Return to home port on the Chesapeake Bay

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Return to home port on the Chesapeake Bay

A local snake expert helps us remove an unwanted hitch-hiker on the Alligator River.

From Beaufort, we headed north via the Intracoastal Waterway (ICW) to the Chesapeake Bay where we plan to wait out the hurricane season and to finish refitting the boat. Read below to learn more about the surprise hitch-hiker (pictured above with June, a local snake expert) we found on board during our return trip north. The corn snake (pictured above) made a surprise appearance one morning while we were anchored in the Alligator River in North Carolina. Not knowing what kind of snake it was, we pulled in to the Alligator River Marina for assistance. A local snake expert came on board and removed the snake from its hideout, much to our relief! Gyatso and crew are currently staying at Port Annapolis Marina in Annapolis, MD while we re-rig the boat.

Log Book Entries

Saturday, 6/24/06--Having been out of cell phone and email range for the past month, we spent five days in Beaufort to catch-up on communications and rest. We enjoyed eating out one night at the Beaufort Grocery and used the loaner car to re-provision. We departed at 2:00 p.m. (low tide) and immediately ran aground in the soft mud leaving the slip, despite assurances from the marina that there was plenty of water. It took 65 minutes before the tide lifted us off, and we were on our way north via the ICW. Having missed the 3:00 p.m. bridge opening in Beaufort, we motored around Radio Island and had the wind and current in our favor the whole way. We decided to spend the night at anchor in the South River, just across the Neuse River from our usual stop in Oriental, NC.

We got a late start the next day and had 15-20 knot winds from the SE and choppy seas crossing Pamlico Sound. We managed to dodge dark rain clouds to our west all day and anchored in Pungo Creek, near Bell Haven, just as the winds and squally conditions were increasing. Lisa made mango salsa, Caribbean chicken and rice for dinner. We experienced rain and thunderstorms throughout the night on Sunday before departing in the late morning for the passage through the Pungo-Alligator Canal on Monday. As we battled heavy squalls, packing lots of wind and rain, we made our way past the anchorage that we used to ride out a gale in January. We were relatively protected in the confines of the canal itself and anchored in the lee of the cypress swamp in the Alligator River.

Tuesday, 6/27/06--David was startled awake just before dawn by Lisa's frightful cries from the berth next to him. Not knowing what was up and thinking she was having a nightmare, he first tried to make sure she was awake. Lisa was most certainly awake and pointing frantically at the cupboard next to her pillow. She couldn't find words for what had scared her, so she just blurted out, "Turn on the light!" The teak sliding door of the cupboard was open, and to David's amazement, there on her neatly folded stack of T-shirts was a fairly large snake staring back at him.

After his momentary shock wore off, David immediately slammed the cupboard door shut. We looked at each other and simultaneously exclaimed, "Now what?" We both thought it had bright colors and markings we were not familiar with. I gasped, "Do you think it's poisonous?"

A "snake-up call" at 5:45 a.m. on a squally morning in the swampy surroundings of the Alligator River of North Carolina was enough to get any sailor's adrenaline pumping. Although words escaped her, Lisa didn't need her Ivy League training as an ecologist to know that the situation was not good. A thought flashed through her mind, "Here we are trapped in this confined space -- me in the v-berth and the snake in the cupboard -- this can't be good."

While we assessed the situation, our onboard hitchhiker made his presence known by poking his narrow head and slithering tongue through the slats of the louvered cupboard door. David swatted the cupboard with a pillow, and the snake retreated once again.

We contemplated ideas ranging from using pillow cases to capture it to using our sharpest knife to kill it. No matter how freaked out we were, there was no way we could bring ourselves to the slaughter solution. One more swat to keep him in his place, and we resorted to the quick-and-dirty method for many temporary fixes. David sprang from the bunk, grabbed the first roll of duct tape he could find, and sealed the cupboard shut. We considered whether there was any way out of the cupboard for the snake and decided it was possible but not likely.

Lisa had the engine on, and David hoisted the anchor in no time flat. We almost didn't notice the rain squalls all around us as we motored straight for the Alligator River Marina, about 16 miles away. Although it is in the middle of nowhere and there is absolutely no town or services nearby other than the marina itself, Lisa figured that there might be a game warden associated with the wildlife refuge who could help out. If not, we figured that we could continue on to Coinjock and try there.

