File:Coast watch (1979) (20660508005).jpg

Title: Coast watch
Identifier: coastwatch00uncs_16 (find matches)
Year: 1979 (1970s)
Authors: UNC Sea Grant College Program
Subjects: Marine resources; Oceanography; Coastal zone management; Coastal ecology
Publisher: (Raleigh, N. C. : UNC Sea Grant College Program)
Contributing Library: State Library of North Carolina
Digitizing Sponsor: North Carolina Digital Heritage Center

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TOP: Captain Jimmy Donnelly grits his teeth on the approach to crowded Wrightsville Beach. MIDDLE: Passing under the Wrightsville Beach drawbridge. BOTTOM: When it comes to character and curiosity, few craft surpass tugboats. Skimming the Shoals As the Island Express enters the mouth of the Cape Fear River — which is humming with boat traffic — we meet tugs pushing pig iron, oceangoing fuel barges, the Southport-to-Bald Head Island ferry, aluminum fishing skiffs and 50-foot big game boats bound for offshore waters. Flocks of cormorants skein the sky over the Sunny Point Military Ocean Terminal, a frequent port-of-call for Donnelly during the Gulf War. We thread the narrow Snow's Cut, and by mid-day approach the heavily developed ICW waterfront at Wrightsville Beach. Litaker is at the helm. "It's a billion-dollar row through there," he grimaces. "Million- dollar boats, lined up everywhere." But there's another, more pressing obstacle in front of us. Behind Masonboro Island, the waterway channel narrows considerably, and Litaker sits bolt upright in the chair. I see the sandbars off to each side, leaving a narrow slot for the tugboat and barge to pass. Then I feel the tug bog down, and watch the depthfinder gauge plummet from 11 feet to 4.3. Our speed sags from 4.3 knots to 3.6. "Come on, baby, come on. Keep going," Litaker intones, his eyes flitting from the channel outside to the gauges in the wheelhouse. We slow to 2.8 knots, then 2.5. Huge plumes of sand trail behind the tug. "We're knocking the barnacles off the bottom now," Litaker says, gritting his teeth. The strain on the engines sets up a series of rattles inside the wheelhouse — the instrument panel and door handles buzz like bees as the belly of the tug groans across the shoal. It's a hairy few minutes — going aground on a falling tide could mean hours of delay, not to mention the aggravation of blocking the main channel for other traffic. Navigating shoals is an increasing problem along the ICW, Litaker says, as money for dredging gets harder and harder to come by. Then, just as forward motion nearly ceases, the depthfinder readout finally gives us good news. The bottom drops to 5 feet, then 6. Slowly we regain speed, and Litaker relaxes in the chair. "Now all I have to worry about is not taking out a few million-dollar boats at Wrightsville Beach," he grins. But it's the end of the watery road for me. I have a ride back to Raleigh waiting at the public boat ramp just south of Wrightsville Beach, and Litaker waves down a passing boat to give me a lift to shore. Island Express has another day-and- a-half of steaming to complete before docking at Edenton with a delivery of nearly 3.000 tons of freshly minted metal. It's another day-and-a-half of fighting full- moon tides and dodging crab pots in a tug-and- barge combination that's longer than a football field. As I jump ship from the tug to a 25-foot center console pressed into taxi service, I can't help but wonder what other sights the crew will see as they cross the open sounds, and what I would see along the Alligator River swamps from an aerie perched three stories above the water. At Wrightsville Beach, as luck would have it, my buddy and I are caught by the drawbridge that raises to let Island Express pass. I hop out of the car and run a few steps to the bridge railing, then whoop and wave to the crew as they clear the bridge. Donnelly waves from the wheelhouse and gives me a salute as drivers gawk from their stopped cars. I grin like a kid. After all, I may wonder what the next 36 hours will hold for Island Express. But at least I know what it's like to ride a few miles in a tugboater's shoes. □ 20 SPRING 2003

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