We were cruising down the Tennessee-Tombigbee Waterway, the canal that links Pickwick Lake in Mississippi with Mobile Bay in Alabama. It was November. The sky was gray, and some of the raindrops were starting to resemble snow flurries. The captain was dressed head to heel in gray wool. I was in pink, equally bundled. We stood in the open cockpit of our Nor’Sea 27, insulated mugs of coffee in hand, and sang sea shanties while the captain steered by tiller.

We’d taught our kids these songs on a weekend trip through the desert when they were little. We had sung “Farewell Nova Scotia” as we pulled away from Hovenweep National Monument, chanted “Cape Cod Girls” as we passed through Monument Valley, and learned every line to “All for Me Grog” as we gazed at the red rocks of Moab, Utah. At that time, my husband was a newly obsessed sailor, and we kept our first sailboat on the Great Salt Lake.

Thirteen boats passed us that day on the Tenn-Tom, but we were the only sailboat. The rest were trawlers and motoryachts, all of their captains steering from enclosed and heated flybridges. We were all flying the swallow-tailed burgee of the America’s Great Loop Cruisers’ Association, and we were all going to spend the next year or so on the Great Loop, a 6,000-mile route around the eastern United States. 

That is where the similarities ended. Ours was not the kind of boat—an open-cockpit sailboat with its mast up—that most people expected to see on the route. Most Loopers didn’t know what to think of us, and most other sailors were headed to the Bahamas, not to Chicago the long way around via the Intracoastal Waterway and the Erie Canal.

But Sonny got it. He waved and honked from the enclosed flybridge of his Mainship 40 trawler as he passed. Later, when we met on the docks in Columbus, Mississippi, he told us how happy he had been to see us. 

“My wife was worried about you two,” he said. “She told me, ‘Sonny, don’t you think they’re cold?’ I said, ‘Phyllis, they don’t even know they’re cold. They’re having the time of their lives.’”

Everyone who travels the Great Loop has the time of their lives, but most Loopers choose trawlers and motoryachts in the 40- to 50-foot range. These boats make sense for the route. They provide all the comforts of home for those who cruise on mostly flat water. They’re air-conditioned and heated, with multiple staterooms, large galleys, washers and dryers, multiple heads with showers, and sprawling decks full of furniture. As one Looper said, “It’s like boating in a luxury condominium.” 

Our decision to cruise the Loop on a sailboat was a compromise of sorts; not just a compromise between captain and first mate, but also a compromise with life itself.

Guy, the captain, wanted to do a big sailing trip, but he has a small business. He needed a route that would offer predictable Wi-Fi and cell service, and allow him to be in US time zones, give him quick access to airports, and make no requirement for a work visa. I was plenty willing to live aboard and sail, but I needed to ease into the idea of big water and passages. I had sailed only on inland lakes.

Also, we wanted to travel cheap. A small diesel engine would beat any motorboat’s 1-nautical-mile-per-gallon rate, and we’d travel for free under sail. That was a real necessity for people saving for retirement. 

Our boat would need a draft less than 4 feet to anchor out along the shores of the Florida Keys, get through the shallows of the Southern tidal flats, and make countless skinny marina entrances along the route. And we’d have to be able to step the mast for low bridges on the Erie Canal.

All these factors led us to purchase the Nor’Sea 27 we found parked in a gravel driveway in southern Utah, another place where you might be surprised to find yourself humming sea shanties. The boat was designed by Lyle Hess, who created Seraffyn and Taleisin for Lin and Larry Pardey, a little bit of pocket-cruiser royalty. And the boat is trailerable, which was a necessity considering where we found it. The Nor’Sea 27 is also bluewater-capable, a quality that would let us choose big water anytime we had the chance. The 8 hp Yanmar diesel would push us along at 4 knots on motoring days, and would get us 33 miles to the gallon. The sailboat has an on-deck tabernacle that would let us step the 40-foot mast ourselves. 

The sailboat had not been modernized, and we weren’t going to spend our time trying to change that fact. We stowed our cold food in the ice chest, spent our nights in sleeping bags in the V-berth, and scrounged onshore for luxuries such as showers and cold drinks. Cruising on a Nor’Sea 27 would be camping, plain and simple. And we didn’t mind. We christened the boat Jackalope and hired a truck to drive her to a marina on the Tennessee River to start our trip. 

In late fall, we emerged from the ­Tenn-Tom ready to cross Mobile Bay and skirt along the Florida Panhandle to Carrabelle. From there, we would make our first open-water passage. 

The conversation on the Looper chat groups was all about the weather. When would it be calm (preferably glassy) with wind under 5 knots? Tall boats don’t do well in the waves, and most Loopers wanted to make the smoothest and shortest possible crossing across Apalachee Bay from Carrabelle to Steinhatchee.

In contrast, the crew of Jackalope was well-practiced and ready for some wind and a long Gulf passage. We left Carrabelle at sunset and crossed 150 miles to Clearwater—and it was perfect. Nothing but dolphins leaping in the moonlight. We stayed a few weeks in Clearwater Beach so that our kids could meet us for Christmas, then motored down the Intracoastal Waterway to our next jumping-off point.

Rather than follow the ICW from Fort Myers Beach to Marco Island, and then motor the yacht channel along the Everglades to Key Largo, we cut out on the Gulf again. This time, we sailed 90 miles from Fort Myers Beach to Key West. After waiting out a storm on anchor in the “bowling alley” between Fleming Key and Wisteria Island, we sailed out of the Gulf and into the Straits of Florida to take a swim at Alligator Reef Lighthouse.

The captain always felt like sailing, so we sailed—on the outside of the Keys, on the inside, in Florida Bay. Sometimes, when the wind was right, we sailed a mile or so on the Florida ICW. Even when we got to Georgia’s Lowcountry, down in the muddy water between parallel banks of salt-grass marsh, we sailed. A lot of times, that narrow and skinny sailing was done just with the jib, to give the one-lung Yanmar a little oomph, but sometimes the wind was steady and the course was straight enough to put up the main and take a bit of a ride.

After the mud of the Deep South ICW, it was a pleasure to see the blue shores of North Carolina. In Albemarle Sound, we put up the main and jib, and sailed in the wake of the pirate Blackbeard all the way from Oriental to Elizabeth City. 

From Elizabeth City, we motored through the Great Dismal Swamp to Norfolk, Virginia, gateway to the Chesapeake Bay. We’d been looking forward to this since the Tenn-Tom. Back then, in that chilly fall air, we had encouraged each other by talking about it: “We’ll get through this, go all around Florida, through the Carolinas, and then we’re going to sail on the Chesapeake Bay!”

Our first day out of foggy Norfolk cleared into the sunniest skies and the glassiest water imaginable. It was ideal weather for the motor Loopers, but our sails went limp, so we pulled them down, bundled them and sighed. That sigh was not enough breeze to propel us forward, and we had to motor all day. But the wind always comes back, and we ended up with seven days’ worth of sailing on the bay. We zigged and zagged, south to north, past Victorian lighthouses and alongside local crabbing boats. We even nosed into the bakery dock at Smith Island for some of its famous 10-layer cake. 

And then, there was Annapolis, Maryland. It was a thrill, and a little bit intimidating, to arrive in American sailing’s home port. But once we docked, Jackalope got her due. One sailor told us that ours was the prettiest boat on the docks. Another leaned close and said, “That’s a cult boat.” Jackalope blushed at the rare but deserved compliments.

Beyond the Lens

If we were excited to sail on the Chesapeake Bay, the thought of sailing ­into New York Harbor was surreal. And yet, we did it, slightly loopy after an overnight Atlantic passage from Cape May, New Jersey. We were planning to anchor out at Sandy Hook and sleep the afternoon away, but the wind was just right, so I made cups of strong coffee, and we headed toward the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge and up the Hudson River.

We tacked east toward Coney Island, west toward Staten Island, east again toward Red Hook, west toward the old Bayonne marsh. Dodging a Norwegian cruise ship, we tacked east toward Brooklyn, and then, in the culminating moment, the captain brought us right up next to the Statue of Liberty—our sails up, her torch held high. He had to manage tour boats, personal watercraft and more, but he did it without the engine or bow thrusters. Just the magic of being hove-to.

We snapped a few pictures of ourselves looking relaxed while we were ­actually keeping an intense watch in every direction, and then sailed off toward Manhattan so we could tack into the marina on the Jersey City side of the Hudson. 

After spending two days in New York City, we aimed ourselves north. By the time we got to Yonkers, New York, the cityscape had mellowed into ­countryside. We anchored out under the Bear Mountain Bridge and, the next day, gave West Point a salute as we floated past. Then it was time to unstep our mast at the town dock in Athens, New York, in preparation for cruising the Erie Canal. When the work was done, we went ashore for beers at the brewery.

The narrow, ­skinny sailing was done with just the jib, but ­sometimes the wind was steady enough to put up the main and take a bit of a ride. 

We put our mast back up after the Erie Canal so we could sail the Great Lakes. Our long journey had prepared us for the challenge. We crossed Lake Erie, skirted up Lake Huron, and rounded the top of the mitten state under Mackinac Bridge. At that point, we were concerned about the changing seasons. Weather windows on Lake Michigan are short, and a lock on the Illinois River was scheduled to close for maintenance soon. We made our way, businesslike, down Michigan’s west coast. From Frankfort, we made an overnight passage to Milwaukee, cutting many miles off the route, then sailed south to Chicago. 

