Summer Sailing Adventure Part 5

Friday 17 July 2009

We tied up to the mooring ball in Tiverton, and lamented that it would be our last night aboard. Typically we try to take vacation for 2 weeks at a stretch, so some serious miles can pass below the keel. Unfortunately I only had a week of vacation time at my disposal.

We headed to one of the swankier restaurants in Tiverton to celebrate our last night. However, we did not dress for the swankier restaurant. I walked into the joint with my hair tied in a bandanna, in ratty shorts and a tank top. Todd wasn’t dressed much nicer than that. The maitre d’ eyed our appearance, then caught herself staring and seated us. We ate a lovely meal, I pounded a few mojitos, and then we headed back to the boat.

Once aboard we needed to take the boys ashore. They hadn’t been all day long. Griffen paced, and Nemo, miraculously, hadn’t soiled the deck all day. Our lack of coordination screwed us again, Griffen ended up in the water while we prepared to get them into the dinghy to go ashore. We shrugged our shoulders and decided to let him swim alongside the boat all the way to the public dock—approximately a quarter mile away.

Griffen loves to talk while he swims. He chatters excitedly in squeaky puppyish barks as if to say “This is great! I am having such a fun time! I love to swim! I love you guys for letting me swim!” The problem with his swim chatter is that he has to open his mouth to do it. If he opens his mouth salt water flows freely down his throat. We learned several years ago that salt water and the doggy digestive tract are not friends. At all. We learned the meaning of the phrase “projectile poop” the hard way (kinda like my experience on my way to work yesterday).

Tired dogs and people climbed back aboard and settled in for the night. Overnight a massive thunderstorm blew in and carried buckets of rain. We listened as it pelted the cabin top over our bed—but thanks to our diligence in the spring not one drop fell on our bed.

Saturday 18 July 2009
We freed ourselves from the mooring and headed west to cross the bay and return to East Greenwich. The wind blew from the south, which is perfect from Sabine as she prefers her wind to blow across her beam (her perfect point of sail is when the wind is blowing in perpendicular to the direction she’s traveling, so directly into her side). We had a leisurely, sunny and windy sail home and only slowed to clean off the deck several times. (See above, “projectile poop.”)

We tied up to our home mooring and sighed. Coming back from a sailing vacation is always difficult for us. I distinctly remember our first sailing vacation on Lake Champlain in 2000. We were out for 10 days on a 26’ Pearson Commander called Sugar Magnolia. Sugar Mag had a 10 horse outboard engine; Sabine has a 53 horse inboard engine. Aboard Sugar Mag, bathing was either done in the lake, or with a solar shower, while aboard Sabine it’s done in a tiled shower with hot water. Drinking water on Sugar Mag was carried in gallon jugs purchased at the store; Sabine has a sink in the galley and bathroom with fresh running water. Cooking was done on a butane camp stove aboard Sugar Mag, while it’s done on a propane stove in the galley aboard Sabine, or on the gas grill on the aft deck—depending on what we’re having. Sugar Mag required us to bring a cooler filled with ice to keep perishables and beer cold; while Sabine has a top loading fridge.

But those 10 says aboard Sugar Magnolia were blissful. We first felt the bittersweet ending to a sailing trip as we tied to our mooring at Chipman Point Marina in Orwell, Vermont. It’s always the same feeling every time a sailing trip ends. While we’re happy about the places we’ve gone, sights we saw, and experiences we had there’s a slight sadness in that it has to end and more places, sights and experiences have to wait until the next trip.

Summer Sailing Adventure Part 4

After my bummer of a last post, I need to continue to re-live my vacation.

Thursday 16 July 2009

At the end of the last installment, we were held hostage by a small craft advisory in Westport, Massachusetts. We attempted the trip back to Narragansett Bay, just to be tossed around in the ocean like a tub toy.

The moment we got tied up to our mooring, we considered our options. There isn’t much to do in Westport that we could access on foot, and rain was forecasted for Thursday. We got on the Internet and reserved a rental car for Thursday afternoon so we could expand our exploration range.

