In Great Bridge, we woke still full from the deliciously spiced and plentiful Mexican food meal we’d had the night before. El Toro Loco. If you end up in Great Bridge, VA, eat there.
At 32 degrees, it was too cold for us to rush off when we didn’t have a full day’s travel ahead. Instead, we waited out the chill and got started around 9:30am, after the sun had muscled its way into our reality. A quick fill-up at the diesel-getting-place and we were off!
One of the odd things about the ICW is how many bascule bridges are normally open. Makes me think that the age of rail is nearly gone, though I know very little about that technology’s possible futures.
Motoring in straight lines is odd and, actually, impossible. We set up the tiller pilot (why is that thing even still working?) and gave it 1-degree jabs port and starboard for almost 5 hours, watch on watch an hour at a time. When it came time to stop, it wasn’t because we’d hit the perfect anchorage. We passed two marginal spots and came to rest in one of those oddball, unofficial, sure-it’s-deep-enough-why-not kind of spots on the North Landing River, only a quarter of a mile from the VA/NC border.
Was it good? Yes. It was good.
Today was even odder. The disconcerting disagreement between the evidence of our eyes – plenty of water for miles around! – and the facts communicated by our charts – shallow! danger! shoals! – kept us on our toes. We were passed by recreational power boats both punctiliously courteous and outrageously rude, and we managed to come right up to the one and only crossing vessel for dozens of miles, the Knotts Island ferry.
Another bit of motoring and then we came out onto the North River, where the main went up like it wanted to and we motorsailed to the mouth of the river. If you’re wondering why there’s no sunset photo, it’s because the one above looks exactly the same as this evening’s!