Southwest Winds

McCall at the wheel, with Jacques

Maine is a hotspot for sailors. But do we do any real sailing here? Precious little… The Boothbys are gathering for their annual family reunion and a great number of activities have been planned, all inland. Before the arrival of the whole clan, we do manage to steal one delightful afternoon and evening on the boat with Rick's sister Barb and husband Jeff, along with their daughter McCall and significant other Jacques, who came all the way from Colorado. 

While it's a little hard to leave the boat behind, we have a grand time with the bigger Boothby crowd ashore  – visiting the family picnic grounds in Turner for lunch and swimming, enjoying lobster feasts and croquet/badminton/corn-holing competitions at Barb’s, and then taking on a killer two-night canoe-camping trip at the remote and pristine Lake Umbagog near New Hampshire. Aside from  a few pains (like two nights of little to no sleep on a completely flat, leaky air mattress), the visit is a hit as always.

Rick and I manage to see a movie in Portland before heading back. The theater shows a good twenty minutes of advertisements, even before the previews. Normally I would be thoroughly annoyed at having paid money to sit and look at commercials, but I am so video deprived from a month on our internet limited boat that I sit there, wide-eyed, munching on popcorn from the giant bag I bought. Heaven!

We also take an overnight trip up to Boothbay to visit our friends Tim and Susan. Tim is a newly retired philosophy professor from Rick’s department, who has also been Rick’s close friend and pool night chum for years. Tim has owned a number of sailboats during his lifetime, and Rick often seeks his advice about all things boaty, particularly engines. Sadly for us, Tim and Susan have left Baltimore permanently to enjoy their retirement in Maine. They have completely settled in, though. Susan has become very active with the local gardening club, and Tim is the newest member of the “Romeos” (Real Old Men Eating Out). Apparently the Romeos get together once a week for lunch and they have a strict rule that you can’t spend more than five bucks. Rick wants to join right now. We thoroughly enjoy seeing them in their impressive new digs, and they give us a nice tour around Boothbay as well as a couple of fabulous meals. We are seriously considering Boothbay for our own retirement…

After a great week in Maine, it's time to head back south. The challenge is the prevailing southwest winds. Since that is the direction we mostly need to go to get back home, Rick is always worried about making it in time for his back-to-school deadline at the end of August. You can sail on winds that are in almost any direction around your boat, but not straight into them. Even motoring is difficult heading straight into a heavy wind and sea. Whenever there is a weather window that would allow us to travel down the coast, preferably without risking my getting seasick, we need to take it. With a light northwest forecast, we set off on an overnight to Provincetown.

In Provincetown, we perform our usual ritual of going into town for the smokey fish chowder at the “Squealing Pig”. Rick is so enamored of that soup that he proposes going back for more every day we are anchored in Provincetown. I love it too, but every day? It’s not popcorn you know! Instead, I convince him to visit the very touristy "Lobster Pot" where we have a surprisingly wonderful lunch.  Rick orders a portuguese seafood stew they call "Algarve" and it is a huge hit. I keep stealing bites of it and swooning with pleasure. I don't care much for the squid in it though. I still remember the episode of "This American Life" where Ira Glass does a whole exposé on the modern day substitution of pork bung for calamari. What is pork bung? Just what you think it is - neat little white rings of pig anus. Not surprisingly, pork bung is cheaper than squid and therefore very tempting for the penny pinching restauranteur. Even the experts interviewed on TAL couldn't tell the difference. Now, whenever Rick and I encounter calamari, fried or otherwise, I always wonder what exactly we are eating. If we aren't reassured by finding some little tentacle-y bits, it can be very disturbing. Hungry yet?

Calamari or Pork Bung...?

We spend our last night anchored at the beach, at the very end of the spiral sand spit. Unfortunately it is too cold to swim, but we have fun watching the seals who gather there in groups of a dozen or more. Rick claims to have seen at one time as many as fifty heads sticking out of the water, over an arc of about an eighth of a mile.

