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| The Shenandoah in Martha's Vineyard |
I am such a weakling. It’s partly the musicians’ curse, always
having to watch out for hands and fingers. What might seem like a minor injury
for most people could mean the end of my career. But if I plan to do much more
sailing in the future, I’m going to have to develop some useful musculature. This
morning’s passage makes that clear.
Martha’s Vineyard to Onset and then Provincetown. This is a
well worn path of familiar ports and waters. Rick has made this little trilogy
of landings many times before, and this is the third time around for me as
well.
Different winds and weather patterns make every voyage at
least somewhat unique, of course. Still, I’m experiencing more than a little
déjà vu when we leave Vineyard Haven and traverse the Vineyard Sound to Woods
Hole. The wind is not exactly “blowing like snot,” as sailors like to say, but
it’s blowing darned hard and in a direction exactly contrary to the current,
creating what sailors call a “cross sea”. The boat is tossing and turning all
over the place, just like it did two years ago when I was with Rick on Tortue,
making this same passage my first time up the coast. I can’t deal with the
camera to take any pictures – it’s just too wild of a ride.
We’re sailing with the headsail alone, yet we’re screaming
along at eight and a half to nine knots, helped by the strong tidal current. The
deck is getting washed with spray and I scramble below to shut all of the
hatches. I think I’m real hot stuff now, no longer afraid of getting seasick by
going below in a rocky sea. Once I’m down there, though, it becomes a major
challenge to get back up on deck. We are heeled way over and with all the
bouncing around, I’m having trouble climbing the companionway steps.
“Go slow, one handhold at a time!” Rick yells down to me. I
try to follow his advice, but I’m hopelessly stuck on the next to last step.
Imagine trying to balance yourself near the top of a ladder that is leaning to
the side about forty-five degrees, and is bouncing atop a big rubber ball that
is riding up and down waves of three or four feet. Now try and imagine climbing
to stand on the top rung of that ladder. You need to be agile and have a good
sense of balance of course. But you also need some pretty strong leg muscles to
counterbalance the inertia that is at play.
I am not quite up to the task and I end up making it out of
the companionway, but only after badly jamming my big toe (of course I am
barefoot) and wrenching my shoulder. I have long been envious of Rick’s
nimble-footed ease of movement under these conditions, and I have been assuming
that he is just more self-assured and experienced on a boat than I am. That is
certainly true to some extent. But I now see more clearly that one of the big
reasons Rick is able to move around a bumpy boat while I tend to sit around
like a big toad is that he’s simply a great deal stronger than I am.
Once we make it through Woods Hole and into Buzzards Bay the
current runs differently so we are out of the cross sea. The wind remains
really strong though, and we’re still making at least six and a half knots with
only the headsail. Rick and I are both astonished that I am not seasick, but my
foot and shoulder are aching and I retreat into the V-berth (our bedroom) to
lie down. Rick stays up above and is able to get some footage of Valkyrie
sailing in this still rolling but much calmer sea:
The rest of our journey unfolds with all of the familiar
sights and pleasures. Pizza and clams in Onset, party time in P-town. After a
couple of days, my shoulder is as good as new, but my foot is still a bit
swollen and tender. At least it won’t effect my violin playing. Rick tells me
that the passage from Vineyard Haven up Buzzards Bay was some of the best
sailing he’s had in a long time. His obvious enthusiasm for that kind of
sailing contrasts greatly with my own fear and discomfort with it. But you
know, I would never begrudge him the enjoyment of sport sailing if that’s what
he really loves.
When we get back to Baltimore, I’m going to find a personal
trainer.
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| Sunset Over Provincetown |
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