The rental car arrived at the marina, and we set off to explore with a copy of a hand-drawn map of the area. Once we were a few miles inland, sprawling green pastured farms lined the road side. We stopped at house and barn that was converted into a general store. We wound our way through the maze of hallways into rooms that were once living rooms, dining rooms, bedrooms and kitchens that were converted into spaces where saleable merchandise lined the shelves and tables. We had lunch. We ate ice cream.

We ended up in a seaside village called Padanaram (PAY-duh-nair-um) where we window shopped and watched the fishing boats return from their morning trips. We stopped in a jewelry store, where Todd purchased my vacation bling. It’s become a bit of a tradition for us; we buy each other a gift while we’re on vacation. He often buys me something sparkly, and I usually buy him a book or a T-shirt. This year’s bling is a necklace with a turquoise sea glass pendant made by a local artist.

We continued on to explore New Bedford, Massachusetts which was once a thriving sea side town. Much of the industry has left the area, and it shows in the unkempt buildings and the saddened expressions of the people walking around. Just miles from New Bedford are upper class neighborhoods with gates that keep everyone out of their lush green lawns and pristine exteriored homes. But in the heart of New Bedford are boarded up windows, graffiti tagged walls, weeds creeping through the cracks in the pavement and broken signs. All I could think was the potential that the town has. All it would take is money and jobs to turn the place around. But for the moment, it's a desperate ghost town.

Before returning the car we ran a few errands for the boat. We hit up the local Bloodbath and Beyond to buy some new silverware for the boat, a new bathmat for outside the shower, and a few other odds and ends.

Friday 17 July 2009
The battery powered alarm chirped at 7 AM. We leapt out of bed and looked out the portholes. The wind had died down substantially as it wasn’t howling anymore, but the tide was still incoming. We fired up the diesel, cast off the lines, and pointed Sabine out of the harbor.

We continued dead south until we reached the buoy that instructed us to turn west. The waves were minimal compared to the day before. The sun was shining, and the wind was still headed directly from the west. Sabine doesn’t like to sail windward. We often joke that where ever we go the wind will always be on the nose. We continued to motor toward the bay, without having to raise the sails.

After a few hours we turned north into the mouth of the Sakonnet River. This is the river that separates the east side of Newport (Aquidneck Island) from the eastern-most portion of Rhode Island. We’d never been up the Sakonnet, and have always wanted to check out that side of the state.

The wind shifted from the south west, which was perfect for us. We were headed directly north. We raised the sails and killed the diesel. When ever we turn off the engine and sail, it feels a bit like the world has stopped. The roar of the engine ceases, and I always expect that the boat will stop moving because that’s the way it works in a car. It is different on a boat because it will continue to coast on the residual inertia created by the propeller spinning below the water line. Eventually that momentum will slow, and the boat will continue moving from the pressure of the wind on the sails. The relief of turning off the engine and listening to the wind, and each other, is always welcome.

We found an anchorage just south of Tiverton, RI where we ate lunch and lounged around on deck for a few hours. Griffen jumped into the water to chase down a kayaker, I napped, we worked on my book for a little while and relaxed.

Then we released the mooring and headed into Tiverton for the night.

Summer Sailing Adventure Part 3

Wednesday 15 July 2009

Todd looked up from the Eldridge tide chart and clicked on the laptop one more time, “OK, looks like this afternoon is our chance to get back to Narragansett Bay. The weather’s going to suck on Thursday and the wind we saw last night is only going to get worse.” He turned the page in the Eldridge, “The tide’s going out around 2 today. We’ll pick up about 3 extra knots of speed by going out with the tide. We need to be ready to leave right then.”

“OK, sounds good,” I replied as I carried two bowls of dog food onto the deck. “Let’s get these guys ashore right after they get fed.” When we’re at home the dogs get fed twice per day, once in the morning and then once when we get home from work in the evenings. Feeding them two small meals every day helps them keep their metabolism high, so they won’t get flabby. While we’re on the boat we only feed them in the morning, this way we can control their digestion a bit, and not have to walk them ashore twice.

The biggest problem with this plan is that we tend to feed them a bit later in the morning on the boat. In the time between their waking up and their feeding, their digestive systems continue to percolate. If we don’t get them shore immediately after feeding them, then we end up having to scoop poop off the deck of the boat.

