Post #12: Prediction: “It’s only going to rain a little bit”

Saturday, September 26, 2020        

                                                                                                                                                                                                               We left the Cohansey River at 6:30 am to take advantage of favorable currents helping us go up the Delaware River and then through the Chesapeake & Delaware Canal (the C&D for short).  We were a trio of boats weaving through the crab pots at the entrance to the Cohansey.  But sure enough, like their Maine counterparts, the crabbers were already hard at work:

Visibility was shortened given the low ceilings and intermittent showers.  However, we couldn’t miss the Salem nuclear power plant belching steam 24/7.

It took us 3 hours to reach the C&D canal. Although first imagined in the 1600s by Czech (I knew you’d be impressed, Martha) cartographer Augustine Herman, the 14-mile-long C&D was still just an idea until Benjamin Franklin took up the cause in the 1780s. There were surveys, financiers and speculators and digging got underway—until the money ran out.  Finally, in 1822, Delaware, Maryland, and Pennsylvania raised the funds to complete the project.  Men with shovels and pickaxes dug for 7 years until the canal was 10 feet deep and 66 feet wide.   Two hundred years later, the C&D has a minimum depth of 27’ and 450’ width.  It now carries 40 % of the commercial shipping traffic between Philadelphia and Baltimore.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

It rained much of the way along the canal but at the end we saw our first glimpse of the famed Eastern Shore of Maryland, land of farms and manor houses:

It finally brightened about 3 p.m. and we took in the long view from the northern end of the Chesapeake Bay, our country’s largest estuary and a priceless natural resource we need to protect.

We turned into the Sassafras River about 15 miles south of the canal.  We were intrigued to read of a secluded anchorage where someone had counted 13 bald eagles in 2017! Unfortunately, the heavens opened up with a deluge just as we were setting the hook so we’ll look for those eagles in the morning.

My goodness, rain on the canvas enclosure sure is loud but we are glad to be outside and still able to keep dry.

Post #11: The Delaware Bay

Friday, September 25, 2020

Today was a day of timing current, tides, and navigating the Delaware Bay. We left Utsch’s Marina at 8:45 AM to catch the last of the ebb tide from Cape May Harbor. The ebb tide gives us extra current (hence speed) to more quickly leave the harbor. 

We also factored in the currents in the Delaware Bay, as they run about 2 knots. That might not sound like much, but when Onward is sailing at 5-7 knots, those extra 2 knots make a BIG difference. Today’s 40 miles could take 5 hours or 8 hours! So we timed the passage to have “fair” currents rather than “foul” currents.

The Delaware is way wider at the mouth than we ever realized - as we couldn’t see land on either side of us for quite some time after we entered it. We stayed slightly outside of the shipping channel, as there was a lot of LARGE traffic plying goods up to Philly.

This is the view of the chart plotter at the helm station.  Relevant info:

• The POS is Onward, sailing up the Bay
• The gray arrows are other ships, and the small line heading up the middle and to the left is the commercial shipping channel.
• The depths are shown in feet, and as you can see, many areas are rather shallow.
• At the top of the screen, you can see our course over ground (COG) as 326 (which is Northwest) and our speed over ground (SOG) of 6.3 knots. (This was before the currents kicked in at our favor about 10:15 AM.)

So the navigable part of a very large body of water is rather small really.

We thought long and hard about going another 30 miles, but we might have arrived after dark. For harbors we’ve never entered previously, we prefer to arrive during daylight. So we stopped at Cohansey at about 3:15 PM. Great dinner, glass of wine, early to bed:-)

(The 2 other boats at the anchorage - one from Boston - of course we talked about “home”.....)

Post #10: There’s a LOT of New Jersey coastline

 Tuesday, September 22 to Thursday, September 24

The weather gods have been with us and so we have been making tracks these past few days—Great Kills to Atlantic Highlands to Atlantic City to Cape May to halfway up the Delaware Bay to a secluded little anchorage at the mouth of the Cohansey River. We’ve logged about 170 miles (that’s about 28 hours) in the past 4 days.....and we are still in NJ!  Any of you who have driven the NJ turnpike know exactly how we feel.