Taking advantage of another day of northwest breezes, we sail down to Onset, MA.  Of course we have to go in yet again to Marc Anthony’s for pizza and clams. If you follow this blog, you must think this dive is the only eatery in town. It's not, but the loud, coarse staff, and the crazy, haphazard decor, along with the incredibly good food, makes the place irresistible, at least for us. The town is hosting an all day blues festival tomorrow; of course we have to stay for that! Going on at the same time, there is also the Pan Mass biking event that sends thousands of bikers through the little town. Locals have set up chairs to watch the bikers and listen to the music, cheering on the riders and thanking them loudly for their participation in the charity event. I love hearing the exaggerated Massachusetts accents that abound here. The music is good, but the day is a scorcher. We're not terribly disappointed when the darkening clouds force a retreat back to the boat.

Next stop: Block Island, my most favorite place in the world! I’m hoping those southwest winds maroon us there for a good long while.

Friends, Old and New

We’ve made it to Maine! The trip has taken us through some familiar waters and stops along the way; Block Island, Cuttyhunk, New Bedford, Onset and Provincetown. It has indeed felt like visiting old friends.

The Cocktail Hour on Block

Acacia

 We met some new friends as well. Does this boat look familiar to you? No, that is not our boat! It is an almost-twin to Valkyrie, another Southern Cross 35 called Acacia, 
owned by Rick and Lynn, a couple from Long Island. The two Ricks had a grand time comparing notes about their boats and other sailorly stuff, while Lynn and I discovered even more striking similarities - she is a violinist also! What are the chances? Lynn even studied at Eastman, my own alma mater.

We shared a couple of wonderful evenings with Rick and Lynn, alternating our time between boats. We had such a good time with them that I completely forgot to take any pictures, other than of their boat. They say they will probably be at Block when we make our return voyage going South, so hopefully we will get to see them again in August. I promise, I will take some pictures!

Todd McGowan is one of Rick's favorite people with whom to discuss philosophy. Todd and his family live in Vermont, but they made a special car trip down to New Bedford to visit us on the boat, and also to see the New Bedford Whaling Museum. Todd's wife Hilary is also an academic, but with their energetic twelve-year-old twins in tow, not much philosophizing occurred (which was fine by me). We had a great time seeing them. The boys loved climbing around aboard the boat, swimming overboard, and above all getting towed in the dinghy (while trying to push each other out). They were a fun, rambunctious duo and happily, Valkyrie and all of the participants survived!

Todd McGowan

Sibling Rivalry Exhibit A

Three boys, approximately the same age!

Other than meeting up with friends, we have been taking it rather easy. I do a great deal of reading while on the boat, and Rick loves to take pictures of me performing this activity. Probably because I manage to look so ridiculous doing it.

Finally, a flattering shot!

Not that much swimming has been going on this summer, mostly because the weather has been surprisingly mild in the heat department. I have had some specific difficulties though, having to do with my aging and decrepit body. I have had nerve compression issues for the last ten years, and they have finally caught up to me enough so that I have been unable to play my violin for over a year. Most of my problems come from my neck, and swimming has a tendency to bring on symptoms with a vengeance. I have figured out that I can do backstroke and back crawl without issues because my neck can remain straight, but I am avoiding diving or jumping into the water just in case that might make me worse. So that means, in order to get into the water I have to slowly go down the swim ladder. If the water is the slightest bit cold, this method makes for a torturous entry - I would much rather just get in and get it over with!

 Rick's beard has been growing like wildfire. It's tough, and even a bit dangerous to keep clean-shaven on the boat. But I can't even imagine what it must be like for him to deal with that much hair on his face while trying to eat pizza and clams.

Our much-looked-forward-to meal at Mark Anthony's in Onset

In Provincetown, we took an afternoon cruise on the Kalmar Nyckel, a replica of a seventeenth century Dutch sailing ship. Rick was in his element, pitching in with the volunteer crew when possible. I love the fact that the three top officers of the ship, including her captain, are women!

The Kalmar Nyckel

Captain Lauren Morgens at work

Captain Becky, also at work!

