August 2017

In which we sail from Rhode Island to Maine and back.

On the 1^st August, we heaved anchor at 0930 and headed from Martha’s Vineyard to Nantucket island. The currents in the area are significant and we decided to go the long way round to take advantage. This took us, initially, 3 miles west, past Gay Head then along the southern shore. Very light winds meant we had to motor sail for the first couple of hours but were then able to make good progress under main and cruising chute. We cut up Muskaget channel, to the east of Chappaquidick, which ends in a convoluted passage between shallows. For the first time since leaving the Bahamas, we were able to use the colour of the water to confirm our route. Of course, once committed to this, the wind increased and we had to hurriedly swap the chute for the genoa. A good anchorage was found just to the east of the breakwater at Nantucket.

We had the promise of a fair wind to take us up the east side of Cape cod the following day and went to bed with light hearts. These were made heavy in the morning when the reality of the day dawned. We had 70 odd miles to go and only 5 knots of wind to do it with. Worse, the fuel tank was down to ¼. So, instead, we headed up to Hyannis, on the southern side of Cape Cod, for fuel. That it took nearly 5 hours to achieve the 22 miles didn’t matter and, after fuelling to ¾ full (the price!), found a comfortable anchorage in the lee of Egg Island. There is a large, almost circular bay, used for dinghy sailing. This is, supposedly, a no-wake zone but a succession of small motor cruisers emerged from the port at 30 knots, picked up a buoy long enough to have a pic-nic, and shot back again. It was just like Italy.

Again, we should have had had good sailing winds on the 3^rd and set off full of hope. After a few miles, however, it became obvious that they were not going to develop and we set in for a long day of motoring. Worse, visibility dropped and we had to use our fog horn for the first time in nearly 2 years. Worst was the discovery that the charts had not kept up with the shifting sand bars at the south-east corner and we had to feel our way slowly for a couple of miles. Eventually, the wind did materialise and we had a good reach along the northern coast and then a beat down to the entrance to Providence harbour. Here, there is good protection from the southerly wind just inside the breakwater but a Mediterranean like narrow ledge to anchor on. The obvious spot was crowded but we managed to find a home nearer the entrance. The plan was to spend a day or two here or, more properly nearer the town as the wind was forecast to change to a strong northerly. On checking the weather in the morning, however, we found that there had been another change and it seemed that if we didn’t leave now, there would not be another chance to make progress north for another week. So, up anchor and head north. We did get, today, a good sail: the wind was right behind us and we set main and cruising chute on opposite sides for a dead run. There was a marked route for ships entering and leaving Boston but otherwise no obstructions. Apart from, in the middle of the afternoon, a cluster of 3 passenger boats. As we approached, one of them called and advised us to deviate as there were whales ahead. Since we were only making 5 knots, well below the recommended 10 to give whales a chance to keep out of the way and also on a fairly tight track because of our sail arrangement w.e declined the invitation. A few minutes later, there was a spout a couple of miles away and all 3 boats shot off at 20 knots in a pincer formation to harass the poor creature.

Whale watcher

We made the entrance to Rockport harbour20 minutes before sunset to find it littered with fishing floats but managed to weave our way through to find an anchorage. The forecast for the 5^th was for light winds, so we had an early start, lifting the anchor at 0720 and heading north. I n fact the wind was WNW’ly F4 giving us a fine sail up to Saco river, 51 miles away. Here they have ‘pay as you like’ moorings, one of which we picked up as there was no suitable anchorage. As we were doing so, we heard a Mayday call from a small motor cruiser about 5 miles away which was taking on water with 4 adults and 3 children on board. We were a little unimpressed with the local coastguard operator who failed to take down the lat / long position but the rest of the system worked well with a fixed-wing aircraft on the scene within 20 minutes which rapidly located the people, who by now were in the water, and dropped a liferaft for them. A local fast rescue craft then ferried them to waiting ambulances. I suspect that, being the USA, it will have cost them a bit but I’m sure that they won’t begrudge that. Having not shopped in Provincetown, as planned, we were now a little short of provisions and the intention was to shop on Monday morning. Unfortunately, Elsie went down with a tummy bug and, on going ashore, I found that there were no groceries locally. There was a trolley (tourist bus) to the local town but it did not seem to run to schedule and it seemed that I would have a significant walk the other end so could be away for 3-4 hours. Instead, I returned and, instead, we let go and sailed the 18 miles downwind to Portland, just using the cruising chute. Here, we found a nice anchorage a mile or so south of the main harbour, to dine on stores, some of which were purchased the other side of the Atlantic.

