Friday was a magic carpet ride. We woke early and put on our serious raingear - bibs and reflective offshore jackets. We were ready for a hurricane but determined to get a few miles closer to home. What a surprise when the sun came out and the high winds cooperated with the current. Our plan was to stop for a lovely, dry evening with P's brother and wife, but when we got to the York River, we were sailing 8+ kts and Senara couldn't be stopped, so we headed for home. We actually sailed 61 nautical miles and were home by 6 p.m! The strong current in our creek prevented us from being able to get Senara in her slip - you'd think she would be glad to get home. We had to pull along the dock until the tide slackened. But no matter, we got a warm welcome from our girls and their friends, Nick & Will and our good friends Neil and Carol, who are always willing to drop what they're doing to come celebrate with us.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Home...for awhile..............................from K
Friday was a magic carpet ride. We woke early and put on our serious raingear - bibs and reflective offshore jackets. We were ready for a hurricane but determined to get a few miles closer to home. What a surprise when the sun came out and the high winds cooperated with the current. Our plan was to stop for a lovely, dry evening with P's brother and wife, but when we got to the York River, we were sailing 8+ kts and Senara couldn't be stopped, so we headed for home. We actually sailed 61 nautical miles and were home by 6 p.m! The strong current in our creek prevented us from being able to get Senara in her slip - you'd think she would be glad to get home. We had to pull along the dock until the tide slackened. But no matter, we got a warm welcome from our girls and their friends, Nick & Will and our good friends Neil and Carol, who are always willing to drop what they're doing to come celebrate with us.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
so close....but yet.......from P
Here we sit. In the Rappahannock River, one good day's sail from home. But for the first time in three months we are 'weathered in.' Yesterday we surfed the swells and rode a rough NE wind down the Rappahannock and into Carter's creek. My anemometer showed wind speeds from a low of 18 knots to a high of 28 as we bucked along. Windspeed is never the problem, as we can always reef sails. The problem is the development of big breaking swells that build over long fetches of open water. Anything over 5 feet gets uncomfortable for us. Anything over 8 feet can be dangerous. The marine forecast for today is 20 to 30 knot NE winds all day, with seas building to 9 feet. Tomorrow promises more of the same. I don't want any parts of that. So here we sit. One day from home may take three days. I think I will have another coffee.
Monday, September 22, 2008
over the line...........from P
I saw him up ahead. At first I had a relapse and thought maybe it was one of those huge lobster pot floats so ubiquitous in New England. But as the NE breeze pushed us southward the big Brown Pelican lifted off the water and informed me that I was much closer to home. I happened to glance at the GPS in time to see that we were simultaneously crossing the state line into Virginia! I wondered if that Pelican knows he has to stay south of the line? All of the signs are now starting to show themselves - the birds, the shallow water, the humidity, the crab pots, the soft mud on the anchor, my friends the lighthouses, hearing "Group Hampton Roads" in the Coast Guard brodcasts on the VHF radio, and the low profile of the shoreline - all point toward home. These days if you travel in a car the interstates all look the same, the stop-overs are mostly the same and you mark your progress by the exit signs toward your destination which may be a dramatically different environment from whence you came. But when you travel the waterways you become attuned to subtle changes in your environment as you go. Colors, smells, sounds, prevailing winds, bird calls, sunsets, tree lines - everything evolves as you splash along. Now they are all becoming familiar again. I am getting excited about seeing my daughters. And my dad. And friends - and yes the animals. Images of home are becoming sharper; I have already filled a page of things to do when I get there. But I cannot deny that I feel a weird melancholy - not unlike the way I used to feel on Sunday evening after a great weekend. I know that means I have had an incredible three months living aboard Senara and now I am beginning to adjust to home. Yes, the Pelican welcomed me over the state line and warmed my soul with thoughts of home, even in my end-of-the-trip state of mind.
K bringing us down the Bay
Easing into a good anchorage in the Magothy River
Unanswered prayers....................from K
When we began this journey, we had said we wanted to use this time to pray. I suppose the idea of prayer means a lot of different things to me. I use prayer to judge my past decisions, to forgive myself for wrongs I’ve done, to send positive energy to my loved ones, to acknowledge a joyful thankfulness for beauty and friendships, and to sort out my feelings on future decisions. I trust prayer. The solitude gives me perspective and the inner dialogue gives me reassurance. But I don’t rely on prayer. I’m always seeking a stronger faith in my reading, my conversations and my relationships. Lately, I find I’m asking more questions rather than finding answers. I won’t say that I’m struggling with my religion right now, but rather I choose to believe that I’m trying to grow in my spirituality.