Cruising through downtown Chicago, every building gleaming gold in the sunrise, was the highlight of the trip. We kept saying it: “This is incredible. This is the best part.” Then we headed down the grimy Illinois River, squeezing through the Brandon Road lock just in time. We made our way down the Mississippi with the current, up the Ohio, and finished where we started, on the Tennessee.

The Loop was 10 trips in one. We cruised canals, mastering locks and tying up to town walls. We had access to bars, restaurants and beaches along the ICW. We cruised past a big bunch of American cities and right through the center of Miami and Chicago. And in just one incredible 6,000-mile, 12-month cruising season, we sailed on the Gulf of Mexico, the sound side of the Outer Banks, up the Chesapeake Bay, on the Atlantic, and in three of the Great Lakes—all of it without worry of hurricanes, encroaching winter weather and customs officials. 

A jackalope is an improbable little creature: a mythical combination of jackrabbit and antelope. Sailing the Great Loop was an improbable adventure for an improbable boat. And we had the time of our lives. 

Bianca Dumas and her family spent eight years traveling the US by sailboat, canoe, kayak, bicycle and on foot. She plans to settle down and write about all of it.

The post Sailing America’s Great Loop on a Small Boat appeared first on Cruising World.

The novel coronavirus sent the entire planet, including the sailing world, into a complete tailspin, and at least temporarily altered or even erased the very freedom we enjoy while cruising under sail. The following five COVID-19 dispatches from both near and far-flung waters are a testimony to the resiliency and fortitude of sailors everywhere, serving as snapshots of our time.

This past spring, the global pandemic resulting from the novel coronavirus upended the world—­including the cruising world—as sailors around the planet scrambled to seek safe harbors and dash together new plans even as borders and waterways slammed closed and the notion of “quarantine,” always a feature of the conclusion of a long passage, took on a whole new meaning.

There was nowhere, literally, that was not affected in some way, shape or form. Working from home here in Newport, Rhode Island, the stories began trickling in. Some of those filtering back were troubling; others were inspirational, bordering on outright heroic.

Take the case of Argentine sailor Juan Manuel Ballestero who, as reported in The New York Times, was stranded on a small island off the coast of Portugal in mid-March aboard his Ohlson 29, Skua, when the pandemic struck. Desperate to see his father, who was soon to turn 90, Ballestero decided to sail home. He was denied entry to Cape Verde to reprovision and pressed on anyway, ultimately spending 85 days at sea before reuniting with his dad in Mar del Plata, where he did receive a hero’s welcome.

Or what about the great yacht designer Rod Johnstone, one of the principals of the family-run J/Boat company. According to an account in The Royal Gazette, a Bermuda newspaper, Johnstone’s friend Jean de Fontenay was visiting the United States, with his 67-foot boat, Baraka, docked on the island nation in St. George’s, when everything closed down, including all international flights. Hurricane season was approaching. What to do? Well, Johnstone, de Fontenay and two crew hopped aboard a new 33-foot J/99 and sailed from Connecticut to Bermuda. They were never allowed ashore, but a Bermudan friend left groceries in their dinghy, and the four sailors split up and doublehanded the two boats back to the States. They were not to be denied.

What follows are five more dispatches from around the globe, of sailors facing and reacting to unprecedented circumstances in this dreadful season of COVID-19. They speak for themselves. And they make us proud to be members of the community of cruising sailors.

Problems in the Pacific

By Alvah Simon

The best-laid plans of the cruising sailor oft times go astray. But no matter Mother Ocean’s wind or waves, tides or tantrums, bluewater sailors always knew that somewhere on that distant shore, a port of refuge awaited them. Then along came COVID-19.

Perhaps most illustrative of these dystopian times is the saga of New Zealanders Daryll and Maree Walker and their two children on board their 57-foot yacht, Talasker. They had set off on the trip of a lifetime: a clockwise voyage around the Pacific Rim, up through the islands to Japan, over to Alaska, down the West Coast and back to New Zealand via the fabled South Pacific.

Things were rolling along splendidly but, while in Micronesia, rumors of a global pandemic began to filter in. They headed straight for Guam, arriving a mere three hours before the borders closed. They hoped to push on to Japan but began to suspect that the Japanese government was underreporting COVID-19 cases because of the effect on the coming Olympics. In any event, they could not be sure that the Japanese border would not close while en route.

They made the hard decision to turn around; as it turned out, it was much harder than they could have imagined.

For added safety, they chose to voluntarily isolate on board for two weeks before departing Guam, thus depleting their supplies. They sailed to Ponape, where they were flatly refused entry. Using dwindling fuel supplies, they soldiered on to the remote Kapingamarangi Atoll. The locals were friendly but firm: no entry. Understandable when put in historical context; the Marquesas Islands had a thriving population of over 100,000 when they first allowed foreign sailors to enter with inadvertent but devastating diseases. Their numbers bottomed out at 4,000 souls.

Talasker headed south to the Solomon Islands, emailing ahead for permission to rest, refuel and resupply. Not only was this denied, but they were even refused permission to transit Solomon Islands’ waters toward another port of refuge. Then they were commanded to stop and were visited over several days by police and immigration vessels who threatened fines, jail and impoundment for ill-defined violations. After several days of fear and confusion, they were told they could proceed through Bougainville Channel. But at nearly 100 miles out, they were ordered back to Honiara. They wisely ignored these orders and pushed on toward New Caledonia.

There they were told they would be granted only 24 hours in an isolated anchorage and then must depart. They were tired, low on everything, and dangerous weather was predicted near New Zealand. “Bureaucrat” is actually a French word that roughly translates into English as “cover your butt.” Those were the “official” restrictions, but they were granted two days of glorious rest before they were even approached by officials, then given access to fuel and limited supplies, and allowed to await a safer weather window. Viva le France! Ultimately, they stayed 10 whole days before a weeklong sail to New Zealand. There, after nearly two months at sea, they gratefully dropped their lines on the immigration dock.

But what of the future? While Daryll said that they are raring to head out again, many cruisers are nearly crippled with uncertainty. There are presently 40 foreign vessels “trapped” in Whangarei alone because all Pacific islands and Australia have closed their borders. Many sailors who landed in New Zealand flew home to the States or Europe and now cannot return to their vessels. The New Zealand government has extended all visas and customs exemptions for foreign sailors but, frankly, many skippers feel they are in the safest place in the world and are in no hurry to depart. In fact, normally each year the town of Whangarei hosts an appreciation party for the 100 visiting yachts that contribute an estimated $20 million to the local economy. This year, however, it is the cruisers hosting the party to express their appreciation for their treatment by the town and the Kiwi government.

For local sailors, such as myself, the lockdown was fast and furious. The restrictions were so strict as to prevent me from even rowing out to my yacht to check the mooring and bilges for an agonizing six weeks. Those who were genuine liveaboards—along with those who, against government directives, fled their land homes to self-isolate on board—were given an almost hostile reception by locals in more-remote anchorages such as Great Barrier Island. The locals felt that the yachties were depleting the island’s limited supplies and unnecessarily exposing them to possible infection, and perhaps resented the appearance that while people on land were being desperately inconvenienced, the sailors seemed to be enjoying a holiday of swimming, fishing and moving from anchorage to anchorage. Finally, the police were asked to intervene.

The New Zealand Marine Association last year sent out emissaries to Fiji and Tahiti, and as far afield as Mexico and Panama, to entice cruisers toward New Zealand for the Southern Hemisphere cyclone season. Presently, 300 westbound yachts are waiting in Tahiti for the gates to open. The Whangarei Town Basin Marina receives daily inquiries from the Americas saying: “The Galapagos is closed. Can we come if it is nonstop?” Any response would be obsolete before the ink was dry because the situation is too fluid.

Soon, as a French Territory, Tahiti will open. But New Caledonia, while sharing the same status, will still require a ­14-day isolation in a hotel at the owner’s expense and then a further seven days on board without credit for time at sea.

The point is, there can be no real clarity while nations differ in pandemic strategies, bend to political and economic pressures, brace for the dreaded second wave, and await results of vaccine research, production and, undoubtedly, uneven distribution.

But take heart: By nature we cruisers are an adaptable lot. This COVID-19 crisis will test our patience, but in time we will once again escape to the boundless blue.

Two-time circumnavigator and author Alvah Simon is a contributing editor to Cruising World.

Offshore in the Blue Atlantic

By Hank Schmitt

I have been fortunate to spend the past 15 winter sailing seasons in the Caribbean. My regular port of refuge is St. Maarten, with numerous flights and a high level of quality marine services. Most fellow veteran sailors thought the challenges inflicted by the one-two punch of hurricanes Maria and Irma were insufferable enough. But it turns out nobody had a pandemic plan in place from the smallest Caribbean island to world leaders. The quick shutting down of borders caught many skippers by surprise, locking many in place. Those caught at sea, as islands closed entirely, were in double trouble.

Obligations to departing charter guests in Dominica, along with confusion over the ever-changing closing dates of borders, caught me solo-sailing 180 nautical miles in 24 hours from Dominica to St. Maarten…arriving 11 hours after the island had closed. A 48-hour reprieve under Q flag only deepened the resolve of customs and border patrol to enforce the closure, which led me to Plan B: a sail to the United States Virgin Islands. I could not get into St. Maarten, but with my Swan 48, Avocation, being an America-flagged vessel, and me being an American citizen, I would be guaranteed entry.