Schooners in Portland harbour.

A very pleasant feature of this coast is that the tourist sailing boats tend to be not modern catamarans, as in Europe, but gaff rigged schooners, with the passengers assisting in the sail handling. 3 of these came out for their evening cruise to lighten our hearts as we sipped our sun-downers. We shifted anchor to nearer the centre, the following morning and dinghied ashore for some shopping. We found a good supermarket a comfortable walk away but elected to taxi back as we had bought lots. We then heaved up and headed off towards Seguin Island. This was somewhere that we had been reading about for months. It has a working lighthouse, maintained by the coastguard, but the island is owned by a trust which appoints guest keepers each summer season to maintain the property and act as guides for visitors. When we first heard about this, we considered applying and had been reading the blog of this year’s keepers since. We hoped to get there in time fore a chat with them but, with the promised wind failing to materialise, we realised that it would be a late arrival and, as we knew that the following day was their one day off, decided to stop en-route so diverted to Potts harbour. This was quiet and picturesque but was our first encounter with real Maine density of lobster pot buoys. It was a real obstacle course to get to our anchorage and a puzzle of where we could drop to avoid fouling them if the wind changed. Fortunately, each fishing boat has its own colour coding and, provided you can spot the floats at each end of the trot, avoiding actually dropping on top of the pots is relatively straightforward.

Lobster pot buoys.

Our new plan, for the morning, was to arrive at Seguin midday-ish and chat with the Wednesday Warriors, the local volunteers who come out to staff the island on the summer keepers’ day off and perform heavy maintenance. That fell through as this was their end of season party day and the keepers arrived back shortly after we arrived and the Warriors departed as weather conditions were forecast to deteriorate. We gave Tara and Brian time to unpack their groceries then went ashore and met them. A very pleasant couple, also sailors, who spent a great deal of time on what should have been their day off showing us around and telling us all about it. A few clues that we had picked up from the blog were confirmed and, reluctantly, we now think that it is probably not for us. It is a beautiful location but we are probably too short fused to happily cope with some of the aggravations. Better to discover now than once committed! We had a further trip ashore, for a longer walk round, in the morning then let go and started heading back west.

Seguin light.

As mentioned before, we try not to set deadlines for being anywhere, but they keep cropping up anyway. This time, it is Elsie who has to back in the U.K. at the end of August, so we need to be near a convenient airport. We had hoped to make this Halifax, Nova Scotia but the last few weeks of frustration with the wind have convinced me that this might just be a step too far. Already, this summer, we have burned more fuel than in the preceding 18 months. While we might be lucky, we might find that we have to motor all the way back in deteriorating Autumn conditions. Elsie, with just a little quiver of the lower lip, has accepted this and we now start a slow wander back, to be in a position to set off back to the Caribbean in November.

Our stop on the Thursday night was Ebenecook harbour, up the Sheepscot river. Another beautiful, serene anchorage only marred by the youth who spent the evening zooming back and forth in two different motor boats, trying to shave 6 inches off his passing distance each trip. From there, we just crossed the river on Friday to Five Islands, a small fishing village which provides a few free mooring buoys for visitors. All but one were taken by local boats on our arrival but we managed to grab one and went ashore for a walk. I had been looking forward to having a good lobster meal while in Maine. We were donated a couple of live ones at Seguin, left-overs from the party which didn’t happen, and I cooked and served them with butter. Nice, but not mind-blowing. We hoped to find a restaurant serving more exotic dishes but it seems that steamed lobster with butter is the local way and that’s the way you will like it. Oh, well.

