Spring Fitting Out

These first warm days of spring bring out the superstitious side of sailors. The cry around the boatyards is: "If you take off the winter covers it's gonna snow!" It would be just like Maine to deliver up one more good blast of winter weather.

Spring is a wonderful time in New England boatyards. People crawl out of hibernation armed with toolboxes and paint buckets, lugging bags of gear and sharing genial banter about the season to come. Discussion of weather among boat people is inevitable. We risk becoming green with envy by checking out all the winter purchases of electronics and accessories. Most of all we are, to a person, filled with anticipation of adventures awaiting us.

For Whisper this year will bring cruises down east. From earlier posts you may remember that the New England coast tends north and east and with prevailing winds from the southwest. This means that, in sailing "up" the coast we are sailing downwind and east, hence "downeast".

It has been many years since I have explored the waters east of Mt. Desert (pronounced dessert) Island. The Schoodic Penninsula is a turning point. Not many yachts get east of here. Not many tourist traverse Route 1 this far east. The reward for those intrepid enough to venture this far downeast is a trip back in time.

It is important not to romanticize this time travel. The small outposts scattered along this coast were all dependent on fishing which, at the best of times, was a hard life. With the fish stocks depleted and few prospects for other work, families see whole generations of young people migrate away. Those that stay risk poverty, alcoholism and drug abuse. You can't eat scenery.

The only fishery that has sustained is lobstering. Yet the price of lobster is depressed to a point where fishermen work harder and harder for less and less.

For the itinerant sailor it creates the reward of pristine, uncrowded anchorages far from the hurly burly of yachting centers to the west. It is a more reflective kind of cruising, appealing to those who like the quieter pursuits.

Further to the east lies the Bay of Fundy and the Maritime Provinces of New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. Fundy is the bay of huge tides, 30 - 40 feet, and currents that make sailing an underpowered boat nearly impossible. Despite invitations to visit friends near Annapolis Royal, Whisper will forego Fundy for the southeast coast of Nova Scotia.

Yarmouth is the jumping off point for a Nova Scotia cruise, lying some 220 nautical miles from Portland. From there the major ports are Lunenberg and Halifax. Between lie some wonderful little harbors, awe inspiring scenery and warm, welcoming people.

Otherwise, Whisper will be moored off Willard Beach in South Portland. Her dinghy will be capsized on the beach, a mere 10 minute bicycle ride from "the hovel", a cottage tucked amongst the homes of working class and wealthy alike. Of an evening Whisper can slip her moorings and, in less than an hour's sail in any direction, have the anchor down by sunset. Morning light will see her home in time for the skipper to get to work.

This is the life that drew me downeast yet again.......This time for good and all.

Christmas in Maine

Whisper seems forlorn wedged tightly into her frozen winter berth ashore. This morning as I climbed the ladder to her deck, exposed to a frigid nor'easter, the warm days of our summer cruise seemed distant. Yet the view of Casco Bay afforded me created a certain warmth.

Portland has taken on the mantle of Christmas, replete with good cheer and commercial grumpiness. Or maybe I'm the grump........It could be genetic. Which brings to mind my readings on the psychology of happiness.


You would think that this revolutionary 'new' school of psychological inquiry had discovered some great biochemical truth. In reality, it is little more than recapitulation of what our grandmothers taught us. Simple truths like: Smile, do nice things for others, and give thanks every day........whether to God, the cosmos or just thanks for its own sake.........The simple act of giving thanks creates a flood of endorphins.

Today brought snow, although we did not receive as much as our neighbors to the west in Boston and New York. (Remember the New England coast goes more east - west than north - south.) The marine forecast was for a full storm, winds of 45 kt (53 mph) with gusts to 60 kt (hurricane force) and seas to 30+ feet.

For my warm, secure berth on dry land I give thanks.

A Fall Cruise of Casco Bay

Autumn is near its peak, warm (sort of) days and chilly evenings and brisk northwest breezes, perfect for cruising the Maine coast. With my friend Chuck from Wisconsin aboard, Whisper set sail from her Portland berth for a cruise of Casco Bay.



Casco Bay is not the DownEast of Penobscot Bay, Mt. Desert Island and Roque Bluffs. Yet, within a few miles of Portland Harbor, are islands as wild as they were a century ago, pristine anchorages and coastal villages whose only economic driver is fishing.



