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| The Chicamacomico at Milestone landing |
This morning, the Chicomacomico woke me from a deep sleep with the low frequency vibration of its big diesel engine, powering down as it glided into the landing at Milestone. D O G heard and came to tell me it was time, putting one paw on my arm and I got up, leaving my husband warm and curled up on his side of the bed.
The Chicomacomico does a lumbering, watery minuet with the River Neuse today. The
schedule is regular, so you know more or less what time it is here by
calculating the height of the sun and the arrivals and departure of
the ferry. The two flat boats with tall, slender pilot houses cross
each other mid-channel, moving vehicles across this widest section of
the Big River near where it elbows a degree or two northeast before it bells out into the Great Sound.
Both are about 275 gross ton ferries with a vehicle capacity of about
26 or less, depending on what kind of vehicles load on. Sometimes a
truck pulling another boat will make the trip, taking up three or
four vehicle's worth of deck space. But the car ferries are completely free, no matter what you're hauling, and they lace together the outer
and inner shore points, from the great web of inland waterway
out to the barrier islands that face the wide open sea.
I don't know what the Chicomacomico's
doing here. Our wake up call usually comes from the Floyd J.
Lupton, a larger capacity ferry which plies these waters
regularly. The Chicomacomico's traditional route is from
Hatteras to Okracoke, but apparently she's on loan to us, maybe
because the Lupton's in for a seasonal over-haul. I wonder if
she came here with crew and Captain, or whether they just delivered
her into the hands of the usual crew. Which is more important?
Intimacy with the boat itself, or knowledge of the river?
D O G and I go out for a walk at about 6:45.
This early-rising is a sign of my new maturity. I am willing (and
able) to haul myself out of bed this early to take him out for his
morning walkies where once moving around at such an hour would have been almost physically painful for
me. I can do it without coffee now. I wake, wipe the sleep from my
eyes, and pull on a soft old sweatshirt, chinos and some
broken down Nike Airs. It gives me pleasure to wear my old clothes,
and to pull a wool hat over my head in order to avoid brushing my
hair, even with my fingers. I hook D O G on his leash, and we head out the door.
All D O G needs is one briny whiff of the outdoors and he's awake and wiggling down the stairs from the top of the Lighthouse, ready for
adventure. We get to the bottom, and I can feel how much we both
enjoy that first silent step onto the incredibly spongy coastal turf and the
sweet, balsam scent that rises from the soft, wet beds of pine needles. There's a light and bracing brininess to the cool mist and the air is still. The slight chill pouring in off the River is opening my eyes and bringing me gently to full
consciousness in the half-light of early morning. Every thing's gray, and what's not gray is a muted version of its normal color. We walk down to the
ferry landing to see what's going on.
The Chicomacomico does a slow
180 before sending up a black cloud of diesel and sliding bow-first into
the slip at Milestone. The Lupton doesn't do the flip, and
since I haven't ever been up in the wheel house, I'm not sure how it
accomplishes the trip from Point A to Point B on the Big River going
backwards. But these smaller vessels do the flip, and then
power down to glide into the dock making silent contact with the
cushioned pilings. The crew drops the metal gangway and it clanks onto
land. Then there's the shout “UN-load!”. I am startled. It's the
first human sound I've heard today. Two cars and one truck bump-bump
over the gangway onto the reassuring solidity of the Ferry's asphalt
lot and, once all three vehicles have disappeared west down the
highway and into the pines, D O G and I turn to leave. That'll be all for the traffic in Milestone for the next 45 minutes or so.
I feel satisfied to have held
off on the pleasure of the first sip of hot coffee that awaits me back home.
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| Gray morning and ducks on Big River, Milestone. |
