The World is all gates, all opportunities, strings of tension waiting to be struck.“
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
The passage home has been textbook to date, but with each passing day, the tension has risen between the desire to make headway and the desire to make headway in fair weather. This pressure added to the trepidation, uncertainty, and anticipation.
The first decision was when to transit the canal. Built in 1829, the Chesapeake & Delaware Canal is a 14-mile-long, 450- foot-wide, and 35-foot-deep ship canal that connects the Delaware River with the Chesapeake Bay in Delaware and Maryland. About 25,000 commercial and pleasure boats transit the canal each year, making it one of the busiest shipping traffic areas in the world. Depending on the tidal cycle, high currents can slow progress if passages are not timed to take advantage of the flow. We consulted Eldridge Tide and Pilot Book and determined that a 7 AM departure would optimize our 75 NM trip to Cape May, where we planned to anchor for the night.
When we woke up on Sunday, the canal was shrouded in thick fog and muggy air. With the current timed perfectly, we passed under the imposing structure of the Summit Bridge and then stopped at the railroad bridge, which was lowered to allow a train to pass. After the train passed, we continued once the bridge rose, about 15 minutes later. As we exited the canal, we turned southeast down the river toward the open sea. A check of the weather revealed that thunderstorms were again in the forecast, and radar showed heavy rain and lightning moving up from the warm waters of the Gulf, heading northeast over the entire region. With few options for other stops in between, we pushed forward down the river.
By avoiding the main channel, we skirted dozens of tankers, cargo ships, and tugs in tow. Chris worked together with Scott as they evaluated the closet’s point of approach, adjusting the course as needed. Scott recalled being a young boy on Windward Ho. He described walking up the companion way and seeing a large freighter bearing down on their 30-foot sailboat. He describes the anxiety that he felt seeing his father turn the boat hard to avoid a collision. This left an unforgettable memory for Scott and Chris. Other memories emerged of sailing through squalls in the Chesapeake Bay, the wind would die and then turn direction, “the calm before the storm.”
As we reached the mouth of the Delaware, the mood shifted with the feel of the fresh, cool air coming off the Atlantic Ocean, a welcome reprieve from the daunting heat and tight turns around freighters. In the flat water, we could see patches of water with fish schooling for miles and dolphins hunting for their next meal.
We felt a sigh of relief until later that afternoon, when we heard thunder in the distance and saw flashes of lightning. We counted the seconds between the flash and the sound to estimate the distance. The sense of urgency to reach Cape May grew with the increasing frequency of the flashes, which led us to take a shortcut across the shallows off Cape May Inlet. The breakers in the shallow waters were visible off our port.
In the middle of our journey, we received a few calls from Kim’s brother, Hap, who wanted to join us in Cape May. The desire to connect with our family was just as strong as our wish to head north. Unfortunately, there was no dock space available, and we had no easy way to meet while we were anchored in Cape May. Wanting to see the family, we planned to detour to Atlantic City the next day, which wouldn’t significantly delay our trip. Tension eased a bit. As we set the anchor just off the Coast Guard Station, we could hear cadets singing in the background while we watched the dark sky
turn into a burst of color in the east. Except for Scott, who was up several times checking the anchor, we slept pretty well that night.
Kim and Chris pulled out their laptops early the next day to catch up on work, noting dark skies with flashes of lightning in the distance. A quick weather check showed that the squalls would pass and that conditions were generally good for our trip to Atlantic City to visit Kim’s brother, Hap, his wife, Dee, their daughter, Ally, son-in-law Brock, and their twin 3.5-year-old sons, Mason and Crew.
We motor-sailed along the coast, passing Wildwood, Stone Harbor, Avalon, Strathmere, Corson’s Inlet, and Ocean City. In Longport, Kim set up a memorial of flowers for her parents on the bow of Kailoa. Her mother, Beth, had her ashes scattered there in 2017, and her father, Wayne, was laid to rest in nearly the same spot in 2021. Memories of large family gatherings in Ocean City flooded back to Kim. This was her parents’ happy place. She recalled family gatherings with dozens of beach chairs forming a circle, grandkids making sandcastles, riding boogie boards in the surf, and large get-togethers in the basement of 5356 Asbury Avenue. While the sharp pain of losing a loved one has lessened, the deep sense of loss remains. The calmness of the ocean offered a comforting embrace. Without a gravesite, the Wild Blue became a perfect place to honor both of them and take a moment to reflect on their contributions to her life. Kim
imagined their joy as they watched Kailoa sail up the coast of New Jersey from the Bahamas.
