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, 3rd,
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 4th,
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 5th,
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.
We returned to Manhasset on Monday 17th,
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.
With Hanson Cup
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 18th
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 25th, 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
Keeping it local at the cinema.
Over ground 170 miles.
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