We decided to move Onward from Staten Island to Atlantic Highlands on Tuesday.  It was only a 10-mile voyage but we knew it would save us 3 miles on Wednesday when we went all the way to Atlantic City in one day.  I know that doesn’t sound like much but it shaved a half hour off a very, very long day.  I’d been to the area once before with my Tri Delta sorority sisters about 10 years ago.  Lynda shares with her extended family an original Sears Roebuck built-from-a kit house right on Sandy Hook, the tip of NJ we would have to get past on Wednesday.

Tuesday was our 41st wedding anniversary so we drove the dinghy (our grandson, Dillon, has christened it Upwards) to a waterfront restaurant with outdoor seating to celebrate. David abstained but I had “Mermaid Water” to go with my grouper tacos.

And we could still see NYC in the distance.  It will be many months before we see it again.

Wednesday morning we woke at what my friend Kathy calls “O dark thirty” and began our longest day sailing—evah.

The Jersey coast is a long string of sandy barrier islands, beckoning those of us who love the beach. I envision enjoying long warm days kissed by the sun, with sand in my toes and a good beach read in my hands.  Not on this trip, however:

My friend Charlene asked if we would be on the ICW through NJ.  There is a waterway behind the barrier islands but our draft is too deep (5’4”) and our mast is too tall (63’) for some of the fixed bridges.  So we took the “outside” route.  It was mostly a smooth ride but as we neared Atlantic City, I was glad to have taken a half a Bonine to take the edge off the rollers still hanging around from Teddy.

Finally, about 6 p.m. we turned up the channel to Atlantic City, set an anchor, ate leftovers, and fell fast asleep.  Anchoring took some thought, however, as we were actually in a tidal area.  That means that within the next 6 hours when the tide turns, the boat will also swing 180 degrees.  Think back to those dreaded geometry classes in high school.  Where you drop the anchor is the center point of a circle whose radius is the amount of “rode,” i.e., the amount of chain and/or line you deploy between your anchor and the boat.  You have to be sure that the boat is safe (won’t go aground, won’t hit any other boats, etc.) within the entire circumference of the circle.  Fortunately with the wonders of GPS we can set an anchor alarm that not only shows us the depths within the circle but also will wake us up if the boat drifts out of the circle.  Makes for a much more restful night’s sleep.  

Although it was pretty quiet given Covid times, I don’t think Atlantic City ever sleeps:

On Thursday we enjoyed a more leisurely breakfast and then headed to Cape May.  As David said about Atlantic City, “We came. We slept. We left.” In the morning light, the architecture was certainly more interesting than the ubiquitous glass boxes being built in Boston, I must admit:

At only 37 nautical miles south, it seemed like a half-day jaunt to get to Cape May, compared to 82 nm the day before.  Our grand kids (5 & 7) have new desks for their virtual school lessons and I have a new desk, too.  I really like my view:

While underway David is mostly at the helm and I am navigating using paper charts, an app called AquaMap that tracks Onward in real time, a tide and current app called AyeTides and an aptly named app called Windy.  At the helm station we have a Raymarine C90W chart plotter that has a zillion functions on it.  Here’s one of my favorite screens because it actually helps you steer “down the road.” Reminds me of those arcade games where you sit in the driver’s seat, hands on the wheel and race down a track against your family and friends. I love those!  Back when zoom meant something else.

We knew we were near Cape May when we saw the roller coasters and Ferris wheel at Wildwood, NJ. 

But NJ’s shoreline isn’t all amusement parks, casinos, boardwalks, hotels and hi-rises.  The areas that have been protected from human development are still havens for flora and fauna, including horseshoe crabs, migrating songbirds, and of course, osprey. This is the entrance channel to Cape May:

Yesterday we spent the afternoon at Utsch’s Marina, hooked up to shore power and water on the dock.  Such bliss—we washed the boat, washed our clothes, washed ourselves, and enjoyed dinner outside at the Lobster House, a Cape May institution for 81 years.  You can watch the commercial fishing fleet at work while enjoying today’s catch. This was a real find and a bargain to boot.  David had a combo platter that included broiled shrimp, scallops, a fish fillet, and stuffed clam with baked potato and cole slaw.  For $15.95.  Honest!

Post #9: So, what are we waiting for??

