"Glawster"

We’re off to Gloucester. For some reason, the name of this town is pronounced “Glawster”.  Will everyone in the world eventually pronounce my home city as “Balmer” the way the locals do? Just the word Gloucester reminds me of an ad campaign from my childhood, and I can’t get the jingle out of my mind. “Trust the Gor-ton’s Fi-sher-men."  This is the town that lost the crew of the Andrea Gail in 1991, the story of which became the basis for the movie “The Perfect Storm”.

The wind is weak again today, but Rick says we can set the main and motor-sail. That way we can sit up on the bow together and watch for whales. We’re going to be pretty much out of sight of land for most of the day, and he’s seen whales before when he’s sailed these waters, those of the Stellwagen National Marine Sanctuary just north of Provincetown. This sounds like a great idea, but after two hours of seeing nothing I fall asleep, and Rick leaves me up there to snooze by myself.

By the time we are about five miles from Gloucester we have yet to see anything, even a dolphin, and Rick is saying that this is the first time he’s made this particular sail without seeing at least one whale. Not thirty seconds later we see the black shiny skin and the funny little dorsal fin of a whale, maybe fifty feet off the starboard side of the boat (that’s the right side for all of you neophytes). When you see something like this, dolphins, seals, etc., you really only get a momentary glimpse because the animal is just getting some air before diving back down. We scope the water, hoping this whale will resurface. Rick thinks he sees a disturbance in the water right behind us, and sure enough, the whale surfaces again, this time on the port side and just as close as before. We wait breathless in hopes of one more sighting and he doesn’t disappoint.  Rick sees him coming up behind us, a black shape beneath the surface, white pectoral fins shining like headlights.  He breaks the surface on the starboard side, just twenty feet from the boat. Rick tries singing to him on the theory that whales communicate by singing, so why not? Unfortunately, he chooses “The Star Spangled Banner.” Maybe that’s why we don’t see him again. Rick thinks he is a young whale, maybe 30 feet long (the length of Tortue). He was clearly checking us out; our engine was off at the time and our boat with its trailing dinghy probably looked like a cow and her baby from below the surface. An older whale would have likely known better.

We come into the harbor at Gloucester and anchor in a pretty little spot behind Ten Pound Island. It has been a very hot day and we go for a quick swim to cool off. We are surrounded by boats, but none of them appear to have anyone on board so we really have the place to ourselves. We might as well get comfortable because we’re going to be here for a few days. Rick has some friends who live in Boston and they will be coming up to see us and also to hopefully get out of the heat.

The next morning Rick decides that we need to get a mooring in the harbor proper because it is supposed to be very windy today and tonight and he doesn’t want to be on an anchor in those conditions. We move the boat and then take the dinghy ashore to get some ice and supplies. It’s striking how much hotter it is on land than on the water. We take a short hike over to the Walgreens and fill up our backpacks. It’s not a very scenic walk; unlike the resort towns we have been in, the harbor here is not very pleasing to the eye. It is of course a working harbor and prettiness is just not the priority.

Late in the day, we meet up with Rick’s friend Deb and her daughter Nell at the dock. Deb was a student when Rick first started teaching in graduate school, and she became a close family friend and babysitter for Rick’s son. In previous summer voyages Rick has visited Deb and her family at their cottage on Vinal Haven Island in Maine, but this time they have come to us. Deb presents us with her homemade Vinal Haven jam, along with a few other contributions toward dinner that we couldn’t get ourselves. We go for a quick evening sail and give Deb a try at the helm. Back at the dock, we pick up Deb’s husband Tommy who drove up separately, and motor back to our mooring for dinner on board. It’s too bad the setting isn’t as beautiful as some we’ve been in, but the company is great and the wind makes for a cool evening.

Friday morning we meet up with more of Rick’s friends; Josh and Laura. Josh is an old friend from Rick’s Yale days, and Rick was best man at his wedding with Laura. It is extremely hot all along the east coast, and a day on the boat will hopefully be a real treat for them. They bring all kinds of goodies for us – besides the salmon for dinner and sandwich stuff for lunch, they bring a variety of fresh fruit for which we are extremely grateful. Life on the boat can get a bit thin in the fresh produce department. We spend some time on Ten Pound Island, swimming and exploring, and then go out for an afternoon sail.

Rick puts all guests on the boat through the torture of steering, and Josh is no exception. Laura sees what we think is probably the blow-spout of a whale, but we never get a full sighting. There is a little extra excitement when, in 250 feet of water and the boat underway, I jump overboard for a swim but can’t grab a hold of the trailing line. I do manage to catch the dinghy before it goes by, and hug it for awhile until Rick can slow down the boat and I can get back on board. Neither Josh or Laura seem all that interested in swimming behind the boat after that – I don’t know why…

Back at our anchorage again, Rick and Josh set up the “barbie” for grilling the salmon. We don’t get a completely vibrant sunset but it’s still pretty nice, and Rick pulls the table out into the cockpit so we can have a civilized dinner al fresco. It has been a great day, and we send Josh and Laura home with big smiles (along with our recycling).