Another short voyage on Saturday took us to Ridley Cove, up the New Meadows river. This backs on to Cundy’s Harbour, a little fishing village which gets good write-ups and we looked forward to a walk ashore. There are many private piers but only one commercial jetty. We got a very grudging acceptance that we could probably leave our dinghy there for a short while. So we had a stroll to the village and bought a couple of things including a very good cup of lobster stew.

In the morning, we decided that we had done a sufficient sample of small Maine villages and that it was time to start wandering back to where Elsie could catch her flight back to Scotland (Norwegian Airlines, Providence RI – Edinburgh return for less than £300) so heaved up and alternately motored back to Saco river. Once again, we found a free mooring ball and dinghied ashore, to show Elsie the sights. We saw the ‘trolley’ bus heading into town and, as it was due to return 5 minutes later, decided to go to the main centre of Old Orchard beach. 25 minutes later, we had given up hope when it appeared. The driver had just decided to have a break. We took it anyway to discover a down market tourist town, with fun-fair, pier and tat shops. After a cursory look round and a fairly underwhelming ice-cream, we decided to wander up to the supermarket for a couiple of essentials and catch the trolley back. On return, while I topped up the water carriers, Elsie bought ba take-away of deep fried clams and scallops. Not cheap but proved to be huge portions which we couldn’t finish. To continue easily down the coast, we headed back to Rockport next day. The wind was, once again, a disappointment being just too light to be able to sail sufficiently fast to make a daylight arrival so it was motor for about 7 hours with just 2 hours of sailing at the end, anchoring in a similar spot to last time. In the middle of the afternoon, I had read the fuel gauge – about ¼ full but now it read less than 1/8, with no chance of a local top-up. So, although the wind in the morning was not promising, it was better than forecast for the following days and we had to go. As we lifted the anchor, at 09:00, the visibility dropped and we drifted east, then south with the fog horn sounding. The first couple of hours, we only achieved about 3 miles but conditions improved and we ended on a good beam reach heading for Beverly, next to Salem. In fact the wind had increased to over 15 knots and I was slightly concerned that it was blowing onto the fuel berth. No problem for getting on but, if there were obstructions, it could make getting off again tricky. Fortunately, the dock was clear and the wind dropped so there was no problem. We took 138 litres (tank 160), our most ever. It was now just a 3 mile motor to anchor in Salem harbour.

Harpoon boat.

When our mainsail went in for repair in Newport, the enterprising service manager had given us a quote for a new one, and we had been thinking about it ever since, even getting a couple of other quotes. The old one is still in fairly good shape but has had many repairs now and will definitely need replaced in the next year or so. Was it better to do it with no time pressure and maybe lose a year of service? Or to risk continuing and find ourselves unable to continue on a time critical voyage. We had finally decided to go for it, and informed North Sails. Fine, could we just take a few (many) measurements. Most were straightforward but for overall size measurements were needed from almost, but not quite, the top of the mast. The wind had dropped, so up I went, armed with a bit of string (borrowed from a lead line). Of course, once I was up there, the wind picked up and on measuring our marks, we found that we could stretch our string by up to 20 cms. Not nearly accurate enough, especially as our result for the luff (front edge) was 25 cms short of what the book said it should be. A quick online check, showed that North Sails had another loft in Salem and the local manager came out the following morning armed with a tape measure. Unfortunately, he also brought a cap-full of wind and I wasn’t overly confident in his figures either, especially as all was done from on deck with a guestimate of how far from the mast head the top of the tape was. The afternoon was spent ashore in Salem. Talk about a one-theme town. At least 10 witch museums, witch tours, witch stores. We got the message and resolved to re-read ‘The Crucible’ The town was otherwise pleasant, especially Chestnut Avenue, with many fine 19^th century houses. Up anchor in the morning and a slow sail down towards Boston. The harbour is protected by an archipelago and we weaved our way through, choosing to anchor in the bay of long island, which gave reasonable protection from the ferry wakes.