In my mind, onboard email capability is not a necessity. So, before leaving St. Maarten, I therefore had to relay by text to friends ashore my answers to the COVID-19-related questions that US Customs was posing that were required 24 hours before arrival. After another solo overnight sail from St. Maarten to Charlotte Amalie, I dropped anchor off the Customs office located at the Blyden Ferry Terminal to clear in. No one in the office had received my pre-arrival health declaration, but no matter. Ten minutes later, I was legally welcomed back to US territory with no quarantine, no restrictions, no fee—not even a temperature check.

This is not to say that everything was normal. At the airport, the National Guard was performing temperature checks for passengers arriving by plane. The cruise-ship terminals were empty, hotels closed, charters canceled and the nearby British Virgin Islands under a no-sail edict. Seeing zero sails traversing Sir Francis Drake Channel at the height of the Caribbean sailing season was somewhat apocalyptic.

Finally having an island to shelter in place allowed me to watch from afar via The New York Times app and WhatsApp video calls as the world changed under pandemic lockdown. As the days turned to weeks that were closing in on insurance-­policy-imposed deadlines for moving to safe harbors ahead of the impending hurricane season, I was witness to the looming logistical nightmare of stranded boats within closed islands with no way for owners or crew to board. Some owners chartered planes—and in one case an entire cargo plane—to get to their boats via St. Thomas.

The group that runs the annual Salty Dawg Rally quickly pivoted to invite boats to join a loose federation of yachts departing weekly over several Sundays, helping roughly 185 boats get home. Almost all chose to listen to weather routers who decided the safest way to return to the States was through the Bahamas to Florida and up the coast. Since many were cruising couples sailing shorthanded, this seemed a safer choice. One big COVID-19 change: Sailors were setting sail shorthanded and not flying in additional crew to help.

I have made the passage from the Caribbean to New England every year since 1999. Normally I sail with a full crew of paying charter guests, but this year I decided to return doublehanded. Most years, I stay east and sail almost due north on a beam reach to Bermuda on the first stretch before making the second, more-challenging leg from Bermuda across the Gulf Stream to Newport.

This year, with a departure from Red Hook—100 miles farther west from my usual departure point—we were lucky to not have to maintain easting to get to Bermuda (which was closed anyway) and were able to sail a relaxed broad reach. I seldom set a waypoint sailing offshore, but rather try to find a comfortable and quick sailing angle for the first half of a passage. If you are within 20 or even 30 degrees of your desired course, you are OK, as long as you have a good idea of the next wind shift. It gets even more important to follow a compass course to a waypoint the last couple of days.

By the time we hit the latitude of Bermuda, we were 160 nautical miles west of the island, and had shaved 100 miles off the traditional passage. After four days of trade-wind sailing, the breeze kicked up from the northeast above Bermuda, which allowed us to crack off and sail west on a broad reach to set up our Gulf Stream crossing. When the winds went southwest a day and a half later, we were able to tack over and sail north to cross the Gulf Stream with the winds and current running in roughly the same direction. Our course was north, but we were making northeast over the ground while in the Stream. We rounded Montauk, New York, some eight and a half days out and were docked before noon, just shy of a nine-day trip dock to dock.

Now that I am home, I look back on my shortened COVID-19 Caribbean season and am trying to predict what next season will look like. Will there be the same rallying cry to return next winter or will many cruisers feel required to stay close to home as a theoretical second wave reels up? Or will more sailors than ever choose to social distance by taking off on their boats looking for safer places to shelter until a vaccine signals the all-clear? At this moment, who knows?

Veteran voyager Hank Schmitt is the founder and proprietor of Offshore Sailing Opportunities, a networking service that links boat owners with prospective crews. For more, visit its website.

Marooned in the Maldives

by Judy Sundin

We are a couple, Sherman and Judy Sundin, sailing the world on our Bristol 41, Fairwinds 1. We arrived in Uligan in the northern Maldives on March 15, with plans to continue to transit the Indian Ocean and then sail back to the southern Caribbean, completing our circumnavigation. In the three days it took to sail from Sri Lanka, so much had changed. The check-in was unusual with our temperatures being taken, but the masked and gloved officials did not come aboard.

At midnight on March 20, the Maldives closed its borders. Several boats that arrived after the closure were provided with a brief time to rest and take on fuel, food and water, but were then asked to leave the Maldives. Borders were closing like falling dominoes, and we were grateful we could officially stay put. Access to shore was prohibited, but we could swim around our boats. SIM cards for cellphones and other supplies were provided. Then we waited. As the weeks passed, our small home became even smaller: 36 steps for a round-trip spin around the deck; seven and a half steps from bow to stern belowdecks; two paces across.

We looked at our options. Tanzania was the only country open, but with our own healthcare concerns, we couldn’t go to a country that had basically ignored the virus, other than suggesting that herbal tea and prayer were a cure. After 20 days, we were given permission to mingle with other cruisers in the anchorage but were not granted shore access. Just how serious was this situation? How long would it last? Had the world gone mad?

Lots of questions, no answers.

COVID-19 cases started to explode in the capital city of Malé. A city of approximately 220,000 people on an island measuring a little over 3 square miles, it is one of the most densely populated cities on Earth. In the meantime, behind the scenes, many of our fellow cruisers were toiling away tirelessly, organizing supply deliveries and searching for alternative anchorages that we might get permission to go to. With a strict no-movement order in place, the latter was not getting any traction.

We once again made contact with our respective embassies to see if they could seek permission for us to return to Malaysia. No luck. We had to stay put. Yet the southwest monsoon season was approaching. The weather was clearly turning and the wind shifting, so we moved across to the western side of the lagoon and found some protection behind the reef and the small island of Innafinolhu.

Several boats successfully sought and received permission to sail to Malé and prepared to continue on their journey. Some had permits to go to the British Indian Ocean Territory in the Chagos Archipelego, while other EU-registered vessels received permission to sail to Reunion Island. As US sailors, both of those places were still closed to us. The rumor was that the Seychelles would open up on June 1, but where to after that?

Our agent was able to secure us permission to go ashore on Innafinolhu. After six weeks of limited exercise, my first walk on the island was blissful. We had turned a corner somehow, and the fact that we could once again resume sundowners on a beach felt like life had taken a turn for the better. Our conversations could be about trivial things instead of our stagnant situation.

However, a cyclone was forming in the Bay of Bengal—not that far away, but heading north. Its tail was sucking all the energy out of this side of the Indian Ocean, and we were about to get hammered. Our agent, horrified at the videos sent to him showing our tenuous anchoring conditions, immediately called the embassies on our behalf to try to get them to put pressure on the government to give us permission to move to other anchorages for our safety. It wasn’t granted, turning it into a wild week of broken rode snubbers and open-sea-passage conditions in our anchorage.

With a combination of the restricted-movement order and bad weather, our supply boat had not made it up this far north. Our supplies were dwindling. We continued to wait for news of any path to open up. The confinement and constant weather worries had surely tested our patience and our mental health.

Finally, we were given permission to move south to Malé. This had become the epicenter of COVID-19 in the Maldives, so we sailed there with some trepidation. Still, it felt wonderful to be on the move and at sea. With the assistance of our agent, we were able to resupply, collect our parts and get our medications. There are four boats remaining here in Malé. After 90 days of being in lockdown, the restrictions were lifted. We will stay here for the time being while we seek permission to go to the Seychelles. From there, we will decide where to go next: South Africa if it opens, the Med via the Suez Canal, or back across the Indian Ocean to Asia. Our uncertain travels continue.

Judy and Sherman Sundin, an Aussie and American, respectively, met while working for American Express in Sydney. They purchased Fairwinds 1 in 2012, and set sail for the Caribbean. They’ve been living aboard and exploring the world ever since.

Isolated on the Intracoastal

By Tory Salvia

On December 6, 2019, I awoke aboard my Mariner 36 sloop, Sparkle Plenty, to sun streaming into the cabin, totally unaware of the crisis that would unfold in the months ahead. Outside, a chilly Chesapeake Bay wind blew out of the south. With two crew, we soon motored out the narrow creek on the West River, about 10 miles south of Annapolis, Maryland. I contemplated the voyage ahead to Georgetown, South Carolina. There I would spend the winter in relative warmth. My plan was to return in April and resume my life.

After a rough three-day trip to Hampton, Virginia, we carried on to the Elizabeth River and into “the Ditch.” On the FM radio I heard something about “China” and “virus” but paid no attention. My focus was on bridge openings and making our designated anchorages before the early winter sunset. Our trip south was relatively uneventful except for one grounding on a mud bank that required a tow, my first ever in nearly 45 years of sailing. Soon I would be aground again.

In Georgetown, South Carolina, on December 21, I docked at Harborwalk Marina, just 100 yards off Front Street, the town’s main drag. I flew home for Christmas and returned at the end of January. By then, Wuhan, China, was starting to appear in the news with reports of a new virus. “Just another flu,” I thought.

By the end of January, the Wuhan outbreak was starting to make international news. In the US, February was a lost month. Even though the number of countries reporting the virus had exploded, locally it was business as usual. Then in early March, the country seemed to wake up. Once the focus shifted to “community spread,” I suddenly realized the virus might be here. Perhaps aboard the next transient boat? My slip mate’s boat? My boat?

