Posted 29 June 1998
Saturday, May 9, 1998
After leaving Solomons at 0815, an hour later we were 4 miles offshore with 20 knot winds right on our nose, frequent gusts up to 27 knots, and torrential rains. We decided we weren't having any fun, and headed back to Solomons. On our return, we anchored in a different part of the harbor, near the mouth of Mill Creek. The sloop Tie Breaker joined us, one of several boats who decided that north winds on a course of 000 degrees were not worth the effort.
Sunday, May 10, 1998
A couple of boats ventured out into the Chesapeake this morning, and we watched them return a few hours later. They reported strong, northerly winds. We weighed anchor and moved to Calvert Marina. Laundry, showers, and grocery
shopping occupied us for the next several hours. Afterwards we enjoyed a visit with my cousin Jack who had driven down from Crofton, Maryland.
Monday, May 11, to Wednesday, May 13, 1998
The winds continued from the north, with rain on and off for these three days. The harbor was full of frustrated cruisers waiting for southerly "prevailing" winds. Solomons has an excellent marine museum where we spent an interesting and educational morning. We also browsed the marina's boaters library.
Thursday, May 14, 1998
The wind had decreased to 15 knots although it was still from the north. The rain had finally stopped but was replaced by cool temperatures! Well, you can't have everything! At 0615 we took in our dock lines and headed north up Chesapeake Bay to Annapolis. The weather turned lovely about noon. As we neared Thomas Point Shoal lighthouse about 1415, we found ourselves dodging dozens of sailboats racing around the various courses. We entered Spa Creek; the crowd at harborside was a mix of civilians (tourists) and naval personnel (many of them USNA midshipmen). What an audience to watch us pick up our first mooring in months. We chose a mooring just off harborside to give everyone a good view. As Maria Carmela turned into the wind on our approach, visions of different problems sprang into my mind - engine stalls, mooring line parts, a rock suddenly arises from the seabed, Kathy tumbles overboard while reaching for the pennant, our prop snares another mooring line, the rudder falls off causing a collision with another boat. As it turned out, Kathy snared the pennant perfectly, as the boat lost all headway, looped the line around the cleat, and casually secured it. Not one word or signal passed between us as we did this maneuver. Win some, lose some - this was a win. The spectators on shore began to look around for something more interesting to watch. Lots of wakes until well after dark from Harbormaster boats, tour boats, water taxis, private motor boats, and jet skis.
Friday, May 15, 1998
An early morning haze accompanied us as we departed Annapolis at 0600. This will be our last day on Chesapeake Bay. Passing under the Annapolis bridge we kept a close eye out for big ship traffic heading to/from the Baltimore channel. Later in the day, near the Bohemia River, we met a huge container ship (is "huge" redundant?) heading south as we motored north. The channel suddenly became very narrow. There were no problems but we were just a little awestruck by the size and speed of the vessel as it glided close by us in the channel.
After entering the C&D Canal we fueled up at Schaefers Marina in Chesapeake City. Here the starter solenoid acted up and I had to jump it with a screwdriver; many sparks on the first attempt and then the engine kicked into life. We anchored at the Chesapeake City basin. It took us two tries to set the anchor; later we watched a powerboat try 4 or 5 times to set the hook; they gave up and went to Schaefers for the night. One practice we continue to follow is to back down on the anchor at 2,000 rpm after we feel the anchor chain snub tight.
Saturday, May 16, 1998
At 0550 we motored through the C&D Canal, and reached the Delaware Bay at 0825. Here we found fog and a good amount of commercial traffic (translation: large ships). Visibility was about a half mile throughout the morning as we headed down Delaware Bay to Cape May, New Jersey. The current was supposed to turn against us, and it did. But we kept running into pockets of favorable current throughout the trip. We checked and rechecked the current tables in Reed's; neither of us could figure it out but we gratefully accepted it. At one point our ground speed was 9.5 knots.
The weather was very warm - records broken according to the VHF weather reports. As had been forecast, the winds picked up to 25-30 knots in late afternoon. We entered the Cape May Canal at almost low water, and tiptoed through some shallow, shoaling spots. In the Canal we were surrounded by many small and a few big power boats. One inconsiderate person piloting a 40' power boat came barreling along at 12 to 15 knots, leaving a turbulent wake 3' to 4' high. Several of the rowboat-size craft came very close to capsizing. Everyone was tossed about while the jerk saved himself 5 minutes. With strong winds forecast for all night, we decided to tie up at Utsch's Marina for a restful night's sleep. I got a little exercise before bedtime when I discovered that the terminal on the positive solenoid starter lead had broken off. I jury-rigged a replacement by unraveling the cable wires and twisting them together individually to a spare cable which had a terminal.