On the 18^th, we set off for Plymouth with what should have been a beam wind. Unfortunately, it backed so, rather than beat, we changed the plan and headed instead for Province town, at the tip of Cape Cod. We had been here a few weeks before but had to hurry away without landing, due to weather. As before, we were wanting to anchor on the southern side of the harbour and, as before, the good spot was fairly full. The added bonus was that as we dropped sail the rain started. And got heavier and heavier. We dropped anchor about where we had previously, intending to put out about 50 metres of chain but, as we dropped back with 35 out, we were coming close to a fishing buoy. With good holding and the anchor in 6 metres of water, that should be sufficient so we held on at that and went down to dry out and have my birthday dinner of roast duck. As we ate, there was a stronger gust and a sudden change in motion. The anchor was dragging and we had been pushed off the ledge. We were now in 20 metres of water and making about 1.5 knots across the harbour. It was pitch black, bucketing down and blowing 30 knots. On with heavy waterproofs and heave up, fortunately only collecting a stray end of rope rather than a full trot of lobster pots. Fortunately, we managed to find a better spot (should have looked harder earlier) and, this time, put out 60 metres, to be sure, though we set watches, just to be on the safe side. It was still pretty unpleasant weather in the morning, so we elected to stay where we were. On Sunday, 20^th, we moved over to the other side of the harbour, as light winds were forecast, and finally got to go ashore.

Rainbow flags at Provincetown.

Provincetown was the first place the Pilgrim Fathers landed in 1620. It was not a good area for agriculture, and they seemed unable to fish, so they moved across the bay to Plymouth and P Town was just a little fishing village until 1916, when it was discovered by the artistic set, who took it over. A century later, their legacy is still very much alive and it is the LGBT centre of the Eastern USA. Rainbow flags abound and the inhabitants and visitors are equally colourful. We enjoyed it greatly, especially wondering what the puritan settlers would have made of it. There is a fine monument to them on the highest point of land, with stairs to the top, which we climbed and a good little museum which chronicles both the maritime history and the artistic take-over. Obviously, as we had elected to stay, there was a steady 15 knot northerly wind through the day. We heaved up on the morning of the 21^st and headed towards Plymouth, with that wind still blowing and giving us a fine bream reach. It soon died and it was motor, sail, motor-sail across.

Plymouth rock.

Plymouth has nowhere to anchor but provides 3 free mooring balls close to the entrance and we picked one of these up. The current is significant and the following morning, with wind opposed, the mooring buoy was banging against our side. A call to the yacht club revealed that they had a mooring in more sheltered water at, gulp, $65 for the night. A year ago we would have baulked at paying that for a full service marina, but we wanted to see the town so bit the bullet and moved and spent the day doing tourist things. Free walking tour, lots of monuments, etc. and a reasonably priced, very good museum. As it was handy, we also made use of the very reasonably priced laundry at the yacht club later though, as the drier was very inefficient, we were late returning to Ruby for sun-downers.