So, after two and half months of prayer, what have I learned? From our reading list, you can see that we’ve immersed ourselves in everything from New Age mysticism to the history of religions and philosophy to American historical fiction. Not scholarly reading – but an interesting thread is weaved through it all: God has been used and misused by humans for every reason imaginable.
How do I separate (integrate?) the created God from my personal God? When P and I begin our evening meal, we always settle ourselves with a brief prayer. I still begin my reflection with the familiar personification of the loving Father (Mother?) using the name “Lord.” P uses a more encompassing address, “Ground of all being” when beginning his prayer. I’ve grown to love this metaphor of inclusiveness. Living here on the water and measuring our days by the placement of the sun in the sky and depending on the graciousness of ‘strangers’ to overcome our struggles, we have the opportunity to celebrate the unity in our life. The haphazard events in my life fit together more artfully than I had thought, and even sailing around in our little boat doesn't seem so akimbo.
No, I’m not discovering any great answers about my purpose in life out here. But I am seeing the endless possibilities – and the interesting way they are connected.
So, after two and half months of prayer, what have I learned? From our reading list, you can see that we’ve immersed ourselves in everything from New Age mysticism to the history of religions and philosophy to American historical fiction. Not scholarly reading – but an interesting thread is weaved through it all: God has been used and misused by humans for every reason imaginable.
How do I separate (integrate?) the created God from my personal God? When P and I begin our evening meal, we always settle ourselves with a brief prayer. I still begin my reflection with the familiar personification of the loving Father (Mother?) using the name “Lord.” P uses a more encompassing address, “Ground of all being” when beginning his prayer. I’ve grown to love this metaphor of inclusiveness. Living here on the water and measuring our days by the placement of the sun in the sky and depending on the graciousness of ‘strangers’ to overcome our struggles, we have the opportunity to celebrate the unity in our life. The haphazard events in my life fit together more artfully than I had thought, and even sailing around in our little boat doesn't seem so akimbo.
No, I’m not discovering any great answers about my purpose in life out here. But I am seeing the endless possibilities – and the interesting way they are connected.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
HdG Redux..........................from K
Havre de Grace has become our town of refuge. This is the town where P did his first major electrical surgery on Senara. And this time, we returned to have Senara hauled out of the water to see the damage done hitting the shoal outside of Ocean City. Good news: the prop and the shaft are fine. Bad news: the rudder is split and cracked. We made the decision to head home straight-away so P could work on the rudder in our home port. Once again, the marina mechanics have proven incredibly generous. Thanks Jimmy for working overtime - on a Friday afternooon! We were also fortunate that the boatyard manager, Vince, lives on a Tartan 37, 1980 - so he had valuable suggestions and resources. We deduced that our boats were most likely on the same assembly lines - old friends!
And speaking of old friends, we were able to squeeze in a much-needed fun evening with P's college roommate, John and his family. P was so glad to see John; it felt as though it could have been 1981 again. The 'small world' coincidences continued when we realized that John's father-in-law lives next to P's brother in Virginia and they're good friends! In fact, the families were having dinner together when we called on Saturday! 'Life is strange - but compared to what?'
Tonight, we are anchored in the Magothy River - familiar to P as his brother used to sail his boat in this water. I'm amazed at the number of boats enjoying this fall weather. Certainly, many are 'snowbirds' but there are just as many families escaping life's obligations for a few days. I'm eager to get home and relieve our girls from the stress of taking care of an ill dog, old cat and messy house, but I am enjoying our last few days of living with my familiar companions - the soothing whoosh of the water, the swaying clouds and the honking geese that are directing us home. The rudder project may postpone our next trip, but I know I'll be ready to go again when Senara's ready.
And speaking of old friends, we were able to squeeze in a much-needed fun evening with P's college roommate, John and his family. P was so glad to see John; it felt as though it could have been 1981 again. The 'small world' coincidences continued when we realized that John's father-in-law lives next to P's brother in Virginia and they're good friends! In fact, the families were having dinner together when we called on Saturday! 'Life is strange - but compared to what?'
