dlmckay207, Author at REJOICE SAILING

Anomalous Weather Patterns and a Fleet Stuck in Hampton

And “The Rest of the Story”

I started writing this post on the boat while anchored outside of St. Michaels, MD on November 6 on the way back to Annapolis. I’m just now getting back to it on November 13 after a lot of changed plans and gear-shifting. The original post title above made sense at the time but now that I’m back home writing at the kitchen table a week later, Paul Harvey’s signature radio segment title, “The Rest of the Story” seems wildly more appropriate.

November 6, 2022

It’s been a long while since my last post owing to longer single-handed days working my way down the Chesapeake and making preparations for the big offshore leg. I still plan to write about the time spent in Annapolis and the cool trip segments south to Hampton, VA but there is less urgency now given changed circumstances and new plans. If you are watching my tracking map you will have already noticed that Rejoice is now heading north in the Chesapeake, rather than six days off shore and south of Bermuda somewhere.

The 300 mile trip down and back up the Chesapeake

I arrived at Safe Harbor Blue Water Marina just south of the Hampton Roads Tunnel that connects Hampton to Norfolk on October 26 right schedule. I had already configured and filled my 25 gallon bladder tank on the sea hood in Deltaville, VA so I just needed to top-off the main tank in Hampton to make sure I had maximum fuel for the upcoming voyage. Seven gallons was all it took giving me 72 gallons between the 37 gallon main tank, the two five gallon Jerry jugs in the cockpit, and the 25 gallon bladder tank. I targeted getting to Hampton a full five full days before our anticipated launch date so I could start meeting others in the fleet, prepare the vessel for the 10-14 day offshore voyage, and most particularly, be in a position to fully engage in the daily weather briefings offered by Chris Parker from Marine Weather Center starting on the 27^th. I was now on a dock making for easy on and offs for the time I’d be in Hampton and for my two crew to bring their gear aboard. They were due in on October 29 and 31 respectively. Life was good and right on track!

It was pretty clear from the first weather briefing though that this trip was not going to be a simple on-time departure with historic weather patterns and navigational routings. What we hoped for was “easting till the butter melts” with a turn south at 66 degrees west longitude or a bit farther east for a wonderful long reach in the trade winds to the eastern Caribbean. Instead what we heard was a forecast for near impossible Gulf Stream crossings for yachts our size and capability and direct headwinds thereafter with, oh yes, building and unstable tropical conditions, otherwise known as a weather petri dish for hurricane formation. Chris was suggesting that a persistent trough of low pressure was blocking the normal transit of cold fronts moving off the east coast creating compression zones in the Gulf Stream with estimated 40 knots of wind against 3 to 5 knots of current, a place you really don’t want to be when that happens. Adding insult to injury, the low pressure trough was producing steep seas and big headwinds on the eastern side of the Gulf Stream right in the direction we wanted to go. Additionally, Chris saw evidence in the weather models of several sub-tropical low pressures developing in the western Atlantic and the Caribbean, which we know now developed into Hurricanes Lisa, Martin, and Nicole. So, in the days leading-up to our anticipated November 1 departure, the options were to wait until the weather pattern changed in a few weeks (at best) or change to a more southerly destination like the Bahamas, Turks & Caicos, or the Dominican Republic. I started writing to my crew letting them know what was up and what to expect once they got to Hampton. Each to their credit said they were on for the long haul, still planned to come, and looked forward to getting together to evaluate and discuss the situation as a crew.

In the meantime, my immediate mission was to be prepared to launch as soon as the crew arrived if conditions changed for the better or if a temporary window of opportunity presented itself. There was still lots to do. The single side band (SSB) radio had to be programmed for Chris Parker’s daily offshore weather broadcasts and the Salty dawg Rally radio nets, the anchor had to be removed, disassembled and stored, the anchor chain deck pipes had to be filled with putty and tightly covered and sealed with canvas. Though I had a storm trysail on board, I wanted to add a third reef to the mainsail reefing system if we needed to further de-power in a hurry given the forecast winds and sea state. Lastly, I needed to provision with fruits, vegetables, and cold stores that had a short shelf life. By the night of October 31, both crew were aboard, all the preparations were done, and Rejoice was ready for sea. Every briefing thereafter, though, seemed to get a little bit worse rather than better.

We decided that waiting several weeks for a weather change was not a tenable option, nor a certain one. It could have been a month. I was very open with the crew that I was not a “sun chaser” and was really in it for the 1,400 mile offshore leg, so sailing south to Florida, the Bahamas, or other destination really had no appeal to me. Both crew had the same motivation with the same expected outcome, so we collectively decided to retire from the rally and punt. Crew member Rick had never sailed the Chesapeake before and I had only really seen it on the way down to Hampton, so we decided to take a week to 10 days to explore it and end up in Annapolis to store the boat there for the winter. Dan was from the Philadelphia area and had cruised the Chesapeake before, so he opted to return home instead. We launched on our original departure date of November 1, but went north instead of southeast!

