We got the boat secured, making sure it didn’t interfere with ferry docking space. The Elizabeth River paddlewheel ferry runs continuously from six-thirty in the morning until eleven-thirty at night, beginning at South Basin, to North Basin, then to Norfolk and back again. We were bordered by a visitors’ center and naval museum to the north, the Elizabeth River on the east, a restaurant and high rise apartment building on the south and the town’s main thoroughfare of High Street to the west. The first time we came through Portsmouth we stopped in an antique store called Skipjack Nautical Wares. This time we were right on time for one of their bi-weekly Concerts in the Courtyard for “a musical portrait of sailors, ships and the sea.” We had plenty of time to have dinner before the show and we returned a couple of hours later.

I took one look at the rows of hard wooden folding chairs set up in the courtyard and decided I'd better run back to the boat and grab a couple of pillows to cushion our butts for the next two hours. It had been over three hours since we'd left the boat and I wasn’t prepared for what I saw when I got back. At the bottom of the steps surrounding the basin is a concrete walkway running parallel to the dock, which is a foot or so below the walkway. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw ducks splashing on top of the dock, which was now under water. It was flood tide. I studied Pura Vida’s freeboard, which was at least 18 inches greater than when we left, and was doubtful of my ability to climb on board. With shoes in hand, I waded across the dock and determined that I might be able to step up onto a corner of the swim platform (I only had a few inches; the dinghy took up the rest of the space) and haul myself over the stern. I did it. I made it over but then I wasn’t at all sure I could get back down onto the dock again. I was determined to try so I stuffed my shoes, a towel, and two small pillows into a plastic bag and gave it my best effort, all the while entertaining a small audience on nearby park benches. I succeeded by jumping onto the flooded dock, wading back to the steps, drying my feet and putting my shoes back on, and then racing back to Skipjack just in time for the concert. Halfway through we all had to move inside due to lightning and rain but it was great fun: "a sampling of nautical music, tunes and chat, and heavily laced with history and humor. "

We used time the next morning for food shopping in order to be back at the dock by 3:00. That's when the parade of tall ships would be sailing down the Elizabeth River to kick off the start of Norfolk’s Harbor Fest. We heard that boat slips on the Norfolk side of the river had been rented for as much as $1,000 for the weekend, while here on the Portsmouth side we stayed for two days and watched the parade for free. The most amazing part is that the high-priced slips were sold out! After the parade we considered hopping a ferry over to the Norfolk side to survey the food and exhibits but decided we’d had enough sun and crowds and opted for a restful afternoon instead.

After a short nap we journeyed down High Street in the evening to the Commodore, a restored 1945 Art Deco style theatre, for a movie and dinner. We shared a table with a couple from Norfolk while we watched The Break-up and ate sandwiches made with fresh homemade bread. Our overall rating of Portsmouth for an entertaining and fun stop would have to be a ten. We had a great time.

Sunday, June 10. Today we’d travel only twelve miles to Chesapeake (city) but with three low bridges to wait for and one lock to cross, it took the entire morning. The Steel Bridge was the longest wait, as one of our waterway books stated it would open once an hour on the half hour, but that wasn’t quite right. It opens every hour on the hour so we had 45 minutes to wait instead of the anticipated 15. The bridge tender responded in an icy tone when Tom questioned the schedule, asking if it had changed recently. Maybe it was just her PMS talking.

We pulled into the Atlantic Yacht Basin, paid for two months, and by midday we were tucked into a protected slip. The marina and boatyard is huge. They’ve been in business here, just south of the Great Bridge on the Albemarle and Chesapeake Canal, since 1936. This is the Virginia Cut, the course the big yachts take on the east coast instead of the narrow and shallow Dismal Swamp route. The marina would make a great hurricane hole due to controlled water height from the nearby lock and because it’s surrounded by dense trees and land. Let’s hope we don’t have to find out! 

Now we’re at a bend in the road. We’ve decided to take a break and housesit in Chesapeake for most of the summer. I was growing weary of waiting out weather fronts, depending on off-the-track forecasts and getting smacked around in incorrigible seas, so I found a family that needed a house sitter. A temporary change of identity as a suburban home-dweller with a dog and a cat just might change my outlook. Tom could use the rest too. We’ll see what August brings.  

(click on pictures to enlarge)