Sunday, May 17, 1998
Our ocean run to Absecon Inlet (aka Atlantic City) began bright and early. The Navigator was kind to the Captain and plotted a course well off the Jersey coast. Not many pleasure craft around even though it's a Sunday. Figured they would be out in droves fishing. Our run through the Absecon Inlet was as smooth as such a passage can be. You do have to be constantly alert because of the following sea and chop in the inlet. After a short fuel stop, we set our anchor right in front of Harrah's casino. We had the anchorage to ourselves. Today's run was 40 nautical miles and took 7.5 hours.
Monday, May 18, 1998
As we came on deck at 0530 we were surprised to see 4 boats anchored near us. When did they come in?
Today we motorsailed up the Jersey coast from Absecon Inlet (Atlantic City) to Manasquan Inlet (Point Pleasant, NJ). The run was about 60 nm and took 11 hours. The northerly winds continue to frustrate us.
Throughout the day we kept crossing and re-crossing a brown scum line running snake-like along the coast about three miles off shore. Without going into distasteful details it contained recognizable objects. What really jolted me was the effect it had on the depth sounder. As we approached the scum line water depth was in the 50' to 75' range. Going through the brown scum line the depthmeter suddenly read 2.8' to 6 ' of water. The brown scum line completely distorted the depth sounder's signals. It was solid enough the prevent the depthsounder's signal which routinely penetrates down 200' to be jammed at 2.8' to 6'. This happened repeatedly throughout the day. Ugh and Yuck.
We tied up at the Shrimp Box Restaurant (which is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays until the season is in full bloom). We spent some time reversing the bow once we had tied up to the dock, to give us a quicker and easier exit tomorrow morning. We ended up with a boat rafted to us (they were towed in with engine problems) and 3 more boats rafted behind us. A total of 5 boats - and 4 were from Maine! That's a coincidence.
A number of land based folks with the "I-wanna-go-cruising" gleam in the eyes wandered by the dock. We enjoyed chatting with them. Before calling it a day, we spent time going over tomorrow's run to New York City - should we anchor inside Sandy Hook, or cross over to the Statue of Liberty anchorage, or continue up the East River to spend the night in Little Neck Bay? Or will the wind finally cooperate and let us go offshore to Block Island? We decided to let tomorrow's weather decide our destination.
Tuesday, May 18, 1998
Leaving a dock is always better than hauling anchor, but not as good as casting off a mooring. At 0530 the sun cracked the horizon as we were heading east through Manasquan Inlet. Even so, we were not the first boat out.
More brown scum line through the morning. The wind had us heading for New York Harbor. It was late morning when we crossed Lower NY Bay over to the Brooklyn shoreline. We sailed past Coney Island and Ft. Hamilton, under the Verrazano Bridge, through the Bay Ridge Channel, into the Red Hook Channel, and past the huge defunct Brooklyn Army Terminal - here's where a lot of material and personnel began the overseas trip to wherever. The route along the Brooklyn shoreline is a lot more scenic than going along the Staten Island side of Lower NY Bay. Could being a Brooklyn native have anything to do with these feelings?
Upon entering the Buttermilk Channel which runs between Governor's Island and the western end of Long Island (Brooklyn), Kathy phoned our nephew Adam who works in the financial district, letting him know as promised that we were coming through. He said he'd wave to us from the South Street Seaport. He did a lot better than a wave; he bought a disposable camera on his way and took pictures as we approached and passed by South Street Seaport.
Our trip up the East River was quick. The fabled Hell Gate current gave us a ride. Our GPS showed 10.7 knots for a length of time. This powerful following sea made the precise steering required very difficult and tricky to boot. Several tows passed us, and a coastal freighter greeted us in the narrow channel between North Brother Island and South Brother Island. Quite a welcome back to New York City.
Little Neck Bay is just east of the Throgs Neck Bridge and a great place to spend the night. We anchored about 1430 and very shortly some members of the Douglaston Yacht Club returning from a sail came over to say hello and to offer rides, moorings, and hospitality. In conversation we mentioned that a friend belonged to the club. Next we knew our friend was motoring his sailboat out to greet us. The "welcome boat" had taken the time and effort to alert him of our arrival. So much for the expression "cold-hearted New Yorkers."
