Captain's Log

8 July, 2015
Posted by tuck on Thursday, July 9, 2015 - 15:24

Got our Canada Day” shirts.  Twofer $20C (that’s $16 US).  Hard to beat that.  The Navy guys came by and asked when we planned to leave, as they were bringing a frigate in for the celebrations, and she would be parked perpendicular to the docks, precluding any ins or outs.  We weren’t planning on going anywhere, but were amazed that we were even allowed to stay (the U.S.N. has a 500 yard “security zone” around its vessels).  The sailors were pretty chill compared to ours, and as the tugs brought the “HMS Charlottetown” into her berth at the city pier, she blocked out the sun, her bulwarks towering over the Girl.  After grocery shopping, I got my “Bearly’s” fix.  The volume and quality of the hand-cut fries was over the top, but the burger didn’t reach the stature that I had built up in my mind over the previous year.   Just shows, “You can’t go home”.  No more “pouty face”.  After some more walking and exploring, it was time for Bill’s niece, Chelsea’s birthday party at the “Ale House” pub.  We were still pretty full from lunch, but managed to choke down a salad, fantastic fish chowder, and a few beers before the cake.  Time to get over to the Arena for The International Tattoo (Let’s hurry up and have fun).  It was quite a spectacle.  If you like rousing marches and bagpipes, you were in the right place.  I thought of my good friend, Gary, back at home.  (He and I are always raggin’ at football games when the marching bands play unrecognizable modern music instead of J.P.S.’s stuff).  He would have been in his element.  The show was a tribute to the fallen in WWI, and many countries were represented by their performers, including Canada, the U.S.A., Norway, France, Germany, Oman(?), Estonia, and Sweden.  In between the marches, we were entertained by gymnasts from Germany and France, a precision motorcycle team from Paris, acrobats on bicycles from Germany, and various troupes of Irish dancers.  The 2 ½ hours went by much too quickly.  We returned back to the boats just in time to see a bunch of 15(?) year old boys toss a fiberglass whale from the kiddie’s playground (you know-the animals on the coil springs anchored into the ground) into the harbor-presumably to impress the girls that they were with.  They scattered after Lauren shouted that “That was a shitty thing to do”.  We ran to the boats and got our boat hooks as the whale slowly began to take on water and sink.  We hooked the handle, but by now, he was getting pretty heavy, water, coil spring and all.  Some much hammered young men came by and gave us a hand.  Mission accomplished-saved the whale.  The next morning, it was Tattoo redux in the form of the C.D. parade.  After the parade, we hiked up to the Citadel, where a 21 gun salute was fired by a bank of howitzers.  Inside the fort, “Oh Canada” was sung, and a huge birthday cake was cut and doled out to the masses.  Next, it was a walk to the Halifax Public Gardens, where an R&B combo was giving a free concert under the Victorian gazebo, as we strolled around the immaculate plantings.  Back down at the waterfront, we listened to some more free music, this time Cape Breton stuff with fiddle and squeezebox.  After a quick bite from a few of the stalls at the indoor Seaport farmers market, we headed over to Garrison’s microbrewery for a sip (or Two) on the outdoor patio.  Within the course of a few minutes, the sunny, warm day turned cloudy, breezy, and cool.  The Admiral and ace weather person suggested that we hot foot it back to the boats, and the skies opened up when we were about 50’ from the Girl.  A slow drizzle followed, along with a super-sized helping of fog.  Fireworks?  Cancelled.  It was a good night to just “hunker down”, so Bill, Lauren, and Bill’s nephew, Joe, and his Grandaughter, Paityn joined us for sips and conversation.  On the morning, the skies had cleared, and the “HMCS Charlottetown” slipped her lines at 0930, allowing us to get on our way.

A five hour run took us into Shelter Cove, near Tangiers Bay.  This was a really gorgeous anchorage, complete with a fine beach in a wilderness setting.  Had we not been pushing to get to Canso for the Stan Rogers FolkFfestival, “Stanfest”, we would have stayed a few days-and probably will in the future.  The local lore has it that during Prohibition, rum runners would anchor here to hide out from the authorities, tying Fir trees to their masts in an attempt to camouflage them.