Monday, September 21, 2020

I spent the morning watching seagulls, cormorants and osprey fishing in the small quiet bay on Staten Island where we are holed up for the next two days, waiting for the winds and waves of hurricane Teddy to pass by, far out to sea.  Although it is calm where we are, it’s a different world Out There so we are staying put.

We arrived here about a 2-hour sail past Lady Liberty. We find these places using charts, cruising guides and an app called AquaMaps that integrates Active Captain which in turn displays boaters’ reviews of harbors and anchorages.  Here in Great Kills, we’re surrounded by land in almost all directions. There’s a beach nearby, a few restaurants, yacht clubs (no guests due to Covid restrictions), a fuel dock, and there’s good holding for setting an anchor. (I wonder if the phrase “all set” (as in, ‘I’m finished’) derives from that marine term?)  

From the anchorage, it would be a bit of a hike to town but our friend, Win, drove over from Manhattan and we had brunch outside with him at Mike’s Place—we had to have bagels and a bit of cheesecake before leaving NY, right?

So, back to the wildlife.  The ospreys won.  They are mighty raptors with wingspans that can reach more than 70” inches. They can often be found perched atop the masts of sailboats, and are known to catch fish on at least 1 in every 4 dives.  According to Cornell’s Ornithology Lab, “The average time they spent hunting before making a catch was about 12 minutes—something to think about next time you cast your line in the water.” 

The problem with having them perch atop your mast is that they also like to bring their catch back to the boat and enjoy their meal.  We splashed our (new-to-us) sailboat for the first time in May 2017. Still in the honeymoon phase, two days later we took the launch out to gush over our purchase.  OMG, it looked like a gangland slaying had occurred! The ospreys in Red Brook Harbor in Bourne, MA, had not only brought their catch back to our boat, they had opened a restaurant and invited the whole neighborhood.  Blood and guts everywhere.  I’ll spare you the photo, but needless to say we quickly set up deterrents to keep them off our mast, spreaders and radar pole!

Post #8: New York, New York!!

 Saturday, September 19, 2020

We waved goodbye to Port Washington and headed towards the Throgs Neck Bridge, the first of 8 bridges we’d go under on our way past Manhattan.  Even though I remember sitting in a car for what seemed like hours on that bridge many years ago, it was pretty quiet on this Saturday afternoon. When you approach a bridge in a sailboat, it’s easy to be convinced that your mast is going to hit it, given the angle of your view:

But of course, we didn’t even come close.  Onward’s air draft is 61’6” plus a solid TV antenna that’s 10” next to a flexible VHF antenna of 30”.  So we need at least 62’6” for bridge clearance.  Small potatoes for NYC waters where the bridges along the East River range from 127’ (Brooklyn Bridge) to 152’ (Throgs Neck). 

Next came the Whitestone Bridge, (an eerily quiet) LaGuardia Airport, and the infamous Riker’s Island prison.  And then... the much-discussed Hell Gate, where the Harlem River joins the East River, the currents flow in different directions and the tides and winds often compete against each other.  Add in power boats, ferries, jet skis and tugboats, and you get the picture. You just kinda take a breath, hope that all your calculations have been correct, and “shoot the chute”! Off we went at 10.5 knots, about 75% faster than we normally travel.  (Think going down the highway at 60 miles an hour and suddenly—without moving your foot on the gas pedal—you’re doing 105 mph!)

Adding to the excitement was the opportunity to see (at least with binoculars) our nephew Jeremy who lives in Astoria.  He came down to the banks of the river under the RFK bridge (the largest one on the chart above) and took a photo of Onward.  What a wonderful welcome to the Big Apple!

We motored between Roosevelt Island and FDR Drive—which is incredibly noisy whether you’re driving on it or sailing by!

It got a little rougher and more boat traffic once we passed the end of Roosevelt Island:

What a thrill to see the United Nations, the Chrysler Building, and the Empire State Building from the water.  I remember seeing the UN complex for the first time back in junior high school and being inspired and reassured that there were adults working together to try to make our world a better, safer, more peaceful place.  It sounds simplistic, I know, but we have to keep trying. We have to.

