Thursday, October 3, 2019

Unlimited

Copyright 2019 by Kenneth Van Camp, all rights reserved.

Driving car o'er asphalt ribbon
Time is marked by crossings and towns.
Check the traffic, watch for construction,
Miles click by, exits count down.

Sailing across the cerulean sea,
Passing clouds, meandering sun.
Distance is measured in waves and tacks.
Each one crawls by, each mile hard won.

A meeting of the sun and sky
Where different shades of blue may blend,
It's hard to see where one begins
And where the other one will end.

The car can go anywhere's a road,
Not beyond, and not between.
Given my druthers, I'd use a rudder.

Sunday, June 23, 2019

Voyage to Knapps Narrows

Copyright 2019 by Kenneth Van Camp, all rights reserved.


What do you call two men on a 19 foot sailboat in the middle of a 5 mile wide bay, in 3-4 foot seas, without another boat in sight, having the times of their lives? Insane? But this was just the start of my 3-day sailing adventure with my 26-year-old son Michael. The long weekend was to include a stalled motor in a sweeping current in Knapps Narrows, a dragged anchor that nearly washed us ashore, and a rudder mishap that left us without steering just 2 miles from our final destination.

It all began on Saturday morning on the last weekend of April, when we launched Pooh's Corner, our 19' O'Day, at the Franklin Street boat ramp in Cambridge, MD. We were underway by noon, but the wind was blowing over 20 and whitecaps were plentiful on 2-3' seas. Small craft advisory? Baah, that's for sissies!

We donned our lifejackets and hoisted our reefed main and working jib, and headed out. We had 18 miles to cover that day, all of it directly into the wind and waves. The Choptank River is only a mile wide at Cambridge, but as you proceed downriver it quickly widens to 2 miles, then 3, then opens up to nearly 5. Our destination was Dun Cove, a small inlet on the eastern side of Tilghman Island, a narrow barrier between the Choptank River and Chesapeake Bay.

By mid-afternoon the winds had eased a bit to a more comfortable 12-15 knots, but the tide, which was with us, was going in the opposite direction from the winds. The combination causes confused seas, with waves increasing to 3-4 feet as the afternoon (and us) wore on. We were like kids in a bouncy castle, but getting sprayed regularly. My son declined to take the helm in these heavy seas, which I was secretly thankful for because that put him in front of me, providing a good spray shield!

The wind didn't decline further until we were nearly at Tilghman Island and the sun was starting to set, so we motored the last mile into the cove. While Michael steered us into the cove, I went below to consult the charts and there I discovered our first misadventure - our small cooler had dumped over (along with many other contents of the cabin) and melting ice had leaked all over the floor of the cabin. A half inch of water on the floor is not a big deal, but Michael's sleeping bag was in the middle of it.

Dun Cove is a large, peaceful inlet and we watched the million dollar homes go by from my million dollar yacht. We were the only boat anchored in the cove.
After anchoring, I went below to straighten up the cabin, and there discovered that both quarterberth side cushions (which we had planned to sleep on) were wet. Apparently, crashing into the waves all day had found some leaks in our deck. We put the wet cushions and sleeping bag on deck to dry, and cooked dinner in the cockpit.

In the morning, our cushions and sleeping bag were dry, and we weighed anchor to take the 2 mile run to Knapps Narrows. The Narrows is an aptly named 1/2-mile long passage through Tilghman Island which provides a shortcut between the Choptank River and the Chesapeake Bay. It is only a couple hundred feet wide, and to get through you must pass under the Knapps Narrows draw bridge. Currents run fast through the Narrows, so a reliable motor is essential. We had timed our arrival to coincide with the slack at high tide, but planned to return an hour later and the tide would be starting to push against us by then. Our destination was lunch at Characters Bridge Restaurant, which is on the western side of the bridge. Since we were coming from the east, we had to pass through the draw bridge twice - once coming and once going.

The Knapps Narrows bridge is the most frequently opened drawbridge in all of Maryland, opening more than 10,000 times per year! A busy job and we helped make it a little busier!

After a delicious lunch of crab soup and crab cakes at Characters Bridge, we signaled the bridge tender for the second time and the bridge started to open - upon which our motor promptly died. We discovered then just how swiftly the current was running already. Checking the motor to make sure it was full of gas was probably something we could have done more efficiently BEFORE leaving the dock, but we managed to get the motor restarted before we were swept out to the Bay, and re-call the bridge tender for a third time to make our exit.

