IBR + LBD

The crew of First Light was up before first light getting ready for departure. A long day was in the offering and letting daylight dribble away while still at the dock seemed silly. A weather check the night before suggested it would be a perfect day to tackle the south end of the Chesapeake Bay. We have crossed that chunk of water several times and rarely has it been an easy task. But the GRIB files were showing winds calm to less than 10.

Of course they also suggested that all of the rain that came with a cold frontal passage the night before would be offshore come morning. But...come morning it was overcast and foggy. Still, why worry about a little drizzle? It would give me a chance to drive from my inside steering station with windshield wipers thunking away.

Just as we pulled in the last of the lines holding us to the pier, the drizzle turned into pretty heavy rain. Not TRW rain but enough to ruffle up the water and reduce the visibility to about ½ mile. IBR! Instrument Boat Rules! 

It was just as much fun as I thought it would be. A half mile takes 7-1/2 minutes to pass when one is doing about 4 knots. Of course boats coming down the channel will pass faster and required a bit more attention. But the channel is wide and we were hugging our side. Sure enough, a ghostly looking freighter loomed out of the gloom and we passed with no issues. Cool beans. I could learn to like boating in this kind of weather. IMC (Instrument Meteorological Conditions) in an airplane means keeping track of heading, altitude, attitude, navigation, traffic, and communications all while (perhaps) getting bounced all over the sky doing 300 knots. But it the Boat? Speed...4 knots. Attitude and altitude? Not an issue. Navigation? Moving maps and chart plotters. Communications? Not much chatter on channel 16. I was grinning like a kid on Christmas Morning.

The scuzzy weather lasted all the way past the line of Naval Ships and out into the James River. Passing Fort Monroe and turning north into the Chesapeake the sky cleared but the wind picked up. Thus started our LBD...Long Bumpy Day. Every one of the weather sources we normally check got the day wrong. The wind was not light and variable. It was out of the North at 10 to 15, sometimes 20. The current was running north. The two were playing slap and tickle, leaving First Light bashing her way to windward in two to three foot, somewhat confused seas. It was not a pleasant ride for the first 9 and ½ hours of the 10 hour, 51 minute trip. It was enough to take most of the fun out of the day.

The Crew taking a break on the foredeck and yes he has a lifejacket on.

The good news is that all that banging around was a chance to get to know the boat a little better and trust its seaworthiness a little bit more. It would have been an ugly, likely impossible, day up on the fly bridge. But at the lower helm? Okay, not comfortable but not terrible either. On a pretty regular basis the bow would drop hard, shaking the boat and sending a cascade of water up above the anchor. But the shape of the hull tossed it outboard with virtually none of it landing on the foredeck. Some of the hits were pretty loud, but after a while it sounded kind of normal. The worst hit came from a container ship that ran us down from behind. As it closed, we did a lazy, oval shaped, 360 degree turn to starboard and out of the channel to let him pass by. After 270 degrees we straightened up and took his wake bow on. It had to be every bit of 5 feet as it loomed over the anchor roller before First Light powered up the slope and fell into the hole on the back side of the wave. Ouch. But we soldiered on with nothing apparently amiss.

The boat mascots - Teddy, Bean, and
Nutters didn't seem to mind the ride

We plowed through the day with the crew growing every more weary and the boat thumping its way through the whitecaps. Eventually we made it to Fishing Bay near Deltaville, VA and dropped the hook, sharing the anchorage with 3 other boats. It is just about perfect here at the moment. First Light rides easy to 90 feet of chain and the snubber in 16 feet of water, the winds are calm, and the temperature isn't as brutal as it has been. Up in the flybridge it is downright pleasant. As normally happens, a rough trip is nearly forgotten as soon as it is over. We are content with the day's work we put in, satisfied that pushing on was an okay decision. Even more, we are content that the day is over and we are sitting safe and quiet. Assuming the forecasts are getting it right this time, we are likely to be here a couple of days.

Being anchored here for the first time in eight years feels kind of special. We made it here when first starting out on Kintala. In spite of the challenges that came up, we have managed to bounce our way here again on First Light. It hasn't been easy and I think it fair to suggest that we worked for it. But, on the other hand, it has to be admitted that we are among the luckiest people on the planet. Why is that so? I don't think anyone knows.