On the morning of the 23^rd, we let go and motored out. A surprisingly good wind gave us a good sail down to the entrance of the Cape Cod Canal, which provides a convenient cut-through. The currents run very strongly through it, but they kindly timed themselves so that we had a good push, making 10 knots at economical revs. Mostly pleasant scenery, with a huge campground stretching along much of the north side. Most people obeyed the ‘no wake’ requirement, but there is always one who thinks it doesn’t apply to them, giving cause for a little irritation. On exiting, still with 4 knots of following current, this was put into perspective by the wind-against-tide conditions with large standing waves. Poor Ruby was slamming into these, at times slowing us to one knot through the water. Eventually the current decreased and the wind veered sufficiently to let us sail the last hour or so to our anchorage in Mattapoiset bay. A peaceful spot. The following day, we had a good beat across Buzzards bay to the cut in the Elizabeth islands. The wind was forecast to be westerly through the night and we were well sheltered from that but, of course, it veered to north making it a little choppy by the time we left. We took advantage of that northerly wind to set off to the west, steering a course between Block Island (ambitious at 42 miles) and Newport. As expected, the wind decreased through the morning so Newport it was. As we approached, we could see 6 huge black mainsails, with a large flotilla of smaller boats. It was the J class world cup, waiting to start and we considered joining the melee but the wind was dying, meaning that any racing would be pretty tame and we weren’t sure of the schedule. It was 3 PM and they were still not starting, so we headed into Newport, with the usual mayhem on the approach. Our previous anchor spot was free so we took it and then spent an entertaining evening listening to later arrivals asking the harbour master for moorings (none available) then watching them anchor in an increasingly crowded anchorage.

Classic yachts, Newport.

We were now a fixture for the next 10 days. Saturday was spent seeing some of the old town and tourist centre, including visits to a museum and an old Anglican church. A very knowing guide to the latter gave knowing insights to the gilded generation’s view of worship. On Sunday, we made another attempt at Fort Adams, the 19^th century defence protecting the harbour. Last time, we were thwarted by a jazz festival. This time, there was a re-enactment of a civil war battle with the participants using the centre as a car park. We did manage a tour of the outer defences and listening tunnels and the walk did us good. Monday was spent touring a couple of the mansions built by 19^th century industrialists: The Breakers, the largest and glitziest of all, built by Cornelius Vanderbilt and The Elms, built by Edward Berwind, a coal baron. The former was literally gilded, with acres of gold leaf and the latter had huge old master paintings, cut down and glued to the walls or, in one case, expanded by contemporary artists and stuck to the ceiling. Good audio guides gave a good insight to life in these monstrosities for owners and staff alike.

Gilded dining room, the Breakers.

It was now Elsie’s turn to jet off back to Scotland, catching a bus from Newport central and leaving me alone for a week. As ever, there were a host of little jobs to do, some of which were achieved.

Eleonoa E, Newport

Monthly distance:  640

July 2017

In which we make slow progress towards New England.

After a couple of hectic days in New York City, we had a quiet weekend at anchor in Manhasset bay, just popping ashore for a stroll and a can full of freshwater to keep the tanks up. I also ventured into the muddy water to inspect Ruby’s bottom. It was in a pretty poor state as our anti-fouling (supposedly good for 5 years) was becoming ineffective.

On Monday, 3^rd, we ventured into the city again heading to the south of Manhattan this time for a tour of Liberty and Ellis Islands. It was good to get up close to the lady and learn more about her history. We knew that the statue was a gift from the French but didn’t know that the plinth was paid for by the recipients. We chuckled at the way the cash was raised – Pullitzer started a fund and anyone who contributed even one cent was mentioned on the front page of his daily newspaper. Of course, all contributors wanted to see their name in print, and so bought copies until it appeared. No doubt his turnover and profits were much greater than the sum raised by the appeal and he still got recognised for his public spirit. The Ellis Island tour was more sobering, especially viewed from 100 years on with our current refugee crises. Even back then, some were tuned away because of what would now be curable diseases.

Registration hall, Ellis Island

For the 4^th, we decided to do the all-American experience and bought tickets for a New York Yankees home game. Baseball was new to both of us and left us frankly underwhelmed. A total of 5 runs were scored in 9 innings over 2 ½ hours and 3 of those were in one 30 second period. The stadium was half empty and the fans seemed to spend as much time buying food and drink as actually watching the game. A box ticked, but we won’t be rushing back. We contemplated staying on in town to watch the firework display and, if we hadn’t had commitments the following day would have done so but the idea of fighting our way back with literally millions of others late at night dissuaded us and we returned to Ruby. We were not short of fireworks to watch. Every evening there had been one or two displays to be seen round the bay. This evening there were dozens to be seen.