Our next stop was Fisherman’s Harbor.  Not exactly scenic, but good protection from all winds.  Along the way we spied a pair of Mola Mola (I guess that’d be Mola Mola Mola Mola) lolling on the surface.  These Giant Sunfish are usually found far offshore, and prefer tropical waters, but are found as far north as Newfoundland.  We were able to get within 10’-12’ of them, and could clearly see them below the surface, but the sun was such that we didn’t get any good snaps.  They weren’t real big guys-looked to be between 100-200 pounds.  (They can be as large as half a ton).

Saturday afternoon brought us in to the sleepy little hamlet of Canso, guided in by the steeple of the Catholic Church high upon the hill, as mariners returning from The Banks have been for decades.  There isn’t anything quaint about this little factory town that went nearly belly up after the fish plants closed down.  There’s still a small fishing fleet that takes Snow Crabs, then Lobster, in their respective seasons.  Other than that, there doesn’t seem to be much keeping the town alive.  Seemed like there were a lot of pensioners there.  Like a lot of small villages in these parts, it’s a shadow of its former self, but there is some history.  The British used Canso as a staging area for their attack on Louisbourg in 1745.   Later, the radio towers here received and passed on the S.O.S. from the “Titanic”.  The city dock was actually a cement-capped pier, but all of the pilings were in good repair.  No water, and 15 amp hydro (just enough to keep our batteries charged), but, hey, what do you expect for $30?  So…we got our grocery shopping at the Co-Op (grocery, hardware and variety) store.  Thirst setting in, we headed to AJ’s, the only bar in town.  It was pretty much a double-wide with one small window and a display cooler that you pulled your own beer out of.  We pulled a couple of chairs out onto the “patio”, a 10’x12’ wooden deck separated from the highway by a 6’ tall privacy fence enclosure.  Sweet!  Okay, sounds like I’m Canso-bashin’-not so.  Just sayin’.  That’s Canso for 362 days.  For the other 3, IT’S HAPPENIN’.  For the past 20 years, the band shell and adjacent athletic fields have been home to the Stan Rogers Folk Festival.  During that period of time, it has become one of the top 5, if not the number one venue for folk music in North America.  So big, in fact, that music venues all over North America and Europe chipped in cash to keep “Stanfest” afloat after last year’s show was deep sixed at the last minute due to the visit that Hurricane Arthur paid to the Maritimes.  Some of the finest singers and songwriters in North America and Europe (Scotland) make appearances here.  For 3 days, from 11:00 A.M. till well after midnight, on 6 different stages, you can take your pick of myriad acts.  In addition to performing, many of the artists take part in various workshops.  We made it for the last day, wish we had been there earlier.  I could tell ya lots more, check the website.

Bill and Lauren had a little maintenance issue with a transmission that they needed to work through in the morning, so we took a bit of a late start.  Okay with us after a 2:00 A.M. curtain call the night before.  We traveled familiar waters through the Canso Causeway, having transited it in the other direction last year.  We spent a quiet evening at anchor in Havre Boucher, on the North shore of Nova Scotia.  Bill and Lauren came over for a reprieve of our Jigg’s dinner (Corned beef and Cabbage) from several nights previously, this time in the form of soup (Barley, Carrots, Onions, Potatoes, secret spices-you get the picture) along with just-baked homemade bread, courtesy of the Admiral.  We were joined in the anchorage by a lone sailboat that appeared just before nightfall.