Tonight, we are anchored in the Magothy River - familiar to P as his brother used to sail his boat in this water. I'm amazed at the number of boats enjoying this fall weather. Certainly, many are 'snowbirds' but there are just as many families escaping life's obligations for a few days. I'm eager to get home and relieve our girls from the stress of taking care of an ill dog, old cat and messy house, but I am enjoying our last few days of living with my familiar companions - the soothing whoosh of the water, the swaying clouds and the honking geese that are directing us home. The rudder project may postpone our next trip, but I know I'll be ready to go again when Senara's ready.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
re-entry..............from P
Tomorrow we re-enter our atmosphere. That is, the Chesapeake Bay. As we sit tonight at anchor in a narrow marshy river in the Delaware bay the old familiar and welcome odor of a salt marsh wafts through the cabin. It conjures up images of our familiar waters but it also ignites thoughts of places we have been, and sharpens the contours of the differences between sailing in the northeast compared to sailing in the mid Atlantic. Impressions from the northeast trip that I will never forget include: Crystal clear water from Connecticut on up. Apparently it is fashionable in New Jersey and New York to sail with all your fenders hanging over the side (yikes!). Mooring balls - hundreds of them in "special anchorage" areas in every town, plus the launch boats that run constantly throughout the mooring fields ferrying people back and forth from their boats - a great concept. Rocky shoals. Cliffs and "mountains" crowding against the shoreline. Brown jellyfish. Different speech habits on the VHF radio - they don't bother to say "over" up there. Accents on the VHF radio - entirely undiscernable words spoken way too fast in NY, more friendly in MA - but of course you hear "pushing a bahge tru the stahbahd hahbah channel" and such. Tidal ranges that are just unreal - nine and ten foot tide drops are common. Grass on the anchor, rather than mud. "Clean out" boats that will come to your boat and provide a septic clean out - free! Flag ettiquette - only club burgees are flown from the spreader, the stars & stripes must fly from a stern mount unless you are from another country in which case you fly your country from the stern and the stars and stripes from the spreader as a "courtesy" flag - and don't get this wrong! Also, each large marina fires a cannon at sunset as a signal to "strike the colors" (lower your flag). Big long rocky breakwaters. Waterfront mansions - more like castles. Currents that flow in directions which make no sense relative to the tides. Currents that rip along at 3, 4, sometimes 5 knots. Deep, deep water - it is unusual to be in water less than 30 feet, more common to be in water 90 to 150 feet, and we actually saw a reading of 360 feet on our sounder. Except for New Jersey, channels were very well marked and easy to follow. Expensive marinas - expect to pay $3 to $4 per foot per night, essentially double the cost at home. Floating docks. Great little islands with stone breakwaters to anchor behind - all along the coast. A noticeable pattern of large powerboats using the marinas and sailboats mostly using the mooring balls or anchoring out. Huge power yachts with hired crews - everywhere. Hinkley sail yachts everywhere. Charming towns with pubs on the street that keep their windows wide open, no screens necessary - you could step right in through the windows sometimes. Perfect August temperatures. Last but not least - sailboats everywhere! I think the sailboats actually outnumbered the powerboats. But alas, no salty marsh odor.
Two of the modest abodes along the Long Island Sound
The tide still has another three feet to drop here. You have to be really careful to account for this when you tie up or anchor.
Island along the coastline
The tide still has another three feet to drop here. You have to be really careful to account for this when you tie up or anchor.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
a good day just in time......from P
I needed a day like today. We hit the grocery store at 8:00 this morning in Ocean City, NJ - and by noon we had cleaned the boat, stocked the groceries, re-fueled, filled the water tanks, did two loads of laundry, fixed the rudder (more on that later) and gotten underway toward Cape May. It was jacket weather a few miles off the coast, cloudy, but with a perfect 8 to 12 knot northwesterly breeze - the kind of offshore wind that does not whip up the ocean. We comfortably clipped along all afternoon for 25 miles and dropped anchor to one of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen. I needed that.
We have had a rough stretch over the past few days. Saturday morning, during my normal "walk around" inspection, I noticed our roller-furling line was nearly severed. It was hanging on by one or two threads. The good news was that it did not part while I was winching in the huge genoa sail in the mist, rain, gusts and seas as the sky was turning to dusk. The bad news was I did not have a 75 foot line of the same diameter to replace it. I can't really deploy the genoa without a reasonable plan to get it rolled back in. Most of the "pull" from our sailplan comes from that big 155% genoa sail. As they say - necessity is a real mother. Or something like that. I eventually figured out that I could cut the furling line at the break, remove the fitting from the furling spool, re-thread the good end of the long piece of the line into the spool, and tie the short piece back onto the tattered end of the long piece. It worked, and we are still using that arrangement just fine. Then I discovered my VHF radio mic at the helm had gotten wet in the downpour and had stopped working.