Until now, our small group of liveaboards had shared drinks and cooked dinners together. As COVID-19 became a local issue, we started looking at each other with apprehension. What effect would the virus have on our plans? What about Intracoastal Waterway bridges? Would the Corps of Engineers close the Ditch? What about the hundreds of boats about to head north? Should we sail or remain in port? As public health officials called for people to stay home, I decided to remain in Georgetown through April, for my own safety and the general good. Soon marinas started closing along the ICW, local businesses shut down, and social distancing became the new mantra. Few transients passed through. Cruisers went into hunker-down survival mode.

With cases spiking in Maryland, I extended my stay in South Carolina through May. Each morning, I awoke early with plans to accomplish several tasks, but my energy quickly dissipated. I experienced what many have described as “COVID-19 malaise.” In the evenings, I walked the historic district. The streets were deserted. I had a cab deliver provisions purchased online. I did laundry at midnight. I avoided my slip mates. I wore a mask and gloves whenever I left the boat.

Once Maryland allowed recreational boating to resume in late May, it was time to return home. But my June voyage was not what I had envisioned. I had wanted a leisurely passage, visiting towns and isolated anchorages along the ICW, followed by a week or so of cruising the lower Chesapeake. But that was the pre-COVID-19 world. Now, a fast passage was in order, with limited to no external contacts. Then, suddenly, my local crewmember became unavailable. I immediately put out a crew call on my social media and crew finder sites.

The first reply was from Bill Cullen, an extremely experienced sailor known for his gear talks at boat-show seminars. Our passage would be a delivery with as few outside interactions as possible; we would sail as many miles as possible during the long summer days before dropping the hook. During the entire passage, we stayed at only one marina, in Myrtle Beach. From our departure, we raised sail whenever possible. Contrary to some “experts,” you can sail or at least motorsail much of the ICW when the wind is off your stern quarter.

With two weeks of provisions stowed aboard plus extra diesel and water, we made 12-hour runs and 70-plus-mile days; consistent southerlies allowed us to keep sail up along much of the Ditch. We free-sailed the wider rivers, sounds and the Chesapeake. Sailing added 1 to 2 knots to our motoring speed and more to our morale.

It was a fast but eventful trip, so quick that my relief crew was unable to join me, but Bill carried on. Ten days out of Georgetown, we pulled into my slip in the small village of Galesville.

As I write this, I am nearing the end of my self-imposed 14-day quarantine aboard. I made this decision long ago to protect my family and friends once I returned. Outside the marina bubble in the village, most people are not wearing masks. What are they thinking? In rough weather, sailors wear PFDs to protect themselves and their crewmates. If you go overboard without a PFD, you make a rescue much more difficult, putting yourself and other crew at greater risk. Right now, because of COVID-19, we are all experiencing some very rough weather. Like PFDs, we need to wear masks to protect each other.

Once my quarantine ends, I am apprehensive about leaving the boat. I feel like a singlehander returning from a long voyage at sea, unsure of my land legs. I am already weary of constantly being on guard. I am unsure about my future. Will I remain here, or will I sail south again? The only certainty I have is that Sparkle Plenty still pulls at her dock lines.

Filmmaker Tory Salvia specializes in nautical productions and is the president of the Sailing Channel LLC.

Quiet and Connection Down Under

By Lin Pardey

Cruising on,” I wrote to my family in the early days of the pandemic. “Not much has changed.” And in most ways, despite the COVID-19 restrictions here in Australia, that was true.

In mid-March, after a two-and-a-half-month layover near Melbourne to spend time with David’s first granddaughter and to welcome his first grandson, we set sail east and then north aboard his 40-foot cutter, Sahula, slowly meandering toward Queensland’s Great Barrier Reef. “Slowly” is the operative word. We didn’t want to get into the tropics before the end of the cyclone season. We enjoyed beautiful, isolated anchorages near Wilsons Promontory National Park and the excitement of crossing the shallow river bar at the coastal village of Lakes Entrance. Because we had little internet access, we enjoyed days of solitude, reading, catching up with onboard projects, and walks on shore.

Only when we ran low on provisions and headed into the town of Eden two weeks later did we learn the government was ­clamping things down to contain the virus. Self-isolation was to start the very next day. The last nonessential shops were being closed indefinitely as we walked through this normally vibrant little town. The market shelves had dozens of bare spots as I topped up our supply of fresh food. I was thankful I had ­previously done a large reprovisioning, so didn’t need toilet paper or paper towels.

We carefully read the new regulations and found no direct ­reference to people living on yachts, other than to self-isolate and go out only to exercise or buy food. As we journeyed northward, we tried to avoid shopping for groceries more than necessary and took the recommended precautions when we did. The only other times we were within 100 meters of another person was when we topped up on water and fuel.

It was three weeks after the self-isolation orders had gone into effect that we reached Sydney Harbor. And there I had a small taste of how difficult the COVID-19 restrictions were for most other people. Since it was legal to take walks ashore together for exercise purposes, we called David’s daughter, who lives in an a very small terrace house only a few miles from where we anchored. “Come on down to the park here at Blackwattle Bay. Bring Peaches (the dog) for her walk. We can stroll and talk as long as we stay 2 meters apart.” My arms actually ached from wanting to give her kids, Emily and Lachlan, hugs when we met.

Fortunately for us, Sydney Sails was considered an essential business because the crew there makes safety gear bags for the ferry fleet. Thus we were able have the boat measured and a sail fitted, then test the new nylon drifter Sahula needed. Kale, a fine marine electrician, was another whose occupation was declared essential. He did yeoman duty when we accidentally roasted our house batteries. The comings and goings of these tradesmen helped us feel little had changed as we had contact with other people.

It did feel spookily quiet on Sydney Harbor: almost no city sounds, only the occasional rumble of a truck across the normally traffic-laden bridge only a few hundred meters away from our anchorage. And almost no wakes to rock the boat as local yachts stayed tied up, and only a fifth the usual number of ferries crisscrossed the harbor.

When we went ashore for a walk, we did chat casually to half a dozen local liveaboards we passed. “As long as we spend most of our time on board, the local authorities don’t care if we move from anchorage to anchorage,” one told us as we lingered alongside in our dinghy.

The marine police in some of the ports to the north of Sydney had different interpretations of the regulations. On April 28, six weeks after the self-isolation period began, we left Sydney to continue northward. At a small market in the Pittwater region on Broken Bay (about 20 miles north of Sydney Harbor), we chatted with an American sailor who had been told he must find a mooring and not move from there until the lockdown was over. But no one approached us during the two weeks we spent in the isolated-feeling rivers and creeks of Broken Bay.

The American sailor was the first of almost two dozen overseas cruisers we met who were questioning their next moves. They were all stuck meandering the coast of New South Wales as Queensland closed its border to everyone other than residents. Many of these cruisers are having to fight for visa extensions to keep their stays legal. Because I hold both an American and New Zealand passport, David is a returning Queenslander, and Sahula’s hailing port is Townsville, the two of us can sail on to the Barrier Reef, then back to New Zealand.

It was also in Broken Bay that we heard what to me felt like exciting news. As of the next day, anyone in New South Wales could safely and legally have two other adults over for a visit. I immediately invited two Sydney friends to join us on board. Suddenly I realized just how much I missed entertaining, having an excuse to dream up special treats, give the boat an extra bit of sprucing up. When Ben and Di climbed on board, and Di reached out with her elbow, I began to do the same.

“No, that doesn’t feel right tonight,” Di said. Then we both shook our heads and eagerly grabbed each other in a hug. Now I knew what I had craved most of all in these strange COVID-19 days: the warmth that comes from true human contact.

Two-time circumnavigator and prolific sailing writer Lin Pardey is a longtime, cherished and regular contributor to Cruising World.

The post 5 Sailors Tell Their Stories of COVID-19 Quarantine appeared first on Cruising World.

Ed Tillett, editor-in-chief of Waterway Guide, provided this update on the Georgia anchoring situation.

Georgia policymakers and some legislators are recognizing that implementation of the most restrictive anchoring and enforcement laws in the U.S. may have been government overreach. A coalition of boating industry representatives and organizations met with Department of Natural Resources (DNR) leadership for the second time on February 25, 2020 to further assist in their understanding of how new regulations will impact the economy and status of the state as a destination. The coalition has spent the past seven months assessing and communicating the deficiencies of the state’s passage of regulations associated with navigating the coastal waters of Georgia. Passed in 2019, House Bill 201 (HB201) rewrote the state’s code and includes:

• An unclear and ill-defined label of “live-aboard vessels”
• Requirements for Georgia’s Department of Natural Resources to designate where boats may anchor as well as where they cannot
• Conflicts with provisions of the Clean Water Act specific to management of onboard waste regulations
• Obligations for boaters and marinas to create and maintain logs of when and where vessels’ waste tanks are pumped clean
• A process for establishing permits and possible fee structure that vessels must apply for prior to anchoring
• Rolling up all the new laws into a criminal offense for non-compliance if cited and convicted

While some of these requirements have not been pursued or promulgated as required in HB201, they remain law. And an Administrative Order (AO) signed on December 30, 2019 by DNR Commissioner Mark Williams established set back provisions requiring vessels to anchor 1,000 feet from variously defined structures and 300 feet from marinas. Those distances and some of the other requirements in the AO infuriated many skippers and boat owners who use the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway and other navigable waters along Georgia’s coast. Their comments, social media postings and letters to lawmakers in Atlanta prompted DNR to request a meeting with the boating group coalition to help them come to terms with the fallout from HB201 and understand provisions in a new measure, House Bill 833 (HB833).