Tuesday, the 7th, we had a calm, 4 hour ride to the West coast of Cape Breton Island.  The morning started out a bit cool, with wisps of fog, but by the time that we reached the entrance to Mabou Harbor at 1200, it was a sunny 72 degrees.  Several winding miles up the harbor, which, by the way, had a very narrow, twistyturny, shallow entrance bar, and a flood tide pushing us along at 5.9 knots (puckerup, sportsfans), we shot “Queenie” (our 105# CQR anchor) down in 16’ of water.   Bikes loaded on to the tenders, we puttered up the river to the Mabou Marina, a 50’ long floating dock with a decided “list”.  Our objective was the Glenora Distillery (I’m pretty sure the only single malt whisky distillery in North Am.).  Seven of the 10 mile trip was on an old, abandoned railway bed, along the Mabou River at first, then following its’ headwaters up into the Cape Breton Highlands.  The last three miles were up, up, up.  A mile on a dirt road, then 2 miles on busy, shoulderless (with long drop-offs), Highway 19.  That part was truly scary, with blind corners, and crests, cars traveling at 100kmh.  We slipped in under the wire for the last tour of the day, and learned a bit aboot single malt whisky (not Scotch, as that’s trademarked, or whatever by the Scots’ distilleries).  The ride back to the sea was downhill mostly, and we all breathed a sigh of relief when we left the highway unscathed.  When we returned to the tenders, we hadn’t had enough, so we rode our bikes up (is there a theme here?) to Mabou to have dinner at “The Red Shoe Pub”, owned by the Rankin Sisters-you know, of the famous Rankin Family Singers.  There was a bit of live music going on from a local group-Pipes, Fiddle, and Guitar.  I swear, I think that the Maritimer’s, and the Caper’s in particular, are born with an instrument in their hand-seems that everybody around here plays.  Anyway, a good time was had by all, so after agreeing to an 1100 departure so the Girl wouldn’t have to kiss the bottom on the way out, we headed back to our trusty little ships. Tomorrow we depart the land with Scottish roots and move North toward the area settled by the Acadians(French).

This morning, we had cloudy skies, but the temperature was up to 69 degrees.  As we waited for the tide to rise, the wind did too.  As predicted, the South wind was up to 27 knots by the time that we pulled anchor.  Seas were predicted to be 2 meters, but we figured that out of the South, with us headed North, they wouldn’t be too bad.  The sun popped out as we were exiting the inlet which made reading the depths a lot easier.  We cleared the mouth seeing no less than 8’ of depth on a flood tide.  I felt like kind of a weenie for being worried about it.  Our ride has been comfortable, with 3’-5’ (with a few 7 footers mixed in) seas on our stern.  The breeze is blowing the tops off the waves, and the sun on the shore is making a beautiful backdrop.  We’re thinking of our friends, Annie and Michael, and the train trip that we took through the Highlands of Scotland a few years back.  Our goal today is Cheticamp Harbor, on the Northwest side of Cape Breton.  We’ll stay there for 2 nights so Bill and Lauren can get some laundry done, while we wait on a weather window to open for our trip to the Magdalin Islands, in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, where we’ll spend a few days.  After touring these French-speaking islands, we’ll head over to Newfoundland.  Not sure what the Interweb situation is going to look like, so hopefully, I’ll be able to shoot this up into space tonight.  After that, I’ll do the best I can.

-Bon Jour 

29 June, 2015
Posted by tuck on Tuesday, June 30, 2015 - 09:48

Whoa! 0530 (that’d be 0430 EDT) came pretty early, and it was cold outside.  Didn’t have to scrape the frost off the windshield, but it felt pretty close to that temperature.  The Girl was off the dock before the sun peeked over the horizon.  The hour and a half ride to Pearl (a.k.a. Green) Island gave Suz the opportunity to catch a few more ZZZ’s.  When we arrived, the 3’ swells were crashing into this piece of rock jutting out of the ocean.  Pretty dramatic, but it made the rocky shore look pretty menacing.  I edged Alizann in as close as my weak knees would allow, while the Admiral scanned the shore with her image-stabilized binoculars.  There were hundreds of birds on the jumble of rocks lining the shore, and groups floating on the water.  No sooner than I heard “I think I see one—No, I lost him”, I said “Take a look in the water, 50’ off the starboard bow”.  PUFFINS, Baby!  A half dozen of the little guys which we managed to scare off before snapping a single pic.  Okay, now we knew they were here and what to look for.  For the next 30 minutes, we circled the island (big rock) looking for birds in the water.  We saw lots, but they were pretty skittish, and it’s very tough to sneak up in a 62,000 pound boat.  Well, we got to see Puffins, and out of 100 or so pics, we got a couple worth sharing, even though they were pretty “grainy”.  I guess Harold and Rex had never seen Puffins, because they really don’t come to shore.  For the majority of the year, they live in the Arctic climate zone.  During the couple months of summer, they migrate south, to mate and lay their single egg, usually nesting on offshore islands where there are no land-based predators.  The first few years of the hatchlings’ life are lived completely at sea, as Puffins don’t return to land at all until they are mature.