As we rounded the bend at the lower end of Manhattan, a familiar silhouette made me catch my breath.  There she was, despite everything that has happened both recently and over the past 134 years, “The Statue of Liberty Enlightening the World.” (It reminded me of exiting the train station in Venice and seeing the Grand Canal for the first time.  I gasped and my daughter asked, “What’s wrong, Mom?”  “Nothing’s wrong—it’s just that it’s Right There!”)

I turned around to admire the architectural magnificence of the Brooklyn Bridge.  I recommend historian David McCullough’s book The Great Bridge for an in-depth history of this engineering marvel.

Looking back at the city one more time:

One cannot but be inspired by this strong lady.  Though her flag was flying at half mast yesterday in honor of Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, she still represents hope for the future of our country and our world.  Truth, justice and liberty will prevail.

Post #7: Feeling Welcome

Friday and Saturday, September 18 &19, 2020

Today is the day we head down the East River along the shore of Manhattan!

Yesterday we sailed from Northport to Port Washington in Manhasset Bay.  I remember meeting folks those first few weeks at Cornell and during introductions, asking them where they were from.  “Westchester,” “Little Neck,” “Huntington,” “Great Neck,” “Nassau,” “Manhasset.”  I had no idea where any of those towns (or counties) were so I’d just dumbly nod and smile.  Now, 40+ years later, I finally do! (Full disclosure: I came by my parochialism quite naturally.  At my high school graduation party in 1973, someone asked my father where I was going to college.  “Out west, “ he replied.)  Here are some of the houses lining Manhasset Bay.  I wonder if any of those kids I met freshman year lived in one of these little “cottages”?  (I actually thought one of them was a hotel at first glance!)

Port Washington should be held up as the gold standard for welcoming transient boaters.  What a friendly town!  They provide 20 free moorings (for one night) and there is a launch service that for $4 will take you (stop #1) to the town dock, a short walk to over 50 restaurants and cafes or (stop #2) the local shopping area with a Stop & Shop, Homegoods, CVS and, most importantly, a West Marine chandlery!  When your car is a 10’ dinghy, having a launch service take you near stores for supplies is very much appreciated.

The town (and everywhere we have been in NY) takes Covid-19 protocols very seriously, not surprisingly given their horrific experience this spring.  Everyone, and I mean everyone, was wearing masks so there were kids at soccer practice, the library was open, posters advertised outdoor concerts and the local government has partnered with the Chamber of Commerce to actively promote support for the local restaurants.  In other words, the folks in Port Washington are living their lives because they’re being cautious.

We spent Friday night pouring over charts, tide and current tables, wind prediction apps, and National Hurricane Center reports in order to plan today’s voyage down the East River along Manhattan.  We also asked the launch driver who carefully said, “Well, the prevailing wisdom is to leave from here one hour before high tide at King’s Point (one of the arms of Manhasset Bay)”.  All our calculations and simulations led us to the same conclusion. Proving once again that there is nothing like local knowledge.

We left at 12 noon to begin the adventure.  It’s now 9:30 p.m. and I’m exhausted.  I promise I’ll describe the journey tomorrow....It was AMAZING!

Post #6: Never Underestimate the Ability to Get Into Tight Spaces

 Wednesday and Thursday. September 16 & 17, 2020

And off we (don’t) go. You’ve probably heard the old saw that sailing is really boat repair in exotic places.  I guess I just don’t think of Branford, CT, when I dream of exotic places.  Wah, wah, wah.

After the mechanics left yesterday, David and I tried to track down a water leak that we had noticed when we were sailing from Newport to New London with waves hitting the boat at the stern. We have two scupper drains in the cockpit that enable rain water to empty back into the ocean through about 2 inch holes in the stern (back) of the boat. These thru-hull holes are about 4 inches above the waterline.

We found the leaks where the drain pipes meet the thru-hulls and thought all we needed to do was tighten the clampS that hold the offending hoses onto the boat.  So we thought we’d be on our merry way today.

And then we had second thoughts—why not ask Bill the Awesome Mechanic to check it out for us, just to be safe.  Sure enough, “Houston, we have a problem.”

Thank goodness the deteriorated hoses were discovered and can be fixed tomorrow.  As David said, there’s real value in investigating, investigating, and then investigating again.