Sunday afternoon we covered 12 miles back upriver to La Trappe Creek and my favorite anchorage off the Choptank River. Along the way we were stopped by the coast guard for an inspection, and I fretted they might call us because our port-a-potty was not an approved marine head with a holding tank and legal discharge device. But, they only checked our registration, life jackets, throwable preserver, horn, and fire extinguisher, and were on their way. Whew!

We reached La Trappe by 5pm and enjoyed a quiet, relaxing sunset. Soon after the sun set, however, the wind changed direction and suddenly increased to 20-25 knots, causing us to drag our anchor and nearly run aground on the beach before we realized it. Lesson learned: don't be complacent about properly setting your anchor because a calm day can quickly turn sour.

We got underway early on Monday, with only 5 miles to cover back to Cambridge and a close haul in about 10-12 mph winds. The tide was low and we suddenly discovered a shoal on the northern side of the Choptank about 2 miles from Cambridge. I hustled to pull the centerboard up as I heard it dragging, but wasn't quick enough on the rudder. It hit something hard and broke the rope that holds it in the down position. With the rudder swung up, the boat was nearly impossible to steer!

We dropped anchor in the middle of the Choptank River. There was no traffic on the river (we had only seen a few boats all weekend including the coast guard), so it wasn't dangerous. Replacing the rudder downhaul turned out to be more difficult than I imagined, as the old rope had been painted over and could not be removed. So we MacGyvered a replacement, and were soon back under way.

It was an exciting weekend, with pleasant memories and exciting stories to tell. (The wave sizes and wind velocity increase with each telling; the dangers of floating motorless in the Narrows and dragging the anchor become life-threatening; and the coast guard jon-boat turns into a cutter with a Gatling gun mounted on the bow. But we'll save that for the book version or Broadway musical!)

Wednesday, May 16, 2018

Sailing... Pass It On

Copyright 2018 by Kenneth Van Camp, all rights reserved.

In April, I spent a 3-day weekend sailing the Choptank River and some smaller tributaries of the Chesapeake Bay. In some ways, it was old hat since I've sailed the Choptank a couple of times before - but in other ways it was brand new.

The two new things were a new boat (well new to me), and having my son aboard with me. The boat was an O'day 192, which I bought in the middle of last season and had not been able to "cruise" aboard until I spent some time getting it ready. This winter I worked steadily on her in my back yard, getting her outfitted for cruising.

But having my 25-year-old son Michael join me for a 3-day cruise was definitely a first. If I look back on how far he's come in the 7+ years since his near-fatal motorcycle accident, I can realize just how blessed we are. That he's re-found his love for sailing is a bonus. When he was young (10 or 12), we used to race our Thistle together on Lake Nockamixon. He also used to enjoy tooling around on our family minifish. But as he got into his teenage years, he found girls and other things to occupy his time, and sailing was not on his list of favorite pasttimes.

This is not an unusual story, of course. Many children of sailors enjoy sailing in their younger years, but leave it behind in the teenage years. But don't lose heart - many do come back to it, like my son.
The weekend brought us some exciting sailing weather, as the spring winds on the Choptank River have usually been for me. The Choptank is a large river, in some spots wider than 5 miles. On our first day of sailing (Saturday April 21), we were in sunshine, 75 degrees, and 10-15 knot winds out of the southeast - which was at our backs as we left the boat ramp at Cambridge and headed for our first night's anchorage. It was perfect sailing conditions, and Michael steered for the entire the 3-hour trip, easily guiding us into our anchorage in a small cove near the mouth of La Trappe Creek - a distance of less than 5 miles.

Weather on the remaining days was not to be quite so accomodating. That night, the wind clocked around 180 degrees, the temperature dropped into the 40's, and the wind picked up enough to signal a small craft advisory. Our plan had been to sail 10-12 miles northwest to Tilghman Island on Sunday, where we would stop for dinner at a restaurant on Knapps Narrows before anchoring in Dun Cove for the night. However, with 10-15 knot winds gusting to 20 and predicted high temperatures in the low 50's, beating to windward was not our idea of a fun afternoon.

So instead on Sunday we slept in, cooked a hearty breakfast (luckily my galley was ready for use, either in the cabin or in the cockpit), read, played some games, and talked. We ventured out to sail for a couple of hours in the afternoon, exploring more deeply into La Trappe Creek, but didn't go far. We had plenty of food for 3 days, so we opted for an easy day.
It was also a good time for long discussions and father-son bonding. It reminded me of some trips I had taken as a child on my father's sailboat, as we explored the waters of Long Island Sound. Fond memories and a lifelong love of sailing had been nurtured on those trips, and I like to think my son gained some of these too on our 3-day excursion.