Saturday it blew southeasterly again. 20 to 25 knots again. Big ugly choppy 4 to 7 foot seas. Heeling big and pounding hard all day - again. We put in at Atlantic City and found an anchorage in a protected cove. It was a good thing, because the wind actually continued at 20 to 25 all night. Senara was bucking against the anchor rode as her standing rigging was whistling in the wind. Not much sleep. We started the day on Sunday by overflowing our septing holding tank. If you pump the potty hard enough you can push sewage out of an overly full tank - around the rubber gasket on the emergency access port. This then requires no less than two to three hours of clean-up, including removal of sailbags, diving equipment, and other sewage tainted stuff from the storage area around the tank, scrubbing everything, pouring gallons of our precious fresh water around the tank and down into the hull which runs back into the sump at the lowest part of the hull. Scrub, pour, repeat.
Battered by two days of tough sailing and stretched to our last nerve by sewage cleanup and little sleep, we decided to just do a short 6 mile hop down to Ocean City NJ yesterday, get a slip at a marina for a pump out and to get ourselves together. As always when entering a new harbor we consulted our chart, plotted our course on the GPS, and started looking for entrance channel markers. Nothing made sense. Approaching Ocean City we followed what appeared to be the obvious channel on the chart. But where are the channel markers? We cannot see bouys or day-markers anywhere. Our doubt made us turn around - twice - and re-approach at different angles so that we could read the depths on our sounder and match the readings up with the chart. On the second try we were convinced that we had it right. Then a gust of wind blew our rug (drying on deck as a result of previous cleanup) and a cushion into the ocean. We tacked, backwinded the sails, tacked again, and finally was able to save the cushion. Rug gone. Now exhausted we went back to the business of trying to get into the harbor from the ocean. We were now at a different angle and noticed the swells were getting steeper. Off in the distance they were breaking! This cannot be right! Suddenly a large swell lifted Senara and dropped her hard bow first on a sandbar. The sound was sickening. A big BOOM as the leading edge of the keel slammed into the sand followed by another THUD when the bottom of the keel, and the rudder, bounced again. Stuff flew everywhere. For a terrible moment I feared we had ripped the keel and were going down. I spun the wheel, tested the engine - thank God it started right up as always - and we found deeper, safer water further out. I went below and tore everything out of the storage areas again to look at the hull - no leaks. No sign of water coming in anywhere. We are OK for now. We headed back out to sea and moved further south - finally a green can bouy showed up, and a red one in the distance. But if I follow this path of bouys, my GPS (and chart) shows that I will cross a three-foot shoal! K called a marina in the harbor and pleaded for some local knowledge - how the hell does anyone get into this place? Nothing matches up. The guy says "oh yeah, we had it dredged this year and the location of the channel has changed. There's now a sand bar over there where you were." Really.
After finally getting tied up at the marina I donned my dive gear and went down for a look at the keel and the hull. She had hit hard, but other than a forced sandblasting of the area of impact - now with no bottom paint - the hull and keel were sound. She's a tough old girl. But as I was coming up the swimladder I noticed a crack in the very tip of the rudder. I dropped back in the water and found a two foot long split straight down the end of the rudder. Not good. Apparently the impact just popped it. So this morning, after the grocery store, I mixed some epoxy putty that sets underwater, went back down the swimladder and jammed the putty in the crack. It set hard. I am soooo glad I read about that stuff in Sail Magazine. Even gladder that I actually bought some and had it onboard. It will be fine until we get home in a few weeks.
This brings me back to the beginning. We needed a day like today. New groceries, clean clothes, a perfect sail, and a beautiful sunset over Cape May to top it off. Oh, and my VHF radio mic dried out and now works fine! Today felt like a new start and made the last three days seem like a bad dream.
Sunset over Cape May harbor
We have had a rough stretch over the past few days. Saturday morning, during my normal "walk around" inspection, I noticed our roller-furling line was nearly severed. It was hanging on by one or two threads. The good news was that it did not part while I was winching in the huge genoa sail in the mist, rain, gusts and seas as the sky was turning to dusk. The bad news was I did not have a 75 foot line of the same diameter to replace it. I can't really deploy the genoa without a reasonable plan to get it rolled back in. Most of the "pull" from our sailplan comes from that big 155% genoa sail. As they say - necessity is a real mother. Or something like that. I eventually figured out that I could cut the furling line at the break, remove the fitting from the furling spool, re-thread the good end of the long piece of the line into the spool, and tie the short piece back onto the tattered end of the long piece. It worked, and we are still using that arrangement just fine. Then I discovered my VHF radio mic at the helm had gotten wet in the downpour and had stopped working.