November 13, 2022

Of the 180 boats originally heading to Antigua, several diverted to the Bahamas, a few went to the Dominican Republic, but the balance waited in Hampton or surrounding anchorages for things to change. I was thrilled to see that the weather system that kept everyone pinned-down for two weeks finally presented an escape opportunity and that a great majority of the fleet is on its way today. They are all headed for a winter in the Caribbean and I wish them all a safe voyage and wonderful time there. Truth be told, though I met some wonderful people in the process, I’m delighted to be home with family and friends and can’t wait for a crisp Thanksgiving, the annual local Christmas parade and, yes, some snow. Maybe there will be a time for an island visit down the road, but for now wool socks, the smell of spruce, and sight of a thin whisp of smoke from a chimney are all comforting markers that its November and I’m home.

“And now you know – the rest of the story”!

Water Taxis, Friends Ashore, and Shake’n It Up

Sassafras to Annapolis

October 12, 2022

Today will be the last leg of the 640 mile trip from Maine to Annapolis and the completion of the first big route segment of three to Antigua. We were excited to get up and going and got off the Sassafras Marina dock at 0730. Water depth at the marina and for most of the immediate channel out of the river was shallow. We had at most only two to three feet of water beneath our keel at the dock but though a little unnerving, the tidal range was only a foot so we had enough not to bounce on the bottom. The marina was dead quiet and there was no evidence of life anywhere. I met a retired Philadelphia policeman the night before who was working on his boat and got the idea from him that the marina served mostly weekend boaters from the Wilmington and Philadelphia areas and it was coming to the end of the season as well. Hence, nothing open and nobody here. He bought a trawler and had planned to go cruising in retirement, but his life circumstance changed and now has it up for sale. Unfortunate, but he clearly delighted in talking about his grandchildren, so it sounded like a good trade.

The morning on the river heading out was like fall mornings I remembered as a kid. Geese were flying overhead, the corn fields we could see as we crept slowly down river were all taken in for winter feed, and curls of gentle fog were wisping over the water. You could just smell the change of seasons in the air. As the sun continued to rise the fog thickened, both Craig and I started to emote slight airs, completely uncharacteristic of either one of us I think….until it comes to Maine weather. “Well, this isn’t fog.” The “You should see the fog we get Downeast brother. You don’t know where the shoreline is or take-up your next heading till you can smell the spruce” kind of airs. (Shades of Crocodile Dundee, “That’s not a knife!”). We had some fun with that as long as the fog lasted which wasn’t that much later and soon we were back in the Chesapeake proper and our focus turned southwest to Annapolis.

We motored on our heading passed Gibson Island far to our starboard where my Dad kept his boat Freyja when it wasn’t otherwise in Maine. It was a pleasant memory of the early 1980’s when he was doing his cruising and my thoughts turned to how interested and pleased I think he’d be if he were around to follow this trip. It wasn’t long later that the Bay Bridge came into view and we knew that Annapolis was right around the corner. The three Navy radio towers on Greenbury Point, vestiges of early communications technology and wartime history, were now in full view and certain landmarks of our position. We rounded the corner and were met by a squadron of Naval Academy patrol boats in close formation and a fleet of Annapolis Yacht Club (ACY) racing boats of all shapes and sizes wizzing by.

We thought we’d take a tour of the anchorage and mooring field on our way to Annapolis City Marina to get a load of fuel while I still had crew aboard. The mooring field was just outside of show central and it was completely full, so we kept our eyes open for some good anchoring spots near the Naval Academy seawall as we went by. The Annapolis City Marina is almost to the bridge leading into Spa Creek and there is not a lot of maneuvering room. We called in and were told we were number three inline for the fuel dock behind a sport fisherman already on the dock and a small cabin cruiser loitering just beyond. We did slow circles in the navigable part of the river, barely compensating for the current and maintaining steerage while waiting our turn. Well, after fifteen minutes of that the number two boat gave up and disappeared under the bridge into Spa Creek and I gave a slightly harrumphed call on VHF to see what the delay was. Turns out the sport fisherman was taking on 1,000 gallons and wasn’t quite through. The thought that he was buying close to $6,000 of diesel to my anticipated $90 calmed me right down and I did a few more circles appreciating all the while that I was a sailor and not a fisherman! Once fully fueled we headed out to the anchorage, found a good spot by the USNA seawall and dropped the hook in about 11 feet of water. We gave her a good tug with reverse propulsion and about 75 feet of chain out for the expected blow that night and our Spade anchor set hard in the good Maryland mud. We’re here and, knowing my Spade, not going any where.

The plan was to secure the boat and water taxi in to Annapolis to meet crew member Dan for dinner then water taxi back for Craig’s last night onboard. We had a great dinner at Middleton Tavern with Dan and got to meet his son Sam also which was a treat. We made plans to meet again then next day when I could introduce crew member Rick who was in for the show with his lovely wife Jeanne and sailboat racing friends from Los Angeles, Wayne and Vera. Dan and Rick would join me in a couple of weeks for the last BIG 1,400 nm leg from Hampton to Antigua, so I was looking forward to them having a chance to meet and check-in a little about the trip before go day. I necessarily had to start thinking again as a solo sailor and planning best I could the 150 mile trip from Annapolis to Hampton, VA, down the Chesapeake Bay. Before that, I had several days planned with the great company of the Los Angeles contingent, but knew that once they headed back home, it would be me, the boat, and the mission. Lots of new territory to cover, new experiences and unknowns but at the end of the day, that’s why I’m out here. Who could have imagined that I would reference a punk band from 40 years ago to summarize a sentiment, but this trip is a fabulous way to “Shake it up!”

