July 31, 2007 At anchor, Jackson Creek
Deltaville , VA
The Zen of Crab Traps…….. and Bicycle Adventures
As we cast off from Coinjock, NC to start the last 50 miles of the Inter Coastal Waterway, our thoughts were not only of wonderful crab dinners and knowing that we would reach the base of the Chesapeake Bay by evening, they were also of the tedium awaiting us with 9 bridges and 1 lock in the last 20 miles, the worst stretch of the northern end of the ICW.
And true to form, it started off with narrow, shallow channels and lots and lots of crab traps. For the non-sailors out there, the crab trap is one of our worst enemies. They consist of a baited wire trap on the bottom, connected to a rope line which goes to the surface and terminates in the dreaded buoy which marks the location of the trap. The buoys are of different colors and patterns of colors so that each crabber can identify his or her traps.
The trouble with this system is several fold. Firstly, the crabber is, essentially, unregulated as to where he can place the traps. These are usually located where you want to sail. Also, while each crabber has a different color for his traps, the colors are carefully picked so that they are practically invisible in most light and wave conditions. These stealthy buoys lie in wait of the unwary sailor who happens upon them and, not seeing them until it is too late, runs his boat over the buoy and promptly catches the line on his propeller and begins to drag the trap along with him. This situation is particularly nasty when the engine is running and the propeller turning at which time the line between trap and buoy promptly wraps itself around the propeller shaft until the motor stops.
Unfortunately, reversing the propeller will never cure the problem and the hapless sailor is relegated to dropping an anchor, donning snorkel gear, and attempting to swim under the boat and cut the line away from the propeller and shaft before being able to continue on his way. Keeping in mind that the line has been wrapped around a prop spinning at over 1,000 revolutions per minute, and wound tight enough to stop the motor, removal can be a formidable task. Sometimes this task is beyond the mere snorkel and requires the donning of full scuba gear to get enough time to remove the tangle.
Needless to say, the prudent sailor avoids the traps like the plague. However, the sailor normally finds himself in a contest of wills with the crabber who, apparently, places his traps in such a way as to impede the progress of the sailor to the greatest extent possible. This might consist of the ‘minefield’ pattern which consists of groups of traps placed in an apparent random patter, but close enough together that maneuvering through them is nearly impossible. Another favorite is the ‘mining of the channel technique’, which consists of placing the traps right on the edge of a marked channel. This anti sailor technique is particularly noticeable in large, shallow, open bodies of water where a deeper, navigable channel snakes it way through the shallows. Where this happens the traps are grouped closely together on both sides of the channel with few if any traps in the miles of open, shallow water. Unless, of course, the crabber has placed an additional minefield of traps in the shallows in order to catch the unaware power boater.
As we sailed up the ICW, we have felt in constant battle with the crabbers of every state in route. Our boat is just wide enough and just deep enough that we need every inch of channel we can get and just when it is at its narrowest, the number of crab traps increases accordingly. It seemed obvious that all crab must live on the edges of channels, and nowhere else. We have felt at times that we were being singled out for vicious trap mining, or that the situation was part of some larger plan to test our cruising skills to their maximum.
But then we arrived at Coinjock and had really good crab, and stayed over an extra night so that we could have more really good crab. And as we cast off that morning and encountered the usual channel mining crabber techniques, we noticed a strange thing. As the route twisted and turned, the crab buoys were all easy to see, not camouflaged as before, and they were not intruding on the channel, but were actually marking the way, creating a safe highway through the shallows. Yes, that savory, sweet taste of succulent crab had shown us the light. The crabber was not our natural enemy, but the spiritual brother of the sailor, providing not only sustenance, but acting as a silent sentinel keeping him safe and marking the way. That is what a really good meal will do for you…………………
Having negotiated the last miles of the ICW we arrived at mile “0” in Portsmouth, VA. We had arranged to stay at a marina for two nights as the anchorage was exposed to a strong blow forecasted for the next two days. Being in a marina would also give us an easier way to visit with Lew’s uncle and aunt who lives in nearby Smithfield and three of his cousins who live in Hampton and Virginia Beach. As we pulled into the marina we noticed that one of our neighbors was be “Leap of Faith” that we had been following, but never could meet, for several weeks and hundreds of miles.
