October 28 - 31 -- 35.3 Miles -- Slade Creek to Deaton Yacht Service in Whittaker Creek, Oriental and Three Laydays There, So Far And a Possible Tragedy

The passage to Oriental was on the fourth or fifth consecutive virtually windless day, a day power boaters love because of flat seas. We did put up the genoa today, and got a couple of knots from it, but for only about six miles. Then, entering the wide Neuse River, we tacked and were preparing to put the sail out on the starboard side but the wind died again.

We were originally headed for River Dunes Marina, lovely with good restaurant and clubhouse and inexpensive ($1.50/foot) especially at half that rate with the two nights for the price of one special that they gave us at the boat show. We were there with our friends, former Saga 43 owners Bill and Sando, who we met in Maine in '07, in the Caribbean in '10 and at River Dunes in '12. They live in Oriental.

But it appears that the damage I did to the wind instrument in the Dismal Swamp Canal was greater than I had thought -- I broke the instrument at the top of the mast. Also, while investigating the reverse gear problem (we do have reverse gear but it rattles loudly, especially until it comes up in speed) I discovered a small leak in the Strong Seal dripless stuffing box.  The manual says this is harmless but ....?  So we asked Bill, who recommended  Deaton's Shipyard on Whittaker Creek. They said they could do our work and that dockage at their dock while they do it would be free and save us the cost of their technicians' travel time from Whittaker Creek to River Dunes. So River Dunes can be on the return trip. Entry to this creek was tricky due to shallow water; our depth meter, set to warn us if it gets shallower than 7.1 feet, was beeping. We were advised to follow the buoys -- not the chart -- and to favor the right side of the channel. Lene brought us in without incident.

We dined aboard our first night and Bill and Sando came over for a mango pancake breakfast next morning, after this sunrise.

They sold their Saga and now have a 45' foot DeFever trawler , which we hope to see before we leave.




The mechanic used a cherry picker to remove the old broken wind measuring device, protruding forward at the top of the mast.

Here is the shiny new unit above the old broken one.

We were moved twice to different docks during the first full day while the Yard was estimating the
labor costs of the propeller and seal repairs. The propeller, a very good Max Prop, sounds bad and our choices include sending it off to California to be repaired, which means staying here for three weeks or getting something to replace it and having it sent back to us in Florida after refurbishment and using it as a spare until the next time we are hauled out and it can be reinstalled. And the choices for a potential spare/replacement include solid bronze, feathering bronze or a very hard feathering plastic, at prices that vary from hundreds to thousands of dollars, for the propeller alone. It is making our heads spin with all the choices and the pros and cons of each.
Dinner at one of the local restaurants (Shrimp and Grits) with Bill and Sando after a day in which Lene used the yard's truck to get beauty treatments and we did the laundry.

The next day we had a "short haul" to permit an actual look at the prop. Such good news! The propeller is fine; it is the Spurs brand line cutter that was making the noise. It sits around the prop shaft forward of the prop and includes rotating blades attached to the shaft and a fixed blade that does not rotate. These act as scissors to cut lines.  But in our snagging and cutting crab pot lines, the Spurs unit had been pulled aft along the shaft so that the fixed part was no longer held fixed but spinning and knocking, especially when reverse gear pushed water against it.The shiny bronze band in the picture below is the forward end of the propeller (sadly with the bottom paint not adhering well). Just to the left of it in the picture is the Spurs unit, which should be about half an inch away from the propeller so that its forward end is held in place;  shown here with the rotating blades on top and bottom.

A very quick and easy repair including re-lubrication of the prop and installation of three new zincs to replace ones I had installed in the spring, which were rather corroded away.









The engine purred like certain other critters aboard when I drove the boat back to a slip. What a relief!

But later that evening, between eight and nine, a possible tragedy struck. Alfie came home from one of her exploratory jaunts but Whitty did not.

We searched far and wide for him that night and the next morning, shaking a plastic jar of his treats and calling his name.  There is no tidal current and there was very little wind that evening so if he fell in he could have swam to shore and would not have been washed out to sea. The people at Deaton's and the surrounding neighborhood have been extremely helpful. We called the sheriff's office and both of the local vets. They posted a message on the town net and made up color posters that they told us to post in the three most highly trafficked shops in town. When we wander about calling Whity's name, folks come out of their homes to tell us that they are looking for him and praying for us. Due to repairs to the stuffing tube, we will be here until Wednesday and will rent a car and come back if he is found after we leave.  The worrisome part is that several people have told us that they lost pets to a certain fox who makes his home here. We have not given up hope and Lene cries occasionally but she's hanging tough. I'm not a crier; maybe I'd be better off if I could. Whity's sister, Alfie, seems unusually cuddly and needy. She wants to be close to Lene and is not eating well. We have done everything we can think of since he did not come home and now have to trust in his and our higher power.

It is sort of analogous, in a lesser way, to being the loved ones of a MIA. We can't mourn because he may be alive but as time passes, hopes fray. He may have been taken in by someone who will turn him in later. Here is the coffee mug I use every day, which Lene bought in Martinique in 2011. We always feared, though we adopted a sort of fatalistic attitude, the possibility of loss to the sea. I never considered loss of our cats on terra firma.