This afternoon we walked 1.5 miles to a supermarket, vowing to only purchase what was on the list.  You can imagine how successful we were at that.  Hah!  The trip back seemed like 5 miles.  What were we thinking?  Remind me why I thought we didn’t need to buy a cart for shlepping stuff to the boat? Sometimes we are so short-sighted.  Now we’re both tired, cranky, hungry, achy, and feeling old. Time to go to bed.

Thursday, September 17

Bill and Chris arrived with new hoses and got straight to work at 8 a.m.  Fixing or replacing things on our boat can require a contortionist but they were up to the challenge.  Seriously, everyone we dealt with at Bruce & Johnson Marina was professional, courteous, and talented.  We cannot recommend them highly enough.

We were ready to take off by noon today. Long Island Sound beckoned us like the wide open ocean but most of the day we could see both NY and CT shores, especially as we got further west.  Much to our surprise, we saw only a handful of other boats:

Before we rounded up into Huntington Harbor on Long Island, I pondered, who would ever guess, viewing this aqueous expanse, that the Throgs Neck Bridge is only 25 miles ahead.  The world is soon about the change.

Post #5: The Boat Whisperer

Tuesday,  September 15, 2020

Well, here we are still at Bruce & Johnson’s Marina in Branford, CT, waiting for parts (a new starter, relay, and ignition switch) which are supposed to arrive on Wednesday.  Fingers crossed.

The tow from Joshua Cove was really rolly but once we entered the protection of Branford Harbor, it was calm...and calming.  Capt. Blount was masterful at maneuvering all 41 feet of us in spaces that I honestly believe couldn't have been more than 46 feet wide.  And the folks at the yard were friendly and most helpful, promising to send someone out to check out our situation first thing Monday morning.

But before that, on Sunday afternoon, who should arrive dockside but my costuming friend from Concord Players, Tracy (I’d been texting with her early on Saturday as she has local knowledge of this area) and her sister Robin, husband Bill and their two children. What could have been a depressing day turned into a delightful afternoon!  Bill took a look at our starter problem, summoned his friend Chet, a.k.a. The Boat Whisperer, and soon we had Chet, his wife and their 4 week-old (!) son joining our party.  Bill and family took us on a boat ride up the Branford River and told us of 5 great take-out restaurants we could try while we wait out the repairs.  We are ever thankful for their hospitality, problem-solving expertise and infectious enthusiasm.  Bill even offered to lend me his inflatable SUP for the trip—awesome!

The marina made good on its promise and sent mechanic Bill to diagnose the problem on Monday morning.  He concurred with Chet and Bill and David and went to order the needed parts. Taking full advantage of access to water and electricity at the dock, David and I shifted into To Do List mode and spent the next 8 hours completing chores.  I hate to burst your bubble, but cruising is not all rum drinks with paper umbrellas and Jimmy Buffet tunes.  Just like home, we have to vacuum, do laundry, clean our rooms...and change the oil in the outboard engine.  Bill and the kids arrived after dinner with the promised SUP.  I can’t wait to try it!

Later on Tuesday

We are amazed! The parts arrived this afternoon and are now installed.

Onward we go tomorrow morning!

Post #4: Oops! I Did It Again!

 Saturday, September 12, 2020

And what a different day it was!  Again the east winds pushed us further up Long Island Sound and we began to plan out the next few days since the weather and winds looked promising.  By 3:30 we were past the mouth of the Connecticut River and decided to turn into Joshua Cove for the night.  We furled the headsail and turned on the engine.  Five minutes later we could smell the unmistakable acrid odor of rubber burning and knew that our starter had fried—again.  This had also occurred in the summer of 2019 just off the entrance to Plymouth Harbor in Massachusetts. We had to be towed into Plymouth where we sat on a mooring for 4 days awaiting parts and a mechanic. This time we knew to keep the engine going and were able to set anchor in the cove before shutting everything down and calling TowBoat U.S.  We called Bruce & Johnson’s Marina in Branford to make sure they had space for us but, again, no answer. We’ll try again at 7 a.m. tomorrow when they open.

As we told our kids, though, we are fine, safe, and in good hands.  And, like Blanche DuBois once told us,  tomorrow we’ll humbly depend “on the kindness of strangers.”