The next day we finally got to meet “Leap of Faith’s” owners Bob and Lynne Walsh and made a date to meet for drinks later in the day. Lew’s uncle and aunt also would come to visit at the marina at about the same time, so for the rest of the day we had a wonderful bicycle trip around historic Portsmouth, visiting the restored historic neighborhoods, museums, and the lightship named for the city.
A quick explanation about bicycles is in order here. Lew has for years been a bicycle nut. Not necessarily the fastest or strongest cyclist, but has always been a “gearhead” or a nut for the equipment. So he has always had the latest frame, the lightest wheels, carbon fiber this, carbon fiber that, etc, etc. When we made the decision to cruise, the road bike went on eBay and, after much research, he put together a folding bicycle with the lightest frame, the fastest wheels, carbon this, carbon that, etc. And as we no longer owned a car, a new folding bike was purchased for Lyn as well, with aluminum frame, latest gear, etc, blah, blah. Needless to say, this represented an investment of thousands of dollars.
The marina in question had floating docks (one dock master noted that floating docks “make a bad skipper look good”. Lew likes floating docks!) which were very wide and with floating finger piers between each slip that were much narrower. After our ride Lew parked both bikes on the dock as we would likely use them the next day. But as we were expecting company, later he moved them to the end of the finger pier to keep them out of the way of folks boarding the boat.
Uncle Jim and aunt Maryanne arrived and walked down the dock and onto the finger pier, and we both jumped down on the pier to welcome them. For those of you unfamiliar with floating docks, they move up and down when you walk on them (narrow finger piers move a lot). So with four people moving on the dock it rocked………… a lot…………….and both bikes fell over……………and went over the side of the dock…………..into 10-12 feet of murky, muddy, dirty marina water. We just stood there with our mouths open; helpless to stop them, as both bikes quickly sank out of sight, leaving only a trail of bubbles and one water bottle that popped to the surface. We were in absolute shock.
With no previous experience in marina bicycle rescue, we quickly improvised. Give our guests a drink, grab a boat hook and try to fish them out. Our longest boat hook would not even touch the bottom. So we lashed two boat hooks together and that finally reached the bottom. But after a half hour of probing the mud with the hook, nothing could be found. So we had no choice but to drag out the scuba gear and go down and get them. That, of course, was when we realized we could not find the dive weights on the boat. Undaunted, Lew suited up, jumped in, but was too buoyant to get down.
After tossing around several ideas, we decided to use the dinghy anchor as weight. So Lew headed down, light in one hand, anchor in the other, to look for the bikes. He was met with zero visibility, even with a light, and the current quickly carried him over to the next slip. Obviously this would not work, so he dumped the useless light, had Lyn stick the lashed together boat hooks in the mud and went down again, one hand on the pole, one with the anchor. Once on the bottom he had to feel for the bikes by moving on his hands and knees digging through the silt, holding onto the pole. After several tries, moving the pole to several locations, and finding everything from broken concrete to rope to hoses to pieces of pipe in the mud, he finally located both of them and brought them to the surface. All of this was to the great amusement of Uncle Jim who had come for a visit and got an unexpected comedy of errors!
One thing we learned from all of this (in addition to not parking bikes on floating docks) was that over an hour on the bottom allows salt water to get into every nook, cranny, cable, etc possible on a bicycle and that it takes hours to get it all out! But they were rinsed for hours in fresh water, drained, and literally soaked in WD-40 the next morning. Hopefully, they will be OK, time will tell.
So with Lew in wet shorts and hair, bleeding from cuts garnered on the bottom and on barnacles on the way up, we visited with uncle and aunt and then received Bob and Lynne from “Leap of Faith”. It was a good visit, catching up on family news and discussing the travails of cruising the ICW (they ran aground at the same places as us), broken equipment (theirs was freezer, bummer), getting mail, and all of the other joys of cruising.
The next day we got to visit Lew’s cousin Anne, and the next evening with his cousins Dottie and David. These are cousins that he saw fairly often as a child, but had not seen for the over 25 years. It was great to see them and Portsmouth turned out to be not only an interesting and picturesque stop, but an unexpected family reunion as well.
Our current plans take us from Portsmouth to Cape Charles on the east shore of the Chesapeake, then Deltaville on the West and then work our way north to Washington, DC. We’ll keep you posted…………..
Best regards and fair winds,
Lew and Lyn
S/V Sea Wings
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