32:22.72N 64:40.32W

Still in Chesapeake.  But it has been many weeks since the flocks of migrating geese passed us noisily on their journey southwards.

So onwards we sail, in company with friends Richard and Alison on Vulcan Spirit, to Solomon Island at the mouth of the Patuxent river where we anchor in sheltered Back Creek, almost completely landlocked and as calm as a mill pond.   The next day, after an early morning dive to check the propeller and anodes, we continue on to Deltaville, a pretty anchorage.  Here we cycle along peaceful roads.  So quiet here – no-one about.  Richard and Alison attempt to improve our proficiency at cribbage with only partial success.

By the following day, a gale is blowing.  But it’s time to move on, to Norfolk, the world’s largest naval base.  Fortunately, the gale helps to push us in the right direction and we complete the long trip in record time, arriving in daylight to pass row upon row of warships – cruisers, destroyers, aircraft carriers and a battleship - all in various states of repair and renovation. 

Not much further to the open sea now…

A precipitous exit

We had planned to spend some time in this interesting town.  But having only just washed the salt off the decks from our last trip, we were advised by weather guru Herb on SSB radio that the weather ‘window’ to head out into the Atlantic was fast closing.  If we wanted to leave, it was now - or wait for the next window, whenever that might be. 

So despite not having had a chance to top up with milk and fresh food, we tidy up, stow and secure any loose items, don our full thermals and wet weather gear and, at 11pm the same evening, haul up the anchor and set off again. 

Destination? 

When it comes to describing their destinations, sailors are usually pretty coy.  You just never quite know.  So they use words like towards to describe their objectives.  We would head east for 250 miles or so and then on towards the Virgin Isles, over 1000 miles to the south.  But the most important thing was to avoid northerly winds.  These would produce huge seas when blowing against the north setting gulf stream - hence our detour to the east to clear the stream quickly.

We sail over the tunnel part of the bridge/ tunnel that crosses the mouth of the Chesapeake and soon we are out in the ocean flying along in the strong southwesterlies, spray everywhere.  We sail through what appears to be dry land in the middle of nowhere – huge carpets of Sargasso seaweed – and soon the boat is festooned with greenery.  Stellie, who has been rather missing her gardening since leaving England, really appreciates this.  In a trice she is up on deck to get on with some weeding.

The seaweed is actually an important eco-system.  Turtle hatchlings and eel larvae live in it for the first few years of their lives, floating about in the Sargasso Sea to the west of Bermuda.

The winds remain strong, the gulf stream with its many eddies buffets us about, but we are making excellent progress.  After only 36 hours we are able to shed our thermals and enjoy milder weather, tempered by the warm stream that at times pushes us to the north at 3 knots. We re-commission the watermaker, last used on our trip to Maine, and it works perfectly.  With 25 gallons of fresh water produced per hour we can now shower as often as we like, and we continue to head to the east to maintain the favourable winds. 

It’s a tough call

Decisions can be like this sometimes.

Never ones to make any decision where thoughtful prevarication will serve perfectly well instead, we are faced with a difficult choice.  We get to about 180 miles to the NE of Bermuda, keep our radio 'sched' with Herb, and a dilemma arises.  Apparently there’s a depression bringing bad weather and gale force winds to the south of Bermuda.  And it’s due to arrive at the weekend.

This means we must choose from the following 2 options:
a)  Reef all sails, prepare storm staysail, lash everything down, batten down the hatches (not sure what this means but it sounds good), start medication - stugeron, prepare towing warps, etc, or
b)  Book a table at the Swizzle Inn steak house, Bermuda, for Friday night.

What would you do?  Anyway, it just goes to illustrate why sailors use the term towards when giving their destinations.  By the following evening, we are safely tucked up in St Georges harbour, back in the familiar surroundings of lovely Bermuda after a record trip from Norfolk in under 4 days.  Unplanned, maybe, but it's certainly a welcome break. 

 And the steak at the Swizzle Inn?  Delicious, particularly when washed down with a rum swizzle (or two)…

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