 On our way north from Provincetown we passed through the Stellwagon Marine Sanctuary, a section of water in which we almost always see whales. Getting pictures of them is much more difficult than spying them though, and I generally don't bother any more. The whales are usually quite far away, and they are only momentarily on the surface of the water. Any pictures you might get only look like tiny black blobs in a large sea of water. This time however, we had a forty-to-fifty foot whale show up right next to our boat! He passed in front, maybe thirty yards from our bow, and I grabbed my camera. Even that close up, my pictures are still pretty lame. How do those National Geographic people do it?

 After an overnight sail from Provincetown, we anchor at the aptly-named Jewel Island, just outside of Portland. The shoreline is quintessentially Maine, with jagged rocks and spruce. We have visited here before, and jump at the chance to go ashore and explore.  The island forms a beautiful and protected miniature crescent harbor that fills up fast with anchored boats. The locals call it "Cocktail Cove" because it is such a popular spot to spend the night, and presumably party. We fit right in!

Barnegat Beach

After a rainy Fourth of July in Atlantic City, we head up toward Barnegat Light where friends are waiting. Rick’s college buddy Jack and his wife Harriet are vacationing in Barnegat and have invited us for dinner at their summer rental house. Rick has seen Jack a number of times in the past few years, two years ago on an epic bike trip they took in Utah, in celebration (consolation) of them both turning 60. This spring they met for their 40th Yale reunion (yes, another geezer gathering), but it’s been a while since the four of us have gotten together. I am greatly looking forward to spending some time with them.

We’ve anchored the boat in Barnegat harbor several times, but have never visited the town. The shoreline here is built up with barriers, and the guide books are not helpful in pointing us toward a place to dinghy in. Luckily for us, a local couple notice that we are from Baltimore as they are dinghying past, and stop to say hello. They show us where a public dinghy dock is hidden behind some green rushes and marshland, and also tell us about the great cocktail hour at the only bar in town, right near the landing. Just think of what we’ve been missing!

Jack’s sister Connie is visiting as well, so there are five of us to enjoy drinks on their deck overlooking the bay, and then Harriet's herb-roasted chicken dinner. They sure make vacationing at a beach house seem inviting – they get the great waterfront views, but they also have hot showers and their house doesn’t move. We have such a good time with them that when they invite us to stay another day we jump at the chance.

Rick, Jack and Connie contemplating all the world's problems

The ocean beach is just a short stroll across the street from Jack and Harriet’s, and we all spend a gorgeous sunny afternoon there. I tend to hide under sunscreen and umbrellas, but I do love the beach, and the water is warm. Back at the house, Jack makes killer mojitos, and later we are treated to a grilled swordfish dinner and another glorious sunset. They’d better be careful - with treatment like this they’ll never get rid of us!

Ricky to the Rescue!

So, nothing but fun times on the S.S. Valkyrie. We leave at 5:00am to go through the Chesapeake Canal, making a terrific passage down the Delaware Bay. In case you’re wondering, Rick gets up, makes coffee, hauls anchor and motors us through while I snooze away in the V-berth. He is so considerate!

It is rare to have enough wind in the right direction to do anything other than motor down the Delaware, and it’s usually hot and sticky besides. This time however, we have lots of wind from behind, and have both sails up. When I (finally) arrive on deck, I seem to have acclimated to the motion and thankfully have not a trace of seasickness. We spend an extremely pleasant eight hours enjoying the shade of the bimini and the smooth sailing of the boat. The ugly nuclear plant is still there, ruling over the scene for miles in every direction, but the day is so beautiful we can almost ignore it.

Having reached the Cape May Canal, we make preparations to roll away the headsail, a process not unlike rolling up a window shade. But somehow, to our horror, the furling line appears to have gotten caught inside the roller mechanism. The wind has been strong all day, and with the frequent flapping of the sail, the line jammed in between some of the metal parts. We can’t get the sail put away. Rick tries to act cool about it, but if you can’t put your sail away on a windy day, it’s kind of like having no brakes on your truck going down a steep hill. I suppose you could just keep sailing around in circles for days or weeks waiting for the wind to go silent, but I wouldn’t want to have to do that.