At the old ball game.

On the 5^th, we rose expecting Ruby to be lifted out for a scrub and re-coat of anti-fouling but the lift operator failed to appear. Instead, Elsie caught up on the laundry and I did a few minor maintenance jobs. We moved Ruby to a mooring buoy and, in the late afternoon, said goodbye to her as we were flying back to the U.K. for 10 days for health checks and family visits.  Another important port of call was the Cruising Association HQ, to finally receive our cup for last year's blog.

With Hanson Cup

We returned to Manhasset on Monday 17^th, to find that Ruby had been moved from one buoy to another but still with a dirty bottom. It was just about liveable with so we decided to continue on voyage until we found a boatyard where we could get the job done economically.

Many people remark, on hearing about our life, how wonderful it must be to live without stress, which always gives me a little chuckle. Our stresses may be different to those of the landlubber but, what with the weather, wind, tides and the sheer practicalities of a new location every few days for shopping, water, laundry etc. (Not to mention maintenance issues) they are very real. One that we try to avoid where possible is being in a certain place at a certain time as we know that events will conspire against us. It is usually me who has a need to return to the U.K. every few months, forcing a target upon us; this time it is Elsie, who needs to go back at the end of August. A few hours of internet browsing showed that we needed to either be in the New York / Rhode Island area or Halifax, Nova Scotia for this. So, once again, we have a target. It is only about 500 miles and we have 5 weeks to do it in but it is a target nonetheless.

Tuesday 18^th was a lazy day, just fitting a few spares that we had brought back with us then, on Wednesday we provisioned and watered in the morning before setting off. The forecast for the following few days was calm mornings and light winds in the afternoons, so we picked out lots of anchorages and hopped from one to another. Wednesday afternoon gave reasonable sailing and we made 19 miles along the coast of Long Island to Oyster Bay. This is almost completely land-locked and surrounded by luscious houses owned at various times by such luminaries as Teddy Roosevelt and Billy Joel. We tucked ourselves into a quiet spot and, for once, didn’t mind the music that started at sunset: Motown classics, played by a live band at a private party. Being the U.S., curfew was at 10:30, which suited our bed-time well. Tempted out in the morning by a breeze which died, we motored for a while, then managed a slow sail another 24 miles. Of course, just as we lowered the sails, a proper wind sprang up but we had picked our spot in Port Jefferson.. There was about a square mile of suitable depth water, but it was completely covered in private moorings, only about 4 of which were occupied, leaving a narrow margin on the other side of the channel for visitors, of which there were about 8. Fortunately, we found a good space and had a quiet night.

Oyster Bay house.

The Long Island shore to the East of Port Jefferson looked devoid of good anchorages so, on Friday, we crossed the sound to the Connecticut shore. The wind was a little stronger than forecast, probably boosted by solar heating on the mainland. We had a good broad reach, using the cruising chute for the first time in months. There seemed plenty of choice of anchorages, but the first listed one we tried had been taken over by private moorings leaving only shallows so we moved another mile and found an unlisted spot, near Stoney Creek, in a private bay guarded by rocks which disappeared at high water. Again, the houses looked slightly out of our price range. Saturday promised a beam reach along the coast but there was a light overcast and the wind failed to develop. We sailed in light airs for about 3 hours, then gave up and popped into Duck Island anchorage, which is protected by breakwaters and proved very popular with local boats both for day and night stops. Since arriving in New Jersey, U.S. Customs and border Protection had not required any further calls from us. Crossing the state line to Connecticut changed that and, from now on, the wanted a call from us every time we moved location so, every stop, while Elsie finished tidying up, I ‘phoned a friend’

On Sunday, the wind was kind and we had a fine close reach a further 29 miles to New London, just motoring the last 3 miles up the, very busy, river. The light house at the entrance set us to wondering. It is literally a house, a Georgian mansion, on a small island. It would be interesting to know it’s history. The town of New London is a sad place. The wealth of the rest of the coast has escaped it and the centre has many boarded-up shops and the active ones are often ‘thrift stores’. Ironically, the only fresh food available within walking distance was from an organic Co-op, that charged twice the usual price for not-very-special fruit and veg. They are making an effort to attract boats, with about 20 mooring buoys laid opposite the town pier (though we anchored, as usual) but no takers. Elsie had gone down with a cold and stayed on board while I just went on a couple of shopping trips in cold, wet weather.