“Shake it up, make a scene

Let them know what you really mean

And dance all night, keep the beat

And don’t worry ‘bout two left feet

Shake it up”

“Shake it Up” The Cars, 1981

OK, now just try to get that song out of your head!!

Here’s tae us !

The Delaware Bay to the Sassafras River – The Chesapeake!

October 11, 2022

We had calculated our departure time the night before to maker sure we caught the western flowing ebb current of 2.2 knots in the Chesapeake & Delaware (C&D) Canal. Our impromptu anchorage in the Delaware Bay was still 28 nm from the canal entrance so, based on an 1140 ebb, we needed to get going by 0700. There was no wind and no forecast for wind, so we motored up the bay. It seemed during the almost five hours it took to get there as though sailboats were coming out of the woodwork from every shore, all clearly with the same target and goal as us. It was as if there were a giant funnel collecting and swirling boats down its neck to the canal entrance. We wondered how many of them were heading south for the season, or were headed to the boat show in Annapolis, or both.

The canal is a staggering 14 miles long and we were glad for our timing that we didn’t end up doing the transit at night. If we had made it to Cape May from Block Island, we would have pushed the next morning to go from there to an anchorage of refuge called Chesapeake City more that two thirds into the canal. It would have been a nighttime arrival. It didn’t look like there were any lights at all and, though 35 feet deep at its center, it would be very easy to find shoal spots in a hurry. I was pretty excited to be doing the transit now though. I had never done it before and was amazed by the degree of engineering it must have taken to create “the ditch.” A good deal of the northern shore of the canal had a bike path along its length and there was no shortage of fishermen on both sides. There must be some good eating fish that run through the canal, stripers maybe?

The parade of boats making the migration!

Our original goal for once we were in the Chesapeake was to anchor in a town called Havre de Grace, situated at the mouth of the Susquehanna River and the head of the Chesapeake Bay. The cruising guide said that the town was named after the port city of Le Havre, France, which in full was once Le Havre de Grâce, or French for “Harbor of Grace.” Somehow it seemed fitting that a vessel name Rejoice should anchor in a Harbor of Grace. Well, without getting too of the beaten path, I always feel like I do regardless of where I am. But alas, it was a good seven miles in the wrong direction for getting to Annapolis, which meant it was really 14 miles in the wrong direction round trip, so we opted to head down the Sassafras River on Maryland’s Eastern shore to the Sassafras Harbor Marina. Once in the river, we wondered about the wisdom of picking a marina so far in. It was as far in as you could go, all the way to Fredericktown, MD and a bridge that stops any further progress east, a good eight miles. But once Mr. Efficiency slowed down a little, it was thrilling to explore a place that, in all likelihood, we would never see or get to again. It was lovely. The river narrowed and meandered like a horizontal sine wave with gorgeous homes and beautiful, meticulous lawns marking the shores on either side. It turns out that crew member Dan joining the Antigua leg keeps a Boston Whaler there. One of the primary reasons we ended up picking a place with dock space was that we were getting a little ripe and the though of a hot shower was appealing as was the thought of dinner ashore. Well, once there, the showers were open (and glorious), but the one restaurant within walking distance was close on Tuesdays! No worries, back onboard Craig knocked-out a spectacular dinner with what was on hand. He also brought some apple moonshine he distilled back on the farm and gave it to me as a gift for an appropriate moment. Well, now seemed like an appropriate moment, so we toasted our success with some hand-made apple hooch that we were finally in the Chesapeake and that tomorrow brings Annapolis!

As an aside, the McKays delight in toasting generally, but when there is a very special family or other occasion we wheel-out Rabbie Burns with one of his classics and my absolute favorite toasts. ( I can still see my grandfather, Jack McKay ,offering it in my minds eye and hear his wonderful brogue when presenting it, though he had a shortened version).

“Here’s tae us

Wha’s like us

Damn few,

And they’re a’ deid

Mair’s the pity!”

Here’s to the Rejoice crew that got us from Georgetown, Maine to the Chesapeake Bay and well positioned for arrival at Annapolis right on time. Wha’s like us? Damn few!

We’re Out of the Atlantic

Atlantic City, NJ to the Delaware Bay

October 10, 2022

When we set the anchor last night just a bit before dusk, it was just us and one other boat. When we got up and took a look around this morning there were at least eight to ten other boats that had anchored in front of us sometime during the night. We hadn’t heard a thing. These were cruising sailboats, you can tell the difference. Some were nicer than others, but all had the look of having “been there.” I would guess that for many, this was not their first rodeo. It was at that moment I felt like I had really joined the annual southbound migration of the sailing flotilla. These were sailors who were headed to the Caribbean like us, the Bahamas, or the Florida Keys.

We were excited to be on our way from Atlantic City and get down the Jersey shore to Cape May. I had never been to that corner of New Jersey by boat before and was interested to see the potential anchorage near the Coast Guard Station in daylight before I might have to anchor there at night sometime. Also, the depths are incredibly shallow….everywhere. I needed fuel and the only place with fuel and enough water depth was all the way in past the channel, at a place called South Jersey Marina. So the plan for the day was to Scope-out Cape May, get fuel and water there, transit the Cape May Canal, go to a bail-out anchorage we picked on the Delaware Bay’s eastern if we couldn’t find another more appropriate one in the meantime, and set ourselves up for being at the C&D Canal for a west flowing Ebb the next morning. That’s a pretty good cruising day.