Fearing defeat due to little support from legislators unfamiliar with the problems of HB201, the coalition retained the services of a respected lobbyist who has assisted in last-minute efforts to manage the introduction of HB833 while the 2020 General Assembly remains in session. Now in draft, HB833 has been championed by Representative Ron Stephens, an accomplished boater and esteemed long-term Georgia legislator. HB833 seeks to remedy the shortcomings of HB201 by providing a realignment of the state’s objectives with the routines and realities of extended cruising and recreational boating interests.

Why all the laws and rules and regulations? DNR has stated publicly that the department is attempting to rein in a few boaters whose lifestyles and choices of anchorages create conflicts with property owners on shore. DNR is also attempting to promote a healthy environment for the state’s aquaculture industry by curtailing potential discharge of waste from anchored vessels. Boating groups insist that the actions of a few bad actors does not warrant the level of oversight and regulations outlined in HB201. While an admirable environmental aim, there also is no evidence that anchored boats in Georgia waters near aquaculture areas dump, or can dump, enough waste to harm shellfish.

Following the February 25th meeting, James Newsome of Save Georgia’s Anchorages, said, “Over the course of almost two hours, we had open dialogue on the problems DNR was trying to address with HB201 as well as some of the issues the cruising community had with its incarnation as law. All parties felt the call was productive and there is agreement in principle to refine Rep. Ron Stephens’ HB833 to best achieve our mutual objectives and to push the legislation through the current session in the next few weeks. HB833, if it passes, is expected to replace most parts of HB201.”

“We are not out of the woods yet, but Georgia policymakers appear to now be responsive to changing some of the most questionable facets of the laws passed last year, including restrictions for where vessels may anchor and the identity of cruising and transient vessels. Commissioner Williams is not willing to rescind the Administrative Order signed on December 30, 2019 that prevents boats from anchoring within 1,000 feet of structures throughout the coastal region of the state, until a legislative fix, HB833, is passed by the General Assembly. We are continuing our work.”

A Call to Action

Waterway Guide attended the teleconference on February 25th, and we are optimistic about the progress of the meeting and Commissioner Williams’ attention to HB833.

Our readers’ support is needed now more than ever to assist in the funding of lobbying efforts that have helped us achieve some degree of success in having Georgia DNR and lawmakers hear our collective voice. Our fight continues in the legislature in the weeks ahead.

Thanks to all who have supported our efforts to establish the Georgia Anchoring Advocacy fund to retain Scott Draper, a proficient and proven lobbyist. We have reached 63% of our funding goal in a matter of days with your help. In less than a week Scott has come up to speed with the issues we have identified in HB201, Georgia’s anchoring law that took effect January 1st, 2020. He was able to broker a conference call with GA DNR Commissioner Mark Williams, his team, Rep. Ron Stephens and our anchoring coalition resulting in a promise from DNR to continue to work towards a solution.

Please join nearly 100 other boaters from across the country and around the world who have supported this effort. Contribute at www.greatloop.org/Georgia

The post Progress on Georgia Anchoring Situation appeared first on Cruising World.

This letter originally appeared in the Waterway Guide. Reprinted with permission.

Remember when you were in school and a few kids did something wrong and the whole class got punished? If so, then welcome to legislation—Georgia style. Georgia is now home to the most restrictive boater legislation in the nation. This past week the Coastal Resources Division (CRD) of the Department of Natural Resources (DNR) posted the announcement of the implementation of HB201 on their website. You may recall this is the bill I warned Liberty and Bryan County residents about last summer. A hodgepodge of disjointed topics, the bill included anchoring permits, logs of pump-outs, fees and the establishment of anchorage areas. Did you catch that folks? Not just authorization to tell you where you CAN’T anchor but where you CAN anchor. The announcement this week (via Administrative Order from DNR Commissioner Mark Williams) graciously informs the public that “The Commissioner hereby ORDERS that anchorage areas for the purpose of overnight anchoring are established throughout all the estuarine areas the state…”. In other words, a right we have enjoyed for centuries in waters most boaters and boating organizations believe to be federally controlled (see the commerce clause of the US Constitution) has been granted to us by the DNR. This should be challenged in a court of law.

If you go onto the DNR website they will tell you “HB201 is a new law that mainly affects waste discharge from vessels with marine sanitation devices (MSDs) and overnight anchoring in coastal waters”. Folks, this is disingenuous at best. HB201 was NEVER about concern over the cleanliness of Georgia’s waters. It was about getting rid of a couple of nuisance boats in the coastal Georgia area to make a couple of powerful people happy. It was their scenery that was getting polluted—not the water. To fix their problem, Representative Don Hogan (Brunswick, GA) with the help of others crafted HB201 at the urging of DNR. Why? Because DNR needed a way to make these 2 complaints go away and establishing setbacks under the guise of clean water was deemed the answer. The hen has now come to roost in the form of this new DNR Administrative Order which outlines the following:

ONE. It restricts overnight anchoring within 1,000 feet (that’s over 3 football fields) of any structure, such as public and private docks, wharves, bridges, piers and pilings, except in areas near marinas. This 1,000’ offset needlessly eliminates anchorages all over the state. It will affect numerous boaters many of which transit Georgia waters as part of the annual migration along the Intracoastal Waterway (ICW) that brings in millions of dollars to Georgia businesses. Additionally, an unintended consequence of this ill-conceived legislation is that it gives private landowners jurisdiction over public waters free of charge with no need for a bottom lease from the state. Essentially waterfront owners now control thousands of acres of public water at no cost. I seriously question the legality of this action and challenge any attorney reading this to take action.

TWO. Commissioner Mark Williams and the DNR have created an animal known as Marina Zones, which wasn’t even in HB201. These will allow boaters to anchor as close as 300 feet to marinas or facilities that provide fuel, dinghy access, provisions, vessel maintenance or other services, regardless of whether other structures exist nearby. This, of course, begs the question, if we can anchor 300’ from a marina, where there are numerous comings and goings, why are we prohibited from anchoring 300’ from any other structure where there may be no or very limited activity? It makes zero sense but then it doesn’t have to as long as it makes the two waterfront owners happy. It would seem the needs of the few outweigh the needs of the many.

Many boating groups to include the National Marine Manufacturers Association (NMMA), Boat US, Seven Seas Cruising Association (SSCA), Marine Trawler Owners Association (MTOA), American Great Loopers Cruising Association (AGLCA), and the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway Association (AIWA) were never consulted before the legislation was passed. Most importantly, the general boating public was unaware of the bill until it had already passed. A public hearing occurred on June 17, 2019, in Brunswick where we voiced our concerns and were assured no rules would be implemented until they were vetted with the boating public. Afterward, at a July 31, 2019 “Stakeholders’ Meeting,” which I and several boating representatives attended, we collectively recommended 150’ setbacks from marinas and private structures. Personnel at DNR were informed that a 1,000’ setback was far too large yet that has now been implemented. So much for transparency and open dialogue with the public.

The General Assembly didn’t just take away the freedoms of Georgians, they also took away the freedoms of every American transiting our waters from other states. DNR never had any intention of engaging any of the end-users–Georgia boaters and visiting boaters to the coastline of Georgia. Actions speak much louder than words.

So, what can we do? I invite the citizens of coastal Georgia to join me in writing and calling both the Governor’s office as well as the Commissioner of DNR.

Governor Brian Kemp 206 Washington Street Suite 203, State Capitol Atlanta, GA 30334

Phone Number: 404-656-2846 Toll Free: 1-800-436-7442

Contact via web form: https://gov.georgia.gov/contact-us/constituent-services

Commissioner Mark Williams 2 Martin Luther King, Jr. Drive, SE Suite 1252 – East Tower Atlanta, GA 30334

Phone number: 404-656-3505 Contact via web form: https://gadnr.org/sendemail

Maps of restricted anchorage areas by county can be found here: https://coastalgadnr.org/Liveaboards

If you want to keep abreast of what’s happening, join the Facebook group Save Georgia’s Anchorages at https://www.facebook.com/groups/SaveGeorgiasAnchorages/.

Sincerely,

Jack White, boater, Liberty County resident and former GA State Representative, House District 3

The post Update: Anchoring in Georgia appeared first on Cruising World.

Georgia says its new anchoring regulations and requirements for persons sleeping on boats are sensible and require little change. Many boating industry representatives disagree and continue to push for changes that will soften enforcement options related to where, when and how vessels may anchor in the coastal waters of the state.

Following on the heels of the public comment period for Georgia’s new anchoring laws, the Department of Natural Resources (DNR) held an informal stakeholders meeting on July 31, 2019 comprising members of its staff and representatives from various boating groups. The objective of the session was to report the latest actions specific to anchoring permits, associated fees and to gather more information from the boating industry about its positions on the new regulations.

House Bill 201 (HB201) was signed into law in May 2019 and provides sweeping changes to laws that govern vessels anchoring in the coastal waters of the state as well as those docked at marinas if a person spends the night aboard. The new law goes into effect January 1, 2020 and carries criminal penalties for violations.

