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