Wednesday, May 20, to Saturday, May 23, 1998
Rain was predicted, so we were on our way at 0615 for a quick trip eastward to Norwalk Cove Marina on the Connecticut shoreline. We spent several days here visiting with family and friends. The marina replaced the positive lead to the starter solenoid that I had jury-rigged back on May 16. I kept the patchwork splice from the old line for "show and tell" back home. Our new mainsail was waiting for us! It looks beautiful. Also in the mail was a notice of a 50th wedding anniversary party for Chet and Barbara Knowles who are friends from nearby Sprite Island YC and who now live in Maine. Chet was very instrumental in my joining Sprite Island YC in '81 and has remained a friend since. We decided to stop by Sprite Island YC for its Opening Day Festivities on Sunday.
Sunday, May 24, 1998
Of course we went for a sail today trying out the new mainsail. Nice! Then we picked up a guest mooring at Sprite Island YC where we were welcomed us back as if we were royalty or long-lost rich relatives. During the day we took photos of everyone who knew Chet and Barbara from the old days. The photos will be given to Chet & Barbara at the wedding anniversary party in August.
Monday, May 25, 1998
Early this morning we dropped the mooring line and set our course for Mattituck Inlet on Long Island's north shore. Rain, fog, wind on our nose, and chilly temperatures stayed with us throughout the day. For the first time on our cruise the autopilot was interfaced with the GPS. Wow! Plug in a destination and step aside. Automatic course correction for current and wind. As with any electronic steering device, the Captain had better be certain the course doesn't cross over three feet of land. Once in Mattituck Inlet we were fortunate to be able to tie up to the dock for the night at the Old Mill Restaurant and enjoy a fine meal to boot.
Tuesday, May 26, 1998
There was a heavy fog at first light, so we delayed our departure from Mattituck Inlet until 0645 when the fog started to lift. The GPS/autopilot combined to give us a pleasurable run to Orient Point on the eastern end of Long Island, through Plum Gut, and eastward to Block Island. Several adjustments still have to be made to keep a tighter course line, but they are adjustments, not overhauls. We motor sailed the entire way (about 50 nm), in warm weather. At Block Island the Great Salt Pond was almost deserted - very few boats in the water, or in the marinas. We picked up a town mooring and the Harbormaster came by boat to collect the fee and he even handed out shower tokens at the first request - now we have three tokens. We spent the evening reviewing options for tomorrow - anchor somewhere off Buzzard's Bay, continue through the Cape Cod Canal to Provincetown, or continue across the Gulf of Maine to Monhegan Island, Maine. As in other deliberations we agreed to let the weather be the determining factor.
Wednesday, May 27, 1998
As Maria Carmela glided out of the Great Salt Pond, a sudden thought hit me. If we have favorable weather, Block Island will be our last overnight stop until we pick up our home mooring in Rockport, Maine. Will the weather cooperate?
While sailing eastward along Block Island Sound we saw several pairs of very small dorsal fins followed by a long slender tail. They weren't akin to any porpoises we have seen nor were they as pointed as I picture sharks' dorsals. I made a mental note to attempt identification when we hit land.
I looked up the definition of "sound" as in Block Island Sound. I was not able to see any difference between it and the Atlantic Ocean and thought the dictionary definition would shed some light. One definition was a long, relatively wide body of water, larger than a strait or a channel, connecting larger bodies of water. Long Island Sound seems to meet this definition. The second definition was a long, wide ocean inlet, which fits Block Island Sound.
The light fog slowly lifted as the morning wore on. We entered Buzzards Bay about 1100 and by this time we were pretty sure we were going to try for a direct run to Maine. At 1600 we stopped for fuel at the Point Independence YC in Onset Harbor. This is a very nice stop, reasonable fuel prices, courtesy moorings for members of reciprocating yacht clubs. After fueling the solenoid acted up again. Darn! I had hoped that problem was cured. I jumped the terminals with a large screwdriver and the diesel was off and running.
Almost! When I jumped the starter solenoid I did not turn all the circuit breakers off and I fried some component in the GPS/autopilot link. Back to square one.
The Cape Cod Canal railroad bridge was lowered as we approached delaying our entering the canal for a few minutes. There was little traffic on the Canal and we thoroughly enjoyed the scenery.
At the Canal's eastern end, both sea and weather conditions looked good - with a good forecast - so we set our course directly for Monhegan Island, Maine - 128 nm to go. Time was 1800.