The seas continued to rise, and the wind velocity increased throughout the remainder of our trip to Halifax, affirming our decision to move on.  I think that I must have lived by the North Atlantic in a former life, because there’s something about these grey seas, rocky shores, and overcast skies that get me-right into my bones.  Tropical isles and crystal waters are cool, but for me, this is where it’s at.

We backed into the pier at the Atlantic Maritime Museum, and Lauren & Bill(SeaStar) were waiting to catch our lines.  It was so great to see them, and after hugs all ‘round, we cracked a bottle of champagne and laid out some smoked fish to celebrate our reunion and kick off our summer campaign.  After an early night and a late morning, Suz and I trundled off to get some chores done.  First, Bank of Montreal to get some currency exchanged-pleasant surprise $1.2 Can/$1U.S.  Next, the Bell/Aliant store to get a SIM card for the Ipad.  We didn’t do this last year because some friends had done so, and told us of the 87 ½ hoops that they had to jump through to get cards.  We missed not having data for weather forecasting, so decided to go for it this summer.  What a breeze!  The young lady had us hooked up and good to go in 15 minutes.  After grabbing L&B, we all headed to “Bearly’s”, where Suz and I had dined on some awesome burgers last year.  Hmmmm.  Closed on Mondays.  Down the road, Henry House Pub (housed in an 18th century building) was pretty good, and the pint of ale erased my “pouty face” after a few sips.  The rest of the day saw us take the city bus up to the Fairview Lawn Cemetery (where many “Titanic” victims are buried), and the Point Pleasant city park, where we hiked some paths and enjoyed  views of the mouth of the harbor (where the weather buoy was reporting 9’ seas).  Walking the cemetery, I couldn’t help but think “If Grandma was here, I wouldn’t be” (My Grandmother, Winifred Vera Quick, was a “Titanic” survivor).

I had kinda forgotten what a great tour guide/researcher Lauren is.  During the long, cold winter at her home on Georgian Bay, she’d been working hard.  Recounting the fruits of her labors, and comparing notes, it was clear that she and Suzanne had an action-packed summer in store for the crew of our intrepid little ships.  We’ll start with the Canada Day celebration here in Halifax, complete with free concerts, fireworks over the harbor, and tickets for the International Tattoo (VIP, thanks to Bill’s nephew).  Right now, I gotta go out and buy a red shirt (for Canada Day).  Full report…..

-Later

B.T.W.  Miles traveled since Michigan-7,197; This Year-2,942

27 June, 2015
Posted by tuck on Monday, June 29, 2015 - 09:00

Well, it looked like the weather was going to cooperate for the crossing to Nova Scotia on Thursday, the 25th.  We had always done our own weather forecasting, but since this trip would take us 100 miles offshore, in cold and infrequently travelled waters we wanted some backup.  Jim and Colleen, aboard “Mosey On”, had told us about a weather service, “Commanders Weather”, which they had used from time to time with good results.  The Admiral pulled up their website and was impressed with their credentials.  The group of meteorologists, many with over 20 years’ experience, made their living predicting weather, doing forecasts for boats around the globe.  After calling them, we decided to have them do a custom forecast for us.  Long story short, their forecast confirmed our choice of departure time, and predicted good weather and seas for our trip in a concise email, breaking down our travel days into 3 hour segments. 