We were up and going, weighed anchor at 0730 and followed what seemed like a fleet of cabin cruisers out the Absecon Inlet into the Atlantic, maneuvering the boat’s pointy-end south. The topography was a stark difference to what we are used to in coastal Maine. There was a thin band of shoreline dotted by periodic buildings, but nothing behind their outline as if there really was nothing behind them.

The only height exceptions were clearly visible Ferris wheels about every five miles or so as we proceeded south along the coast. Folks there must LOVE Ferris wheels! About two hours into our trip I got a message from Patty saying that her good friend Jane, who had just been visiting with her in Maine (with Claire, Carol, and Suzanne – Hi guys!), was in Stone Harbor and going out fishing. Maybe we could meet her on the way if we were close? I gave Jane a call and we coordinated positions, but told her that at our speed we were a good four hours away. Her friend’s boat, on the other hand, was about five times faster and would head north to intercept us after they had done some fishing.

I have to tell you, it was a thrill to see them coming! I felt a little like a non-stop circumnavigator who was being resupplied at sea (even though it had only been a few hours since our last stop!) Anyway, no survival citrus baskets were transferred to stave off scurvy, but Jane’s warm smile and wave hello was plenty. It was a really fun way to say hi. Technology facilitated immediate picture transfers between us. What a wonder for a guy who grew up with rotary phones and a phone number that started with letters, Mitchell 6 – 7820!

We made the entrance to Cape May through the breakwater just as charted and felt our way through the channel. Looking at the depth sounder, this was not a good place to wonder in a boat with a 6 foot draft.

We saw dozens of boats off the channel in what could not have been more than 10 feet of water just before reaching the Coast Guard Station, marked by a classic red roof and bright white structure. We contacted South Jersey Marina and got the briefing on how to enter and were instructed to give them a call when passing the large trawler fleet inbound. We were voyagers on display as we passed several restaurants that bordered the narrow channel in, but found the fuel dock easily and tied-up. On the other side of the dock was a gorgeous 60 foot blue hulled sailing vessel named Palawan VI. We learned from a crew member that it was Tom Watson Jr.’s, the former Chairman of IBM, personal yacht and he had it specialty designed and built to sail around the world which he did in the early 1980’s. He made that circumnavigation when he was…..my age. I have Some catching up to do! They sailed it down the Hudson from Newberg, NY and, unfortunately, I didn’t get their plans from there or a picture!!

We made our way out the same channel we came in except halfway out we made a sharp left turn to enter the Cape May Canal. There was little room for error with the water so “skinny” apart from the channel’s center. After drifting to starboard just briefly, my heart sank as I saw minus 0.1 on the depth sounder. At that exact moment I felt the bottom of the keel softly brush the sandy bottom and I immediately corrected for deeper water. A little hair-raising but excellent confirmation of my instrument settings. I have a four-foot offset built into my depth sounder to account for the distance it is mounted in the hull above the bottom of the keel. When I read depth on the gauge, I want to know how match water is beneath the keel, not how much there is from the surface. I just estimated 4 feet when I set the instruments up initially. I now think I have real-world confirmation that my estimate was pretty accurate, to the tune of -0.1 feet off! I can live with that.

Though I always hold my breath going under any bridge, we had loads of clearance under the two on the Cape May Canal. We went by on old railroad swing bridge that likely hadn’t moved in a century.

In a short while we were finally in the Delaware Bay which signaled a major transition in the trip. We were out of the Atlantic and wouldn’t be back in it for weeks until it was launch day for Antigua. Two more nights and we’d be in Annapolis and Craig’s sail would be done. Though we weren’t there yet, thoughts turned to some restful days on anchor and the friends and family we each would meet there.

Visitors Aboard

Block Island, RI to Cape May, NJ

Saturday, October 8 – Sunday, October 9

It was nice having some connectivity to be able to scope out the radar to see where things stood early Saturday morning. It was still raining and, as much as we wanted to get going, there was no point in starting off soaked if the radar painted a better picture in an hour or two. The destination was Cape May, New Jersey, 203 nautical miles away and at a speed of 6 knots it would take us 34 hours of continuous sailing to get there. The earlier we left, the better chance we’d have of entering an unfamiliar anchorage in daylight. The cold front was clearly past us and we got the exact wind we were anticipating for this longish stretch offshore, NNW at 15 to 20 knots. We were excited. The rain stopped and the radar showed nothing behind the last band we had been watching so we pushed off the dock by 0830. Our course to steer for our rhumb line for the next day and a half was 241 degrees PSC (per ship’s compass). Once we rounded the R”2” bell marking the Great Salt Pond channel exit, we picked up our course and flew every sail we had; full mainsail, full genoa, and full staysail. It was glorious. We were reaching in a steady 17 knots and just flew! Craig was on the helm and coaxed the boat to 7.9 knots. That speed became the one to beat and it wasn’t long before we hit our top speed for the day of 8.1 knots. That’s pretty fast for a 16,000 pound displacement hull loaded for long range cruising with a short waterline to boot.

