Author: Trip von Hoffmann (Page 2 of 3)

Long Island Sound wasn’t done with us yet. According to the forecasts the wind was down to a pleasant 10 knots from the north. The direction was right, but she was blowing a steady 20 as we upped anchor. We knew the seas were going to be messy in the sound, but had no idea that we would almost not make it out of the harbor.

We set the main with two reefs again and headed out. As we approached the jetties of the channel the waves got incredibly steep and we dropped to less than 2 knots (as Trip is fond of saying, someone with a walker would have been making better time than we were). And of course there was a ferry leaving Port Jeff and another one on the way in, with a channel just wide for one of those big boats. We thought we might be able to make it through, but as we lost speed in barely controllable waves, and a ferry bearing down on us, Trip decided to gybe and head back in. Within a few seconds we had swung around, another few seconds and the ferry was past us, yet another few seconds and it was back into the wind and the general snot to try and get out. It was messy but we were able to get close enough to the jetty to let the other ferry come through. Using the main to help along with the engine, we swung over and crossed the channel just moments after the ferry passed. Another few messy minutes and we were out.

It wasn’t fun with stacked beaming seas, but with sail up we were making progress and we knew we’d be able to sail shortly after rounding Old Field Point. Then we heard a mayday call come in over the radio. An inexperienced, solo motor boater had gone out into this weather, had nearly capsized in the waves (his words), panicked and called the Coast Guard. We watched both the local marine police and the Coast Guard come out to guide him back to port. As uncomfortable as it might be for us, it was far better than whatever he had to have been going through in a light boat with almost no keel or sails to stabilize him.

The winds and seas calmed as we made our way west, but unfortunately we had a repeat of the gnarly shifting winds. Every few minutes it was dropping the traveler, easing the main, easing the jib, then pulling in everything a few minutes later. And sometimes furling or unfurling jib. I had a knot between my shoulders, and my arms and hands ached. It was a shorter day with fewer miles and less wind and seas overall, but it was still brutal. I’m now convinced it was the price we paid for such great weather all summer in Maine.

Once we dropped anchor, the wind and the seas dropped. I almost didn’t know what to do at that point with a quiet night without issue, no sound of the bridle creaking in high winds, no rocking in changing tides, just a quiet night of solid sleep.

After lunch ashore the next day at our favorite Mediterranean restaurant, our friend Dave came over from City Island that afternoon and was kind enough to not only bring beer, but to also invite us over onto his boat for a home cooked meal. Our boat was getting down to bare-bones-end-of-season-provisions and we were thrilled to accept a great meal and great company.

We thought we had northerly winds at 10-15 knots gusting 20 that would make for a good beam reach down to Port Jefferson. With two reefs in the main and half a jib (a little more cautious than usual given our experience the day before), we set out. The winds were blowing much closer to the 20 knot end, but we were riding comfortably with reduced sail, making over 5 knots even with 2 knots of current against us. By 1 pm, the winds were dying so we shook out the reefs to gain speed. Uh, what a mistake. Not only did the winds pick up again, but then proceeded to shift from north to north west and back again, making it necessary for constant sail adjustments. I personally hate sailing close hauled (as far into the wind as you can), heeled over in messy water. Trip acknowledged that we would normally reef again, but that we needed the speed at that point to get the sail over with and get into harbor. I was uncomfortable (I absolutely hate this kind of sailing), but we weren’t in any danger. We managed to get into Port Jeff and drop anchor just as the sun was going down. It was the same routine as the night before (drink, dinner, bed) with the addition of some Advil for all the aches and pains of constant sail trim.

It was only 10 miles. A short run and one we would have to do by motor (west/southwest winds expected), but it would give us a better anchorage for the night with northerlies coming, shorten our next hop just a bit (critical with less daylight to sail by this time of year), and set us up nicely for the run to Port Jefferson. It would also bring the craziest weather of the season.

We knew we were going to get some rain from the forecast. I checked the radar regularly and thought we would only get rain, so I pulled out Trip’s foul weather gear. The skies started darkening, we could see rain out over Long Island, and lightning struck periodically. Then things got interesting.

I ducked down to double check that things were secure and port holes dogged down as the rain started. Then came the wind. Suddenly it was an onslaught of both. I had grabbed towels to mop up the torrent of rain pouring in through the open hatch. Trip cranked the rudder over as far as he could and held on. I watched in disbelief as the wind reading on our chartplotter climbed from the 20’s to the 80’s in a minute or less. Most of our electronics were already in the oven (acting as a faraday cage to protect from power surges during lightning storms), but I used my phone to snap a shot of the wind speed. The last reading I saw was 96.9 knots before the anemometer stopped reading and went into a free fall. I love the picture I got reading a wind speed of 444 knots, but even I don’t think we went through gusts like that. Winds in the nineties was more than enough thank you very much.