We don’t actually mind if they poop on the deck. If they have to go they have to go, and there’s nothing we can do about it. They’re trained to use the foredeck if they need to. But if we can get them to go ashore, then it’s one less thing to worry about. So far every morning on the trip has involved scooping poop because even at our fastest, we didn’t move quick enough.

“OK, I’ll pull the dinghy to the side of the boat, let’s get them in it fast,” Todd shut off the laptop and climbed the stairs onto the deck.

From the cockpit I saw Nemo squat on the starboard side, “Dammit!!” I groaned as I went back below to get the Green Works, the scrub brush and paper towels.

Getting into the dinghy with the dogs has become more challenging over the years. Griffen’s impulse control has waned, and his separation anxiety has increased drastically. In recent years he’s begun randomly jumping into the water because he cannot contain his desire to swim. I’ve watched him lie across the edge of the boat and stare longingly at the water below, then pace as if to wait for the urge to pass. Eventually he cannot take it anymore and needs to feel the water on his fur. His brain becomes focused on swimming, that it shuts itself off to any other stimulus. He sits back on his haunches and prepares for the leap into the water, his eyes intently focused on the glistening surface. He doesn’t hear the “Griffen! NONONONONONONO!” from his humans. He hits the water, and an expression of pure joy and relief crosses his face. As he swims, his humans grouse at each other, “You were supposed to watch him!” “Me? I told you to get him!”

While Todd pulls the dinghy up to the side of the boat, Griffen also lets out this horrible yowl, as he fears being left alone on the boat without his people. I don’t know if he fears we’ll never come back or if he thinks that where ever we go will be fun for dogs and he’ll miss out. But he makes this screechy howl that makes my teeth itch. No amount of commanding him to be quiet, or even forcing his snout shut, will stop him.

Todd stepped into the dinghy, “Nemo, come on pal!” he called. Nemo easily leaped from the deck onto the pontoon of the dinghy, while Griffen screeched at the injustice of being left behind. I climbed in, and then Griffen clumsily flopped in. I instinctively grabbed Griffen’s collar and forced him to sit. He will only sit for .05 seconds before trying to jump from the dinghy into the water, so we command him to “sit!” over and over for the entire ride to the beach.

Westport Point has miles of pristine beach. The sand is soft, and there are few rocks unlike other New England beaches. We pulled the dinghy onto the soft shore and the dogs hopped out and began exploring. Griffen barreled into the water, while Nemo sniffed near the sand dunes. I donned my shorty wetsuit and joined Griffen in the water. The incoming tide was strong, and I felt the water force against my legs as I waded in. A sandbar presented itself and I called to Todd, “I am going to swim out to that sandbar with Griffen.”

Approximately a third of the way to the sandbar I turned to the shore and noticed that I’d been carried several yards over from where we beached the dinghy. I heard the dinghy motor behind me, Todd called out to me, “We’re joining you guys on the sandbar.” He passed Griffen and I, and beached the dinghy onto the sandbar. Nemo jumped out and splashed around in the knee deep water. I turned to Griffen just as he turned to head back to the beach. He was closer to the sandbar, but sought the stable ground of the beach as he fought the current. I doubled back and put a hand on his collar and we swam together.

The sand abruptly curved upward, and we were able to stand. We climbed onto the sandbar where Todd was playfully chasing Nemo. The water splashed around them, and Griffen and I couldn’t resist joining in the fun.

We splashed around on the sandbar until the tide had come in to the point where the dinghy no longer would rest on the sand. We climbed in and headed back to Sabine for a shower and lunch.

At 2 PM I untied the mooring line. The wind was directly from the west at 20-30 miles per hour. We exited the harbor and followed the GPS heading to the buoy that marks the end of the channel. Sabine rolled back and forth on waves that were forecasted at 2-4 feet, but looked more like 4-6.

We reached the buoy and turned the boat west and directly into the wind. Our speed dropped to 3 knots, even with the tide pushing us along. The wind was stronger offshore and it battled the outgoing tide and created the humongous waves that Sabine teetered over. We rode the waves for about 10 minutes then Todd said, “OK, at this speed we are in for a 10 hour ride to Newport. This is going to be a miserable fucking ride.”

“So, what do you want to do?”

“I think we should head back. This is dangerous and stupid.”

