ICW #1

On Oct. 30th we celebrated Vince’s 61st birthday aboard Fortnight. A rare weather window opened the day before that allowed us to leave the Solomons (at last!) and continue our journey southward down the Virginian coast. Temperatures were just above freezing. But we were bundled up in foul weather gear/mittens/touques and any skin that was still exposed quickly warmed in the bright sunshine. We found a “60’s” station on the Sirius and, with Vince at the wheel and me propped up next to him, sang our hearts out with Diana Ross and the Supremes. The years fell away as I recalled a similar time in the distant past when we cruised together not in a boat but in a Mustang convertible—wind in our hair, sun on our faces—singing the very same songs. It was a wonderful day! We found a pretty cove off Mobjack Bay to spend the evening and the next day nipped into Norfolk just ahead of more nasty weather and 5’ waves.

Talk about the American “war-machine!” For more than 2 hours here we motored past mile after mile of naval aircraft carriers, destroyers and enormous warships that must’ve cost billions to build and maintain. It blows my mind to think that this is only ONE base! When I contemplate the total picture, it’s almost inconceivable to imagine how much manpower, money and resources are being drained from the American economy to feed the military monster.

The naval parade finally ended as incongruously as it began at an up-scale shopping complex and military hospital in the centre of downtown Norfolk. Here at “Hospital Point,” where the Inter-Coastal-Waterway (ICW) officially begins, we joined a flotilla of boats anchored out for the night awaiting daybreak, Nov.1st—the earliest date our insurance companies allow us to set sail south past this point.

At 9:00am when the first lift bridge began opening, the race was on. Vessels of every size and description jockeyed for position, engines revved to max, nudging past each other along the narrow channel. Vince, ever the gentleman, fell back—allowing others to overtake our boat. But as we lost our place in line, I realized that it could also mean being late for a bridge, waiting an extra hour at a lock and ultimately losing a coveted anchoring position for the night. So, when it was my turn to take the controls, I used full throttle and, nervy bitch that I am, pushed the boat to its limit. By the time we reached the locking area, we had succeeded in overtaking several other vessels and were able to literally squeeze into the very last spot before the lock gates closed behind us. Good thing too! Because when we all spilled out the other side and began grabbing spots against the canal wall to tie up to that night, we got the 2nd to last one. Thank god for that! Little did we know at the time that Hurricane Noel was offshore just hours away and, had we not been able to secure this safe anchorage, our boat with its deep draft could’ve been in for a very rough ride.

There are about 30 other boats tied up with us in this coveted section of the canal—most of them Canadian. A party atmosphere of “meeting and greeting” prevails as we exchange information about weather, routes and the best places to eat. Our location is inland, about 20 miles south-west of Virginia Beach where Hurricane Noel is forecast to arrive about 2:00am Saturday morning. Last night the first winds began buffeting the boat and straining the lines typing us to shore. About midnight Vince got up, dressed, and went out to check that they were still secure. I awaited him, cozy inside under the warm covers of our little bed. When he returned and we snuggled up once again, awake in the dark and listening to the howling outside, it was all very exciting. And I was very glad that we were not “anchored out” as we know others are, further south at the edge of Albemarle Sound. But when the big winds hit tonight, I wonder if it will still be “so much fun” or if this dream cruise will begin to turn into a nightmare.