We were well offshore after passing Montauk Point at the easternmost end of Long Island and were visited by a small sparrow. It gave us a good look-over and decided any port in a storm would do and landed on our genoa sheet. The thought was that land birds often get blown out offshore with a storm and this portion of the east coast just had a doozie. This little guy felt increasing comfortable and move in to rest on the binnacle and later right into Craig’s welcoming hand. We had several more land birds visit and rest including one light brown with speckles around its neck, its name I’ve forgotten. And then there was the cormorant! I think he saw the sparrow’s reception and said to himself, “hey, that’s for me!” He set a course directly for the boat and as he got close, flew a “high alpha” maneuver to slow and turn as required to land on the boat. I came screaming on deck like a crazed LSO (Landing Signal Officer) from the 40’s trying to wave the unwelcome visitor off. It took two failed approaches, lots of wild gesticulations and plenty of yelling till he finally gave up and went on his way. Cormorants, not on this boat buddy!

We ran out of air by early afternoon and our speed bounced back-and-forth between 3.5 knots to 5 and it was looking increasingly like we’d have a nighttime arrival. Three knots is our cut-off and cue to start motoring. We had the fuel for the entire leg, but a sailboat is way more comfortable when sailing and a free resource is always good. The winds piped-up finally during the early evening and we partially reefed the genoa giving us that classic cutter look of a high-cut yankee forward with a lower cut staysail just behind it. We were moving again and celebrated with a warm and tasty dinner. Tonight’s menu included chicken pesto pasta complete with fresh sourdough bread right out of the oven!

As evening fell the winds increased to 20-22 knots and we put a reef in the main which did not affect our speed even a little, but made the ride a little flatter and more comfortable. It also made sense to do that adjustment in partial daylight, rather than having to mess with it in the dark alone on deck with the other crew member sleeping below. We didn’t regret the choice, it kept blowing. The night was crystal clear and both the sunset and moon rise were spectacular. We had a brilliant full moon on a completely cloudless night which made it almost like sailing in daytime. Despite the moonlight, the planets and stars were wonderfully visible and we saw Orion for the first time this season in the early morning sky.

We had expected the winds to moderate as a large area of high pressure filled in behind the cold front that had just passed. Just the opposite occurred and the winds kept building and turned more westerly. By mid afternoon the next day we were close hauled and unable to keep a reasonable course towards our designation and were now pointing back offshore. We were still 35 miles from Cape May which meant another six or seven hours even if we cranked the motor and pointed right at it. The tacking angles would have pushed us well into the night if not the next morning, so we opted to divert to Atlantic City and get some rest. The seas were close together and steep and the wind continued unabated at 22 knots, so we were looking forward to reaching the lee of the Jersey shore and flatter water. It seemed like it took forever, but we finally reached the entrance to Absecon Inlet and poked our way into Snug Harbor looking for a spot to spend the night. We hailed several places, but got no answer so motored back out to the main channel. We found a good spot to anchor in 12 feet of water just before a fixed bridge and were plenty happy to be away from the Atlantic City hubbub! The current was ripping and with shoals and a bridge to leeward, we made plenty sure we had a good amount of anchor rhode scope out and were well set.

At 1745 we secured the engine, popped a beer each (specialty beer – a departure gift from a dear friend) and just wondered at the spectacle of hotels radiating alternating displays of lights along their lengths just on shore. We were plenty happy to be on the boat!

How fortunate to have Countrymen such as these

October 15 , 2022

I’m writing a bit out of sequence and I’ll catch up with posts about the trip from Block Island to Annapolis in the next several days, but I wanted to relate an experience that happened today….today. The crux is how an old Air Force guy from a Navy family felt saluting on the stern of his sailing vessel during retreat anchored not 500 yards from the United States Naval Academy and accidentally meeting several midshipmen at a cool lunch spot after sourcing a replacement stays’l reefing line. These young men could not have been nicer or more kind to share some of their, what had to be, precious off time with me. All the way back to Rejoice from lunch ashore, I could not help but think how fortunate we are to have countrymen such as those I met today. It would be easy to blather on, but this post is about them and their kindness. I gave them the website address and hope they’ll check in to see their photo and stay connected with the trip. I noticed in the picture that several of them will be graduating in 2023. Congratulations in advance and thank you for your leadership. I’m pretty proud to be your countryman!

PS: I followed a T-2 Buckeye out of Navy Dallas in a T-38 and reported reaching FL 240 before he reported reaching FL 180… just say’n. Irrespective…today it’s Go Navy! (And you have faster jets now!)

Thank you guys!

Narragansett: the Myth, the Bay, the Beer

Onset, MA to Block Island, RI

Friday, October 7

The same tidal current that swept us through the Cape Cod Canal yesterday morning would give us a free ride on our start in Buzzards Bay on our way to Block Island this morning. The western flowing ebb began at around 8:18, so no need to hurry. We had a nice leisurely start to the day with some eggs, bacon, toast, and the real treat….two cups of coffee back-to-back. What luxury and shameful excesses! The winds were forecast to be out of the southwest at 15 knots, right on the nose for our 48 miles trek. A cold front was to pass through the northeast that night which would set us up perfectly with a north wind for our upcoming 200 mile leg to Cape May, NJ, the longest offshore leg of the trip to Annapolis. That said, we needed to be in Block Island to refuel and be in position to launch early the next morning to benefit from that wind shift, so we decided to just motor and get there. Once in Buzzards Bay proper we were tracking behind a sailboat going the same direction and I hailed him on VHF. Our AIS (Automatic Identification System, a marine type of transponder) gave us their ship’s details and name, Tai Chi, a Cabo Rico 44. The ship’s master hailed from Oriental, NC and he just purchased the vessel in Nova Scotia, his third Cabo Rico, and was on his way home with it. They too were on their way to Block Island, but after our spacing grew over the next several hours we lost them in the distance and never saw them again. Maybe they just decided to keep going.

