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On the afternoon before I took command, there was a little schooner race organized as part of the New London waterfront festival. The conditions and the competition were not so favorable to Pride so we didn't do very well in the standings, but it was a splendid sail, a splendid afternoon, and a real pleasure to sail aboard Pride for a few hours as a spectator. The Pride family said farewell to two trusty crew members at New London, Tricia Fannin and Abigail Crain. Likewise, we welcomed two new crew members into the ship's company, deckhands Clint Thompson and Julie Lin.

The next day it got all serious again. The time had come to get the boat south to her homewaters of Chesapeake Bay. Yet to the south of us, Hurricane Humberto was stewing about and feinting in our general direction. Of greater concern was a violent cold front approaching from the west. This same system, we were given to know, was responsible for a fellow schooner losing her jiboom up on Lake Michigan, and for flipping over a car down in Maryland killing two people.

Choices, Choices, Choices

Though the open water route is preferable in terms of a straight forward sail, the weather forecast suggested that we would get a third of the way across before being stopped dead in our lumpy tracks by the self-same weather system that was wreaking havoc to the west. The problem with transiting New York was that the usual considerations regarding the current at Hell Gate were now overlaid with new security measures in the aftermath of the World Trade Center attack. This could lead to delays. Well, I elected to go west, down Long Island Sound. This way we might at least get a few miles behind us while the weather picture shaped up further, and I could research the security situation at New York.

Long Island Sound

One problem with going down the Sound in a vessel of Pride II's draft is that harbors of refuge are few and far between. There are plenty of places for yachts to go but not so many for a Baltimore Clipper. Prior to departing New London, I called down to Captain's Cove at Bridgeport, one of the few deep draft harbors on the Sound, to see if they might have a berth for the night. They reported back that, yes, they had a berth, but the Amistad was scheduled to come in so they couldn't make it available. So, one Baltimore Clipper meets another in Bridgeport, Connecticut, of all places. But the berthing situation was a quickly remedied. The Santa Fuel Company, just upriver, offered their dock to us. By late afternoon we were alongside and secure, ready to await whatever should come next.

The next day brought foul winds and rain but we were utterly protected way up the cul-de-sac of Cedar Creek. The day was spent reviewing safety procedures and equipment for both new crew and old, along with some maintenance such as the weather permitted. By evening the sky was clearing and a change seemed imminent. At 0600 the next morning, we cast off our lines and slithered down the creek to Long Island Sound to begin our trek westward to New York City, and then south to the Bay.

In Memoriam - NYC

Upon passing lower Manhattan, a burning stench still lingered in the air, resurrecting the sad memory of what happened here two weeks earlier. Even at a mile distant, one could discern the blown out windows of buildings in the vicinity of Ground Zero. And then, of course, there is the empty piece of sky that once held the twin towers of the World Trade Center. I thought of all the foreign ships coming in from all over the world, the captains, officers, and crews who had been bringing ships into New York for years, using those very towers to steer by. They will sail back to their lands of origin bearing the grim news to their friends and families of what they saw, or rather didn't see, with their own two eyes.

Nightfall found the ship snugly tied to the dock at Schaefer's Canal House in Chesapeake City. Though we were back in Maryland, over 200 miles remained to our ultimate destination at Washington, D.C. Pride II had transited the waters of five states in a 36 hour period: Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, Delaware, and now, finally, Maryland. Although our voyage back from the Great Lakes probably falls short of epic in the annals of the ship, there was still a certain sense of relief, a certain sense of having crossed home plate as the lights of Chesapeake City stretched toward the Pride across the placid waters of the canal.

Chesapeake Bay - Homewaters at Last!

Next morning, the crew was on deck at 0600 to cast off lines. A mug of coffee steamed in every paw, and one by the binnacle for me. In terms of my own personal sense of well-being, I generally take a dim view of early rising. But dawn is a special time of day when the world really does seem new and virgin, still uncolored by the events of the day to come. The sailing life delivers this gift often and it does so in the presence of nature. The bow of Pride II shouldered a gleaming ripple toward the shore where cattails swayed, well-accustomed to the rhythm of passing ships. Aloft the brightest stars bravely held night's indigo field while their weaker brothers and sisters escaped into daylight. The automated lamps inside navigation buoys turned themselves off while a morning mist, more ephemeral than a May fly hatch, hovered above the water and lived its entire life before our eyes in a matter of precious minutes. A column of ducks flew through a gap in a line of trees while the halogen lamps powered down at the oil spill response pier. Helm commands were issued and repeated, and occasionally the lookout walked aft with information. Morning on Chesapeake Bay was unfolding and we were there to see it.

Chugging up the Potomac

Emerging past Cove Point, a fresh gusty day greeted us. The waters reflected a gray, gravelly aspect as white caps slapped the hull and an unkind sky roiled overhead. Under stays'l and fore tops'l, Pride of Baltimore II shot down to Point Lookout before a Force 6 northerly. The watch jibed the stays'l and the ship glided into the mouth of the Potomac River where we took in sail. The remainder of the day was spent chugging upriver past buoys and fishing weirs. The wide expanses of the Potomac River afford little in the way of protection on a fresh fall day, as the fetches are often several miles across. No matter. Pride II chugged along dutifully, the little Baltimore Clipper that could.

Originally I had planned to anchor for the night and then go a little farther and anchor again since the ship wasn't due into Washington for another two days. But the forecast was for continued fresh northerlies, which rendered all of our best anchorages somewhat less tenable.

An Unusual Nighttime Approach to Washington, DC

After receiving clearance to dock early, we carried on up the river. Our ETA at D.C. was about 0100. Upon making the decision to go the distance, it was evident that this would be an interesting navigational exercise. The channel leading to Washington is tortuous at times. Though the river is broad, the navigation channel is narrow and winding. You can go from having seventy feet of water under your keel to hard aground in little more than a single ship's length. The channel is well-buoyed for daylight operations, but more than half of the buoys are not lit, making a nighttime approach somewhat challenging. Occasionally in a season, you get a chance to navigate the ship as a total bridge team. This was one of those opportunities. I kept the con and worked the radar. The mate, Dave Briddle, worked with the helmsman, Clint Thompson, on the finer course alterations. Clint's steady hand served the ship well as we frequently made course adjustments of a mere degree. The second mate, "Hawkeye" Ian Thomas, took buoy information from the chart and then actually went and found them visually. Ian's night vision, and I presume his day vision, is truly extraordinary. On the bow, Eric Gierzynski brought back key information regarding buoys and traffic. The oncoming Chief Mate, Daniel Hornstein, handled radio communications with the U.S. Coast Guard, who maintained an avid interest in our whereabouts.

Just above Fort Washington, the Coast Guard sent a boarding party out as part of the security cordon established after the attack on the Pentagon. Six armed Coast Guardsmen clambered aboard to check I.D.s and count noses. Twenty minutes later, they returned to their vessel, and extended the courtesy of escorting us up the remaining stretch of river to our berth. They even threw a spot light on the last few unlit buoys to make them easier to pick out against the city lights, and sent a few guys ashore to take our lines. Right neighborly, that.

By 0100 we were secure at the Metropolitan Police and Fire dock on the Washington Channel. What had started out to be a 10 or 12 hour day had extended to 19 hours. It was time for bed, but not before taking a quiet moment to survey the lights of Washington on the Potomac, and contemplate the grim events of September 11 and how they may come to effect life in this city that is, among other things, one magnificent memorial to American achievement.

Watch Below,

Captain Dan Parrott