Chuck had promised his colleagues in Wisconsin lots of photos so, with camera at the ready, we wended our way through the islands past Portland Head Light before reaching off towards Halfway Rock, a lonely lighthouse outpost out to sea.



From Halfway Rock one is able to set course for anywhere in Casco Bay. Destinations are chosen by favoring winds, and there are dozens of fine anchorages to choose from.



Being chilled to the bone, we chose West Harpswell and the Dolphin Marina restaurant. A bowl of their famous seafood chowdah, my mother's all-time favorite, awaited. Warmed to the core by this rich broth loaded with haddock, clams, bits of crab and lobstah Whisper transited the narrow, hairpin channel into Merriconeag Sound.

Whisper played lobster pot slalom en route to Harpswell Harbor, a gem of a Maine coast harbor protected from all winds with excellent holding ground and SCENERY!! Ahhhhhhh........this is what I came for.

Saturday brought rollicky breezes so we adopted the time honored Maine tactic of sailing under the lee of the innumerable islands. Tacking out through Potts Harbor, we reached off down the east shore of Whaleboat Island, around the Goose Islands staying well clear of the Goslings, tacked up through and reached through to the lee of Chebeague Island. In all we sailed 15 miles through the water, only 4 miles as the crow flies and exchanged one spectacular anchorage for another. THIS is Maine sailing at its best.

Dawning clear and cold, Sunday demanded our return to Portland. Adopting the previous day's tactic, we sailed under the lee of the islands until off southern Maine's yachting capitol, Falmouth Foreside, Whisper bore off on a starboard tack and roared all the way to Portland......and the end of her sailing season.

Is there still time to head south? Oh, the temptation! Is that snow I'm seeing? Damn, it is!

Rolling Home - The Last Leg

After two months and nearly two thousand miles, Whisper was finally in New England waters. Familiar sights hove into view as we reeled off the miles down east.

With a "frisky" northwest breeze and a 6 - 8 foot Atlantic swell, Whisper tacked downwind from Narragansett Bay to Buzzard's Bay. Sailboats cannot sail directly into the wind so they must tack, sailing at 45 degrees to the wind first in one direction and then the next to go upwind. This is called 'beating'. Beating into wind and sea, spray flying, can be wearing on both crew and gear.

When sailing downwind, the fastest course between any two points is often not a straight line but sailing at an angle to the wind. This is known as reaching. Jibing from reach to reach is 'tacking downwind'. For a cruising sailboat this is often the most pleasant of sailing, fast and easy. In chilly autumn breezes it is also the warmest way to sail.

Thus Whisper made any easy day of it, making the western end of the Cape Cod Canal just as the favorable flood current was changing to the adverse ebb.

Again, one does not attempt the CC Canal against the current, so Whisper dropped anchor in that absolute jewel of a town, Onset, MA, a perfect harbor basin ringed by white sand beaches and, beyond the dunes, a quaint Cape Cod town. There we found groceries, a cheap and cheerful breakfast and that most precious of all commodities to the cruising sailor, a hot shower.

Rested, clean and cheerful, I pointed Whisper's bow next day into the flood current of the Cape Cod Canal. We transited the 8 miles of the canal in less than an hour, being delivered into a rollicking Cape Cod Bay.

With west winds of nearly 30 kts, I opted to hug the Massachusetts mainland, enjoying flat seas in the lee of the land and arriving, like the Pilgrims, at Plymouth Rock near sunset. There were no Indians waiting with corn on the beach however, just a collection of boats heading south for the winter as Whisper headed north. I was greeted with "What? Are ya nuts?" from skippers of several boats anchored nearby.

But we persevered, little Whisper and I, making sail early the next day for a run to Gloucester. The Gloucester harbormaster, being a helpful, friendly sort let Whisper tie to his dock for an hour while I went uptown, led by my nose to a mess of fried clams.

The only problem of the evening was the room kept swaying back and forth, rising to meet seas that weren't there, causing me to miss my mouth and smear ketchup on my cheek several times. The waiter was becoming concerned about my sobriety even though I was drinking soda.