Saturday it blew southeasterly again. 20 to 25 knots again. Big ugly choppy 4 to 7 foot seas. Heeling big and pounding hard all day - again. We put in at Atlantic City and found an anchorage in a protected cove. It was a good thing, because the wind actually continued at 20 to 25 all night. Senara was bucking against the anchor rode as her standing rigging was whistling in the wind. Not much sleep. We started the day on Sunday by overflowing our septing holding tank. If you pump the potty hard enough you can push sewage out of an overly full tank - around the rubber gasket on the emergency access port. This then requires no less than two to three hours of clean-up, including removal of sailbags, diving equipment, and other sewage tainted stuff from the storage area around the tank, scrubbing everything, pouring gallons of our precious fresh water around the tank and down into the hull which runs back into the sump at the lowest part of the hull. Scrub, pour, repeat.
Battered by two days of tough sailing and stretched to our last nerve by sewage cleanup and little sleep, we decided to just do a short 6 mile hop down to Ocean City NJ yesterday, get a slip at a marina for a pump out and to get ourselves together. As always when entering a new harbor we consulted our chart, plotted our course on the GPS, and started looking for entrance channel markers. Nothing made sense. Approaching Ocean City we followed what appeared to be the obvious channel on the chart. But where are the channel markers? We cannot see bouys or day-markers anywhere. Our doubt made us turn around - twice - and re-approach at different angles so that we could read the depths on our sounder and match the readings up with the chart. On the second try we were convinced that we had it right. Then a gust of wind blew our rug (drying on deck as a result of previous cleanup) and a cushion into the ocean. We tacked, backwinded the sails, tacked again, and finally was able to save the cushion. Rug gone. Now exhausted we went back to the business of trying to get into the harbor from the ocean. We were now at a different angle and noticed the swells were getting steeper. Off in the distance they were breaking! This cannot be right! Suddenly a large swell lifted Senara and dropped her hard bow first on a sandbar. The sound was sickening. A big BOOM as the leading edge of the keel slammed into the sand followed by another THUD when the bottom of the keel, and the rudder, bounced again. Stuff flew everywhere. For a terrible moment I feared we had ripped the keel and were going down. I spun the wheel, tested the engine - thank God it started right up as always - and we found deeper, safer water further out. I went below and tore everything out of the storage areas again to look at the hull - no leaks. No sign of water coming in anywhere. We are OK for now. We headed back out to sea and moved further south - finally a green can bouy showed up, and a red one in the distance. But if I follow this path of bouys, my GPS (and chart) shows that I will cross a three-foot shoal! K called a marina in the harbor and pleaded for some local knowledge - how the hell does anyone get into this place? Nothing matches up. The guy says "oh yeah, we had it dredged this year and the location of the channel has changed. There's now a sand bar over there where you were." Really.
After finally getting tied up at the marina I donned my dive gear and went down for a look at the keel and the hull. She had hit hard, but other than a forced sandblasting of the area of impact - now with no bottom paint - the hull and keel were sound. She's a tough old girl. But as I was coming up the swimladder I noticed a crack in the very tip of the rudder. I dropped back in the water and found a two foot long split straight down the end of the rudder. Not good. Apparently the impact just popped it. So this morning, after the grocery store, I mixed some epoxy putty that sets underwater, went back down the swimladder and jammed the putty in the crack. It set hard. I am soooo glad I read about that stuff in Sail Magazine. Even gladder that I actually bought some and had it onboard. It will be fine until we get home in a few weeks.
This brings me back to the beginning. We needed a day like today. New groceries, clean clothes, a perfect sail, and a beautiful sunset over Cape May to top it off. Oh, and my VHF radio mic dried out and now works fine! Today felt like a new start and made the last three days seem like a bad dream.
Sunset over Cape May harbor
Monday, September 15, 2008
Fair weather sailor..............from K
I was not a good sailor today. I was not even a good firstmate. If truth be told, I sucked as a human being. When the seaspray hit my face, I cursed it. When we hit 30 degrees heel, instead of strategically placing me seat cushion on the high side of the boat, I curled up on the lee bench using a lifejacket as my pillow. P gave me one look and wisely gave the helm to "ghostman" before asking me to steer awhile. I was done. I was tired of rocking, slamming, slipping and smiling. The ocean was angry and so was I. I didn't want to watch the clouds or the waves or the birds or the other boats anymore. I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep.