“But you had said that tomorrow would be even worse,” I reminded him.

“Well, then we’ll have to stay in Westport until Friday, then,” he sighed. “I just know that I don’t want to go today.”

We turned around and headed back into Westport.

“So, you want to try the other place for dinner tonight? We did try the one place already, might as well try the other place in town,” I shrugged.

Summer Sailing Vacation Adventure Part 2

Monday 13 July 2009

One of our vacation days always ends up being a chore day. We let go of the anchor in Jamestown and motored east across the bay to Newport. We had a shopping list of boat supplies we needed for a few of the projects that we wanted to complete that day. We had a few items on the to-do list that needed to get done. The water filters for the sinks hadn’t been changed in who knows how long. The antifreeze from seasons past coagulated in the filtration cartridges and made teeth brushing nauseating. The water from the galley sink was entirely undrinkable as well.

The floors in the boat were utterly disgusting. My springtime cleaning binge this year was rather disjointed and there were whole portions of the boat that hadn’t been cleaned. The radar system was still not functional, and Todd also wanted to wire an electrical outlet into the cockpit.

It sounds like a crappy thing to do on vacation, you know, fixing stuff on the boat when we’re supposed to be relaxing. But this is how we relax. Boat restoration is a hobby of ours, and spending an afternoon checking a few items off the list is worth it to us if it means that life aboard will be just a little less like camping. I am happy to say that I can now brush my teeth with water directly from the tap without getting the urge to barf. I can also drink the water from the tap without fear that I am drinking antifreeze. We can also plug electrical things into the cockpit, and the floors no longer had that layer of filth which clung to the bottoms of our feet. The radar system, however, still eludes us. It remains classified as “decorative” rather than “functional.”

Tuesday 14 July 2009

I woke up with an itch on my brain. (No amount of thinking about sandpaper would relieve it.) This itch would only be scratched by going somewhere we’d never been. We’d been examining the maps, checking the forecast on the Internet, and trying to make a decision as to where to go. We settled on Westport, Massachusetts, which is pretty much a stone’s throw east of where Narragansett Bay lets out into the Atlantic Ocean. We untied the mooring line and set a course for south once we left Newport Harbor.

We watched coastal Rhode Island pass us on the left as we headed east. There was no wind to speak of, so we motored the whole way, Auto von Pilot steering the way. After about 2-3 hours we came upon the entrance buoy for Westport Point.

Westport Point is located at the mouth of the Westport River. The entrance into the harbor is a bit tricky as the river and the rides have worn in a narrow channel that winds around a humongous sandbar in the center of the entrance. The tide was on its way out and was producing a three knot current that we had to steer against while we tried to keep the boat in the deepest part of the channel.

We tied to the mooring and turned off the engine then did what we normally do when arriving in a new anchorage. We took a nap. There’s something about the drone of the diesel engine and the salt air that makes us sleepy. Once siesta time ended, we headed into “town” to explore.

“Town” consists of two restaurants. That’s it. That’s all there is in Westport Point. We settled on one of the restaurants for dinner, figuring that we had a 50/50 chance of finding something good to eat.

After dinner we explored the river in the dinghy. We motored under the drawbridge, and avoided the fishermen casting their lines on the bridge above. The delta of the Westport spread north in front of us and mansions dotted the shore. In all the places we’ve sailed, I’ve seen my share of mansions on the shore. They consist of huge houses with docks with boats or several jet-skis where the perfectly manicured lawn meets the water. I ask Todd the same question every time we see a place like this, “What the hell do these people do for a living?” I am sure that waterfront property is expensive enough without the mansion with several dozen bedrooms, probably several dozen bathrooms, and the dock with the toys thrown in there as well. I forced my jaws closed and we motored on.

By the time we decided to return to the boat we burned nearly a half tank of fuel. The tide was on its way in and the wind was kicking up from the west, precisely in the direction we were going. The incoming tide and the wind from the same direction caused us a very bumpy and wet ride back to Sabine. At one point I took the tiller so Todd could sit, and promptly drove us right into a gigantic wave that sent water splashing over the bow and soaking Todd.

It would be this strong westerly wind and the strong current from the tide that would cause problems for us in the days to come.

