The voyage of the Akvelina (LONG Post!)

[DougSea]

Well guys, in my ‘Kent Narrows to Long Island Sound’ post I asked if any of you had done this trip. Here’s my story of the first trip on ‘Akvelina’ (to be renamed) my new to me 1997 28TE from Maryland to Connecticut:

Friday, July 14th. Rental car packed and ready to go the night before. We’re supposed to leave Connecticut at 6:00am for the 4 hour drive to Kent Narrows but I’m not much of a morning person and we get going closer to 7. No big deal, plenty of time and I’ve made this trip twice in the last month, know I can do it in under 4 hours. This is important because I’m going to drop my wife and daughter off at the marina (Lippincott Marine) and continue to Annapolis to return the car. The finance broker who’s coming to do the closing is going to pick me up on her way and we’ll ride together back to the boat – great plan…

Great plan meets the New Jersey Turnpike – where a tractor-trailer filled with municipal garbage has overturned and totally blocked the southbound lanes. It takes 4 hours (!!!) to go just seven miles!! Whole Friday plan goes out the window. This means that instead of getting underway Friday afternoon with a short hop to the C&D we’re going to start on Saturday.

Once we knew we weren’t leaving Friday we took advantage of Lippincott’s hospitality (our broker, Sonny, was very helpful), spent some time in the pool, had a fun time at dinner at a very happenin’ place called ‘The Jetty’ and spent our first night on the boat.

Saturday, July 15th. Get underway at 7:00am. Here’s where the real fun begins. I have paper charts onboard of the entire trip, except for the upper Chesapeake. Just couldn’t find a chart anywhere. Lower Chesapeake, no problem, Middle Chesapeake, no problem, Upper, problem… but hey, the chartplotter has the chip so no worries. Chartplotter refuses to start up properly. Try everything I can think of, no luck. So, no chart, no chartplotter. Great. Stop at the fuel dock to top off the tank. (BTW – if you live down there – your fuel is CHEAP!!) The dockmaster there doesn’t have a chart but he has a ‘road map’ of the Chesapeake. Better than nothing, we’ll go nice and easy until we hit the main channel. To make a long story short – Fog, Haze, Rain (POURING RAIN), Get lost (Twice!), Stop and ask a guy fishing where the heck we are (I will NEVER live that one down!), get back on course. I hear the Maryland coast is beautiful, I have no idea, I never saw it! Finally make the C&D and start to relax. Boat is running great, the windshield wipers were very much appreciated, and my wife and daughter are enjoying themselves!

Get through the C&D and now my chart set and handheld GPS takes over (Always, always carry a spare GPS!) Head down the Delaware River, pass some very large ships and some HUGE trees floating down the river (more on that later), and several uneventful hours later make the Cape May Canal. Pass two 28TE’s going the other way, both with much shinier versions of my blue hull which gets my wife asking about Awlgrip. Get into the harbor and encounter a parade of huge sportfishermen heading into the Canyon Club marina. Maneuver past them and the major dredging operations going on in the harbor. We go a little further in and follow a guy to a fuel dock. Fuel up; ask about a slip for the night. The guy recommends the Canyon Club or South Jersey Marina. Figuring I didn’t fit in with the guys in the parade I opt for South Jersey. Get directions over the phone from the dockmaster. Make a wrong turn into a side channel. Going very slow as it just doesn’t ‘feel’ right. Run aground. Use the bow-thruster to turn around and get out the way I came in (if you read my post on the bow thruster – this is how I know this method works!!) Find my way to the proper channel and get put on the fuel dock for the night. Very nice marina with great showers that makes the ladies happy. Have a great dinner at the restaurant across the street, can’t recall the name, it wasn’t the Lobster House which was right next-door. Have some nice conversations with a couple of other transients and head to bed. Given that we’ve gone 120 miles with 200 to go we have plans for a 6am departure.

Sunday, July 16th. Get up and head for the showers. Someone has locked the men’s shower room. Great. The wife stands guard and I use the ladies. Get everything squared away on board and slip out into the harbor right on schedule.

Right into the fog.

Things just aren’t going my way. Pull out of the channel into a mooring area and drop the hook. My wife is less than happy but there’s no way I’m headed out with the visibility at less than half a mile. Spend about an hour waiting and sure enough the sun comes up and burns it off. Pull the anchor and head out to sea.

Now things are looking up. Head out about three miles off shore and turn to the north. A few minutes later something to the east catches my eye. Look again and I realize a have about 10-15 dolphin keeping pace with us about 300 yards away. Very cool! I take it as a good sign.

