Ricky to the Rescue!

So, nothing but fun times on the S.S. Valkyrie. We leave at 5:00am to go through the Chesapeake Canal, making a terrific passage down the Delaware Bay. In case you’re wondering, Rick gets up, makes coffee, hauls anchor and motors us through while I snooze away in the V-berth. He is so considerate!

It is rare to have enough wind in the right direction to do anything other than motor down the Delaware, and it’s usually hot and sticky besides. This time however, we have lots of wind from behind, and have both sails up. When I (finally) arrive on deck, I seem to have acclimated to the motion and thankfully have not a trace of seasickness. We spend an extremely pleasant eight hours enjoying the shade of the bimini and the smooth sailing of the boat. The ugly nuclear plant is still there, ruling over the scene for miles in every direction, but the day is so beautiful we can almost ignore it.

Having reached the Cape May Canal, we make preparations to roll away the headsail, a process not unlike rolling up a window shade. But somehow, to our horror, the furling line appears to have gotten caught inside the roller mechanism. The wind has been strong all day, and with the frequent flapping of the sail, the line jammed in between some of the metal parts. We can’t get the sail put away. Rick tries to act cool about it, but if you can’t put your sail away on a windy day, it’s kind of like having no brakes on your truck going down a steep hill. I suppose you could just keep sailing around in circles for days or weeks waiting for the wind to go silent, but I wouldn’t want to have to do that.

Jib Roller and Furling Line

Leaving me at the helm, Rick goes forward with his bag of tools. I’m supposed to be keeping the boat pointed directly into the wind, but between the heavy chop of the water and the roaring wind, I temporarily lose control. The boat swings around, and I have to really rev up the engine to get it back. As luck would have it, my momentary ineptness at the helm snaps the sail in the wind and jerks the furling line free. Yeah, I planned it that way. Disaster averted, we put away the sails and motor through the canal.

Having had very little sleep and at the end of a long day, Rick is giddy to have made it to Cape May. We motor over towards the Coast Guard station where we search around for a good anchoring spot among a number of other boats. Rick sets the anchor down, but I notice on the chart plotter that our current spot is too shallow to accommodate the keel at low tide. With our new neighbors all watching, we up anchor again, but forget to look out behind us. The dinghy line gets caught in the propeller and gets cut, prompting the fellow in a nearby boat to yell, “Hey, you lost your dinghy!” We try to retrieve it, but the dinghy quickly drifts towards shore where our sailboat would surely run aground.

A well intended onlooker tells us not to worry, he’ll get it with his dinghy, so we re-anchor Valkyrie in some deeper water. By then, we realize that our new friend can’t get his outboard to start.  The escaped dink has gotten marooned on the shore and we’re on our own.

Rick knows this means a dip in the cold Cape May water. After a remarkably small amount of grumbling, he digs out the oars. I’m actually really impressed by this move; I would have just swum over there, gotten in the dinghy, and then realized that we keep both the dinghy motor and the oars on Valkyrie when under sail. Doh! Luckily he’s smarter than me. He ties the oars to a life vest that can act as a float, loops a piece of connecting line over his shoulder, and dives in.

Finally reaching the dinghy, he is able to pull himself onboard, set the oars in their blocks, and row back to our sailboat. Being Rick, he can’t resist stopping to chat with one of our onlookers on the way.

After a well-deserved day off in Cape May, we decide to push on up the coast. A particularly sweet sail under the spinnaker delivers us the thirty-five miles to Atlantic City and we anchor in the harbor there. 

Just settling in for some celebratory drinks and a bowl of popcorn, we notice a young couple on a paddleboat a fair distance away, struggling with the ferocious current in the middle of the channel. They’re obviously in trouble. We consider helping them, but another, older couple are motoring back to their boat in their dinghy and they overtake the paddleboat. We relax and sip our drinks, discussing the Norwegian flag that is flying from their boat.

Pretty soon it is clear that the Norwegian couple themselves are in trouble. Both they and the paddleboat seem to be helplessly drifting down the fairway. Rick springs into action – this is just his cup of tea! He throws a couple of extra lines, the gas tank and the oars into the dinghy. I help him load the outboard on the back, and off he goes.

When he reaches them, the Norwegian couple is clearly out of their depth and are relieved to hand over the rescue operation to Rick. While they head over to their boat, a handsome black fellow named Van with his two-year old son tucked neatly in his lap whisk over on their jet ski. “I’ve got this!” Van says commandingly, and Rick readily agrees. His wimpy dinghy can’t compete with a jet-ski. Rick helps them tie the paddleboat to the jet-ski, and Van turns the key to restart his engine. Nothing happens. “The battery is dead!” he exclaims. Meanwhile, they are all continuing to drift steadily toward the bridge. Now there is no alternative but for Rick to try and tow everyone. It’s starting to rain and the cute little two year old is shivering, so Rick passes his pullover to the tyke and he and Rick are now fast friends.

Rick ties the two rafted up boats to his dinghy and nails the throttle of his tiny motor.  After hanging in place for a bit, the unlikely caravan miraculously begins to inch (sloooooowly) up the channel against the current.

Just to make the situation even more unlikely, Rick and his entourage encounter yet another dead jet-ski, this one out of gas. Superman that he is, even Rick can’t possibly tow all three boats! It would be like him to try, but instead he offers this latest fellow his gas can. The man is very grateful; he empties Rick’s can into his gas tank and races off to shore to refill that can while Rick and the gang wait for his return. Once the full can is replaced, they continue at their snail’s pace to the dock.

 

The families of Rick’s cargo have been anxiously waiting and worrying on shore. Rick is the hero of the day, and is offered food, beer, the couple’s first born child (just kidding), and many, many thanks. What a guy!