Slip Sliding Down Bay

Less than a week ago Imagine was still on the hard.  Today the familiar sound of the diesel engine chugging its own tune accompanies Imagine as it slides down the Sassafras River, then through the

Imagine on hard in October

drawbridge in Georgetown where the bridge tender cautions about the new fall opening schedule.  Imagine continues towards the mouth of the river, around the first of many crab floats and into the choppy Chesapeake Bay.

Under the quickly moving heavy clouded skies, Imagine’s mainsail is reefed just in case the predictions of 15 to 20 knots winds with higher gusts prove true. There is a chill in the air, but not cold enough to make it miserable.   We are layered with sweaters, hats and gloves. It may not be sunny, but we are underway.

After a long summer of boat maintenance and repair, Imagine has joined the flotilla of migrating boats heading to points south. Overhead Canada Geese fly in formation.  They seem to honk knowingly, “About time, about time.”  

Ed tells me to go down and stay warm.  I fall asleep only to wake in time to make sandwiches for lunch.    That is when I learned that the Genoa would unfurl no more than eight feet.   It also didn’t want to furl back.  Ed managed to get all but one foot furled before we moved out of the channel and began to we dodge crab trap floats as we headed into the Rhode River to anchor for the night. 

The colorful floats attached with long lines to crab pots sitting on the bottom make it easy for crabbers to spot their lines.   For sailors, the floats can prove quite annoying as they bob and weave on the grey green waves.  As the sun rises and sets it becomes harder to spot the floats as they become lost when the sun reflects off the water.   Missing a pot and getting the line entangled in prop can quickly become a nightmare for a sailor.  

On Imagine we exercise caution and are always on the lookout for a sign that pots are about.  While annoying, crabbing is part and parcel that proclaims the heritage and character of the Chesapeake Bay.   Long before pleasure boaters claimed the Bay as their own, fishing families have made their living from the denizens of the Chesapeake, fish, crabs, eel and oysters.  That tradition continues today from the Sassafras all the way down to Norfolk.

It was a great day to sail down bay.  Late fall sailors heel and tack. The white tell tale sails of sailboats stream from Baltimore, Annapolis and the Rhode River.  Boats raced, sailing back and forth, enjoying what might be a last chance for a Sunday sail before putting their boats to bed for the winter.

On Imagine, a new anchor swivel replaced a shackle that caught in the bow roller each time I released the anchor over the last four years became an instant hit.  No longer do I have to lift the shackle and 40 pound anchor up and over the roller.   Geez!   Why did we wait so long to replace that darn shackle?

At anchor Ed unfurled the Genoa and sprayed the drum with lubricant.  As we play with the furling mechanism and sail I notice that the furling line has some substantial wear spots.  It will be replaced when we get to Beaufort N.C.

As we clean the decks and go below, Final-Lee enters the anchorage and anchors abaft of Imagine.  The 45-foot Benateau belongs to Bruce Bognaoff, and his soon to be bride, Rhonda.  They hail from Gregg Neck marina and are heading to the Bahamas for the first time.  It seems as if it is the year for Gregg Neck boaters to head south.  River Dance, Chesapeake and Adamas DeMaris have also headed south with Imagine.

It’s 6:00 p.m. and a celebratory “we are sailing again” dinner of stir-fry, mashed potatoes and filet is over and the dishes put away.  Within the hour we are both asleep…. Three hours later I wake to the sound of what I think is the bilge pump going off every two minutes.   Instantly alert, I wake Ed to realize it is only the shower sump with residual water that wouldn’t entirely suction out.   Each time the boat rocked the sump would try to pump out leftover shower water.   While he was up, Ed checked the stuffing box and all through holes.   We weren’t sinking!

Year five of Imagine’s journey has begun.  It hasn’t been without a few unexpected adventures, but we are definitely on our way.   It won’t take long to transition from land to sea.  As fall moves forward and the days become colder, Imagine will slide further south until the cold fall mornings are exchanged for sunshine and turquoise waters.

The Race is On

Cheyene and Jolene

Leaves… yellow, red and brown swirl around a piling and disappear under the dock as they chase an outgoing tide.  For a moment I continue to watch the floating denizens of fall until the racket of a ski boat breaks the silence.   The quiet moment is gone.  The race is on. 

It’s the second week of October and Imagine remains on the hard as the crew rushes to complete jobs that weren’t finished over the summer.           