Summer Vacation Sailing Adventure Part 1

Day 1 Saturday 11 July 2009

The day started out with nearly getting run off I-95 by an obviously drunk driver. We watched him weave in and out of traffic in front of us. We got on the horn and called the Rhode Island State Police. We got transferred to this station and to that one, and were assured that a cruiser would come out and intercept the guy. We watched him take swigs from behind the wheel, and nearly hit a half dozen other cars. Before we knew it, we’d followed the car into Massachusetts and called the state police three other times on the way to report on the driver’s position. We considered our citizenly duty complete and hoped that Tipsy McDrinkerton didn’t kill anyone once he’d gotten off the highway.

We ran errands for the remainder of the day, then left the dock at around 3:00. We left Greenwich Bay and headed south to Jamestown, RI. Jamestown is an island in the middle of Narragansett Bay that has a few great restaurants, many many humongous houses, and a few of our favorite dive sites. This time we picked up a mooring on the west side of the island in Dutch Harbor. Not the same Dutch that the guys from Deadliest Catch go to, but whatever, it was still all good. We’d never stayed on the west side of the island, so it was nice to be somewhere different, yet still have the center of town in walking distance. I discovered my new favorite drink at our favorite restaurant, Tricia’s. The drink, called the Purple Nurple, tastes just like grape kool-aid and went down way too fast.

At 2 AM I felt water dripping against my arm. I woke up and realized that it was raining and the windows in our stateroom were open. I reached up, closed them, and hunkered back into my nest. Not two seconds later Todd called out to me from the cockpit “Beej! I need your help!”

I stumbled through the galley and up the stairs into the cockpit, where Todd was closing the panels on the cockpit enclosure. I helped him close the remaining curtains, and held the flashlight for him while he finished. At that point I realized I was standing in my cockpit stark naked. I frantically turned around and made a dash for the stairs into the cabin muttering “Stupid Purple Nurples.”

Day 2 Sunday 12 July 2009

We puttered around Jamestown in the morning, then let go of the mooring to sail around the north side of the island. The wind was coming directly from the south, and we stretched out the main sail (big sail in the middle of the boat) and the jib (big sail on the very front of the boat) and let the wind effortlessly shove us north.

I made a new friend along the way, called the Auto Pilot. All you have to do is set a course and it keeps a straight course on that bearing. Of course, you can’t set the auto pilot and go below to make a sandwich, because you still have to watch where you’re going, but it’s nice not having to do the little corrections to keep the boat on course.

We rounded the north of the island, which put the wind across the boat from the right. We reset the sails and made our way across the northern tip of the island. Eventually we tacked our way south to the other side of Jamestown, then started of the diesel to motor in for the rest of the way. I watched the Newport Bridge pass over as we motored beneath it and still noticed my mouth falling open at the sight. I have a thing about travelling under bridges, and have scads of photos of our mast against the backdrop of the underside of various bridges. Just anyone can drive over a bridge any old time. But it’s something else entirely to sail under a bridge.

We picked up a mooring on the east side of the island, headed in for dinner at Tricia’s again, then watched a jazz band play on the town green. We people watched while we listened to the music then headed back to the boat to bring the dogs ashore for their nightly walk. They made friends and flirted with anyone holding an ice cream cone from the local stand, in hopes that some sucker would take pity on them and give them a lick. No dice, guys.

Sleeping on the boat has been great so far. We go to bed earlier and wake up earlier on the boat because we alter our routine to match the sun. We don’t stay up late watching TV (though we might watch a movie on the laptop) and we just don’t have the same distractions to keep us from sleeping. Todd, typically a light sleeper, sleeps much better with a more natural rhythm. Reason # 45436 for cancelling the cable at home.

Sobering Up in Wal-Mart

"So, what did you guys do on vacation?"

"Well, the first night we went to Cilantros to get some tacos, had a few margs and then went to Wal-Mart."

"Meh. You guys aren't the first to go to Wal-Mart drunk, and you sure as hell won't be the last."

Our vacation officially began yesterday at 5:00. We will leave to go sailing somewhere for the next week, we're not exactly sure yet.

But it's Saturday morning, the sun is shining, there's not a cloud in the sky--and not a breath of wind in the air.

Let the games begin.