Jib Roller and Furling Line

Leaving me at the helm, Rick goes forward with his bag of tools. I’m supposed to be keeping the boat pointed directly into the wind, but between the heavy chop of the water and the roaring wind, I temporarily lose control. The boat swings around, and I have to really rev up the engine to get it back. As luck would have it, my momentary ineptness at the helm snaps the sail in the wind and jerks the furling line free. Yeah, I planned it that way. Disaster averted, we put away the sails and motor through the canal.

Having had very little sleep and at the end of a long day, Rick is giddy to have made it to Cape May. We motor over towards the Coast Guard station where we search around for a good anchoring spot among a number of other boats. Rick sets the anchor down, but I notice on the chart plotter that our current spot is too shallow to accommodate the keel at low tide. With our new neighbors all watching, we up anchor again, but forget to look out behind us. The dinghy line gets caught in the propeller and gets cut, prompting the fellow in a nearby boat to yell, “Hey, you lost your dinghy!” We try to retrieve it, but the dinghy quickly drifts towards shore where our sailboat would surely run aground.

A well intended onlooker tells us not to worry, he’ll get it with his dinghy, so we re-anchor Valkyrie in some deeper water. By then, we realize that our new friend can’t get his outboard to start.  The escaped dink has gotten marooned on the shore and we’re on our own.

Rick knows this means a dip in the cold Cape May water. After a remarkably small amount of grumbling, he digs out the oars. I’m actually really impressed by this move; I would have just swum over there, gotten in the dinghy, and then realized that we keep both the dinghy motor and the oars on Valkyrie when under sail. Doh! Luckily he’s smarter than me. He ties the oars to a life vest that can act as a float, loops a piece of connecting line over his shoulder, and dives in.

Finally reaching the dinghy, he is able to pull himself onboard, set the oars in their blocks, and row back to our sailboat. Being Rick, he can’t resist stopping to chat with one of our onlookers on the way.

After a well-deserved day off in Cape May, we decide to push on up the coast. A particularly sweet sail under the spinnaker delivers us the thirty-five miles to Atlantic City and we anchor in the harbor there. 

Just settling in for some celebratory drinks and a bowl of popcorn, we notice a young couple on a paddleboat a fair distance away, struggling with the ferocious current in the middle of the channel. They’re obviously in trouble. We consider helping them, but another, older couple are motoring back to their boat in their dinghy and they overtake the paddleboat. We relax and sip our drinks, discussing the Norwegian flag that is flying from their boat.

Pretty soon it is clear that the Norwegian couple themselves are in trouble. Both they and the paddleboat seem to be helplessly drifting down the fairway. Rick springs into action – this is just his cup of tea! He throws a couple of extra lines, the gas tank and the oars into the dinghy. I help him load the outboard on the back, and off he goes.

When he reaches them, the Norwegian couple is clearly out of their depth and are relieved to hand over the rescue operation to Rick. While they head over to their boat, a handsome black fellow named Van with his two-year old son tucked neatly in his lap whisk over on their jet ski. “I’ve got this!” Van says commandingly, and Rick readily agrees. His wimpy dinghy can’t compete with a jet-ski. Rick helps them tie the paddleboat to the jet-ski, and Van turns the key to restart his engine. Nothing happens. “The battery is dead!” he exclaims. Meanwhile, they are all continuing to drift steadily toward the bridge. Now there is no alternative but for Rick to try and tow everyone. It’s starting to rain and the cute little two year old is shivering, so Rick passes his pullover to the tyke and he and Rick are now fast friends.

Rick ties the two rafted up boats to his dinghy and nails the throttle of his tiny motor.  After hanging in place for a bit, the unlikely caravan miraculously begins to inch (sloooooowly) up the channel against the current.

Just to make the situation even more unlikely, Rick and his entourage encounter yet another dead jet-ski, this one out of gas. Superman that he is, even Rick can’t possibly tow all three boats! It would be like him to try, but instead he offers this latest fellow his gas can. The man is very grateful; he empties Rick’s can into his gas tank and races off to shore to refill that can while Rick and the gang wait for his return. Once the full can is replaced, they continue at their snail’s pace to the dock.

 

The families of Rick’s cargo have been anxiously waiting and worrying on shore. Rick is the hero of the day, and is offered food, beer, the couple’s first born child (just kidding), and many, many thanks. What a guy!