On the way to the marina, David asked Lisa how she became aware of the snake. Lisa explained that she awoke to the sensation that someone, or as it turned out something, was lightly tapping on her forehead. The experience was so terrifying that she is not sure whether it was actually touching her or just that she sensed its presence. In the dim, pre-dawn light, she does recall opening her eyes from a restful sleep to see a snake only inches from her pillow.

David exclaimed, "It's a good that it happened to you because if I awoke to a snake next to my pillow we would have had to call 9-1-1 to deal with my cardiac arrest!"

We arrived at the marina before 9:00 a.m., and David went to Wanda, the marina owner, to ask her advice. Her reply was, "Let me put my thinking cap on." Since this option didn't look hopeful, Lisa approached two fisherman in a pick-up truck across the road. As they sipped Cokes and munched on cookies, she told them her tale, explained that she didn't know what kind of snake it was, and asked if there was a fish and wildlife warden in the area. They both grabbed heavy black work gloves and offered to take a look for themselves. In the meantime, Wanda came through with an even better solution. She had contacted a local snake expert who was on her way to the marina. June arrived moments later, just as David was pleading with the fisherman to wait a few minutes until she arrived.

Not that it mattered much to us at that moment, but June informed us that she has been handling snakes all her life. I guess when you live near the Alligator River in the midst of a large, swampy wildlife refuge, you learn to deal with snakes. Lisa pointed her in the direction of the cupboard. After carefully removing the tape, she found the snake hiding under a sleeping back stuff sack. Lisa let out another scream, but June couldn't have been more calm and comfortable as she affectionately scooped up the snake in her arms and began to stroke its head. "The poor thing is dehydrated and starving. I think he has been onboard for quite some time," she informed us.

We joined the others back in the cockpit, with snake in-hand. We were relieved to learn that our corn snake was not poisonous. We learned that he was in fact a "he" and so there was no chance of baby snakes on board. Also known as a rat snake, their main diet is mice and rats. Since he was found hungry, this meant that we probably didn't have any other kind of unwanted guests on board.

Corn snakes are common from North Carolina to Florida, and so we have no idea where it came on board. June estimated that it could have been on board for a month or more. Our guess is that it climbed the power cord while we were hauled out in St. Augustine.

June would not accept payment for her services. We thanked her with a loaf of freshly baked oatmeal bread and then had breakfast in the marina office.

Lisa spent the rest of the day cleaning the boat from stem to stern, emptying each storage locker for a thorough inspection. She finished just in time to batten down the hatches to ride out a storm that the National Hurricane Center had issued warnings about. Like getting back on a horse the bucks you off, she bravely crawled back into her bunk to sleep the next night. It would be awhile before the memory of the snake incident didn't startle her awake in the middle of the night. She now sleeps with the door to her cupboard closed.

In our travels on both land and sea, we are continually amazed at the good luck and generosity of finding people who are willing to help when we need it. Finding a snake expert in the middle of nowhere goes right up there on the list of incredible coincidences and good fortunes for us.

Wednesday, 6/28/06--After a few loads of laundry and showers at the Alligator River Marina, we departed just after noon, and thankfully had an uneventful crossing of the Albemarle Sound. We arrived at the Coinjock Marina in time to get a phone call from our property manager informing us that the basement of our house in Annapolis had flooded. Apparently, the sump pump wore down after handling 10+ inches of rain in recent weeks. Although they would take care of the immediate problem, we decided to make good time and get back to Annapolis as soon as possible to help get things squared away again.

Thursday, 6/29/06--We spent the day motoring north to Portsmouth, VA behind the Buchanan 11 barge "pushing two empties" -- a slow process, but fairly efficient since all of the bridges and locks open on demand for the barges. At one point while passing another barge headed southbound, the barge we were following suddenly ran aground and came to a dead stop, apparently to give the other guy more room. Lisa was at the helm and had almost not time to react. Luckily, she got permission from the Buchanan 11 to pass him to port and squeezed behind the other barge as it passed.