Morning dawned clear and cold, with a brisk northwest breeze. Whisper motored to a mooring in the outer harbor where I prepared her for sea for the last time while we awaited a favorable current. Among the routines that have established themselves is a quiet, slow way of putting things into sailing trim. There is satisfaction in doing simple tasks with confidence.

Entering the Bay at the first of the ebb current, my calculations put Whisper at the Portland, Maine sea buoy at approximately 0400 the next day. Reality was somewhat different.

Whisper, sensing our destination, took a bone in her teeth and ran with it. Sailing at 7+ kts on a favorable current we covered the 80 miles in half the estimated time, arriving at the sea buoy at 2230h (10:30 p.m.)

This created the problem of entering Portland in the dark of night on breeze of wind. While this is not a difficult piloting problem, fatigue and out of date charts caused me to rethink my plan. So I hove Whisper to, made a cup of tea and settled in for a night at sea.

Heaving to is a proven technique for putting a boat in "park" in rough seas or when the crew needs rest. It involves backing the jib, sheeting the mainsail in hard and lashing the helm alee. Simple! Effective!

Whisper spent the next 8 hours jogging off to the SE at less than a knot while her skipper napped, coming to every 15 - 20 minutes for a look around the horizon, a check of our position and a "mug up" of hot tea.

In the chill of pre-dawn, Whisper made sail, turning her transom to a glorious sunrise. By 0800 Whisper was abreast of the most photographed lighthouse in North America, Portland Head Light. I added my own photos to the millions taken of this picturesque symbol of strength, endurance and constancy.

As the morning warmed I shed layer upon layer of clothing until, mid-morning, we arrived in Portland Harbor, the skipper in shorts and a tee shirt in Maine in October! I was at once relieved and nostalgic at the end of my personal epic. It was all a bit anticlimactic

How have I grown? How will my life be different going forward? These questions will only answer themselves in the fullness of time. Here's what I know:

I miss my many friends in Wisconsin. The Racine Yacht Club and the Western Lake Michigan Star Fleet is a community of great people and excellent sailors.

I'm glad for the familiarity of the Maine coast, looking forward to sailing adventures down east and beyond in years to come.

Living in Maine is referred to as "poverty with a view" so career and life decisions are imminent.

At the bottom line, I have had an extraordinary adventure. My writing skills are not equal to the task of sharing with you what I have experienced.

Thus I encourage you all, at least once, to shake off the "surly bonds of earth" and make your own flight. When you get back we'll have a lot of fun comparing notes.

Cheers,

Don

Off Topic - Health Care Reform

This post is completely off topic, but I cannot remain quiet on this issue. As some of you have deduced, there is a reason behind my occasional sniping on health care reform.

As someone with a potentially life threatening illness that requires constant surveillance and long-term chronic care, the fact that I have gone from a health care "have" to a health care "can't get" makes this a deeply personal issue for me.

The truth of health care and its reform has become obliterated by the hyperbolic rhetoric from all parties to this debate. There are some simple facts that any critically thinking person cannot ignore regardless of where they sit on the political spectrum:

• 47 million people, that's almost 1 in 5 of all Americans, are without any form of health insurance.
• We ALL pay for the emergency room delivery of health care to the uninsured. This is far more expensive than devising a system of delivering basic health care to all people regardless of socioeconomic status.
• 18,000 people with chronic diseases, like me, die every year in America, the richest nation on Earth, because they can't get health care. 18,000 people is 6 (SIX) times the number of people who died on 9/11/2001. The U.S. has spent over a trillion dollars on the war on terror. The state of American health care is a FAR GREATER threat to the long-term economic health and physical security of our nation.
• If you believe in pure capitalism, as the right wing of the Republican party claims to do, there is nothing pure about the brand of capitalism practiced by the insurance industry. If, as the Public Option would seek to do, the supply and demand equation was restored to the insurance industry we would ALL benefit economically.

I do not want to go on a diatribe. I do not want to contribute to the hyperbole. If, as the richest nation on earth we cannot deliver health care to all our citizens, shame on us all.