We spent the morning of the 25th getting our stuff together for a 1200 departure.  We cooked up a pot of chili, as it’s our custom to have a microwaveable dinner (just in case the seas turn to dogmeat) for overnight passages.  The bridge was kinda grubby, as we hadn’t driven from uptop for a month or so, so I took off the canvas and gave her a good cleaning.  “White Star” also got a good washup, and her engine flushed with fresh water before having her canvas put on.  Suzanne called Verizon, and had our data reduced, and a Canadian plan instituted for the phones.  Before we knew it, it was time to pull off the mooring and go for a boat ride.  Sooo……, under sunny skies and 73 degrees with the wind out of the North at 10 knots, we were off.  Two hours into the trip, we were treated with whale sightings.  Over three miles of our course, we saw no less than 10 or 12 Humpbacks, either lolling on the surface, or blowing and sounding.  At one time, Suzanne spotted a commotion about ½ mile off our port bow.  Seabirds were wheeling and diving, and the sea appeared to be boiling in an area about the size of a football field.  As we approached, it became apparent as to why the water was “boiling”.  It was absolute mayhem.  A school of tuna was engaged in a feeding frenzy, many of them breeching, completely leaving the water as they decimated a school of baitfish-there must have been a hundred tuna.  When she spotted all the birds, Suz had me haul in the lines as she didn’t want to snag a bird.  We would have SURELY caught a tuna had the lines been wet, but I couldn’t help but wonder what we would’ve done with a 4’ tuna had we hooked one.  Wow!  What a way to start a trip.  Over the next miles, as the sunny day morphed into night, we passed by a half dozen more whales.  I passed my watch viewing a couple of movies based on Tom Clancy novels.  Over my five hours, I only spotted 3 other boats, all of them fishing a bank around 0100 hrs.  When I got up at 0700, we were in Canada, and Suz was watching the Today Show.  We were amazed that we had a TV signal 80 miles offshore.  Throughout her watch, she had only seen three other vessels, one freighter and a couple fishermen on the international boundary.  I whipped up some scrambled eggs and took up my watch while the Admiral headed down for her morning nap.  The seas were benign all night, and continued to be so.  At around 0800, a Giant Sunfish appeared around 20 feet off the starboard beam.  I snapped a few, but all I could get was a pic of the dorsal fin.  The rest of the day was unremarkable, air temp dropping into the 40’s with overcast skies.  The lines were wet all day, and all we had to show for our efforts was a Tern, which got tangled in a line and drowned before I could get it in. As night approached, the lights of Nova Scotia began to appear in the distance.    The seas and wind were so calm that we decided to push on to Lunenburg, 8 hours closer to Halifax where we planned to meet our friends, Bill and Lauren, to spend Canada Day (their 4th of July).  Soon, we encountered a fleet of fishing boats working the banks south of Yarmouth.  As I ended my watch at 0200, I went to bed and slept peacefully, feeling like I was coming home.  When I awakened at 0700, Suzanne had piloted us to within 3 hours of Lunenburg, and went off watch, whipping up a batch of her now-famous “Egg Suzmuffins w/ sausage”.  Two days in Lunenburg will give us a nice rest before the 7 hour jaunt to Halifax.

Our old spot at the town dock in Lunenburg was empty, so we pulled in and got tied up and off the boat.  After being aboard for a few days, it always feels good to get off and stretch your legs.  On our way up the road to the dockmaster’s office which is housed in a marine supply store, we passed the grocery store.  They had a nice display of potted herbs for sale on the sidewalk.  Our Basil plants were at the end of their lifecycle-getting woody stems and tasteless leaves, so the Admiral was happy.  When we dropped the new plants at the Girl, I’m pretty sure that “Old Baze” had a sense of foreboding regarding his impending burial at sea.  Continuing our stroll, we found the schooner “Bluenose II” open for tours.  She’s a replica of the famous fishing schooner Bluenose, who was undefeated in 17 annual races against the New England fishermen’s fastest challengers.  After being defeated by the Americans in 1920, the first year of The Fisherman’s Cup races, the Nova Scotians built Bluenose, and didn’t lose again-a huge source of Canadian pride.  An image of “Bluenose” resides on the Canadian dime.  Two legends regarding the naming of “Bluenose” are worth noting.  The first regards the fact that the Nova Scotian fisherman often carried the blue-skinned potatoes grown in NS, and got the nickname Bluenosers from the Americans in the New England ports that they visited.  The second alludes to the fishermen rubbing their drippy noses with blue-mittened hands, causing the dye to leave them with blue noses.  (Doubtful, as highly superstitious fishermen regard the wearing of colored gloves to be unlucky).  You be the judge.  Anyway, we were able to board the “Bluenose II”, which was closed for refitting during our last visit here.  She’s truly a magnificent ship, built here in Lunenburg by the same yard that built the original.  Our stroll took us on past the berth for the vessel that does the whale-watching tours, and their chalkboard also mentioned Puffins.  PUFFINS?  All I’ve been hearing about since missing the Puffins that had already migrated North last Fall was that “We’re never gonna see a Puffin”-Well, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but you get the picture.  Pete, our stuffed toy Puffin, has been dutifully riding on the shelf of our pilothouse, helping us navigate tropical waters, patiently awaiting his chance to link up with his cousins.  Sooo…..After a LOT of sleuthing, I discovered that the Puffins were nesting on Pearl Island.  Okay, where’s Pearl Island.  I looked up my buddy, Harold, a retired commercial fisherman for the answer.  “Well, I never paid much ‘tention to deese islands, I was always headed to the Banks”.  Not to be deterred, he called his buddy, Rex, who said “I been livin’ here all my life, (he was probably 70 or so) and I ain’t never seen me a Puffin”.  (Just an aside, the Nova Scotians’ accent is very similar to the Caucasian Native Bahamians-probably due to similar ancestry).  Bummer, Dude.  We finished our walk at the “Knot Bar”, where 2 pounds of mussels were washed down with a couple Alexander Keith’s.