Of course, first we had to cross Cape Cod Bay. That took about 3 hours, and brought us to sunset. Our final landmark was the Pilgrim's Monument at Provincetown off to starboard. Then darkness arrived. We saw numerous commercial fishing boats during the night and one tow heading southbound. We maneuvered around the fishing boats and dodged the tow. Dodging the tow was a bit hairy until I realized what I was seeing. The red (port side) light was visible as were the three white lights atop her cabin. But every now and then a green light became visible. Was this from another vessel just behind the tow? As the situation clarified I realized the tug (showing her red light) was towing a barge which due to the current and the length of the tow line was showing her green (starboard) light. The barge's red light was blocked by the tug. Once the situation jelled, I did a 90 degree turn to port for 20 minutes while the tow scooted on her way - well behind me - and then resumed my original course. I don't like to be near big traffic, especially during darkness.
Thursday, May 28, 1998
As Wednesday night progressed, all lights (both buoyage and ships) disappeared. The dull glow on the western horizon (Boston) faded away. We each stood our watches. The cabin was cold, the air outside was warm. I put on layer-upon-layer of clothing to face my early morning watch. When I climbed on deck I realized I'd be shedding layers. Light started to show on the eastern horizon around 0330. It's a comforting sight. By 0430 I had good light conditions and by 0510 sunlight. Nothing was in sight - no vessels, no land, no buoys, no planes nor their condensation trails. An unsullied sea and sky. The sun looked just a smooth skinned orange as she rose from the sea.
Several porpoises frolicked by on their way north. Kathy took over the helm, relieving me and I went below for some more shuteye.
I was reacquainting myself with the world as Kathy shouted "Land ho!" Monhegan Island had appeared on the horizon. We still had about 4 hours to reach it but there it was exactly where the GPS said it would be. It's quite a feeling when a course is set and eighteen hours later the island appears.
A large dorsal fin appeared off the port bow and moved slowly through the water as we passed it. I could see the body was 8 - 10 ft long with a rounded dorsal and a long slender tapering tail. An adult version of the smaller ones we saw in Block Island Sound. Now here we are in the Gulf of Maine and again the species appears. I could not see the body or head clearly through the water because of the distortion caused by small waves. The body was a silvery gray, the dorsal fin was dark almost a black color as was the tail. The tail was in the top to bottom plane rather than parallel to the ocean's surface.
When we returned home we explored books in a public library - nothing matched exactly. The closest was a thresher shark and after some additional research I'm convinced that's a correct call.
We were about 40 miles from offshore when two little birds landed on the deck. My immediate concern was that Maxine would try to chase them and fall overboard. Max either didn't see them, has seen so many birds that she's no longer intrigued by them, or didn't consider them potential playmates. They were yellow, about 3-4 inches long, with black markings. Most probably goldfinches. We had enjoyed their company for about a half hour when they took off on some mysterious calling. They returned about 15 minutes later, stayed a short time and then departed for good. Where can a 4" bird go on an empty ocean?
As we approached Monhegan Island we began discussing whether to continue to Rockport or spend the night at Port Clyde. Continuing to Rockport would have us arriving in darkness but we'd be home, a nice place to be since the weather forecast for the next few days was for severe thunderstorms, hail, and 20-30 knot winds. Several quick DR (dead reckoning) calculations showed us we would pass Owl's Head Lighthouse before dark. That was good news since the waters between Monhegan Island and Owl's Head are usually thick with lobster buoys.
Daylight would give us a fighting chance to weave our way through them. The stretch of water between Owl's Head and our Rockport mooring may have some pots but not nearly as many.
Continue through to Rockport was our decision. I really wasn't that concerned about being caught by a pot because we have a full keel and I'd reduce the rpm's transiting the congested areas. Darkness arrived just after Owl's Head and we glided past Rockland and into Rockport Harbor. Porterfield Ledge even at low tide is not a large radar target. We found the mooring field buoys OK and spotted the large floating dock and walkway belonging to our mooring neighbor. A port turn towards the dock and the hunt for our mooring began with Kathy stationed on the bow and Max keeping me company in the cockpit. I knew our mooring was next to our neighbor's blue hulled sailboat but I hadn't spotted his boat (this is still May - maybe it's not in the water yet?). The blue hull blends well with the shore's shadows but I picked it out in plenty of time to cut rpm's and glide up to our mooring. Now Kathy's job started. She could see the mooring ball and the small pickup float but not the pennant in between. She stabbed the boat pole in the water several times before snaring it cleanly. A quick series of familiar actions and Kathy had us secured to our home mooring. We were home. The boat was inspected and checked before we turned in for the night, dead tired.
We had left Rockport September 15, 1997, and arrived back May 28, 1998. We had traveled 2,874 nautical miles.
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