Georgia DNR maintains that at the heart of the issue is an effort by the state to better manage “live-aboard” vessels and the potential impact those boats have on the environment. Also propelling the new regulations is an increase in the number of abandoned and derelict vessels (ADV) in the state and how to deal with them.

DNR reports that over 240 letters and emails were submitted specific to HB201 during the public comment period, which ended July 17, 2019, and represented a historically large number of responses for the department. This issue has galvanized boaters who transit or use the coastal waters of Georgia. Boating industry leaders are also watching this issue as it may set the stage for other states attempting to deal with similar questions.

Doug Haymans, Director of DNR Coastal Resource Division, opened the stakeholder meeting with a report that “permit fees are off the table.” While permits to anchor in the coastal waters of Georgia may still be required, cruisers won’t be charged for them.

The two-hour discussion centered on the challenges that Georgia DNR faces in managing irresponsible boat owners who either do not obey pump out regulations or anchor their vessels and leave them unattended, which can result in hazards to navigation, environmental or property damage if they break loose.

DNR reported that shellfish aquaculture activities on the state are on the rise and treated and untreated sewage from vessels anchored near those areas are also a concern. No substantiating data was offered to support that boats are fouling the state’s water quality with sewage. In response, Jack White of Save Georgia’s Anchorages presented figures from Georgia Environmental Protection Division (EPD) revealing the millions of gallons of raw sewage dumped into state waters from municipalities annually. He offered that if every vessel anchored in the state in any given year were to pump its holding tanks the comparison against local sewage releases is inconsequential and irrelevant.

RELATED: Georgia Still Grappling with Anchoring Issues

While not specific to the new regulations, DNR is also beginning to explore setback distances where boats must anchor away from structures and protected areas. Stakeholders in attendance argued that other states have arrived at standards for setbacks and that easy-to-follow and understand regulations should be considered. DNR would not agree to a standard and suggested that a patchwork of distances may be necessary due to any number of reasons.

Georgia and other states have wrestled with the nuances of “live-aboards” for many years and how to manage their use of public waterways. Defining a “live-aboard” vessel and persons on those vessels is an underlying issue in HB201. As written, the definition has been scrutinized and challenged by boaters and industry groups. To that end, DNR and state legislative representatives agreed during the meeting to revisit the description as it applies to this measure.

When pressed for some of the underlying reasons for such sweeping changes to Georgia’s laws, DNR representatives stated that complaints from homeowners about anchored vessels in front of their property, including boaters playing loud music and running generators, has contributed to the problems that HB201 is attempting to solve. Boating representatives responded that the depth of new regulations appear to be somewhat heavy handed in view of the apparent small number of irresponsible vessel owners compared to the thousands that transit and enjoy coastal waters each year in the state. Additional observations were provided to DNR that many of the underlying concerns about the new regulations remain, despite the promise that permit fees will be removed.

Director Haymans will present the public comments and his recommendations to members of the DNR Board in August. This will be followed by another public comment period and a public meeting to be announced. DNR may adjust the final rules following this period. The rules will then be submitted to the DNR board for approval and implementation will take place January 1, 2020.

In addition to DNR staff, attending the July 31 meeting were Georgia state Representatives Don Hogan and Ron Stephens; Kim Russo, executive director of America’s Great Loop Cruisers’ Association (AGLCA) and representative for three other boating groups including Seven Seas Cruising Association (SCCA), Marine Trawler Owner’s Association (MTOA) and DeFever Yacht Owners; Lee Gatts from the National Marine Manufacturers Association (NMMA); Charlie Waller owner of Isle of Hope Marina and executive director of Georgia Marine Business Association (GAMBA), and Jack White and James Newsome from Save Georgia’s Anchorages (SGA).

The post Georgia Still Wrestling with Anchoring Regulations appeared first on Cruising World.

Increasing criticism and confusion continues over Georgia’s new regulations for boaters who want to spend the night on their vessels. Following a public hearing in Brunswick on June 17, 2019, boating groups and industry representatives have expressed strong opinions that the new laws scheduled to go into effect in January are not necessary and the most restrictive in the United States.

At the core of the issue is how Georgia defines “live-aboard vessels” and where and when those vessels may anchor in the state’s coastal waters. There are additional regulations for requiring a permit to anchor, proof of pumping out holding tanks and criminal offenses for non-compliance.

RELATED: Update on the Proposed Georgia Anchoring Rules

Georgia-based marinas are also affected by the new laws, which are the result of passage of House Bill 201 (HB201) in the last session of the state’s General Assembly. Citing increased problems from derelict and abandoned vessels, and irresponsible boaters dumping untreated waste into the state’s waterways, the legislation purportedly was crafted to address those concerns. No empirical evidence has been offered by the state to support these issues.

Charlie Waller of Isle of Hope Marina says, “Unfortunately, the bad press from this bill is overshadowing some really creative work going on right now by the Army Corps of Engineers and the Georgia DNR who are making some of the most significant improvements to the state’s Intracoastal Waterway that we have seen in many years, such as dredging the channel near Jekyll Creek and other problem areas.”

Boaters are aiming their disapproval of the new laws across member forums, social media platforms and in blogs. The six distinct issues causing alarm are:

• The unclear and ill-defined label of “live-aboard vessels”
• Directing Georgia’s Department of Natural Resources to designate where boats may anchor versus where they cannot
• Restating provisions of the Clean Water Act specific to holding tank regulations
• Requiring boaters and marinas to create and maintain logs of when and where their vessels’ holding tanks were pumped clean
• Creating a permit and possible fee structure that vessels must apply for prior to anchoring
• Rolling up all the new laws into a criminal offense for non-compliance if cited and convicted

Discussions continue with Georgia DNR representatives who have taken the lead on evaluating comments from public hearings and submissions. While already signed into law by Governor Brian Kemp, another round of discussions may be forthcoming in the weeks ahead with industry representatives to assess the regulations and consider options for revisions.

Written comments are important to the official record and will be accepted through July 15, 2019. You are not required to be a Georgia resident. Send comments to: Kelly Hill, Coastal Resources Division, One Conservation Way, Brunswick, GA 31520. Email: Kelly.Hill@dnr.ga.gov

The post Georgia Still Grappling with Anchoring Issues appeared first on Cruising World.

Ed Tillett, editor-in-chief of Waterway Guide attended this week’s public hearing that addressed new anchoring restrictions in Georgia’s estuarine and tidal waters and offers this report.

Boaters, industry representatives and marine business owners all voiced their recommendations and concerns about House Bill 201, which was recently signed into law and contains several provisions that could prove to be the strictest and most far-reaching impediments in any U.S. state for those planning to anchor their vessels overnight in coastal waters.

As proposed, the new regulations would require a paid permit for anchoring in Georgia’s tidal waters whether one night or longer, and that vessel owners maintain records of where and when they conduct pump outs of their waste holding tanks. The measure also directs the Department of Natural Resources (DNR) to establish anchorage areas.

RELATED: New Anchoring Rules Pending In Georgia

Of those who registered to speak, the predominant opinions were that new regulations and laws are not needed because most boat owners are responsible and conscientious, and additional oversight and fees are unwarranted and difficult to observe while traveling. There was almost unanimous concern that DNR is now authorized to delineate specific anchorage areas rather than adhere to existing policy that allows vessels to anchor anywhere provided they are outside navigable channels.

Doug Haymans, Director of the Coastal Resources Division of DNR, opened the meeting with an overview of the legislation and intent of the proposed regulations. Protecting existing sensitive shellfish areas and future aquaculture areas, alleviating derelict and abandoned vessels, and curbing nuisance vessels from operating outside of current law were given as the primary reasons for the new regulations. He also explained that the new laws will carry criminal penalties with their enforcement falling under Title 52, Chapter 7 of Georgia Code.

Active boaters, including Georgia residents and extended cruisers passing through the state, representatives from BoatUS, the National Marine Manufacturers Association (NMMA), America’s Great Loop Cruisers’ Association (AGLCA), Seven Seas Cruising Association (SSCA), Marine Trawler Owners’ Association (MTOA), Georgia Marine Business Association (GAMBA), Waterway Guide Media and DeFever Cruisers Group presented recommendations and remarks questioning the reasons for the new regulations and how they will be enforced. There were approximately 70 attendees at the meeting.

A theme throughout the hearing was that Georgia has presented no evidence that boats, whether in marinas or at anchor, are polluting the state’s waterways. Additional questions to DNR representatives regarding the number of derelict and abandoned boats were met with estimates of “135 to 145” problem-vessels statewide. There also appears to be no record of the number of nuisance calls or complaints about live-aboard persons violating laws or regulations. Many in the public hearing asked why solutions are being offered for problems that don’t appear to exist?

