Tides and Currents

If I had to say what was the most maddening aspect of this year’s cruise it would be tides and currents. There are currents in the Great Lakes and its tributaries but they are either far and few between or make sense in the context of a river current, they go one way. But here in the eastern waterways it is a different story.

There was one place in Lake Huron’s North Channel that had similar currents, but these defied the logic of the tidal currents. That place was the channel dividing Ontario’s mainland and Manitoulin Island with the town of Little Current located close to mid channel. It is a major crossroads for cruising boats and the largest village in the area. Every boat cruising in the North Channel pays a visit to provision, pump the head, refuel, or just to take a rest from the relentless gunkholing in the North Channel and Georgian Bay.

I have learned to take place names seriously. Names such as Wind Point are a heads up to a mariner, so when I first heard Little Current I substituted “Big” for “Little” and that was not far from the truth. The current there could be mistaken for being tidal except it is not diurnal it is haphazard. Depending on weather conditions — wind, barometric pressure changes — on either side of the narrow channel the water can stream through at a high velocity in either direction.

Off Little Current’s town dock there is an odd buoy showing the way the current is running. In the time it takes to interpret it, if the current is running strong, your boat can be swept east or west in the channel. On a busy day, watching boats manage the current can make for moments of high drama. Since most boaters have had drama there is usually not much derision. Instead, if you have ever seen the pilots on the back of an aircraft carrier waving in planes you get the picture.

Carrie Rose has been in actual tides and currents since exiting the Troy Lock on the Hudson River in upstate New York. To my mind, tides and currents are fickle. Sure, they go up and down every six hours, but every location and I do mean every location, has a different level of rise and fall, and a different velocity and direction of the current. These parameters also change with the alignment of the sun and the moon. It is a lot to keep track of.

The first thing I did to educate myself was buy a 2015 Eldridge Tide and Pilot Book. This utilitarian looking book is bright yellow with a hole drilled through the upper left corner to which I promptly attached a piece of scrap line. A list of what awaits on the inside is printed on the front cover: Tide Tables, Current Tables, Astronomical Data (not astrological), and Miscellaneous, just to name a few.

This book is printed in clear large type, much of it bold. There is a picture of the original Captain George W. Eldridge holding a photoshopped copy of the present book. Flipping through it can be intimidating, thus the publishers include multiple “How To Use” articles. It has a strong historical and educational aspect even if most of it is tables.

The book explores the wider question of why there are tides and currents, and why they differ. I was motivated to absorb this information, so I sat in my usual place in the pilothouse, opened it up, and started reading. On a rudimentary level I understand it, enough at least to keep us out of trouble.

Of course, before doing any of the above, both Charlotte and I tried to take the easy way out and searched for an app. We downloaded several to our iPhones but they did not quite paint the entire picture. Then Charlotte discovered a tide and current function on her iPad charting program. It fulfilled our needs.

I seldom opened Eldridge again. It had served its purpose. I developed a new terminology: flood, ebb, and slack. I figured out the difference between Mean High Water Spring and Mean High Water Neap. It provided me with a good sense of geography because in the end that is what it is all about.

Now Carrie Rose is loosely tied to four stout green wooden pilings on a small creek called Crab Alley on Kent Island, Maryland. This is to be her resting place for the winter. She rises and lowers a few feet every six hours, and mercifully, the current is almost negligible. That is fine with me. She needed some slack water after a summer that took her from Lake Champlain to the Chesapeake Bay.

Crop Dusting

I live in the land of commercial aviation, Chicago, IL, every minute or so a large jet passes over our bungalow on the 58oo block of N. Talman Ave. It is rare to see a small private airplane but it is becoming more common to see helicopters flying under O’Hare’s flight path. The increase in helicopters began with Obama’s presidency.

Legions of low flying, thumping dull grey or shiny blue copters have become commonplace. They have tapered off since a helo pad was built close to Hyde Park but others have taken their place. There is increased traffic between downtown and O’Hare airport: the rich shuttling back and forth over the standing wave of traffic on the Kennedy Expressway.

But today is downtime on Carrie Rose, no need to think of backyard noise in Chicago. CR is anchored in ten feet of tannic water swinging in a gusty S/SW wind. There is not much boat traffic here in the Corsica River on the eastern shore of Maryland, so she rides softly in the short chop. This is our second day anchored here. Yesterday afternoon the sky took on a thunderstorm look. I turned on the weather radio and heard warnings.

Prudent skipper that I am I went forward and took down the large piece of sailcloth that acts as a sunscreen and inadvertently a sail. Next, I let another twenty feet of anchor chain out adding it to the fifty already on the river’s bottom. I figured that should hold us in place no matter what the wind and waves. But the wind never materialized, nor did the rain.

As I said today is downtime. That means we are staying put. This morning after a night of periodic awakenings a few drops of rain woke me at 7:30, an hour later then usual. I stretched and heard the kik-kik-kik of the common terns fishing around the boat. I went into the pilothouse to check the battery’s level of charge. The two house batteries had spent the night keeping the refrigerator cold and the anchor light lite. They were low.

I started the generator, a noisy contrivance and ran it for an hour while we had breakfast. The world, including me, is addicted to 110 volts. No sense denying it. One of the added benefits of generating power is heating water, so we each took a shower. The morning passed.

I plotted a course to our next and final destination, Island View Marina on Kent Island, MD. I finished reading a book about Captain Cook, depressing in the end. I am glad to be on Carrie Rose leading a simpler life. And speak of a simpler life, I drew in my doodle book, wrote a recommendation for my last medical assistant and then it was time for lunch.

It is curious how the day progresses when anchored with nowhere to go. Carrie Rose is a few hundred square feet packed with stuff gathered over the 16 years. Towards 2 o’clock, I wandered the few yards to the stern and sat out in the sun and the breeze.

This portion of the Corsica River resembles a large bay. It opens to the west and the Chester River. To the east around the sand spit it narrows dramatically. But here it is wide. I sat and listened to incessant cheep-cheep-cheep of the local osprey until a crop duster appeared. It flew low doing acrobatic turns and disappeared behind the tree line to spray its noxious cargo.

Up, down, around and back, repeatedly until it left. Three times it returned; finally veering south over the boat not to be seen again; leaving the cheeping osprey to populate the bay’s sound scape once again.