As is our custom, Suz checked the weather for our travel day after tomorrow.  What? 8’ seas and 30 knots out of the South?  #!%$^!!  So much for a couple days rest.  We phoned up Bill & Lauren, who were docked in Mahone Bay, (a few miles East) planning on a night of Lobster dinner and dancing.  After about 30 seconds of discussion, we all decided to push on to Halifax the following day.  I admonished the kids “not to stay out too late” HAHA, Lauren LOVES to dance.  That said, it was time for us “short ball hitters” to get some sleep after our 2 day passage and loss of an hour due to crossing into the Atlantic Time zone, and looking at a 0600 departure.

-Later

22 June, 2015
Posted by tuck on Saturday, June 27, 2015 - 21:10

Here we Go……..

An early start to Nantucket was out of the question, as we had to wait until midtide to have enough water to get out of the LakeTashmoo.  Out near the point West of Vineyard  Sound, we encountered a bizarre rip tide.  There was a distinct line in the water, which extended for a mile or so in either direction.  On one side, the water was very calm and smooth.  On the other, choppy with one foot waves-weird.  We had a windy, wavy crossing over to Nantucket Boat Basin, where we took a slip for the first time in a few weeks, as we needed lots of water and power to wash the Girl and loads of clothes.  Suz got us in under the fiscal wire, as the rates went from $1.95/ft. to over $5.50 when “season” started in two days-Oh yeah, $55/night for electricity.  This place is not for the faint-hearted or fiscally conservative.  The waterfront around the marina was all about “see and be seen”.  Not exactly my kind of place, but hey, we were there, so we did the best we could.  It was hard to blend in, as I seemed to have misplaced my pink shorts and chartreuse plaid shirt.  We hit the shops, and then did the self-guided walking tour.  Once you drill down a bit below the extremely shallow crust, there’s plenty of history to enjoy here.  The historic sites included the Old Gaol (jail), a 19th century fire station complete with antique pumpers, a working windmill (circa 1740), and the Nantucket whaling museum (which is nice, but pales in comparison to the whaling museum in New Bedford).  Nighttime brought out the trust fund party animals who went ‘till the wee smalls.  I like my folks with collars of the blue hue, and was ready to clear out after 2 days.  The Admiral says I’m over sensitive and need to get over it, but it’s tough to change my stripes now.