Thunderstorms were starting to threaten as we approached Portsmouth/Norfolk. With Lisa's comment, "I don't like the purple-greenish look of those clouds," we decided to go into the marina for the night. After getting tied up and checked in, a violent storm hit Portsmouth. Hail, rain and winds gusting over 60 knots caught some off-guard. The strongest wind was directly abeam, and Gyatso heeled over about 30 degrees in her slip. We could see water out our ports from the main cabin. After the storm abated, we walked the docks to survey the damage: one boat was dismasted, several broken spreaders, and a half-dozen mangled bimini tops. We were just fine, but those in the anchorage did not fare as well.

Some fellow Tayana 37 owners on Tenacity rode out the storm at anchor. Another boat broke free and blew right past them, breaking their anchor but luckily not smashing into them. They motored out to the edge of the shipping channel and waited out the storm. Their inflatable dinghy was caught by the wind and cart-wheeled behind the boat. They lost all of the contents of the dinghy, including their favorite shoes, and had to spend the next day at West Marine re-outfitting t/t Tenacity.

We breathed a sigh of relief that we did not sustain any damage from this brief, but strong storm.

Saturday, 7/1/06--After an extra day in Portsmouth, our wait was worth it: we had the best sail and sailing day yet in our home waters of the Chesapeake Bay. With a south wind, we sailed on a broad reach, averaging about six knots. The winds switched to the SW late in the day and increased, just as we made our way into the anchorage in Fishing Bay, Deltaville, VA. After setting anchor, we enjoyed the first of several evenings watching local fireworks displays on our way north to Annapolis.

Sunday, 7/2/06--A hot, hazy day with no wind as we motored up the bay to Reedville, VA. After several tries at setting the anchor, we finally got the 35-pound Delta to set and went ashore for delicious soft shell crabs at the Crabby Shack and homemade ice cream at Chitterchat's. It was too hot to sleep, and David was awake most of the night. He kept watch for thunderstorms, but nothing materialized except lots of lightning.

Monday, 7/3/06--Solomon's Island was teaming with activity when we arrived around 5:00 p.m. After looking for a place to anchor, we decided on the less crowded St. John Creek. As we were setting anchor, David noticed something going "plop" in the water near the boat. We traced the source of the foreign objects to some guys on a dock on the shore. It was a potato cannon of all things! We decided to ignore them until it happened again to Lisa later in the evening as she was checking on the anchor. She was in no mood to be the target of their games, and was close to hailing the marine police on the VHF when David reminded her that it was 4th of July weekend, "They have more important things to do than worry about kids and potato cannons."

Short of calling in Homeland Security to deal with the offenders, she decided to return a shot from the bow in the way of some stern words aimed at the source: some "kids" (could have been in their teens or 20s) on the dock of the large home. Basically, she just let them know that she would report them to the owner of house and this did the trick. They scrambled up the stairs and retreated back into the house, as if nothing ever happened. Lisa did call and leave a message with the local visitor's bureau to let them know that shoreline residents were conducting themselves in a way that did not welcome visiting boaters. They returned the call later that week and encouraged her to report the incident to the police, but since no harm was done, she decided to let it go at that.

Tuesday, 7/4/06--A strong squall hit Annapolis just as we rounded marker "G1" at the mouth of the Severn River at about 5:30 p.m. We quickly lost sight of the hundreds of boats anchored in front of the Naval Academy waiting for the 4th of July fireworks display to begin as a wall of rain and wind moved across the bay to the northeast. Rather than getting closer to the anchorage and shallow waters, we decided to head back out into more open waters to ride out the squall. Others must have thought that we knew something they didn't and followed suit. Eventually it hit us, and we could barely hold our own under full power and zero visibility. We were glad for the extra sea room, and as soon as it passed, we made a dash for the protection of Back Creek so that we could find our slip before dark and before the next squall hit. We secured Gyatso in her slip, launched the dinghy, and motored across the creek to Eastport in time for a quick celebratory dinner at Davis's Pub and a spectacular fireworks display.

We were happy to return safely to our home port after six months of adventures including a winter passage down the ICW, two months hauled-out in Florida, and an excursion to the Bahamas and back.