Second Wind has just completed its returning voyage to its home port in Rock Hall, MD.  Our winter plans had included spending some time in Florida on board the boat after we returned from Panama before we would make the long trip back up north.  The plan was to stop and spend some time at our favorite small town places like Swansboro and Belhaven in North Carolina.

On March 12 we left Tampa to sail south down to the Keys and around Florida on our journey back to the Chesapeake.  On March 13th the President declared a National Emergency for the coronavirus. Since then the national and state governments have issued a conflicting and confusing series of shelter in place, stay at home, safer at home and work at home quarantine orders, social distancing and travel restrictions, non-essential business closures, etc.  Despite all this we completed the 1400-mile trip through six states in about six weeks and arrived safely on Saturday, April 26th.

Second Wind in downtown Tampa, site of our last pre-Pandemic Happy Hour at American Social.  Here is a recipe for the now classic Quarantini cocktail for your next virtual happy hour.

During that time we first saw the exuberance of youth as they hit the water in droves in Florida.  But then it was quickly tempered by new regulations and enforcement that eventually gave way to an eerie desolation as waterways and piers were vacated and the always lively waterfront bars and restaurants were shuttered.  A few establishments offered desperately hand-scrawled signs with phone numbers offering take out service.

As we passed through Georgia we saw the hulk of a giant car carrier lying on its side near St. Simon’s Island.  The victim of human error, the ship was doomed to never be raised again.  Before the crisis it was scheduled to be sawed in pieces like some poor magician’s assistant, except it will never appear whole again.  (for more info Google “Sun Ray”)

Many marinas were off limits to outside travelers or “transients” like ourselves.  Others would only allow fuel sales and mooring ball rentals, but with absolutely no one allowed to leave the boat, no one permitted on land.  Looks became harder, more challenging, and conversations shorter.

As we looked for places to fill our water tanks we felt like scavengers in some post-apocalyptic world.  But the common enemy didn’t wear bad makeup and shabby clothes and walk in halting steps with drooping shoulders.  The zombies looked just like us, and in many cases we would learn, they were not in any way discernible (almost 20% asymptomatic) from the unaffected.  (Unless they were coming south from New York or New Jersey then you just had to figure they were affected.)  No, this wasn’t The Walking Dead, it was something else, something a bit more sinister as it was actually real.

How to prepare for boating through the Apocalypse  

First, you spend some time watching The Walking Dead to learn the ins-and-outs of life where supplies are no longer on the shelves, how certain types of people will react, and how self-sufficiency becomes the key.  You also begin to feel the desperation and helplessness that occurs when the governments and institutions that you expect to protect you turn powerless.  You slowly realize that you can’t always fully provide for and protect the ones that you love.

Next, you stock your boat with needed supplies and spare parts well in advance of the surge.  You fill your tanks with fuel and water.   Ideally your boat should have sails for when fuel is unavailable or as auxiliary power, supplemented by solar panels or a wind turbine to provide electricity for refrigeration, navigation, communication, lighting and entertainment.  Fishing gear is also required for providing supplemental protein.

A motorsailer is a good choice for a bug-out boat, slow but efficient and comfortable. We would have been able to make the trip from Marco Island, FL to the Chesapeake on just one tank of diesel, but we did top off in Coinjock since we were stopping for water and take-out prime rib (Captain’s Cut shown below, bone removed for serving).

Cruising North

Over the six weeks of our travel we made no effort to visit any of the waterside towns as their normally lively waterfronts were all but closed.  We fell into a routine that included rising with the sun and taking advantage of known tides and currents to schedule our stops.  We charged all our devices when the sun was shining and went to bed soon after the sun set.  When we were hit with bad weather we sat it out, but unfortunately this limited our access to power and hot water which comes off the engine.  What we originally hoped would be a relaxing pleasure trip became something else.

Our contact with the outside world was very limited as required by the quarantine requirements.  Since we were traveling home, our transit was considered not recreational, thereby permitted. In the evening after we anchored, typically in a remote area, we would try to connect to the national news through our HD TV antenna, but that wasn’t always possible.  When we could connect it seemed the news was never good.  We didn’t have WIFI and our phone data plan was limited.

During the long journey I had time to reflect on the situation and draw comparisons to what I have watched for years on The Walking Dead.  We had passed through the rivers of Georgia near where the show is actually filmed.  Nature is wild and wonderful, but without the stops in the normally friendly towns, visiting with the locals and other boaters, the world seemed a bit too wild, a bit too remote.  The boat provided a safe refuge from the pandemic, but it felt at times like the isolation of a prison. (to see a real floating prison, the Vernon C. Bain Correctional Center on NYC’s East River, view our previous story “Up the River”). Would extended living under these conditions be a life worth continuing?  At what point might people decide the risk of living life among others is better than the safety of isolation and loneliness?

Homecoming

We had made arrangements to dock the boat in Maryland but we were told that we would have to vacate the area immediately or else be subject to two weeks of quarantine in the state.   The marina was empty when we arrived, and we quickly offloaded all of our gear to prepare our boat for sale.  Although it had been some time since we left the Chesapeake, just in the last two months alone, the world had changed forever as we are still learning.

For the next chapter of our lives we will take our chances on land, although we are now realizing how lucky we were for our time aboard.  We are thankful for the people that did help us along on the way home.  While there is death, misery and true suffering  beyond our decks, there also great sacrifices and heroes working to make things better.   However, if you would rather take your chances on the water, please let me know, I might just have the right boat for you.  Click here for Second Wind sales listing.

Back home on the Chesapeake, Magothy River