A Fall Cruise of the New England Coast

Fall weather on the New England coast is often challenging. The first hints of winter winds chase away the pleasant summer breezes. The prudent mariner will try to keep a safe harbor at his lee, somewhere to duck into when wind and sea get up. Patience is the watchword. Having plenty of boat projects, good food and books to read is essential. Waiting for a "fair chance along" as the schoonermen of old used to say. Thus Whisper remained pinned down at Block Island for an extra day.....Darn, what a place to be stuck! :-)



On leaving Block Island, Whisper found herself addled by light, shifty breezes and the unpredictable current patterns of Point Judith, RI. Several hours of tacking back and forth (remember, a sailboat can't go straight into the wind) with little headway frustrated Whisper's skipper. As the wind died completely, I gave in and cranked up the diesel breeze.



We crossed the mouth of Narragansett Bay in time to watch a large fleet of America's Cup yachts racing off Newport. As the light of day began to fade, I pointed Whisper's bow towards sheltered anchorage near the mouth of the Sakonnet River.



The last time Whisper entered the Sakonnet River was at night, in a snowstorm with a crew of dead tired, seasick, smelly guys. It was at this point we encountered a tugboat towing an unlit barge. Had it not been for the radar seeing through the snow what our eyes could not this story would not have been written. The river looked far more inviting on a warm autumn afternoon.



As the night progressed the wind shifted from west to east, leaving Whisper on an exposed shore. Anxiously I checked our position relative to the shore and other boats through the night. The wind built to near gale force making the motion aboard hellish, but also making the weighing of anchor and moving to better shelter a near impossibility. So we hunkered down and waited for that fair chance along.



The next day dawned bright and breezy with wind favorable for a dash up Buzzard's Bay formed by the SE Massachusetts coast and the islands including Martha's Vineyard. Buzzard's Bay has a well deserved reputation for challenging sailing and this day provided no evidence to the contrary. But, with the wind and current behind us, Whisper fairly flew to the western entrance to the Cape Cod Canal where we waited for a favorable current the next day.

Whisper Returns to New England

After a coupe peaceful nights in Mamaroneck, NY, Whisper made way on a quiet, windless morning. I pointed her bow between two moored boats toward the outer harbor, completely oblivious that the channel marker to starboard should be to port. It was this big, red, pointy thing known as a nun buoy. The mnemonic for the U.S. Lateral Buoyage System color scheme is red right returning, which implies red left leaving. Sure enough, Whisper skidded to a stop in unseen mud.

My immediate reaction was to reverse the engine, to no avail. The mental calculus thereafter was: is the tide coming in or going out? and has anybody seen me? Thankfully the tide was rising, floating Whisper free in a few minutes. With tail tucked tightly between my legs, I very very carefully motored out onto a mirror calm Long Island Sound.

LI Sound lived up, or down as the case may be, to its reputation for light winds and strong currents. Being anxious to be in New England, we motored down sound to the eastward. It wasn't until day 2 that the breeze filled in from the southwest giving Whisper favorable wind and current for a race towards The Race where LI Sound meets the open Atlantic. Currents over The Race can reach 4 knots which, for a small sailboat, means you must go with the current to make any headway.

As the day was getting late with inclement weather closing in, I opted for Fisher's Island Sound and a night in Stonington, CT. As it happened, both night and rain descended simultaneously making our approach to Stonington, in confused currents, a rather tenuous affair. Finding a spot to drop anchor amongst the hundreds of moored boats at night was a bit of a trick, but with the anchor finally down I dropped into my bunk for the sleep of the dead.

At first light, with favorable current, we exited Long Island Sound between Fisher's Island and Watch Hill, RI. The eastern end of Fisher's Island is named Wicopissett Point, known to generations of Down East mariners as "Wicked Pissah Point". The path through rock and reef is known as Lord's Passage, no doubt a reference to a particular prayer uttered by many of those seamen, as this is a particularly thorny little patch of water. Judging by the number of shipwrecks noted on the chart, either those seamen were not praying earnestly enough or God was busy doing something vastly more important like making sure those heathen Democrats didn't get health care reform passed.

Short of sleep and feeling the broad Atlantic swell for the first time in 3 years, I set course for that most beautiful of out islands, Block Island. A tourist zoo in summertime, early autumn is a most pleasant time to be at Block. As the next day turned out to be "frisky" in the monotone parlance of the National Weather Service automated marine broadcast, I enjoyed an extra day of island life, rowing the dinghy through the Great Salt Pond's estuary and walking to the far corners of the island.