NMMA’s Lee Gatts, manager of southeast policy and engagement, presented detailed comments to the proposed regulations and said that NMMA “strongly opposes” many of the provisions. These excerpts are from a prepared statement:

• The draft regulations and HB 201 require the state to prohibit anchorage everywhere except in designated anchorages. We believe the proposed regulations should be amended to require just the opposite. Anchorage should be allowed in estuarine waters by default, with restrictions put in place only to prevent hazards to navigation, and near boat ramps, in-water structures and areas deemed to have a specific need for protection, including shellfish beds.
• We strongly object to even the concept of treating anchorage in Georgia’s public waters like a hotel. We know of no state that charges boaters by the day to anchor in its waters. We do not believe this permit scheme will be enforceable given the severe shortage of on-water patrols and other resources. We expect it will be extremely costly and difficult for the state to provide sufficient education to transient boaters to create even minimal compliance with these fees.
• HB 201 goes to great length to create criminal penalties for a boater to not purchase and properly display an anchorage permit and/or to fail to retain records proving the use of a pumpout facility. Therefore, a person who anchors for a week in a lesser-used portion of a Georgia estuary faces a criminal penalty for failure to purchase a $20 sticker.
• Georgia’s marinas should not be required to maintain a record of pump outs, for what appears to be a way to cross-check the validity of a boater’s records. This excessive mandate places an unfair and costly burden on the businesses, and provides no benefit to the State, the environment or boaters.

Waterway Guide Media’s publisher, Jeff Jones, says, “We believe in safe boating, travel and adventure on America’s waterways. We stand with AGLCA, SSCA, MTOA and GAMBA in their position that if Georgia must enact laws that it believes will reduce derelict and nuisance vessels, and that charging boat owners to anchor is a solution, we support no fees for anchoring in Georgia for a 60-day period for vessels that are attended. If setbacks are needed, we support 150 feet from marine infrastructure. Extended cruising and long-range boating activities should not be overly impacted by this approach.”

Representative Don Hogan (R), District 179 of St. Simon’s Island was the sponsor and author of House Bill 201. Rep. Hogan spoke at the end of the hearing and thanked attendees for their comments and insight. He suggested that with the information presented during the public hearing, further consideration of the new regulations may be warranted. When questioned by some attendees whether he would consider repealing or revising the legislation, he said that he will evaluate the ongoing comments but could not commit to such an effort at this time.

DNR representatives and others on hand from Georgia’s legislature appeared to have been influenced by the keen insight and distinctive requirements of transient boaters and their lifestyles. There was strong sentiment expressed for another round of hearings to assist legislators in fully understanding the issues associated with the provisions of HB 201. Although no confirmation date was given, another hearing may be scheduled for October 2019.

Written comments are important to the official record and will be accepted through July 15, 2019. You are not required to be a Georgia resident. Send comments to: Kelly Hill, Coastal Resources Division, One Conservation Way, Brunswick, GA 31520. Kelly.Hill@dnr.ga.gov

The post Update on the Proposed Georgia Anchoring Rules appeared first on Cruising World.

North and southbound East Coast sailors whose travels take them along the Intracoastal Waterway in Georgia should pay close attention to evolving regulations that could dramatically affect access to transient anchorages.

Proposed changes could limit the use of some areas for overnight or longer-term anchoring, create a permit requirement and institute possible fees, among other new regulations.

Cruisers will be able convey their concerns directly to lawmakers at a public hearing set for June 17, 2019 in Brunswick, Georgia, or they can submit written comments through July 15, 2019.

House Bill 201 (HB201) was signed into law on May 7, 2019 and authorizes the state’s Department of Natural Resources (DNR) to begin developing regulations and enforcement provisions specific to when and where vessels may anchor and to create a permitting process. Further language in the new law addresses revisions specific to where liveaboard vessels may be located and how owners must manage waste in their onboard holding tanks.

Kim Russo, Executive Director of America’s Great Loop Cruisers’ Association (AGLCA), has been following the legislation for the past few months and says, “As written, these regulations will have far-reaching effects on recreational vessels that use the AICW in Georgia during their trips north and south. We are crafting proposed changes to submit during the upcoming public comment period that better reflect the requirements of boaters.”

The measure was introduced in February 2019 and sailed through both houses of the Georgia legislature. (See the bill’s history here .) In addition to near unanimous backing by the General Assembly, it was also supported by the Georgia Wildlife Federation and Georgia Conservancy. Many boating organizations whose members comprise active and transient cruisers are opposed to much of the language in Georgia’s new law and have expressed dissatisfaction at not being included in the planning of the legislation.

Leadership of the AGLCA, Seven Seas Cruising Association, Marine Trawlers Owners Association and ad hoc groups and committees are rallying to influence the follow-on actions by the DNR, which is responsible for defining and promulgating any new regulations. Social media sites and member forums have been abuzz for the past two weeks with concerns that Georgia’s legislature and associated agencies misunderstand the state’s resources and has mismanaged the process. The firestorm of protests and social media postings indicate a great deal of concern and bitterness by thousands of mariners who regularly spend weeks and months aboard their vessels either moving through the state or enjoying their home waters.

Much like Florida and other states where anchoring in public waters is prevalent, Georgia is grappling with an increasing number of derelict, abandoned and unattended vessels that pose multiple problems for communities, in addition to more full-time liveaboard persons. (See Background and Synopsis included in the Proposed Regulation Changes.)

At the core of this issue is the ongoing concern by boaters who transit America’s waterways that their options for dropping an anchor out of the channel for a night, or several nights, is being increasingly encumbered and subject to more government oversight and enforcement. Most are asking if the anchoring regulations in Florida and Georgia portend similar actions by other states and municipalities in the future.

Coastal communities, neighborhoods, waterfront residents, marinas and private property owners are putting the pressure on their government representatives to stem the tide of unprincipled boat owners who abandon their vessels, leave them unattended at anchor without reasonable supervision or thumb their noses at regulations while anchored for months on end in the same place. As a result, conscientious boaters see their choices limited, as in the case of Florida’s increased enforcement and oversight of anchored vessels, which may sometimes be warranted and sometimes not, depending on the interpretation of local law enforcement.

Among the many questions on the minds of boat owners is what will Georgia decide? What happens in the next state to address the issues? How many different regulations do I have to know when passing through different jurisdictions? What are the consequences of noncompliance?

The public hearing on the proposed amendments will be held in Brunswick, Georgia on Monday, June 17, 2019, at 5:30 p.m. at the Coastal Regional Headquarters of the Georgia Department of Natural Resources located at 1 Conservation Way, Brunswick, GA 31520. You are not required to be a resident of Georgia to attend or submit remarks.

Written comments will be accepted through July 15, 2019. Send them to: Kelly Hill, Coastal Resources Division, One Conservation Way, Brunswick, GA 31520. Kelly.Hill@dnr.ga.gov

Ed Tillett is Editor-in-Chief of Waterway Guide Media.

The post New Anchoring Rules Pending In Georgia appeared first on Cruising World.

In the fall of 2018, we all had it rough; gale followed gale, cold fronts spilled rain and cruisers hid behind whatever they could, tucking into harbors and anchorages, covering miles sporadically at best.

I’d raced southward down the Chesapeake, riding a series of 25-knot northerlies from the Sassafras River to Annapolis to Solomon’s Island. I then headed out to Tangier for a quick night before a run to Norfolk, riding 30-knot gusts that kicked up steep, confused chop and kept me glued to the tiller. By the time I left Norfolk, early in the morning as rain sprinkled out of the gray (not yet) dawn, I was worn thin. Between days at sea, my time had been spent either scrambling for boat parts or working on the boat. I’d ripped my main, replaced my boom, torn out the old leaking water heater, replaced coolant hoses, realigned my shaft, and on and on and on.

But once I spilled out of the Deep Creek Lock and into the Great Dismal Swamp, everything shifted — the sun popped out, and all of the anxiety of making the miles between the Cape Cod Canal and Norfolk burned off with the deck dew. I cracked a beer, turned on a Grateful Dead album and chugged along, marveling at the tannic waters, the cypress forests around me so different than any forest I’d ever seen. And I realized that, from that point onward, I’d be able to make a schedule and stick to it. I was on the ICW and more excited than I’d ever expected to be about motoring down a canal. I was in protected waters, and gone were the days of being stuck in one harbor or another while storms raged.

Of course, I was wrong. In Elizabeth City, North Carolina, I tied to a free dock at the Mid-Atlantic Christian University, and after a shower, I found myself with a cruising couple at a tall table in the Ghost Harbor Brewery, sipping porters and eating Jamaican chicken wings while checking the local forecasts.

And that fast, my plans were gone.

Three days of hard northerlies, followed by easterlies, were predicted to hit Albemarle Sound, so it looked like, once again, I was stuck. Although antsy to go, I reminded myself that being patient and flexible was what sailing was all about — and besides, I had friends behind me, trying to catch up for Thanksgiving.

More and more, as I’d worked my way south from Maine, I was seeing frazzled, over-stressed cruisers. Captains and crew angry that they weren’t able to keep to their schedule, to follow their itinerary — mad, essentially, that things were not as they’d expected them to be. They furled their sails, ran their motors hard, stared incessantly at their weather apps. Wasn’t sailing about dealing with the unexpected?

I tried to kick back. I barely worked on Jade. I walked the town, over and over, intrigued by my first dose of southern architecture, the old houses in repair or disrepair, the lush landscaping, the downtown brick buildings, some boarded up, some showing the dawn of a downtown revitalization.

I sat at the bar at Hoppin Johnz, ate some fantastic “new south cuisine” as I perused charts, worked on my laptop, drank local beer and listened to the New Orleans sounds that filled the room. I walked the residential streets to the SoHo Organic Market, stocked up on bulk beans and rice, and bought some root vegetables.