New London Lighthouse.

 We stayed 2 nights then, on the 25^th, we headed out for a slow sail to Block island, finally breaking out of Long Island Sound. Block Island has a large, almost totally enclosed, anchorage, which was very well populated. We assumed that most of the boats were medium- or long-term but were surprised at a large proportion leaving early the following day. Elsie had prepared a progress plan, which we had fallen a couple of days behind on, but we were now due to make the 35 miles to Martha’s Vineyard, one of our must-see places. Than plan lasted until I prepared the Mainsail on Wednesday morning and found that one of the eyelets at the luff had broken free and sawed through the reinforcing rope. This rendered the sail unusable in but very light winds so urgent phone calls were made. Fortunately, one of the world’s great yachting centres, Newport Rhode Island, was just across the water and North Sails’ service manager came up trumps, ensuring timely collection, repair and return at a reasonable rate. He did, somewhat pointedly enquire about our on-board provision for emergency repairs to this, 12 year old, 30,000 mile sail and enclose a quote for a replacement but I’m sure no offence was meant.

Classic Keel boats racing, Newport.

In Newport, we anchored in the main harbour, with convenient dinghy access to a very pleasant town. On Thursday morning, we dropped the sail ashore and had a quick scout ashore. Noticing that a gap had appeared in the anchorage, we returned and shifted position to get more protection from, forecast, northerly winds then went ashore again for laundry, lunch (clam chowder – very good) and a book swap. On Friday morning our sail was returned but strong winds were forecast offshore so we decided to stay a little longer and went for a stroll along the southern shore of the harbour. Once again, lack of research meant that we were unaware that our destination, Fort Adams, had been taken over by a music festival but we enjoyed the walk, nonetheless. The rest of the afternoon was spent re-installing the sail and checking associated ropes. We decided to replace the clew out-haul and end-for end the first and second reefing lines.

NY Yacht Club, Newport.  For some reason, our invitations failed to arrive.

On Saturday, we did more touristing, first walking to the North end of the harbour to peer at big yachts, then catching a bus to the south end of the island and walking back along the cliffs past the billionaires’ mansions. Many of these are now open to the public but there is a new one being built, presumably for a new billionaire. A big provisioning was done on return, as we were heading back offshore to islands where food was reputed to cost at least 60% more. A final water run on Sunday morning the we picked out and headed out, expecting a N’ly F4 to take us to the Elizabeth Islands. As we left the harbour the wind died so it was a motor all the way to Cuttyhunk for a comfortable night. It was only 7 miles to Martha’s Vineyard so, with light winds forecast, we didn’t even bother getting the sails out in the morning, just motoring across in what developed into a fine beam wind.

Leafy lane, Martha's Vineyard

We went ashore, expecting to just look round the local area but discovered a remarkably efficient bus system and, by using 6 (7, if you count the one which changed route number on the way) we managed to circumnavigate the entire island in about 5 hours. It was a shame that we hadn’t started 4 hours earlier and managed to stop off to see more but we got a good flavour. It was totally against my expectations being very, English style, rural with no sign of brash developments. There was tourist stuff in Edgartown but even this, from our brief look, seemed tasteful, though we were amused to that the cinema advertised a weekly showing of Jaws which was, of course, locally based. On return to Menemsha, we found the village packed with visitors flocking to watch the sunset from the beach. We, of course, had a grandstand view but it wasn’t a classic.

Keeping it local at the cinema.

Monthly stats:

Over ground  170 miles.