Weeks recovering from knee surgery, followed by some other minor medical events, made it impossible to remain on schedule.  Painting a boat isn’t as easy as painting a wall.  Too much sun, humidity, or wind dictates and narrows the window of opportunity available to get the work done.   Perseverance and determination of the crew allowed Imagine to get painted by the end of September.  The icing on the proverbial cake was when I carefully added the new lettering and homeport decals a week later.

In addition to fresh paint, Imagine now sports a new head platform, new hoses, and a tiled floor in the head.  The shower stall has been sanded and repainted.  Eighty-four feet of toe rail, the boom cradle, handrails, and eyebrow now shine bright with three coats of lacquer. 

The bottom has been sanded and wears three new coats of ablative.  The eight chain plates have been re-bedded on deck.  Five portholes were removed to repair minor de-lamination on the cabin sides.  Cracks around the four stern rain stanchions have been ground out, repaired.  We now await for a couple of dry days when fresh coats of primer and paint will hide all repairs. 

Inside, Ed installed a new bilge and shower sump pump.  He has followed wires and climbed the mast to troubleshoot why the three-year old radar failed.   He has worked on the shaft and stuffing box and also replaced the faulty refrigeration controller.  Work continues as we await a new radar unit scheduled to arrive by the end of the week. 

Minor cracks in the kayak have been fixed with a plastic weld kit.  The dinghy cover has new reinforced sections and our American flag has been repaired.  The anchor bridle and handle for a tote bag have been re-spliced.

Rain earlier this week showered me with anxiety.  Leaving port and family is always a bittersweet affair.  I’m anxious to get underway, but know how much I will miss my family.  My three-month old granddaughter, Jolene, will be walking before I return.  I will miss hugs and kisses from Lexi, Sam, and Max.   I'll miss special events of our teenage grandauther Cheyene. Phone calls and Internet photos offer some consolation, but is not the real deal.

Choosing life on a boat requires both work and sacrifices.   According to husband, Ed, there are two levels of boating.  There are the boaters and the yachters.   Ed will tell you that boaters do all their own work while yachters have people.

As far as the sacrifices, there are friends I wanted to visit this summer and didn’t.  An opportunity to work part-time had to be turned down.  Organizations interested in hearing about Imagine’s journey on a road not paved will have to wait another year.  The biggest sacrifice has been not spending more time with family.  

As the last few days before departure tick away, time picks up speed as we move to that still unknown date.  I feel the pressure of trying to tie all the loose ends together.  Sleep is interrupted as items are mentally added to lists.  How can I get everything finished and also spend more time with family?  There is an internal tug of war as I work to balance all. 

The final deck repairs shout to be finished.  The provisioning process has barely begun.  Stress increases. I picture the caulking still to be done at the edge of the toe rail and along the trim in the cockpit.  The new radar has to be installed.  Oh poo! I have to make four covers for the fenders that protect the side of the boat from the dock.  The new boat paint while dry and fairly hard will benefit from additional curing time.  

Friends on River Dance left Gregg Neck two weeks ago and have crossed the Albemarle Sound and are deep into North Carolina.  Each day on the Single Sideband Radio, Ed listens to other cruisers give daily locations.  They are underway and many already sail in southern waters. 

I take a deep breath, and then another.  I stop, regroup, take out my list and check one more item as finished.  As the colorful leaves of autumn drop one by one on lawns, roads and bodies of water, I race forward to find the current that will soon carry me south and beyond.

Operation Ivy

IVY MIKE BOMB

US Navy operations in the Marshall Islands in late1952 changed history when crew and scientists aboard the USS Estes detonated the first hydrogen bomb. At that time the word thermonuclear became part of our vocabulary.

In mid September news sources reported that the US Air Force came very close accidently detonating a hydrogen bomb over North Carolina almost a decade after the initial tests off Eniwetok Atoll.

News sources reported that on January 24, 1961 an US Air Force B-52 broke up in mid-air over Goldsboro dumping two thermonuclear bombs. The British Guardian said that only a single switch prevented the bomb from detonating after three other safety measures designed to stop unintended detonation failed.  That single switch saved the Eastern seaboard from a nuclear catastrophe. 

USS ESTES

This story hit a personal note. My father, James W. Sparks Sr. was aboard the Navy ship USS Estes AGC-12 when the first hydrogen bomb, “Mike,”  was detonated on Eluglab Island  during  Operation Ivy.