Our plan had been to go outside to Provincetown, on the end of Cape Cod.  The weather saw things differently, and told us that she would punish us if we tried in the next few days.  Hmmm….Nantucket for two more days, or getting the snot kicked out of us.  We didn’t like either option, so decided to backtrack down Nantucket and Vineyard Sounds, through Woods Hole, and into New Bedford, where we could get the cheapest fuel in Massachusetts, and a good meal before transiting the Cape Cod Canal and running across the (predicted to be placid)Cape Cod Bay to P’Town.  Sounded like a good plan, so we departed Nantucket at 0600 to take advantage of a favorable tidal current up the Sounds for a few hours.  It was windy and seas were 1’-3’ but it beat the heck out of what we were seeing on the direct course to Cape Cod.  We had a steady rain from the minute that we left the dock, but as we passed north of Martha’s Vineyard, day turned to night.  In 5 minutes, the wind went from 20 knots to 47(That'd be 54 miles per hour).  The steady rain morphed to torrential.  Visibility dropped to 50 yards. The scuppers and clearing ports on deck couldn’t keep up, and the deck was quickly awash.  Our 62,000 pound Girl heeled 25 degrees to the starboard as she was pummeled with multiple right crosses.  She didn’t miss a beat, and was ready to come back for more when the wind abated as the storm passed over her.  The lightning and black clouds raced by, and within a few minutes, it was just pouring with 20 knot breezes.  All Suzanne and I could do was laugh, as we realized that we had been holding our breath for the preceding 20 minutes.  Woods Hole channel brought back memories of the St. Lawrence Seaway as we bucked a 4 knot current going through.  Passing through the hurricane barrier at the entrance to New Bedford Harbor was like coming home.  It’s a working class town that boasts the highest grossing fishing fleet in the U.S. of A., and has for the last couple decades. (See New Bedford blog from September, 2014).  We made the fuel co-op 15 minutes before closing time at 1200, and topped off our tanks, hopefully for the last time ‘till Fall.  Suz and I took a nice dinghy ride as the skies cleared, and had a fantastic Father’s Day dinner at Antonio’s, a Portuguese restaurant a short cab ride up the river.  We were forewarned, but still both ordered an entrée, leaving enough for dinner the next day even after we were both stuffed.

Monday morning, the 22nd, we were off to Cape Cod Canal by 0700.  The current through the canal can be significant, so we wanted to hit it on a rising tide to take advantage of the 4 knot flow.  As predicted, the run across the bay to Provincetown was calm.  We took a ball and headed in to the office to pick up our mail which we had forwarded there.  It was like Christmas, as my new rod and reel were waiting with the more mundane packages.  WaHoo!  That afternoon, Suz gave me a much-needed haircut, and made an appointment for herself at the Aveda salon in town for the next day.  As the afternoon wound down, the sippy cruise took us a couple miles along the beach that ringed the harbor.  Around a mile-and-a-half from town we spotted a guy in a bathing suit on a moored fishing boat waving his arms frantically.  When we motored over, he said something like “I swam here”.  He just didn’t seem quite right, so I asked him if he was okay.  He replied with a very concise “no”.  Long story short (again), he had swum out to the beach, and found that he couldn’t make it in the cold water.  As he started to panic, he hauled himself out of the water over the barnacle-encrusted hull, macerating his legs and torso in the process.  Now hypothermic, he was in trouble.  We took him aboard, shivering uncontrollably, and got him into a sweatshirt, laying him down in the tender to get him out of the wind.  We dropped him off at the condo where he was staying with his family, leaving him in the care of his teenaged son.  Hopefully, lesson learned.  Over the next few days, we biked 17 miles of trails at the Cape Cod National Seashore, took a trolley ride, and walked the backstreets of P’Town.  We learned that the Mayflower had initially landed in PTown in 1620, and wrote the Mayflower Compact here, before moving on to Plymouth, where fresh water and arable soil were more available.  The hardwood forests that were here were eventually clear-cut, and as a result, the thin soil blew away, leaving the sand spit that is here today.  There are a good number of old buildings still standing, as unlike many other cities, there was never a major fire to destroy them.  There is also a rich history of the town supporting the arts, theater in particular, as Eugene O’Neil called P’Town home.  Several venues in this small town advertised appearances by major headliners for the upcoming season.

Our tour through the islands, and including Cape Cod gave us our fill of quaint little tourist towns.  No offense meant, but we were ready to get back to nature in the Canadian Maritimes.

