Whirlwind crossing of the USA #5

We settled in at the Elks Lodge on the hills of Lake Havasu City and watched the weather go by on the other side of the lake. I'm so glad we persevered with the tailwind down the Tehacapi and across the Mohave, because the next three days pushed one crazy storm after another, and they were a lovely sight from our elevated and safe position on the other side of the lake.

Mohave Storms on the West side of Lake Havasu

When the wind let up we rolled on to Phoenix and stayed with the Elks of Tempe. It's a lively crowd and we enjoyed our own carefully measured out space at the bar where we shouted at one another to overcome the 6' space between us.

Dim sum @ Mekong Palace in Mesa AZ

One of the good things about Covid is the extra elbow room in dining areas. I am a huge fan of dim sum but do tend to get a little claustrophobic with the heavy carts rolling close to my table, the extra breathing space is deeply appreciated.

 

The next morning we caught up with a friend for dim sum, then we took our full bellies on the road to Willcox, AZ. The RV park is overrun with tumbleweeds, roadrunners and rabbits in the day and coyotes at night. Chloe got her walks in early and we didn't have to coax her in to the RV at bedtime while we were there. She's smarter than she looks.

Another beautiful desert sunset. Way to put on a show for us Willcox!

Our goal the next day was Las Cruces New Mexico, home of the best sopapillas in the nation. It would have been a short trip, put since the predicted winds didn't turn up and we were making good time, we kept on rolling through El Paso and into Van Horn TX. When we fell into bed we thought we had beat the coming windstorm, the next morning my phone woke me up with an ugly red screen and a blaring alarm... 75 mph winds were on the way to Van Horn bringing possible tornadoes. We downed our coffee quickly, hit the road and got as far as we could into Central Texas to hide. The safest spot we could find was in Abilene TX where we hid for a few days from the worst of the wind, and let the rest of it pass over us. They greeted us at the door with "sorry about the pool, the winter broke it, and the season isn't done with us yet, tie down anything you don't want flappin'." Which seemed like good advice so we pulled the slide in when it seemed prudent, and while it howled its hardest we baked brownies and binged Hulu.

The most Texas thing ever, horse lodging at the RV park, just look for the elevated fiberglass horse sporting the Lone Star paintjob

Good advice from longtime sailor Carolyn Goodlander, when storms are threatening... nothing calms worries like the smell of baked goods in the galley

Texas has a very casual attitude about masks and Covid in general, so we regretfully traded the fancy Texas restaurant steak dinner I'd been craving for some basic Door Dash from whatever chain was delivering and kept to ourselves. Once we got into the green hills of East Texas the rest of our ride was uneventful, we spun podcasts and gobbled up the miles.

Yep those are the RV connections way up in the front of the bus. It's impossible to turn around and come in from the wrong direction at this park to make the connections work - we'd end up going the wrong way down a narrow twisting road for many a mile, unable to pass the folks going the proper direction. It's good to be self-contained. Connections - bah! Who needs 'em?

Even Atlanta denied us its usual drama. It was smooth sailing into North Carolina.

It always pays to run with the trucks through big cities. They know which lanes to be in, and communicate with one another about road blockages, etc. We have saved ourselves frustration time and again by noticing when the trucks suddenly shift lanes and following suit. This particular shift happened on the way into Atlanta and saved us from old wreck carnage being cleaned up in the fast lane, we slipped in behind this truck and went around it smoothly.

At the border between South and North Carolina is a complex called South of the Border - it's a restaurant, amusement park, RV park, motel, fireworks superstore, gas station; quite the spectacle. There's no missing it from the freeway, I think it might really be something to see in non-Covid times. Apparently there's even a crocodile park in there somewhere. We gawped at it as we rolled on by, and immediately afterwards we crossed the border into North Carolina and it started raining on us. Of course.

As we approached the bridge in New Bern, the last proper city before Oriental, Bohemian Rhapsody came on the radio. We head-banged our way into town, where friends were waiting for us at the dock and Minerva rested in her slip, beckoning us on to the next leg of our adventure.

The Fine Art of Kedging

 The forecasts threatened strong winds from the South. The transient boater had just tied up on the outside of the A dock on the South side.

As I walked by with Chloe, I paused beside his boat and started up a conversation.

"Hello, there are strong winds predicted from the South later today. Here that means the water drops away at the same time the waves roll in, and you will get blown up against the dock. You'll probably want to kedge your boat off the dock to avoid being blown up onto it, or anchoring out, or going... well, pretty much anywhere else". He wrinkled his nose at me, pursed his lips and didn't otherwise respond. He glanced up at the sky, which was calm and beautiful for the moment. I translated that as a dismissal. Huh.

Shortly later I saw another boater from A dock approach him, probably to have the same conversation. The helpful neighbor later returned with some spare fenders. Lance and I focused our attention on Minerva; double-checked all of our lines, adjusted chafe guards, and set a new spring line.

Less than an hour later the winds picked up. Minerva free-fell in her slip from +2 feet of water under the boat to 0 and then beyond. We teeter-tottered in the mud with 6 inches or more of water line exposed.

It was then that I heard some shouting. The transient boat was getting battered against the dock, exactly as predicted. One wave would pick her up and try to deposit her on the dock, then the water would disappear and she would try to wedge herself under the dock until the next wave tried to deposit her on top of it again. On one such occasion her sidestay and chain plate took some damage when she got hung up under the dock but the next wave insisted on lifting her anyway. Several boaters from A dock were trying to keep her off the dock with their feet and spare fenders, it was exactly the sort of situation that causes someone to lose fingers or a foot. The winds were getting stronger. Lance suggested I call the dock manager.

Within minutes the dockmaster and his agile crew arrived on a fast dinghy and took control of the situation. With everyone's help, the sailboat was soon safely kedged from the dock and riding the waves gracefully. The boaters of A dock breathed a collective sign of relief, reclaimed our donated lines and fenders, counted fingers and our limbs, and retreated to our own boats while rubbing sore backs.

As we were departing his boat he mentioned he had owned it for a grand total of only ten days.

Kedging from a dock is a handy thing to know. Here's how it's done (photos from the next morning when conditions were significantly calmer):

Step 1: Set the anchor out away from the dock. In this case, since the boat was already tied to the dock a dinghy was used to accomplish this.

Step 2: Using a second line, tie a rolling hitch onto the anchor line, run it through a stern winch and take out the slack. The two lines on one anchor create a triangle-shaped bridle that shares the effort along the length of the boat

Step 3: Tighten the two bridle lines while loosening the dock lines, thus pulling the boat out away from the dock.

Boaters are a helpful bunch. Later discussion revealed I wasn't the only one to warn him about the coming conditions, in addition to the brief conversation I had witnessed at least four other people had told him the same thing and he failed to take action until his boat was receiving damage.

I hope that the boating community elsewhere is as tight-knit and helpful as it is in Oriental. As we begin to move around one thing is for sure: we'll be respecting the local knowledge as it is offered wherever we land. What a cool community, what a great resource.

And I'll be practicing that rolling hitch. That's a cool knot.