|
|
|
|
Saturday, 09 August 2003 03:30 |
We leave the dock, later than planned.
Leaving Pawcatuk River, we round Sandy Point and head towards Watch
Hill passage. Sails are up and we are sailing against a very weak
current just minutes away from high. An hour later we are taking
advantage of a favorable tide and although our speed through the water
is a little over 4 knots, our speed over ground is pushing 5.5 knots.
As noon approaches the wind takes an afternoon break and we resort to
the engine.
We pull into Lil' Compton Rhode Island on the
Sakonnet River and pickup one of only two moorings available for
transients. If you do not pickup a mooring in this tiny harbor you must
go somewhere else, there just isn't room for anchoring here. Our
traveling companions, Mary Lou and Tom Lytle aboard Kwoletee' Tyme,
pull along side and we raft for the evening. Ll' Compton is the perfect
place to go, a small community with a very small yacht club, a few
houses and nothing more. Perfect if you want to truly relax.
Just
before dusk, we get into the dinghy and try our luck fishing. The
Striped Bass seem to commit suicide just a short distance from the boat
and within half an hour we are back aboard with plenty of bragging
rights.
The next morning we get an early start and skirting
the fish traps and lobster pots head for Cuttyhunk, the western most
island of the five Elizabeth Islands, which extend from the western tip
of Cape Cod. Cuttyhunk is often called "A nice drinking island with a
serious fishing problem." If you are a Striped Bass fisherman the rips
around Cuttyhunk are sure to satisfy your affliction.
We
take a mooring Kwoletee' Tyme rafts up again and we head to town. One
small restaurant, a small grocery store, a small bar, and a small
souvenir shop later we have visited all of the Island's stores. A hike
to the top of a ridge, we climb a lookout platform and scan the small
island and surrounding waters. Rhode Island and Massachusetts to the
North. Water to the west, the other Elizabeth Islands to the East and
our next destination, Martha's Vineyard to the South. This is one of
those days you can just about see forever.
After a quiet
evening aboard, we wake to a heavy fog. The air is so still and heavy
with moisture, your clothes become saturated with water in minutes just
moving around the deck. A leisurely breakfast allows time for the sky
to lighten and with the GPS chart plotter we begin motoring from buoy
to buoy in a fog that allows less than a couple hundred feet of
visibility. The rocks surrounding this area make navigation critical,
so we motor with caution. As we pass through Quick's Hole, one of the
few passages through the Elizabeth Islands, we enter Vineyard sound and
the wind rapidly builds clearing the fog at an astonishing rate. With
the fog gone, we sail to at an easy 6 knots to Menemsha, our next
destination on Martha's Vineyard. Menemsha is the western most harbor
on Martha's Vineyard. Although there are several docks available, these
are usually reserved for power boats. There are only two moorings and
anchoring in the harbor is forbidden. Luckily we called early to
reserve our place, and are quickly guided to our assigned mooring. Once
we are secure, Kwoletee' Tyme rafts along side. In Menemsha, the Harbor
Master often will allocate three boats to a mooring. It is not unusual
to leave your vessel to explore the island and return to one or two
other vessels rafted to you.
Lunch aboard and we are soon
off exploring the island. The user friendly bus service takes us to the
cliffs at Gays Head (no idea where the name came from), and we
photograph the cliffs and light house. A lite dinner of fried clams and
freedom fries (no more french fries for me), at the "Bite," a small
shack of a restaurant that must be good because it is frequented by the
locals. The locals are correct and we soon head for the boat with
burdened tummies.
The evening in Menemsha is superb. The
small harbor takes on a Nova Scotia quality as the sun sets and
darkness takes over. It's lights out early and we sleep like babies.
Morning comes very early, well before 0 dark thirty, as the fishing
fleet begins the day loading ice and warming their large muffler-less
diesel engines. I often ask myself, why do trawlers leave the harbor so
early? Are they trying to net the fish before they wake?
Oh well, we are up, might as well get under way.
Our
next stop is Block Island some 30 miles west. Unfortunately it is a
windless day, the seas are as flat as a table top and we use the
engine. Block Island sometimes called the "Bermuda of the North," is a
common stop for us so we simply anchor, take a refreshing dip and spend
the night.
Next day its back to our starting point, our dock
on the Pawcatuk River, to re-provision and pickup crew for the 4th of
July weekend.
My oldest son John his wife Kathleen, my
younger son David and his wife Jen join us early the next day and
together with Kwoletee' Tyme, and their new crew, Allison, we head out
into a dreary overcast day with a less than favorable forecast.
As
we pass through the "Race," a treacherous body of water between
Fisher's Island and Long Island, the sky opens up releasing torrents of
water it has apparently been saving for days. Visibility is limited as
we head for a very small and narrow pass between Plum and Big Gull
Island, a short cut to Three Mile Harbor on the south fork of Long
Island. Suddenly a fog horn like I never heard before resounds from the
port side. We scan the horizon. Minutes pass, as the loud horn
continues to resonate through our bodies. After several tense minutes,
I see it; the conning tower or sail of a nuclear submarine heading in
from the sea to Groton Ct. After hearing that horn, one wonders why
they call it the "Silent Service."
The dreary weather, the rain and the rocking results in half the crew (the women), going below where they are soon fast asleep.
Following
the chart plotter, we scan in front of the boat looking for the key
buoy that will keep us off the rocks. Time goes by, the plotter says we
are almost there. Where is that buoy? You really have to trust your
instruments even though your senses continue to try to trick you. I'm
at the helm and my palms are sweating. Suddenly we spot it, it jumps
right out in front of us, exactly where the plotter says it should be.
We slip between the two Islands as the crew below sleeps unaware of the
tension on deck. Now it is a clear sail to Three Mile Harbor. The rain
subsides a little as we anchor and raft-up. Well at least my sails have
been washed!
Wine, cheese, chips and other snacks followed by a hot dinner makes for a good evening.
Dawn
is clear as my sons and I take the inflatable to do a little fishing
while everyone else continues to harvest wood. The fish do not
disappoint us and we return to the awaken crews with stories of
conquest as the fish continue to grow as we describe them over andover.
The
day is filled with kayaking and exploring in the inflatables.
Unfortunately swimming is out, the countless influx of jellyfish
convince us it would not enjoyable. Late afternoon we raise anchor for
a short sail to Sag Harbor where we anchor and go to shore for dinner.
Sag Harbor the closest harbor to Long Islands, Hampton's is full of 100
to 150 foot vessels. There are three types of people in Sag Harbor.
Those that have money, those that act like they have money and
gawkers. We are the among the gawkers.
Dinner is great and
it is back to the boats for a short sail back to Three Mile Harbor.
After a brief successful fishing trip again the next morning, we raise
anchor and head for home. The winds are favorable and we practically
sail the whole way.
As we dock the boat, we know we are in for a great another great season of sailing in New England.
|
|
Last Updated on Thursday, 05 July 2007 14:24 |
|