We arrived in Atlantic City, greeted by the salty breeze, and after refueling, we docked the Kailoa by early afternoon. With Hap happily babysitting Mason and Crew, we hopped into a taxi and made our way to Somers Point, anticipation bubbling within us. The family reunion was a heartwarming affair, filled with heartfelt hugs, infectious laughter, and the joyful celebration of Ally and Brock’s 11th wedding anniversary.
As soon as we caught sight of the boys, it was hard to believe how much they had grown—at least six inches taller since our last visit during the trip south last year. The twins quickly warmed up to Scott and Chris, almost as if they instinctively recognized their kinship.
Exploring Ally and Brock’s new camper, we were impressed by its cozy amenities, including a spacious king-sized bed, a sleek flat-screen TV, a fully equipped kitchen, and a bright bathroom. We relaxed in the warmth of our surroundings at the Anchorage Point Bungalow, reveling in the joy of togetherness. Watching Dee and Hap embrace their new roles as Mimi and Hoppy was genuinely touching, their eyes sparkling with delight as they interacted with the kids.
In proper form, we fit in a speed boat ride on Hap’s Pursuit, “Roll with It,” along with dinner at Crabby Jack’s. As we crossed the back bays, the 9th Street Bridge lit up in the background, and the familiar scent of marshland filled the air as we sped along. The visit was too short, and we promised to plan a reunion next year in Ocean City.
The next morning, we prepared for our departure to Atlantic Highlands, Sandy Hook, a leg that would transit 85 NM up the Jersey Shore. When we slipped the lines at 7 AM, we anticipated good winds and following seas, with perhaps a slight chance of thunderstorms around Long Beach Island. During the calm motor sail, the miles and hours passed, and we were lulled into a false sense of security. We even received a cell phone call from our friend Janet, who said she spotted Kailoa off her beach in Long Beach Island.
Conditions worsened dramatically when Barnegat was out of our sight. Scott and Chris examined the weather radar, and sure enough, bands of severe weather appeared; blue indicated moderate conditions, and yellow indicated extreme conditions. These bands moved from the southwest, crossing our path, and the three of us did our best to keep a steady watch on the squalls on the horizon ahead and behind. Chris noted that an extreme weather alert was forecasted for Sandy Hook, “Flash Flood, Threat to life and property!” Recalling his experience in the Chesapeake Bay, Scott directed us
to adjust the sails by reefing, taking in, and unreefing to deal with the variable winds that gusted up to 32 knots at times, disappeared entirely, or shifted direction. Sure enough, after the calm, the downpours came, and the sound of the waves on the hull was muted by the sound of raindrops hitting the surface of the ocean.
The sense of vulnerability in the face of Mother Nature’s power was anxiety-inducing for us all, as one sits in the balance between okay and not okay. Surrounded by squalls, we had no choice but to keep going and do our best to reach Atlantic Highlands. Experience undoubtedly shapes us, but dwelling on adverse past events can fuel anxiety and hinder our ability to move forward. However, the power of experience isn’t limited to the negative. It also offers the potential to learn, grow, and develop resilience. The key lies in understanding how to manage the feelings that arise from past experiences and develop effective coping mechanisms.
Time slowed down; we were in the moment, focusing on our surroundings, monitoring wind speed and direction, and managing Kailoa’s sails was paramount. We reached the Sandy Hook around 5:30 PM that evening and pulled into our mooring in pouring rain by 7:30 PM, relieved to be safely inside. We looked southwest and saw large storm clouds looming in the distance, accompanied by flashes of lightning.
Tension, whether emotional or physical, can be a powerful driving force or anxiety-inducing, depending on how it’s managed. It’s often a result of conflicting desires requiring a variety of techniques to navigate these opposing forces. As a group, we supported the mission, kept positive, stayed calm, and stepped up to the task at hand. Most importantly, we found time to relax that evening over a meal of Curry Shrimp with Mac and Cheese. We all slept soundly on the mooring that night.
Kailoa Signing off.
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