Monday morning we were up early to sail back to Cambridge. The wind was blowing even harder than it had been Sunday, with 15-20 knot winds gusting to 25 (and again a small craft advisory). Fortunately, the wind would be at our backs, so we reefed the main and headed out into 1-2 foot seas on the Choptank River. Once into open water I considered raising the jib, but Michael talked me out of it, as we were already moving along at near hull speed under reefed main alone. The waves increased to 2-3 feet as we surfed back the 5 miles to the Franklin Street boat ramp in Cambridge. We were there in under 2 hours, including the time it took to navigate out of La Trappe Creek.

Sailing can be a wonderful way for families and friends to take outings. It can teach children life lessons about preparation and self-sufficiency (and it can be a fun way to learn). Find a young person in your life and pass it on.

Monday, October 24, 2016

Ted's Phishin' Expedition

Ok this post has nothing to do with sailing, just some fun I was having. The following rap song (to teach the fictitious employee Ted how to avoid email phishing) has earned me my company's coveted :-) "Security Rock Star" award!

Ted's Phishin' Expedition

Copyright 2016 by Kenneth Van Camp, all rights reserved.

Ted I've got to talk to you, so listen at your best.
It's even more important than Kardashian and West!
So stay right there I'll talk to you 'bout something we call “phishing”.
Not some guys with rod and hook, these bad guys have a mission!

I know that phishing is a name that's sounding kind of funny,
But I bet you won't be thinking that when they've stolen all your money!
We're talking about emails now; if they're from who it says,
Or if they're really just a fraud, let's see if you can guess...

That email you just got it says your account is being closed,
But do you think your bank would email notices like those?
And what about misspellings, and all that awful grammar?
They should be some clues to you, they'll hit you like a hammer!

I know this email claims to be official and important,
But if you click an unknown link, you could lose a fortune!
So read your mails closely Ted, see if they're suspicious.
It could just be a fake you see, from someone really vicious!

REFRAIN:
Oh yeah, Ted you're gonna go far!
Oh yeah, you're a security rock star!

So instead of clicking right now on that email link,
Just take a minute - STOP and THINK.
If you believe that email just might really be legit,
There's safer ways to get that website and to visit it.

Instead of clicking you could type it in your browser's address bar;
Or maybe use your fav'rites, or a bookmark can go far.
And know the lock on the address bar means that website is secure,
So don't give them information unless you're very sure.

Anti-virus software prevents a bad infection,
No need for an expensive cure when using your protection!
And always keep your system and your browser up to date.
Don't wait to close the barn door when the horse is out the gate.

And just one more thing Ted, before I let you go...
Is that email fake or real? Sometimes it's hard to know.
If you get suspicious mail, no matter where it's from,
Report it to security@dnb.com.

(REFRAIN)


And thanks Ted! You da man!

Friday, April 29, 2016

Kindred Spirit

Copyright 2016 by Kenneth Van Camp, all rights reserved.

I sailed today through a pod of dolphins -
Propelled by mighty fins.
Their sails rode waves and tumbling froth;
My sails rode the wind.

What lies beneath that steel-grey dorsal?
If I could hear, what would they say?
What drives them to follow me?
Are they protecting, or is it play?

Together we sailed like this for a time,
Questions unanswered but thoughts aligned.
Then they sailed their way,
And I sailed mine.
 

Tuesday, April 12, 2016

Rainy Springtime Can't Go Sailin' Blues

Copyright 2016 by Kenneth Van Camp, all rights reserved.

I got the rainy springtime, can't go sailin' blues,
Should be zany flingtime but this rain has got my muse,
Yeah those weather hatin' drops of satan
Got me so my id's deflatin'
Now I'm lacin' up my meditatin' shoes.

I wanna see my baby sailin', just for old time's sake,
Hate to see my baby ailin', when she should be on that lake,
Yeah I'm callin' up my yogi
And some downward-facin' doggie with my sunglasses and croakie
Try to chase away that boagey with my inner peace of cake.

Oh I got the rainy springtime, can't go sailin' blues,
Yeah got my brainy big mind, gonna take me on that cruise,
I could focus on Proud Warrior or hit the bars, be loud and whor-ier,
Or drink alone just feelin' sorrier,

Naaa...ma St'ay in bed cause I can't choose.

