Pushing Towards Paradise

On our way, pushing relentlessly north. At least that’s what it feels like. Hardly a moment to catch our breath - or wash our hair or do laundry…

We make it to Cuttyhunk just in time to catch our friends Tim and Susan on their way south. They have spent the last year in Maine after having sailed up there last summer, and now they are more than a bit anxious to return to Baltimore and re-enter their lives. We raft up our boats and share stories and a meal together. Then we say our goodbyes and anchor our boat nearby.

When Rick and I arise late the next morning, Tim and Susan have already left in order to catch the favorable tides south. We decide to take the dinghy in to shore for breakfast at the Cuttyhunk Fishing Club – a homespun seaside cottage turned B&B we found last year that offers breakfast to the general public. We race over there just as they are starting to close up, but we make it onto their porch with one minute to spare and they graciously agree to serve us. Breakfast is fantastic, as is the panoramic view of Vineyard Sound.

After blissfully stuffing ourselves, we are able to take a much more leisurely walk back to the dinghy dock. Take time to smell the roses, I always say. Actually, there are wild roses here in abundance and they grow some equally beautiful rose hips.

 

It is an exceptionally hot day – I think the entire east coast is under the broiler right now. We re-anchor the boat beside the nearby Nashawena Island and take a swim to cool off. Apparently, we aren’t the only ones to get this bright idea; the shaggy long-horned cows who live on this treeless island have found the one place at their disposal to escape the heat.

We pull up anchor and head for Martha’s Vineyard. I am forever craving salty foods with this heat, so I make popcorn and we sit up on the foredeck with our chairs and our drinks, frantically trying to keep the wind from blowing all of our popcorn away.

While underway, we come across a couple of sea turtles and I manage to get a pretty bad close-up of one before he disappears below the surface. We also see a number of the now familiar floating balloons, along with a few Portuguese Man-o-Wars. I’ve been told that one of the reasons balloons and plastic bags are so bad for the ocean environment is that sea turtles eat them. What kind of an idiot turtle would try and eat a balloon? Well, the turtles eat jellyfish – they’re actually the only natural predator of jellyfish, I’m guessing because turtles don’t get stung through their shells. From a turtle’s point of view, a lot of these balloons look pretty similar to a Portuguese Man-o-War. In fact, those Man-o-Wars look pretty fake to me – I could swear they are made of plastic too.

(Balloon)

Internet legend has it that there is a floating plastic island in the Pacific Ocean the size of Texas. Something about the currents collecting trash and debris into one giant mass. The veracity of this story is in some question. No one debates that there is an absolutely massive amount of trash out there, but no one can agree on how much density constitutes a floating island.

Perhaps of even greater concern is the presence of microplastics (tiny particles of plastic) in the marine environment. These can be caused by the breaking down of large pieces of plastic like cups, bags, and of course balloons, but they can also come from the machine washing of clothing made from synthetic materials, or even from additives to cosmetics and other products, sending these micro particles into sewer systems and eventually to the ocean. They then get eaten by animals near the bottom of the food chain. Not much is known yet about the long-term effects of these infinitely long lasting microplastics, either on simple organisms or on the larger animals (like us) who eat them, but really, it’s difficult to imagine that anything good could come of it.

We pull in to the harbor at Vineyard Haven – the main town on Martha’s Vineyard – and find a place to anchor. It’s great to watch the vast array of boats that parade by in this sailor’s paradise. We hail the rowing crew of a long boat, and they stop for a brief chat. The coxswain (the guy who calls out the stroke to the rowers) gives us a brief but informative history of these pilot boats, and the crew seems happy to receive our compliments on their rowing style.

As we are all saying our goodbyes, one of the crewmembers points to the nearby (conspicuously low) bridge and says, “Don’t try to go under that bridge!” What, do we have “Low Bridge Lovers” written across our foreheads? Maybe more people are reading my blog than I thought…