  

Sparks, ME-2, who served in the US Navy, from 1951 through 1954, remembers both Operation Ivy and, the later, Operation Castle bomb tests.   “We were at attention on the deck like rows of corn with our backs towards the explosion when we felt the heat from the blast.  Our ships were about 35 miles from ground zero.  We couldn’t look at the blast, as it would have blinded us,” he said about Ivy.

Sparks added that scientists met with the sailors prior to the test explaining that they didn’t know what the effects blast would be as this was the first time for this type of explosion.  Sparks said that he was on the radiological defense team and used Geiger counters to check for radiation following the tests.

After a tour in warring Korea, the Estes received a refit before heading to the Western Pacific.  Operation Ivy was under the command of Rear Admiral C. W. Wilkins, USN, Commander Task Group 132.2 .   Joining in the maneuver were the Army, Air Force, scientists, journalists and even an actor.

Reed Hadley, of television’s “Racket Squad” narrated a documentary film produced by the US Air Force.  The film, “Operation Ivy,” chronicled events leading to the entry of the US into thermonuclear age in early November 1952 with the detonation of “Mike.” The experimental hydrogen device yielded over 10 megatons of force and vaporized Elugelab Island at Eniwetok Atoll.  All that remained was water and a 164-foot deep crater.

Operation Ivy discharged the two largest bombs up to that time.  Ivy’s testing ushered in the thermonuclear age with the highest pure fission bomb ever exploded.  “Mike” was a 65-ton stationary device not practical for use as weaponry. According to the nuclear weapons archive, “Mike’s” mushroom cloud climbed to 108,000 feet. Thirty minutes after the explosion it stretched 60 miles across with the base joining the stem at 45,000 feet.   The mostly fission powered bomb showered a high level of radiation over the atoll.  A regular fission bomb was used to create the conditions used to initiate “Mike’s” fusion reaction.  Sparks said that they used the atomic bomb to set off the hydrogen one.

Sparks and his fellow sailors aboard the Estes became part of history that day.  The destructive force from the “Mike” bomb was 260 times more powerful than the atomic bomb that flattened Hiroshima in 1945. Sparks said that they later learned that some of the fishermen indigenous to the area suffered from the fallout from the bomb testing in the area.

Operation Ivy’s second thermonuclear bomb was dubbed “King.”  A B-36 bomber dropped the 500- kiloton bomb over Runit Island on November 15, 1952 (GMT).  Unlike “Mike”, “King” was a deliverable bomb that could be used as a cold war weapon.  The resulting cloud reached 74,000 feet with the mushroom base at 40,000 feet.

Following Operation Ivy, the Estes was assigned to resupply government distant early warning radar installations, the “DEW Line” in the far north, under  “Operation Blue Nose.”  At anchor off Point Barrow, Alaska, the ship became entrapped in ice after a wind shift pushed pack ice inshore.  The ship was immobilized for 24 hours before she shook her icy cage.

In early 1954, the USS Estes again headed towards the Marshall Islands for a second series of thermonuclear bomb tests known as “Operation Castle.”  Castle tested a series of high yield devices designed to be delivered as weapons. According to the nuclear weapons archive, the three largest tests ever carried out by the United States were part of Operation Castle. 

An error on one test caused a bomb to be dropped in the wrong target area, according to Sparks.  He remembers that the blast was so strong that it blew out the fire engine room.  Sailors on deck were knocked over unconscious.  Sparks came to watching caps floating down along with hats of the Chiefs.  Calls rang out for the ship to prepare to get underway immediately.  He remembers being on his knees looking towards shock wave flattening out the water.  He said that the bomb was two miles off target.  It was a moment that Sparks thought would be one of his last.

A year later Russia tested its first thermonuclear device and the cold war took a menacing turn. 

It wasn’t the first time the Marshall Islands were used for testing bombs.  Atomic testing transpired in the area during the late 1940s.  Testing continued for another decade leaving some of the islands contaminated with radioactive fallout to this day.

In 1961 a heartbeat moment passed when the final safety switch prevented a thermonuclear device from detonating in North Carolina.  History as we know it might be very different had that switch failed. 

As Imagine and crew prepare for a fifth season on a road not paved, I say a silent prayer of thanksgiving for switches that work.