As water filled my boots, I sat wedged between the cockpit table and steering pedestal where somehow my safety tether had ensnarled the spoked wheel. I worked in the near-continuous strobe of massive purple-blue electrical burst to untangle my self. A rush of bitterly cold air shocked me out of step by methodical step assessment of taking in another reef vs. maintaining speed and considering the likelihood of facing a massive breaking wave over the stern. My ears crackled then popped with a radicle change in pressure, and those two events in quick succession gave me a reason to pause. I looked up from the winch I was cranking to see clear skies above and a stream of meteorites pouring into the top of a massive supercell storm violently rippling in shades of orange, blue and purple electric light. Beneath the spectacle, a series of waterspouts slow danced to a song that echoed in tones of thunder.
The currents in the Delaware Bay are swift, relentless and can be dangerous. The chart shows the Delaware to be shallow, strewn with shoals and divided by a series of heavily-trafficked shipping lanes with few places to tuck into. Within an hour of exiting the C & D Canal, according to the forecast, the Delaware’s power would have turned against Caprica, leaving us to cover approximately 60 nautical miles with a current on our bow. We’d be facing a long day and even longer night with Alison at the radar calling out positions for crab pot floats that can easily disable a vessel and inbound freighters that have little room to maneuver.