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the seas were relatively flat, and the headwind light, so the motoring was easy. Buzzards Bay is a fairly large body of water and, surprisingly, we saw very few boats other that large commercial vessels for most of the morning. That changed a bit as we transited Rhode Island Sound abeam Newport some eight or nine miles away. We saw several very good looking and well trimmed sailboats on the wind and off, but clearly none heading to Block Island. The green number “1BI” bell marking our turn to the far side of Block Island slowly started to come into view on the screen as the chart plotter incrementally scrolled down with our progress west. We were positioning ourselves to round that mark to turn on a course that would take us to the Great Salt Pond entrance, our harbor for the night. The mark protects the Block Island North Reef where the topography of the bottom goes abruptly from deep to shallow for several miles dramatically affecting the sea state around it.

We went from an easy seven hour commute in relatively flat water to a very short, steep, and wet sea state. Rejoice handled it like it does everything else, just fine, but every plunge into a facing wave stole our momentum and the boat would lose several knot of boat speed slowing our progress. Taking green water over the deck became a regular occurrence and the poor helmsman (me) got soaked by the spray. The photographer feigned perfection and insisted that the helmsman stay at his station to accurately capture the moment. (He really just wanted to see how wet I’d be willing to get for the photo op)!

I figured that things would calm down once on the western side of the reef, but it wasn’t until reaching the breakwater leading into the anchorage that things finally dried out and settled down.

Our timing was good and we entered Great Salt Pond just as the sun was eyeing the horizon which gave us enough time to find Paynes Dock at the south end of the anchorage and refuel while there was still a little natural light. I had only been to Block Island once before crewing for my father aboard Freya but didn’t remember much about it other than it was a wonderful port of refuge with 360 degrees of protection from the wind and seas. The cruising guide for the area said to look for a large American flag marking the services we were looking for, so we continued south and kept our eyes peeled. Paynes Dock did not have a VHF frequency to call on, but instead advised mariners wishing fuel or dockage to swing- by close and get instructions from an employee on the dock. It was pressing 1800, so we hoped someone was still there. Fortunately there was and he directed us to back into a tight corner of the fuel dock. Their original fuel hose was torn apart by the remnants of Ian two days before and their replacement would only reach so far. Again Fortunately for us, it was plenty far enough. We filled both the fuel and water tanks and were elated that we were now prepared for an early morning departure without delay. Darkness fell quickly and the dock manager helping us said, because of the hour, we could just stay put which was music to our ears. Once the ship was secured, we found showers ashore and headed to “Dead Eye Dicks” for a world class burger and a few Narragansetts. One thing was for sure, we had certainly left the peaceful solitudes of what we know in Maine and found the land of people. The restaurant was packed. It took me a bit to get my head around the idea that, from this point forward, increasingly dense populations were to be the rule rather than the exception. We were both happy to be returning to a quiet, small boat. Back onboard we downloaded the GRIB files to take a look at what the models suggest the winds might be doing relative to the cold front we were expecting for the next jump offshore. The wind screaming through the rigging and rain pounding the deck around 0100 let us know in real-time that the front was here, all reassuring sounds that let me drift off till morning.

All in all, it was a very good day of seeing and learning new things and every one of those experiences was added directly to the life and living bucket!

First Big Jump Offshore

Georgetown, Maine to Onset, Massachusetts

October 6 & 7, 2022

I was on my way out of Robinhood in Georgetown, ME around 1:30 on Tuesday afternoon and just getting into the Sheepscot River heading for points south when I got a phone call. It was the crew member I had hoped was going to join me for the balance of the trip down to Annapolis. Turned out he could go! I did a quick turnabout and headed back to the mooring I just left. This was very exciting news. With another crew member we could do the longer offshore legs and make the portion of the journey down to the Chesapeake Bay in much less time. It isn’t that the schedule itself is particular important, but having good weather and wind line up within the needs of the route you plan to sail is. We had such a window and now we could capitalize on it.

Craig and his family came aboard Rejoice Tuesday night to have a look and talk a bit about the boat and our plans. We then said goodby to his lovely wife and daughter who bravely rowed ashore in the dark and Craig and I prepared for an early morning departure timed to make good the west running current in the Cape Cod Canal. We’d be sailing all day and through the night to be at the eastern entrance of the canal for the start of the Ebb tide at 0818 the next morning. The current runs at 5 knots, so if we missed it going in our direction we’d have to sit it out and wait for the next one twelve hours later. We could either be shot through the canal like a pea through a straw or be at full power making no way with no steerage. It was an easy choice and a critical one if we wanted to stay in synch with favorable wind and weather forecasts for the next several legs that followed.

The Weather and Why Not Many Pictures!