The whole storm probably only lasted 20-30 minutes, but it was the most intense weather event we’ve ever experienced onboard. Once it passed Trip went around and checked the boat to confirm that there was no damage. We were a little bit rattled by the experience, but otherwise fine ourselves. We made our way deep into Niantic Bay, dropped anchor, had a couple of stiff drinks with dinner, and then passed out for the evening.

We’ve anchored in West Harbor at Fishers Island several times going and coming from Block Island, but had never been ashore. We were determined to visit this time. We anchored outside the inner harbor, but had to wait till the winds shifted (a whole day of waiting), before it was comfortable enough to go ashore.

The island and its people are truly charming. The yacht club let us tie up right at the launch dock as it was so late in the season and they had very little traffic. We wandered into town (consisting of a post office, a hair salon, a shop, and ice cream store, a grocery store and a restaurant), and I was able to buy a couple of things for the boat at the local gift boutique for end-of-season prices. We had to hustle over to the grocery store (they close at 1 and don’t re-open till 3) as we needed lunch, supplies and ice. I was going to just leave the ice and groceries in the dinghy while we finished up walking through town, but Beth from the yacht club pulled out a cooler that we could use for cold storage till we were ready to leave.

The Fishers Island Museum was closed that day, but Beth had said to knock on the door as we passed by anyway. The director and an assistant happened to be there and were happy to let us poke around. The museum was extensive, covering the history (native and European), geology, flora and fauna of the island. I was particularly taken by a photograph of an osprey mid flight with a fish in her grasp. The director told us that there were 20+ nests on island (one with a web cam), and took us upstairs to see an entire gallery of work by the photographer I had been admiring.

Our friend Meghan timed it perfectly for a long weekend, arriving just after Hurricane Fred (we managed to avoid the deluge of rain that pummeled Southern New England) and just before Tropical Storm Henri. We picked her up at the Lyman Morse dock in Camden and headed right back out of town to sail a bit. We had a good hour or two under Genoa before all the wind died, so we motored up to Warren Island. It was so hot and sticky we decided to wait until the next day to hike the island (big mistake as dense fog rolled in that morning and you could barely see the island). Instead we watched the bonfire ashore and listened to the drum circle going on for the guests of the schooner Mercantile who was anchored right behind us. Cocktails and pizza rounded out the evening in the cockpit.

Unfortunately the next morning we were socked in by fog, making a hike unlikely if you can’t see anything. The Schooner provided lots of entertainment though with a muscle-bound crew member I named Thor (looked like Chris Hemsworth from the movie) chopping wood (making human sacrifices?) on the forward deck. And then it was time to head back to Camden.

After showers ashore to clean off the bug spray and sun screen, we did some grocery shopping and had an excellent burger for a late lunch at the Waterfront. In the meantime we got invited aboard Plover for sundowners with other cruisers who were in town for the OCC Rally. It was a mish mash of people on the boat and on the inner float, but it all worked. We were so stuffed from our late lunch and these appetizers that by the time we got back to our boat it was Baileys-laced hot chocolate with Oreos and popcorn for dinner (who’s complaining?).

Meghan left the next morning, looking to dodge Henri as it moved up the coast from its landfall in Rhode Island. We weren’t in the best harbor to manage winds from the east and swell from the south, but the storm fizzled and we didn’t see much action. The rally, much smaller in numbers due to COVID restrictions was a fun meetup nonetheless.

Later that night it was a wet ride back to the Camden Yacht Club. We met Klaus and Katrin ashore where we peeled off all our foul weather gear (bib overalls and all) and tried to make ourselves presentable for a nice dinner to celebrate Klaus’ birthday. We had a late seating, which meant we watched the restaurant empty out from our table on the wrap around porch. The meal (a lobster tasting menu) sampled Maine’s finest bites, and we sat and laughed, and ate and drank. Icing on the cake was that the downpour that was Henri came while we were under cover and we went back to the boat blissfully dry. It was a very special night.

Pickering had been recommended to us in the event that we couldn’t get into the Barred Islands. It also looked like a generally good anchorage with protection from the south and west to manage some potential weather blowing through. Petronella came along and we had the anchorage to ourselves.