Saturday, February 27, 2016

A Girl, a Hobie, and a Gust of Wind

Copyright 2016 by Kenneth Van Camp, all rights reserved.

Most people assume it is far more risky to cross oceans on a small boat. In fact, it is the bigger boat, with its lethal swinging spars and highly loaded lines for sails, anchors, and towlines, that is more likely to maim or kill you.” - James Baldwin, Bound for Distant Seas

Hanging on to a capsized Hobie Cat with my ankle stuck three feet above my head was not quite the way I expected this sail to end. The ropes that hold my ankle in a secure grip are chafing with each passing wave, and I'm beginning to lose feeling in my foot. Thankfully, I am wearning a life jacket and I am in no danger of drowning. A passing sailor has gone for more help to try to right the Hobie, which will hopefully free my foot.
My survival instincts kick in, along with my pride. I want to untangle myself and emerge, saying, “no big deal,” and “I got this.” I pull myself up, searching for the end of the rope that is holding my ankle. I feel for it with my hand, but it is nowhere within reach or sight. There is nothing to do but wait for help to arrive.
It all started with a beautiful girl, a boom to the forehead, and a ride to Southampton Hospital with the Bay Constable... but that was 35 years ago, so maybe that's going back a little too far.
Today's adventure began on the unthreatening, Caribbean beach of the Sandals Grande Antigua resort, with my even-more-beautiful wife of 31 years decourously lounging on a beach chair while I confidently strode to the water sports desk to take out a Hobie.
The wind was initially light as I took off from the white sandy beach without a care in the world. With the warm turquoise waters passing harmlessly beneath my pontoons, how could there possibly be any risk? As patches of darkening ripples preceded the occasional puff of wind, I leaned out farther over the side and hooked my foot under the hiking strap. The Hobie was really beginning to fly now.
A big gust brought the windward pontoon high above the water, and I realized the boat was overpowered. I've been sailing small sailboats all my life, so I know the first step is a quick jerk up on the mainsheet to release it and spill wind from the sail. Of course, this isn't my boat. On the Hobie, the mainsheet block is reversed, so the jerk to release the mainsheet has to be down. Or should I say, the jerk pulling the mainsheet the wrong way was me? Lesson one: know your equipment.
The second step when sailing all alone on a small boat like the Hobie in a non-hostile environment, if you can't spill wind from the sail, is to try to climb over the windward side of the boat before it passes the 90 degree tipping point. When I was a kid sailing a Minifish, I had gotten so used to the feel of my boat capsizing that I could almost always get a leg over the side and onto the centerboard before the sail barely touched the water.
But this, of course, was not my boat and I didn't know the feel of it well enough to anticipate the capsize. Lesson two: see lesson one.
The worst part was the foot hooked under the hiking strap. This foot was now supporting my weight as it slipped down the trampoline-like material I was sitting on and came to rest in the center webbing that held the two halves of the tramp together. The hiking strap, meanwhile, was now over my shin. As the boat passed the 90 degree mark, my last thought was, “Something's going to break, and I doubt it will be the boat.” My ankle and tibia seemed the most likely candidates.
Fortunately, the Hobie design is forgiving. The trampoline material stretched, and although my ankle became firmly gripped between the tramp ropes and hiking strap, nothing broke as I tumbled into the water. After spending the next 10-15 minutes in the water with my foot extended a few feet over my head, the Sandals “red shirt guys” quickly righted the Hobie, I was able to extricate my foot before all feeling was lost, and I escaped with nothing worse than an ugly bruise and minor abrasions. (Those of you who are Star Trek fans know the “red shirt guys” are expendable, and one of them got trapped momentarily under the Hobie because he was trying to pull me up at the same time he righted the boat. I saw him come sputtering to the surface moments later.)
For me, I'm not sure which was bruised more: my ankle or my pride. The nurse's recommendation was to keep the foot elevated, out of direct sun, and a warm bath in the evening. (“Uh honey, I'd get it myself, but the nurse said...”) Could've been worse. Actually, it could have been a lot worse. Lesson three: never underestimate the importance of your support network. We all need help sometimes.

The next time I took a Hobie out, I brought my “movable ballast” to help keep the windward pontoon down on the water. Lesson four: Don't call your crew “movable ballast”, even if it's preceded by, “Honey, in all the Caribbean, you are by far the most beautiful...”