opposite direction. We just slowed and watched them pass ahead. As we approached Oriental, NC we could see sailboat masts lining the coast. Sailors cram their boats in here every fall waiting for the end of October and the end of hurricane season so they can once again go south to the islands. Opposite of that is the entrance to Adams Creek and sailboats, trawlers and fishing boats are all lining up like a waterway traffic jam jockeying for position to enter the narrow channel. Some power boats speed up so they’re not trapped behind sailboats. Adams Creek joins Pamlico Sound to the Atlantic Ocean via Beaufort and Moorhead City.

As the river narrowed, we saw more and more floating obstacles. The water was running swifter from all the flooding and we had to post lookouts on the bow to help avoid the flotsam. Occasionally a trawler would pass us and at one point we had to move way to the edge of the creek to make way for a tug pushing two huge barges ahead up the creek. This area was like taking a boat through a forest. We passed little marinas and homes with docks. One of these homes was bright, almost neon, green with colorful pink, orange, blue, and yellow adirondack chairs on the deck and painted flip flops on the wall. We snapped a few pictures and I’m pretty sure Pinterest already has this one somewhere.

Finally, we went through the railroad bridge and out the channel markers of the Beaufort Entrance. The tide came to greet us with swells big enough to lift up our bow and crash us down into sprays of white foamy water. I secretly prayed Lita wouldn’t get seasick. But the new crew (Joe and Lita) were actually having a blast, taking pictures of Silhouette sending salt spray ten feet into the air, and loving the ride. Thank the Lord. What a great day to be at sea.

As the sun was lowering on the horizon and we made our turn north towards a little speck in the distance that was Cape Lookout Lighthouse. It’s a hundred year old tall white structure with black diamonds up the sides. The seas were lumpy and we still felt the heavy swell with gentle rolls side to side. On either side of us shrimp boats were streaming their nets. One was bright red and white with what looked like a brand new paint job. The other was a more salty black and gold. They worked together and with the groan of their huge diesels, they pulled their nets ever so slowly through the water. We were mesmerized by the flock of sea birds looking for fish at the surface around the shrimp boats. Pelicans flew in formation just above the water scooping up fish and looking like a bomber squadron. Seagulls, by the hundreds, all taking a ride on every free inch of cable the shrimp boats had from one outrigger to the other. Seahawks glided over the surface and picked up fish. The local fishing boats surrounded the entrance to the Cape.

Just then we were joined by dolphins. They seemed to be joining in on the party the birds were having. The red sea buoy marking the entrance to the Cape came into view and now all eyes were on Shackleford Banks, a long narrow island off our port side. It’s a wild horse sanctuary where the ponies roam free on the sand dunes and they have the beach all to themselves. We could make out a few standing at the tops of the dunes. We slowed down as we entered the current at the entrance of Cape Lookout. A dark blue and white mega-yacht was anchored in the middle of the protected bay. We could only make out its upper structure from where we were. It must stand fifty feet off the water to see so much over the top of the sand dunes. We slowly slipped by the mega-yacht in awe of its size. That’s cruising for you, whether you are sailing in something you traded your first car for or a 10 million dollar super-yacht, the view is the same.

Just past the big yacht we dropped the hook with a splash, and the chain payed out for a minute or two. We were firmly attached to the sandy bottom with a 120 pound anchor and 200 feet of chain. I eased us into reverse and increased the rpm, the chain stretched out and we stopped moving. The anchor is set, solid as a rock. The sun set and the sky lit up in orange and blues streaks as we celebrated with a toast. Ribeye steaks on the barby for the first night at anchor were sizzling on the grill. After a wonderful dinner and cold drinks we watched the sky. The Milky Way, the Big Dipper and millions upon millions more stars could be seen. Wow, with only the light from the lighthouse sweeping across the bay the stars were brighter than ever.

The next morning we woke to perfectly still mirror-like water. The boat hardly rocked all night. One of the shrimpers had anchored ahead of us during the night. We sat in the cockpit and drank steaming hot coffee and watched small fishing boats make the first ripples through the calm waters as the sun climbed over the clouds making sun beams over the lighthouse.

We had been keeping close contact with the family because the girls Mom had again, recently taken a turn for the worse. After several years in and out of hospice, it looked like soon she would finally be going home. The girls called and talked to her, the phone held up to mom’s ear. No response from her as they tearfully and with crackling voices talked with her, “Love you, Mom”…
That morning we shared funny stories of their mom taking her kids camping without even a tent, and a rainstorm came through. Other campers felt sorry for them and helped put up a tarp in the middle of the night. Every year they went huckleberrying with her twin brother, Ike in the mountains of Idaho. We talked about how she would take the kids on all these brave half-planned adventures that made them who they are today. The life of a military mom making the best of every situation.

Were loaded up dry bags and water bottles and all piled into our 12 foot Caribe dingy and motored to shore. We could hear the surf crashing on the other side of the dunes and we were determined to find a little crossover path. North Carolina dunes protect the shoreline from hurricanes so the dunes themselves are protected. We needed to find the passage between them. Shells were everywhere, big ones, little ones, every step colorful bits the sea has cast onto the sand. The recent hurricane stranded lots of wood and even more trash on the shoreline – it was a little sad to see all of it.

We went to see the horses on Shackleford Bank and then dingied across the bay to the lighthouse. Halfway across as we were flying over the waves our 25 horsepower Yamaha outboard all of a sudden slowed to just above an idle. What? It slowed so fast, bow waves filled the dingy. I idled it to shore and determined it must have fouled the plugs with water in the fuel. We toured the lighthouse grounds and took the boardwalk through the dunes to the Atlantic shore where people were fishing in the surf with huge rods. We walked along the sand and picked up perfectly formed conch shells as they rolled onto the beach with each new set of waves. We were hungry so we headed back to the dingy. I replaced the plugs but we still had the problem, so it was a slow wet ride. The wind had started to blow against us and every wave got the girls up in front a little wetter, but Joe and I stayed nice and dry. Thanks for taking a few for the team ladies. I should have thought to bring a chart because halfway to the boat we started to see changes in the water color and the waves were shallow almost like rapids over rocks. And then it happened, only a foot or so deep and the prop turned up sand. We worked our way to deeper water and finally made it back to the boat. The girls were now thoroughly soaked. After changing clothes and a late lunch Lita and Liana laid out on paddle boards in the afternoon sun. It was too choppy to even try to stand up. As Joe and I fished, we saw a leatherback turtle pop its head up. He must have been three foot across. We saw dolphins near the boat as hundreds of tiny fish jumped at bugs for their dinner.

Very early the next morning we received the phone call…Mom had gone off to be with the Lord during the night. Through tears we watched the sun come up and shared more stories about how their mother had made the world a better place. The last of a generation. The last of eight children of Swedish immigrants. The pain and suffering was finally over and we all felt a sense of relief, she finally woke up in heaven this morning. God is so good. We love you Mom, you will always be loved and missed.

Helen Jean (Palmen) Diaz
Feb 10, 1924 – Oct 20, 2016