-Next Time

19 June, 2015
Posted by tuck on Saturday, June 27, 2015 - 13:04

On the 15th, we were pretty psyched to be going to Block Island.  Years before, when we were taking (and later teaching) United States Power Squadron boating classes, the charting exercises were centered on this area, so it felt like home to us.  As we motored into Great Salt Pond under cloudy, misty skies, we spotted “Mosey On” lying at anchor.  We fired our hook down, and heard Colleen on the VHF calling the harbor ferry, arranging a ride for 4 to shore.  A few minutes later, the phone rang, and it was Hers Truly, asking us if we wanted to have dinner together that night.  The ride in was wet and cold, but we all warmed quickly, thanks to Irish coffee and good conversation at “The Oar” restaurant.  The next morning, we had to wait for the fog to clear before loading the bikes in the tender and heading to shore.  It was a cool, breezy day, but perfect for bike riding.  The nearby town, New Shoreham, touts itself as “the smallest town in the smallest state in the U.S.A.”, and sports some Victorian architecture.  We had good sammies and great chowders at the Mohegan Inn, and then headed out to explore the island.  Our first stop was at Southeast lighthouse.  Built in 1873, and moved 300’ inland from the eroding bluff in 1993, the lighthouses’ exterior and setting couldn’t have been more spectacular.  After funds have been raised for the restoration of the interior, it’d be worth a revisit.  Our  19 mile ride took us over hill and vale through the rural country and seaside.  Of interest were the 343 miles of rock walls, most over 200 years old, spanning fallow fields and overgrown meadows.  Back at the ranch, we had an invite to join J&C for sips on their 46’ Nordhavn.  (Before we started drinking the Krogen Koolaid, Nordhavn was number  1 on our boat wish list).  Their boat was gorgeous, and the company better-I love boaters.  Early departure the next morning, we wrapped up by 2030, hoping that we’d see them in Maine this Fall.

The cruise to Martha’s Vineyard was an 8 hour jaunt, with anchor up at 0535.  Our initial plan was to grab a ball in Vineyard Haven, in the Northeast corner of M.V.  When the Admiral called ahead, she was told that the divers weren’t done placing moorings yet.  It didn’t look like there was going to be a good spot to anchor inside the seawall (which we needed, since the wind was out of the exposed Northeast).  After consulting Active Captain, our crowd-sourced, boating “Swiss Army Knife”, we figured that we might be able to sneak over the sandbar guarding the entrance to Lake Tashmoo.  There appeared to be good depth for anchoring in this little lake (big pond) just a mile and a half walk from Vineyard Haven, with protection in all winds.  The Girl had to lift her skirt a bit to get in at mid tide, but once in, the surface was calm in the 13 knot breeze.  The shore of this little lake was surrounded by homes, and is designated “No Wake”, with plenty of room to anchor around the numerous private moorings.  Our first afternoon took us an 8 mile walk to explore Vineyard Haven and its’ environs.  The roads were narrow, the drivers fast, and it didn’t look promising for bike riding the next day.  We stopped at “The Black Dog” for a brew, and were informed that we couldn’t get a beer without ordering food (the town was dry until a few years ago).  Twist our arms.  The vegetarian stuffed peppers, and Tuna sashimi were unremarkable.  The next day, we hauled our bikes ashore despite our misgivings about safety.  As it turned out, once we got out of town, the designated bike trails were great.  First destination was Edgartown, in the Southeast corner of the Island.  Named after James II’s son, this quaint little berg is one of the anchors for the Chappaquiddick ferry to the island made (in)famous by a young Edward Kennedy.  We stopped at Farmers Brewery (and nursery), where Bad Martha’s beer is brewed, sharing a cash register with a flourishing retail plant nursery.  We had a couple flights of their prettydarngood selections and their charcuterie plate to fuel up for the next leg to Oak Bluff, home of the Offshore Ale brewery.  That ride took us along the 3.5 mile beach connecting the 2 towns, windblown, undeveloped, and beautiful.  We finished our 21 mile loop after passing through Vineyard Haven at the public ramp on Lake Tashmoo.  There, a group of kayakers were launching their boats for an evening paddle.  On the end of the dock, a local fisherman was loading plastic totes full of live Horseshoe Crabs onto his boat.  Intrigued, we asked him what the deal was.  He explained that he chunked up the crabs, and used them as bait for his conch traps.  “Who knew?”  He used to be able to collect crabs along the beach at low tide, but the “Tree Huggers” as he so indelicately put it, had legislated this activity out of practice.  Now, the crabs rot on the beaches (in some places taken off by the loaderfull after full moons), he buys his bait from Southeast Asia, harvests his conch and ships it to—You guessed it, Southeast Asia.  That was his story-just sayin’.  Off to Nantuckett tomorrow.

-Later

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