Without crushing you with a bunch of weather gobbledygook, our route from Georgetown to the Cape Cod Canal was under the influence of a high pressure system to the northwest and a low pressure system to the southeast. The winds rotate clockwise around a high in the northern hemisphere, and counterclockwise around a low. The result of those merging airflows for our time offshore was to be a strong northeast wind. We’re a sailboat heading south so good for us. A wind in the other direction would most likely have mean endless long tacks back and forth or motoring into a strong headwind and big seas. Neither option is optimal. The wind was forecast to be strong and gusty, 15 to 25 knots with seas running in the 5 to 9 foot range during the day, but diminish through the night to 10 to 20 knots and seas 4 to 7 feet. What we actually got though were winds out of the north at 21 to 27 knots from almost start to finish and cross seas 7 to 10 feet coming from multiple directions. Likely the seas were being influenced by left-overs of hurricane Ian that were still slowly churning south of Cape Cod. It was a very bumpy ride. The good news was that we configured the sail plan early during the day with a double reefed mainsail and the staysail. That configuration kept us at a stead 6.5 to 7.5 knots, relatively flat, and completely in control with gusts approaching 30 knots. The sea state was such that it overpowered the autopilot and we had to hand steer the boat. It was tiring managing the boat downwind, getting pushed around by the seas, and using the magnetic compass as our only heading reference in the dark. Both of us collapsed in a heap after our three hour rotations at the helm.

I really like being offshore at night even when things are a little challenging. There was a warm front nearby and there were brilliant flashes of lightning that just lit up the night’s overcast sky. Turns out seabirds were circling the boat too that appeared as apparitions, like dark moving spots in the night flying past the bow. It wasn’t until, they appeared in the glow of the white stern light that I realized what they were. I’ve seen bioluminescence at night at sea before, but amazed by its brilliance every time. With every collision with a wave large glowing spots would appear in our wake. The only really sporty exercises we had that night were two very windy and lumpy jibes. We were sailing as close to downwind as we could and our original course was wonderful till around 1:00 in the morning when the wind turned more northerly, taking us farther out to sea and east of Cape Cod. We needed to pass our stern through the wind to establish a westerly heading to be in a position to jibe again in Cape Cod Bay for the final run to the canal entrance. The wind was blowing 25 and we took care to brief the maneuver before making any quick head movements. Both jibes went without a hitch and were completely anticlimactic, thankfully so.

Though it was still foggy and rainy, we were both encouraged when darkness finally gave over to the muted grey light of early morning and our last tack brought us close to the Massachusetts shoreline. We made the turn towards the canal and motor sailed downwind to reach it arriving at its entrance only 30 minutes after the ebb tide started.

We were happy campers to finally be in the canal and watch our speed over the ground accelerate with the strong current to over 10 knots. We were doubly happy when we reached the other side no longer having to make good a time based on the tide. We were through and well positioned for the next leg to Block Island, RI the next day. We made the short trip to Onset, MA from the canal’s western exit and picked up a mooring at Safe Harbor Marina shortly thereafter looking forward to a real meal and an uninterrupted, full nights rest.

Vegetables Onboard

After several days offshore on a previous passage Craig, being a healthy eater, asked the skipper if had any vegetables onboard. With a grimace, the skipper tossed him a can of Pringles Potato Chips and said, ”Here are your vegetables!” We enjoyed a quick vegetable catch-up once on the hook in Onset.

All total, we covered 213.8 nm in 27 hours and still had 30 gallons of fuel out of 37 available after securing the engine. It was an exciting experience and a good first big sail offshore. On to Block Island!

Scenes of a Classic Maine Coast

October 3, 2022

I had a very civilized departure from Port Clyde today. The sun was up for starters, the weather forecast for the day was great and I didn’t have all that far to go. We’re off to a wonderful start. Only a few lobstermen were stirring and heading out of the harbor for the days work so I settled in for another AeroPress brewed Starbucks Christmas Blend before getting underway. (Nobody said that you had to completely rough-it cruising on a small boat)! My target today is Director Robinhood, a full service marina in Riggs Cove nestled in the northeast corner of Georgetown Island up the Sheepscot River. It is a great spot to refuel and water, pick up a crew member if he’s able to go, and prep for a jump-off across the Bay of Maine. I’ve done portions of this leg before, but either stopped short of Riggs Cove to visit Boothbay, or continued on to Potts Harbor in Harpswell for a longer sail to Nantucket. One thing I remembered about this leg is the number of lighthouses you see between here and there. Knowing that I’d be writing about them I paid a little more attention this time around rather than just admire them from afar, but from an iPhone camera perspective, I often was too afar, as you’ll note by my pictures. So the order goes; Marshall Point Lighthouse (run Forest, run) , Pemaquid Point Light, Ram Island Light (Fisherman Island Passage), The Cuckolds Light off of Cape Newagen , and Hendricks Head Light on the Sheepscot River.

The entire day presented views of what most people think of when they think of the rugged Maine coast, dramatic granite fortifications and ledges that extend into the sea that only nature could have designed. Unchecked ocean swells crashing into ledges everywhere sending spuming white water high in the air. Magnificent! The sail was as good as they come too. Most of the trip was on a delightful broad reach that ended up close hauled when turning up the Sheepscot River. I was doing six and a half knots in 14 knots of breeze when on the wind, not bad for a heavy cruising boat!