The Jersey shore goes by VERY slowly at 18 knots. And although the ocean started off very calm the winds build out of the west and, while not really bad, the ride is less than smooth. Still things are going well and the miles are ticking off steadily. Make the turn in to New York Harbor around 2 in the afternoon. Winds out of the west have freshened considerably and the ride is a bit rough. Love the Albin! My old boat would be beating me to death, the Albin just shoulders through it all. Come in under the bridge and head up the East River. About the time I’m committed to the river the fuel gauge, which has been dropping slowly but steadily, plunges! Now I’m worried. For those of you not familiar with the East River, there’s a lot of traffic and no place to pull in for fuel. I’ve been planning all along to stop at City Island, which is just at the start of the Long Island Sound, now I’m wondering if I’ll make it. Great.

Still, the gauge is a ‘bit’ above the 0 mark so I’m feeling somewhat ok. Pass Manhattan and go through Hell Gate. Just coming past Riker’s Island when my wife shouts ‘What the h#((!’ and I look over my right shoulder to see an enormous patrol boat, from one of the local scholastic institutions, bearing down on me from astern. (They’ll remain nameless for now, until I finish talking to the head of the school) I’m about 20 yards, or less to the west of a preferred channel buoy and this idiot apparently decides it’s more important to pass it on the right side than to grant me my right of way. Dumps all of the dishes in the galley and my daughter from her sleeping spot on the engine box. Welcome to NYC!

At this point I’m getting really worried about running out of fuel so I slow to a trawler like 7 knots. Get out of the river and into the Sound. City Island and fuel are just ahead. Moving slowly I come to the sign for the fuel dock. Look at the shore. Look at the sign. Look at the shore again.

There’s no fuel dock anymore.

Fantastic.

Now, I know there’s another fuel dock on City Island. It’s on the other side of the non-operating draw bridge. Non-operating as in ‘does not open’. Eyeball the bridge. Eyeball the radar arch and antennas. Look at the bridge again. I climb up and lower all of the antennas and the all-around light. Tell my wife “Babe, I’m super stressed out. You need to watch as we come to the bridge and tell me if we’re going to make it. Yelling is very likely.”

We make it by inches. There was indeed some yelling. And I have the luck of getting under the bridge just before a bunch of yahoos on jet-skis and ski boats come flying under the bridge, their wakes would have banged me off the underside of the bridge for sure. I’m surprised New York doesn’t have more boating fatalities than they do. Hit the fuel dock and take on $400 worth of diesel. Tank isn’t quite full but I can’t justify spending more than $400! Take this as a second, friendly, ‘Welcome to New York!”

Still, I’m happy now. 20 or so miles from home, full (or almost full) tank, plenty of daylight left and I’m in familiar waters. Two miles later BANG from forward, followed by BANG from aft. Stop the boat. What the h#((!! I know I’m in plenty of water so there’s no way I’ve hit the bottom. Rip open the hatch by the helm. Nothing. Look aft just in time to see a 2x4 or 4x4 about 4 feet long surface in the center of my wake. Great. Concerned for the boat I quickly check the forward and aft bilges. Nothing. Maybe it was nothing. Put the boat in gear. Seems ok. Try reverse. Also ok. Look back for the piece of wood. It’s gone. Probably floating just below the surface for the next sucker! (Remember those trees is the Delaware I mentioned earlier – didn’t hit any of that crap!! Had to hit the man-made stuff in New York!!)

Put the boat back in gear and accelerate. Almost immediately I can tell there’s a vibration and she’s not turning her full RPMs. Damage to the prop for sure. Slow it down and limp the 20 miles to the new home mooring in Norwalk Connecticut. Check the bilges along the way, very little water, no worries. Also getting some very funky depth readings from the depth sounder. Get her on the mooring and shut her down. Clean up all of our stuff and check the bilge one more time. Water is definitely higher than I remember. And I can hear the sound of running water. Not good. Pull the deck box out and look at the shaft seal. There’s a steady stream of water coming in now that she’s stopped and cooled down. This is fantastic! 300 miles of challenges overcome and I take out my shaft seal 20 miles from home.

Leave the boat and spend a sleepless night worrying that my battery will die and the boat will sink at her mooring (didn’t happen). Got down to the boat first thing the next morning and took her to the local marina. Had her hauled. First thing I noticed was why the depth sounder readings were off – the transducer was GONE. Like it was never there! Then we checked the prop. Blade one. Ok. Blade 2. Ok. Blade 3. ¼ inch back of the others! Great!

And so there you have it. The story of the Akvelina and our first cruise. Fortunately there’s a happy ending. The yard did a great job and had her back in operation quickly, the insurance company came through on their end and we’ve since had several very pleasant trips. At this point I’m figuring that I’ve taken care of all of the bad luck – it’s all smooth sailing from here…

[Elizabeth Ann]

Good story Dougsea. I'm sorry to hear about some of your slight misfortunes, but glad to hear you pulled through.

E.A.

[AlMar]

Great story Doug! Sounds similar to ours. (to be told later), but my daughter and I made it from the keys to milepost zero, and ALL my electronics quit at the Hampton Roads Bridge/Tunnel about 8 miles from my dock. Couldn't have happened at a better time.
AlMar