Unfortunately, P doesn't have this option. He is the captain whether he feels like it or not, whether the wind and waves are fare or foul. I'm amazed at his indefatigable enthusiasm. Even after sailing 8 hours, he will often find an excuse to sail just "a little bit longer." He never asks more of me than I'm willing to give - and I do usually give more. But today, I had nothing.
Unfortunately, P doesn't have this option. He is the captain whether he feels like it or not, whether the wind and waves are fare or foul. I'm amazed at his indefatigable enthusiasm. Even after sailing 8 hours, he will often find an excuse to sail just "a little bit longer." He never asks more of me than I'm willing to give - and I do usually give more. But today, I had nothing.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
The other side of sailing..................from K
We were ready to journey back through NYC last Thursday when we haphazardly realized that the date was 9/11. With the added harbor security and traffic for commemorations, we decided to stay one more day in the Long Island Sound, which brought us to Port Washington. It's a quiet little town with one great asset - free town mooring balls for transients. You would have thought we won a million dollars! We settled into our spot and checked out the neighbors - a trawler from CA with a very cute dog, except the captain had set his fenders (permanently?) off his gunwale like he was challenging us to bumper cars. Our best entertainment was watching a sailboat make 4 arduous attempts to grab the mooring ball stick. This is painful laughter in that we know, "but only for the grace of God go I." I've learned that sailors are pretty humble when it comes to admitting embarrassing situations and also quick to help in a pinch. Each decision has the potential to be brilliant or catastrophic, Which brings me to our next adventure.
Our motor back through NYC was thrilling, but lacked the early-morning charge of our first trip. With a brisk wind and foggy patches, the city seemed more remote, but there's something about the Manhattan skyline and Lady Liberty that makes you proud to be an American. After passing under the Verrazano Bridge, we had a quick decision: either leisurely sail 7 miles down Sandy Hook and spend the afternoon on a mooring ball or sail another 20 miles to Shark Inlet. The weather report called for 40% rain and 2-3 foot waves - uncomfortable, but very doable s0 we donned our rainjackets and set out for the ocean. Well, the 40% chance of rain turned into 100% and the waves turned to 4-7 seas. A southerly "breeze" had us beating into a 20-25 knot wind. Okay, now we were more than uncomfortable. Now for the lifejackets. Turn back? Always concerned with my comfort, P asked my opinion. "We're sailors, let's sail," I reasoned. After 4 hours of beating (an apt sailing term) down the coast, we pulled in the genoa and turned on the motor - not any more comfortable, but at least we could move in a more direct route. Our salon looked like Hurricane Ike had gone through. The pounding of the waves had caused cabinets to fling open and toss flashlights, clothes and books everywhere. At 6 p.m. we faced the Bascule Bridge, pleading the tender to raise the bridge so we could enter Shark River Inlet. The narrow basin is lined with quaint Asbury Park homes. I wanted to jump ship and knock on the door of a cozy house that I just knew had a blazing fire in the family room. But alas, we are sailors. P & I found a spot to drop anchor and envied the warmth from the foggy water. Actually, once we peeled off our sopping slickers, Senara warmed up quickly and we celebrated the end of long, cold, wet day with a hot dinner of kielbasa and peppers - YUM. We couldn't have been more comfortable and satisfied than tucked into our own dry, cozy salon. Did we make the right decision? From the perspective of the morning after, absolutely!
A short respite near the end of a tough day.
Our motor back through NYC was thrilling, but lacked the early-morning charge of our first trip. With a brisk wind and foggy patches, the city seemed more remote, but there's something about the Manhattan skyline and Lady Liberty that makes you proud to be an American. After passing under the Verrazano Bridge, we had a quick decision: either leisurely sail 7 miles down Sandy Hook and spend the afternoon on a mooring ball or sail another 20 miles to Shark Inlet. The weather report called for 40% rain and 2-3 foot waves - uncomfortable, but very doable s0 we donned our rainjackets and set out for the ocean. Well, the 40% chance of rain turned into 100% and the waves turned to 4-7 seas. A southerly "breeze" had us beating into a 20-25 knot wind. Okay, now we were more than uncomfortable. Now for the lifejackets. Turn back? Always concerned with my comfort, P asked my opinion. "We're sailors, let's sail," I reasoned. After 4 hours of beating (an apt sailing term) down the coast, we pulled in the genoa and turned on the motor - not any more comfortable, but at least we could move in a more direct route. Our salon looked like Hurricane Ike had gone through. The pounding of the waves had caused cabinets to fling open and toss flashlights, clothes and books everywhere. At 6 p.m. we faced the Bascule Bridge, pleading the tender to raise the bridge so we could enter Shark River Inlet. The narrow basin is lined with quaint Asbury Park homes. I wanted to jump ship and knock on the door of a cozy house that I just knew had a blazing fire in the family room. But alas, we are sailors. P & I found a spot to drop anchor and envied the warmth from the foggy water. Actually, once we peeled off our sopping slickers, Senara warmed up quickly and we celebrated the end of long, cold, wet day with a hot dinner of kielbasa and peppers - YUM. We couldn't have been more comfortable and satisfied than tucked into our own dry, cozy salon. Did we make the right decision? From the perspective of the morning after, absolutely!