Helena was nursing a bum knee, but John was game for a hike ashore. It took us a while to find the unmarked trail, but it was worth it. Moss blanketed either side of a narrow path winding its way through the trees. Best of all, there were almost no mosquitoes. The huge chunks of granite that we climbed through were so fetching to behold.

We had cocktails (can’t call them sundowners when you can’t see the sun for all the fog) aboard Petronella, and then headed back for a quiet dinner on Kalyra.

Years ago I had been to the Wooden Boat School by land when I was building my kayak. This time we returned by boat. The Eggemogin Reach, which we used to joke looked like an explosion in a Skittles factory (so many lobster pots) was now remarkably clear as we made our way down to the anchorage and the school.

Petronella was on a guest mooring at the school, and we stopped to say hi to John and Helena as we had not seen them all season. Then it was on to the school. You can sign up for classes to make all sorts of small wooden kayaks, rowing skiffs and anything else you’d see paddled or rowed in Maine waters. Most people who come for classes camp onsite (there are not many (any?) hotels in the area and it’s a pretty intense week. We settled for stocking up on swag (they have a pretty famous logo) at the gift shop.

The next morning the Schooner Mary Day motored in (no wind to sail by) and dropped anchor next to us. It was amusing to listen to the captain explain to the guests why they ‘needed’ frightfully expensive hand tools and should purchase them at the school. I own many of those tools and they were well worth it when building my kayak, but I’m not sure how many day trippers might use the same things, except maybe as paperweights.

I didn’t have a huge desire to visit the islands south of Stonington. They have a reputation as one of the most beautiful spots in Maine, but they’re hugely popular (ie. lots of boat traffic). They also have a reputation for lobstermen with bad attitudes. I’m used to the sound of engines and some roll at 4 am every morning as they begin their work days, however, there are stories of locals purposely running large wakes and harassing pleasure craft that didn’t make the place seem too inviting. But, too many people talked about it and one couple specifically gave us anchorages to try so we were on our way.

Hell’s Half Acre is the name of one of the three islands that create the Hell’s Half Acre anchorage. There were only three other boats in the anchorage and one left as we were arriving. The rock ledges can be intimidating as they appear at low tide, and it’s amazing to see the sand bars that appear that connect the islands. There were kayak campers on the island, and the island is not big, so we settled for a circumnavigation tour by dinghy rather than going ashore since our walk would have been completed in 20 minutes. Still, a fun and beautiful place to visit.

It was time to head west again. The weather looked favorable enough and we decided to head out. After several hours of motoring, we were able to set sail again and had a fabulous run down to Mackerel Cove on the north side of Swans Island.

There were a dozen boats anchored on either side of the cove, but snotty weather was setting in, so there wasn’t any company. We sat down below in the rain and the wind and caught up on reading and cleaning up the interior.

The fog was the heaviest we’ve seen it yet the next morning (could barely see in front of the bow), but we were patient and it finally started to lift. We got the bikes out and headed in to the dinghy dock.

Our first stop was the lobster museum, which was small but had a comprehensive collection of relics from the lobster industry, Swans Island history, as well as flora and fauna from the island. Then it was a hilly but really nice ride across island to the local market. We had a slice of pizza and some fish chowder for lunch, then it was back across the island and back to the boat.

With the Canadian border still closed, we decided not to pursue Nova Scotia this summer. The border is supposed to open to vaccinated Americans starting August 9, but no one really wants to be the first ones testing customs protocols and getting stuck somewhere with weather windows closing. That said, we still wanted to head down east. Roque Island was our goal, just 30 miles from the border.

The fog finally started lifting at Mistake in the afternoon and we decided to make a break for Roque. The harbor is an archipelago that could easily fit 500 boats at anchor, but there was only s/v Timothy Lee when we arrived. We picked a spot a polite distance away and dropped the hook and savored the island nearly all to ourselves.

Roque is one of the only places in Maine to offer fine sand beaches (rock is much more common). If it weren’t for the pine trees in the background I would have thought we were in the Caribbean. Ok maybe not the Caribbean, as the water was in the low 50’s, but it was stunning nonetheless.

The island is privately owned and visitors are not allowed further inland than the beach, but the beach is over a mile wide and makes for a great stretch of the legs.

Plover soon arrived and Golden Eye sailed in as well. Everyone dinghied back and forth between boats visiting throughout the day and into cocktail hour. What were the odds of being in this remote anchorage and already knowing all the boats?

Despite the appearance of the sun finally, we also had some weather blow through. Luckily we didn’t see more than a few bolts of lightning and got a little bit of rain. Better than the fog we’ve been working with lately.