I got to Robinhood pretty early, so it was a good time to get refueling out of the way, which turned out to be an exercise in centerline propeller sailboat handling in tight spaces, but thankfully completely successful. (If you are a non-sailor, look up “standing turn”, it’s a pretty handy maneuver). Then off to an outer dock for the night and a well earned hot shower ashore. Isn’t it nice when the ordinary becomes something so anticipated and appreciated?

I got a call from my potential crew member and unfortunately a family matter unexpectedly came up. The wind-up is that he may not be able to join me for the sail to Annapolis. Those things happen and I certainly hope everything gets resolved the way he hopes them to. It is not a certainty yet but, given the circumstances, I’m thinking this will continue to be a solo sail south. Certainly not the end of the world, but I’ll have to keep coasting which will take quite a bit more time not being able to get bigger mileage under the keel offshore. Oh well, more places to see and people to meet!

A highlight of the night was to have dinner with one of my oldest and dearest friends, Steve. We, with our other friend Dick who still lives in the Philadelphia area, grew up together and have known each other since we were seven. Check me on my math, but that would be 61 years of friendship. There are some countries that aren’t that old! He retired in Bath, ME with his lovely wife Anne and they are only twenty minutes away from Riggs Cove. I gave Steve a call and we had a lovely dinner at The Osprey just a short walk up the dock from the boat. It’s a great place if you ever get here, but hurry if you’re planning on it this year. They are closing for the season on October 30.

The plan for now is to stay in Riggs Cove on Tuesday to give my crew member some time to see if things sort out and give a powerful low pressure system south of Cape Cod a chance to clear out. One way or the other though I’ll head out Wednesday morning for somewhere.

A brilliant sunrise in Riggs Cove Tuesday morning!

Ciao for now!

Guess I’m Going

October 1, 2022

I spent the night onboard on the home mooring last night to get ready for the first leg of the trip today. I hope to get as far as Rockland which would be a significant jump to Georgetown, Maine by Monday night where I’ll pick up a crew member for the trip down to Annapolis. I had a sense of this trip actually happening yesterday afternoon as I brought the Zodiac aboard, deflated it and stowed it on the sea hood. No getting ashore now unless I swim….and at these temperatures, both air and water, that’s not going to happen. Guess I’m going to actually do this thing. I was back-and-forth with Patty by phone and text last night and I could see our house light ashore through the porthole. Our emotions were certainly mixed, but in the main positive and supportive. At 0630 Patty was on the beach and we were sharing emotional waves goodby and, just like that, I was off our mooring. A great friend of mine paddle-boarded partway over from Surry to see me off and get a picture of me on my way. I spotted her on the horizon and with a push of the throttle, made up some of the distance to save her some effort paddling. Hours later when I was on my way I realized that I didn’t think to take one of her and post it here as a thank you. So instead, here are her pictures. Thank you Zoe!

Routing today took me down Union River Bay, across Blue Hill Bay around Fly Point and into Jericho Bay. I sailed south to Merchant’s Row, a passageway between the archipelago of islands south of Deer Island that connects Jericho Bay to Penobscot Bay. It is a magical passage and each island you pass along the way is as unique as its name and with its own personality. As I cut between Scraggy and Mark Islands just entering Penobscot Bay, I could see Stonington over my right shoulder and where the Deer Island Thorofare, another passageway that connects those bays, joined my route west. The most direct way to Rockland from eastern Penobscot Bay is to transit between two large islands right in the middle of bay separated north and south by just a few hundred yards in places, North Haven and Vinalhaven, collectively known as The Fox islands. The way through is the Fox Island Thorofare and the town of North Haven is just about in the middle. “A Cruising Guide of the Maine Coast” written by Hank and Jan Taft has a wonderful description of these islands and the passageway, named in 1603 by a voyaging explorer who saw foxes on the island. I’ve done this transit dozens of times and have just loved it every time. Today was no exception.

Goose Rocks Horn in the Fox Island Thorofare

I passed a schooner named J&E Riggin at the western end of the Thorofare and recognized the name. It was the vessel my sister and brother-in-law sailed on about this time last year and had a great week-long windjammer cruise. I gave the skipper a shout on VHF to say high and pass along my sister’s glowing reports of the meals she had aboard. I was cold and hungry and said I could use one of those if they could shoot one right over! I got a laugh, but never saw the punt bringing the hot fish chowder, rendered salt pork, and freshly baked bread heading my way. Oh well, it was nice to make the connection anyway. Crossing western Penobscot Bay I passed port to port with another magnificent schooner with everything flying. Windjammer season must still have a few weeks left!

Eight hours after departing the home mooring I picked up a large vacant mooring near the Coast Guard Station in Rockland Harbor. Good thing too, by midnight a powerful cold front came through and the winds veered from the WNW at 15 kts to ENE at 30. As I write this Sunday morning it’s still blowing 20-25 sustained and gusting higher. I don’t have that far to go today, so I think I’ll give it a bit to settle down. If it doesn’t, I’ll go tomorrow. This is cruising and like small airplane flying, one of the easiest ways to get into trouble is to allow yourself to be forced into something dumb by a schedule. We’ll get there when we get there!

Well, so much for my blather. When there was a momentary dip in the wind speed I suited-up and went anyway! I’m writing this after some soup and a beer in a cozy corner of the anchorage in Port Clyde. Glad I’m here!