A short respite near the end of a tough day.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
69 ! ...................... from P
I woke at 5:30 to get an early start. While K was still snoozing I threw the mooring ball line off the bow and started motoring away from the charming town of Essex and down the Connecticut River to get back into the Long Island Sound. No more than 15 minutes later Senara's bow disappeared from view. All I could see was a white veil of fog that had quickly rolled in from the north. My only choice was to fix my eyes on the GPS and follow my "bread crumb" trail back to the mooring ball. I was thankful the mooring ball suddenly appeared, right where my GPS said it was going to be. How on earth did they do this in 1607? You never read about the Godspeed running aground! Awakened by my clattering around, K popped her head out of the hatch and again repeated our time-honored mantra.... "What are we doin' ?!" Always a good question.
As quickly as the fog rolled in, it snuck out again on "cat's feet" as Robert Frost once wrote. So after getting started again, and waiting for the bridge to lift, we were away and sailing by 7:30. The wind built from the south south-west and by mid day we were close reaching at 6 knots or so. Just about when I was thinking how life was perfect, K ascended the companionway with a distressed demeanor accompanied by really bad news - the potty just broke! What do you mean? ... you can't flush it? No - it shattered. There are pieces on the floor. Sure enough, the base of the unit (made of plastic of course) had apparently developed fractures and finally just cracked up. Immediate change of plans. No potty, no anchoring or mooring balls. That's a new rule I quickly developed. Yes, the captain has to think fast in emergencies. We needed a marina for the night, for the morning, and for repairs. After a few phone calls I had arranged to have the needed parts overnighted to Brewer's marina in Stamford, CT so we fell off the wind a little and headed for Stamford. We now had motivation for a destination. The next day UPS finally came through and I got started on the nasty little job of replacing boat potty parts. After several attempts the job was eventually successful but we had to stay a second night. The dockmaster must have felt sorry for me because he did not charge us for the second night, and he gave me a piece of hose I needed. Who says yankees can't be nice!?
Part of our departure routine is to always check the nautical miles traveled. This morning I checked our distance and compared it to the distance shown at Essex. We had made 69 miles! I had to double check and then think about the foggy morning departure, the favorable wind, the afternoon current that carried us, and some motivated motoring to finish up. Sure enough - even amid our little distraction we traveled 69 miles in one day! Turns out we shattered all previous one-day records - along with the potty.
This afternoon K was at the helm reeling in a J-30 sailing up ahead when I asked her how much water we had under us. 69 Feet! Must be our lucky number. I think I like it!
As quickly as the fog rolled in, it snuck out again on "cat's feet" as Robert Frost once wrote. So after getting started again, and waiting for the bridge to lift, we were away and sailing by 7:30. The wind built from the south south-west and by mid day we were close reaching at 6 knots or so. Just about when I was thinking how life was perfect, K ascended the companionway with a distressed demeanor accompanied by really bad news - the potty just broke! What do you mean? ... you can't flush it? No - it shattered. There are pieces on the floor. Sure enough, the base of the unit (made of plastic of course) had apparently developed fractures and finally just cracked up. Immediate change of plans. No potty, no anchoring or mooring balls. That's a new rule I quickly developed. Yes, the captain has to think fast in emergencies. We needed a marina for the night, for the morning, and for repairs. After a few phone calls I had arranged to have the needed parts overnighted to Brewer's marina in Stamford, CT so we fell off the wind a little and headed for Stamford. We now had motivation for a destination. The next day UPS finally came through and I got started on the nasty little job of replacing boat potty parts. After several attempts the job was eventually successful but we had to stay a second night. The dockmaster must have felt sorry for me because he did not charge us for the second night, and he gave me a piece of hose I needed. Who says yankees can't be nice!?
