Paddling through the Kanawha Canal aqueduct over Totier Creek near Scottsville, Virginia.
Because Who Doesn’t Need Another Boat
On the way to our local farmer’s market, we told ourselves, again, not to buy more vegetables than we can use. It worked this time.
After breakfast in town, we stopped to look at the river, part of the Saturday routine. We passed our friend Stuart out spreading mulch. Out the sidewalk on sawhorses he had a canoe with a for sale sign, and we stopped to chat. Said he’d only used it three times, and needs room for more toys. Comes with two nice wooden paddles and seats.
We realized we had not told ourselves not to buy more boats than we could use.
After a few minutes at the landing watching the river flow by, as the summer heat and the cicada buzz swelled, we agreed we should reward our temperance over vegetables with a new boat. Within the hour we had it on top of the car and were headed for the river.
After weeks of flooding the river is still a little murky, but nearly back to normal levels. We paddled upstream to what remains of an old island at the confluence of Totier Creek. After a swim to cool off, we left the main stem of the James, now flooded with tubers and fishermen, and paddled up into the quiet creek.
Immediately the raucous river party fell away, and was replaced by sun-dappled silence, Great Blue Herons, crows, song birds and gar fish.
Around a few bends we came to the old colonial era aqueduct. A stone arch over the river that dates back almost to the Revolutionary War. The Kanawha Canal ran along the James, and every stream had to be crossed with one of these bridges for canal boats. We floated underneath on the creek – the canal boats floated across overhead, where now the railroad runs.
Very cool.
Returning to the James, another swim, and a float back home.
Who doesn’t need another boat?
East River ~ Mathews, Virginia
Beautiful early spring day, in beautiful country, with beautiful boats.
Video from the weekend in Mobjack, Virginia. A mix of drone footage, shots ashore, and on board a handmade rowboat and a William Garden Eel.
A couple of Coquinas, a Marsh Cat, a Melonseed, and a flock of Caledonia Yawls. Perfect boats for these shallow waters.
Mobjack, East River
Due west of Winter Harbor is the East River, also in Mathews County, near the little village of Mobjack. Just off a bay by the same name. The Old Bay Club gathered there last weekend for the season kickoff.
Not sure I could go at all, not even taking a boat, I got to the water mid-afternoon as the fleet was coming back from a day of sailing.
A small creek runs inland along the shore, making a safe harbor perfect for shallow water boats. The mouth of the creek forms a narrow neck with calm water inside.
The land and homes along this shore once belonged to one extended family. At the neck the creek was once spanned by a boardwalk, so you could stroll between houses for visiting, or walk to the village for church. Posts from the boardwalk still remain, and block the entrance like a portcullis. This keeps out the big boats; but again not a problem for little boats, which slip in between them to safety inside. They cruise through the gate like scouts on horseback riding into to a fort.
They got the boats settled for the night. A few anchored out. Most camped ashore.
By evening there is a fire going, lots of food and drink. It’s till cold here. The wind off the water is around 50 degrees and dropping. I stay by the fire, a compulsive fire poker to stay warm. Frogmore Stew a la Low Country feels good in the hand and in the belly.
Little Details About Big Ships
Small boat sailors on the Bay know the looming presence of big ships. They drift along the horizon like thunderstorms, and are almost as big. Like bulls in a big pasture, general rule is stay far away as you can, and keep watch over your shoulder. It’s a good thing if you never see one up close.
It was different when I lived in Savannah. There the harbor is a narrow river that runs like a wet boulevard right through the city. Oceangoing ships the size of office buildings glide right along the waterfront. I’d hang out on River Street and watch them go by, blotting out the sky. Close enough to hit with a baseball, you could see details – strange markings, battle scars, seams and rivets – that under normal conditions remained beyond view.
I came across an article this morning that explains what a lot of these symbols mean:
The Secret Language of Ships
Signs and symbols on the sides of ships tell stories about an industry few outsiders understand.
A ship’s markings may look like hieroglyphs, but to industry insiders they tell an important story.
Source: The Secret Language of Ships | Hakai Magazine
Reservoir Outflow
Brush Creek Yachts ~ Concentric Circles and Paradoxes
(This is a post started last August; am just getting back to it.)
It will take nearly four hours of driving to get there, to get where the boat is, a boat built by hand in the loft of an old barn. We head out at sunrise while there’s still dew on the grass.
We don’t go east toward the coast, though, where most boats and builders of them live. Instead, we turn and go the other direction – to the southwest into the mountains. Instead of the land of crabs and oysters and skipjacks, we’re going deep into coal and bluegrass and moonshine country.
After 200 miles of driving we’ll still be in Virginia, though just barely. From south of Fries it’s just 10 miles as the crow flies to the Carolina line, and 20 to Mount Rogers, the highest peak in Virginia. This is where Marvin Spencer, proprietor and master craftsman of Brush Creek Yachts, lives and builds boats.
Continue reading “Brush Creek Yachts ~ Concentric Circles and Paradoxes”