Back at the university, all of the cruisers had an open invitation to the cafeteria. Dan Smith, who oversaw the docks, told me not to miss the authentic Southern fried chicken lunch and soul-food spread, so a group of us found ourselves eating the best fried chicken any of us had ever tasted while surrounded by college students, staff and faculty. Dan joined our table, talked sailing, and offered his car if any of us needed to run errands. And, much to my relief, no one mentioned religion or politics — just food, culture and sailing.

That same evening, while easterly winds blew, cruisers and locals piled into the cozy Ghost Harbor Brewery. A trio played in the corner. Everyone talked weather, shared stories about boats piled up along the Virginia Cut, backlogged at bridges; boats unable to get through locks; boats gone aground, blown ashore, even lost at sea. And those of us lucky enough to be there … well, we were beginning to realize it.

I stepped out of the brewery into historic Pailin’s Alley, which was shared by Hoppin Johnz. The wind had turned warm. Strings of lanterns crisscrossed overhead, lush plants hung from balconies, the old bricks glowed and music filled the air. I hadn’t planned to be there; I wasn’t as far south as I’d anticipated being, or even wanted to be, but I was genuinely thankful for the winds that had caused me to hold still and experience such a special place.

The post Cruising Stopover: Elizabeth City, NC appeared first on Cruising World.

Cruising the waters of the U.S. East Coast on our 40-foot sailboat, Folly, we have willingly suffered the motoring required to transit the Intracoastal Waterway for the pleasure of experiencing the amazing wildlife, and especially bird life, on this journey. Over the past 15 years, my husband, John, and I have completed a circumnavigation in our Van de Stadt-designed sloop, built by ourselves in aluminum, but of all the waters we have visited, we are drawn back to one of our favorite cruising grounds — the eastern seaboard of the United States.

Used to the coastal and freshwater flora and fauna of England, we’ve been delighted by the tropical and exotic (to us) species that we have encountered on our voyages between southern Florida and Rhode Island. Motoring close to osprey chicks while they watch suspiciously from their nest on an ICW marker post, with heads nervously bobbing up and down, is such fun.

Our East Coast transits have been in the steamy heat of summer, in the freezing depths of winter and in the beautiful shoulder seasons of spring and fall, allowing us to enjoy both migratory species and year-round residents. Armed with our National Audubon Society Field Guide to Birds (Eastern Section for North America), our boat binoculars (8×50) and a guide to flora and fauna, we have added to our enjoyment of the cultural attractions and wonderful landscapes of the East Coast.

Below is a brief description of our personal experience of a few of the many, many species that we have encountered, in the hope that you find as much pleasure in sharing the ICW with them as we have.

West Indian Manatee

These elusive, gentle, slow-moving mammals, found in Gulf waters and on the U.S. East Coast, from Florida to the Georgia-South Carolina border, are said to be the “mermaids” described by ancient mariners, although “sea cow” seems a more appropriate nickname. Anchored well off to the side of the ICW in a shallow sound in Florida waters, on a still, steamy night, the peace of the evening can be punctuated by frequent grunts and electronic-sounding beeps of manatees communicating. Although these creatures can’t survive in waters below 68 degrees Fahrenheit, there have been summer sightings as far north as New York City, Narragansett Bay and even Cape Cod!

Tied to a dock on a creek near Savannah, Georgia, we decided to flush the sulphuric-smelling mud out of our anchor-chain locker with fresh water. As the stream of muddy liquid dribbled out of the drain near the waterline, we noticed a small, gray whiskered creature nuzzling the outlet. We stared, and gradually our eyes adjusted to the massive underwater shape attached to what we realized was the muzzle of a manatee using Folly as a soda fountain!

American Brown Pelican

From North Carolina south, the brown pelican is a year-round resident and often provides an honor guard through ICW bridges, preening while perched on the fenders. It is the only nonwhite pelican in the world, and regularly entertains with its seemingly clumsy, but effective, dives for fish. On winding ICW tidal sections, shingle islands are heavily populated with grooming, squabbling flocks of these comical birds.

American White Pelican

The larger American white pelican is found south of the Florida-Georgia border and on the Gulf Coast. Rather than diving for fish, flocks of white pelicans often drive fish into shallow water to feast on them. Their huge wings of snowy-white are tipped with black, and they are an impressive sight when flying in formation, alternately flapping and gliding, playing follow the leader.

Butorides virescens: 16 to 22 inches tall

One of America’s most common herons, this bird’s name is misleading, since it’s more blue than green, with a striking chestnut neck in mature adults. As usual in the heron family, this small, well-camouflaged bird stalks the muddy shore of waterways, or fishes from low branches, docks or even from mooring lines, suddenly darting out its long neck to spear a fish. When disturbed, it emits a raucous croak, revealing its presence.

While we were moored in a creek off the Wilmington River in Savannah, a young green heron regularly patrolled our dock, even using our lines and pushpit rail as a perch. This bird can be spotted all along the East Coast south from Canada, but prefers the warmer weather from South Carolina to the Gulf Coast in winter.

Osprey

In England, ospreys are rare, but in the United States, their numbers have increased dramatically since the ’50s and ’60s, and they’re omnipresent on the East Coast. In the spring and summer, you are virtually guaranteed to see this impressive bird on ICW transits.

In the winter, they migrate south to warmer climes but can still be seen in Florida and on the Gulf Coast. Huge nests made of branches and twigs are visible in commanding positions near the tops of large, dead trees, and are often also found crowning ICW marker posts. Unfortunately, they are not averse to using sailboat mastheads as a fish-spotting perch!

American River Otter

We’ve been lucky to see otters on a few occasions on the varied waters of the ICW. Anchored in a Georgia creek for the winter, we regularly saw an otter cleaving the calm surface of the water, crossing from one bank of the marshes to the other on his daily forage for food. Later in the year, heading north after a night spent at anchor in Mile Hammock Bay, North Carolina, we surprised an otter with pups on the water’s edge. Unfortunately, they are very camera shy! The best time to catch sight of these elusive creatures is dawn or dusk as they prey on fish, frogs and crustaceans.

They can be found in all marine and freshwater environments, as long as the water quality is good and an abundant supply of food is available.

Great Horned Owl

The large great horned owl, resplendent with distinctive ear tufts, which give this bird its descriptive name, is resident throughout the United States and appropriates the disused nests of other large birds. Approaching the St. Johns River in Florida from the north, on Sisters Creek, we were taken aback to see one of these dignified birds perched on an abandoned osprey nest on the ICW marker post. With his imperturbable, unblinking yellow-eyed stare, he watched us glide by with the flow, swiveling his head to follow our progress, completely unafraid. Found even in urban habitats, such as city parks, these birds eat a wide range of prey, from insects to grouse and rabbits.

Barn Swallow

At our berths in Georgia and the Chesapeake Bay, these chattering, active little birds have often woken us at first light, their noisy chirruping reaching us through the hatch overhead. Using our lifelines for a perch, they take off on flying sorties before swooping back to inform their companions of their success in fly catching! Nesting under the docks in lieu of barns, they are constantly on the move in daylight hours, and very vocal. They are recognizable by a long, forked tail and chestnut throat and forehead. In late spring and summer, they can be seen on most of the East Coast before they embark on a huge migration to spend the winter as far south as Argentina.

Anhinga

Known as the snake bird, due to its unusually long, slim neck, the anhinga is a bird of the swampier Southern states. They spend winters as far north as South Carolina, and in the breeding season will be found further north still, in North Carolina. They swim with their black body submerged so that just the head, with a long spearlike bill, and neck are visible. When drying themselves after fishing, they resemble a cormorant, but with a much wider fanned tail.

Belted Kingfisher

What waterway would be complete without kingfishers? This large, strikingly patterned black-and-white bird frequents freshwater rivers and saltwater estuaries throughout the country, feeding on fish, crustaceans, lizards and small mammals. They regularly patrol their favored stretch of water. Often we would see a bird perched on a branch overhanging the water as we motored slowly past, then he would decide we were close enough and fly on ahead to his next perch.

Great Blue Heron

If you see a tall, gray shadowy shape, still as a stone sculpture against the marsh grass or riverbank, then it is probably a great blue heron, watching the water intently for prey, head sunk into its shoulders. When it explores the muddy shoreline, it moves deliberately, with serene, stately grace, before spearing a fish or a frog with its pale yellowish bill. Largest of the herons, they are found all along the East Coast. In Florida, you will also find a subspecies, the great white heron, which is all white.

American Alligator

We scoured the waterways for an alligator or crocodile on our first trip north on the ICW, and had many false alarms before we saw what looked like a log traveling upstream against the flow and knew that we had at last found a gator. Our mistaken identifications were nicknamed “croco-logs”! A full-grown alligator is generally a little smaller than an adult crocodile, with a broader snout and overlapping jaws so that the lower teeth are covered by the upper jaw when the mouth is closed.

American crocodile (Crocodylus Acutus) crawls in shallows, Chinchorro Atoll, Mexico

The alligator prefers cooler water than the American crocodile and is less tolerant of salt water, so it can be seen from the Great Dismal Swamp in Virginia to Everglades National Park in Florida and across to the southern tip of Texas. The American crocodile needs the warmer tropical waters of southern Florida, and prefers salt or brackish waters. Both eat fish, water birds, reptiles and small mammals, including the occasional raccoon.

The post Wildlife Along the Intracoastal Waterway appeared first on Cruising World.