Part of our departure routine is to always check the nautical miles traveled. This morning I checked our distance and compared it to the distance shown at Essex. We had made 69 miles! I had to double check and then think about the foggy morning departure, the favorable wind, the afternoon current that carried us, and some motivated motoring to finish up. Sure enough - even amid our little distraction we traveled 69 miles in one day! Turns out we shattered all previous one-day records - along with the potty.
This afternoon K was at the helm reeling in a J-30 sailing up ahead when I asked her how much water we had under us. 69 Feet! Must be our lucky number. I think I like it!
Monday, September 8, 2008
weekending at the Bobos'................from K
Every fabulous weekend begins with a bit of stress: We arrived in Essex and to our amusement, the marina manager was panicked over the prospect of Hurricane Hannah!?! She wasn't sure she was going to let us go on a mooring ball due to storm "liability." We were in the Connecticut River - BEHIND Long Island and she's worried about a hurricane??? For Pete's Sake, our daughter, E, called us from the Outer Banks in NC to tell us how beautiful the beach was!!! After some gentle cajoling and assurances that we would hurricane-proof our boat, she agreed to put us on the farthest mooring ball from the marina. Good ol' Senara weathered her five inches of rain and 15 kts of wind just fine.
Up the Connecticut River. I love old-fashioned draw bridges when they work!
Old Saybrook Point Light near the mouth of the CT River.
How is it that college roommates never change? Thank God!! We spent a fun, relaxing, yet productive weekend with the 'Bobo' family in Torrington. Yes, the cozy bed and warm showers were great but being with a fun family again is the best. Between DQ blizzards, looong walks on country roads, and baking cookies, we caught up on 15 years of "short stories and long laughs." A fun highlight was a visit to the Goat Farm to see the brand new baby lamb - thanks Debbie and Amelia! Katie & Megan, anytime you want to become pirates, you're welcome to join our Excellent Adventure on Senara. Run Fast, Live Slow - you're the Best!
The DQ gang! Thank you for everything, especially the blizzard.
K feeling sheepish
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
thank you................from P
We have been saying "thank you" a lot lately. With rare exception we are greeted each morning with a bright orange and yellow sunrise which morphs into a nice 10 to 15 knot breeze during the middle of the day, capped off with another colorful sunset over the dark, clear sea. Temperatures are ranging from the mid 60s to the high 70s. It just makes you look up and say thank you.
Around the point headed to Greenport. I could live here.
These conditions have allowed us to spend most nights at anchor behind an island or breakwater, or tied to a mooring ball which itself is anchored to the bottom. Mooring balls are set up in organized "special anchorage areas" and are very popular up here. Either way, in this weather Senara and her crew are happier anchored out away from the noise and expense of the crowded marinas. I have noticed a pattern up here - large power boats (and there are some incredible power yachts up here) fill the marinas, and us blow-boaters typically anchor out or pick up a mooring ball. Works for me.
We have been taking our time since "turning around" at Nantucket. Over the past three days we explored the fishtail area of Long Island - out on the northeast coast. I remember having a few acquaintances in college from Long Island, NY. I always envisioned them living in a stereotypical crowded dirty New York scene. I never knew how lucky they actually were! Hundreds of miles of deep, beachy, clean coastline dotted with deep inlets and small enchanting towns. We explored the waterfront of Montauk harbor, mostly marinas and marina services. We dinghied into the downtown area of Greenport; once again we were unexpectedly delighted. This town was not planned for tourists - it evolved as locals built their businesses - seafood, ship stores, hardware, groceries, scrimshaw, pubs, marinas, a theater, and of course ice cream. A place with personality - and a dinghy dock.
Yesterday, rock shoaled lighthouses again punctuated our view as we sailed around the fishtail and across the LI Sound, each worthy of a proper painting. The only downside to this area are the confounded flies! They are small, black, smart, aggressive biting flies. They only want to sail with us (and eat us) when we are away from land. Very strange. As soon as we get settled at anchor they seem to fly away to go find another boat under sail. Actually, I can understand that!
Around the point headed to Greenport. I could live here.
Orient Point, LI. As we surfed through this inlet the current pulled us along at 8.5 knots. We set a record for depth - it was 360 feet deep on the other side of this light!
Plumb Island light.
Today we will weigh anchor, sail up the Connecticut River, spend one night in a marina to charge batteries and provision, then tie Senara to a mooring ball for a couple of days as we visit K's college roommate and her family - thank you too Maura! I am kind of looking forward to a proper shower (I am sure K will appreciate it even more)!
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