The sunset was spectacular over the Sound:

Post #3: Uncharted Waters

 September 11, 2020

We departed Newport at 9:15 a.m. bound for Stonington, CT. We sailed past Beavertail Light at the tip of Jamestown Island near the entrance to Narragansett Bay. I learned a few years ago that German U-Boats  patrolled around this area during WWII.  In fact, U-853 was sunk in the Battle of Point Judith on May 6, 1945 after it “took down” the SS Black Point, the last US merchant ship sunk in the Atlantic during the war.  How come we never learned about this in high school history??

Point Judith is a small fishing town at the tip of RI, known to many as the home of the ferry to Block Island.  But to mariners it is also known as a Harbor of Refuge.  Since 1905, the US Army Corps of Engineers has deposited almost 2 million tons of stone to build a series of breakwaters to protect commercial (and now pleasure) vessels from heavy seas in the area.

Pushed by favorable winds from the east, we made better time than expected so kept going past Stonington all the way to New London, some 9 miles further, and the farthest west we have ever sailed.  We are literally in uncharted waters now—well, at least for us.

We’d read about an “enticing small anchorage” with moorings available through the Shennecossett Yacht Club.  We hailed them on the VHF only to be told curtly, “We have no moorings for transients due to Covid-19 restrictions.” David replied, “But it’s ok for us to anchor, right?” “Not in the harbor, no.”  In other words, no room at this inn, folks.

We headed further to the Thames River.  I called 2 marinas around 4 p.m., looking for a mooring.  Their phones went directly to voice mail so I left our request but never heard back from either one.  So we anchored near the moorings with a view across the river that wasn’t exactly “enticing.”  Is this what traveling during the pandemic is going to be like??

Fortunately the rolling from the ferries and the loud pounding noises from the factories on the river ceased around 11 p.m. and we finally fell asleep. 

As Scarlett O’Hara once said, “...tomorrow is another day.”  Sometimes, when things don’t seem to be going the way you’d like, you just have to turn around and the world might look different:

Post #2 Newport

Wednesday and Thursday,  September 9 & 10

We headed off early on Wednesday, bound for Newport, RI, our second state in as many days. Home to the Vanderbilts, Astors and other assorted celebrities, we love it there because it’s home to Cornell friends Jeff and Mary and grad school friend Win and his extended family. Plus the beautiful beaches, fabulous restaurants, sailing buddies Bill and Sabra, museums and shops, and so many boats, boats and BOATS!  Newport is truly where the big ones hang out to play:

It was pretty rainy and cool weather so no trips to the beach this time but we enjoyed two delicious dinners with Jeff and Mary. And, of course, a hand or two of cards.  There was even talk of them joining us in Key West in February! !  After we returned to Onward, Jeff texted us that David had left his rain pants at their house.  A critical item of sailing gear, we were overjoyed to hear a knock on the hull at 7:45 a.m. the next morning.  It was Mary and Jeff making a special delivery—that’s what I call true friends!

Post #1 Shippin’ Out From Boston

September 7, 2020

We'll soon leave Boston to “chase the sun” on our sailboat, Onward, for the next 9 months.  We’ve been dreaming of this trip for over a decade but now can finally “throw off the bowline” and begin The Great Adventure.

The last few months have been filled with lists, more lists, and lists of lists.  It seemed the more items we checked off, the more got added!  We needed to:

• Get the boat ready - last minute repairs and upgrades, cleaning, and loading in all our clothes, gear and provisions.  (Now, how am I going to fit 7 more spices in this rack???)

• Get the house ready - putting the gardens to bed for the winter, cleaning, eating everything in the refrigerator and freezer (who knows how old those crab cakes were but, boy, they were delicious!) giving keys to neighbors and relatives, etc.  Saying goodbyes to friends and family was strange—who knows when we will next see them?  Will we be able to gather for Thanksgiving and Christmas this year?  We hope and pray that everyone stays healthy and that the pandemic has retreated by then.

We enjoyed our final night’s dinner on the roof deck of our Boston home.  What will city life be like when we return?

Tuesday, September 8, 2020

Our good friend Liz McGuire gave us a ride to Onward in Mattapoisett, MA. Liz and Bill have been our sailing partners for over 20 years around New England and the Caribbean. But Covid-19 has made it challenging to think of traveling together on this trip—it’s pretty difficult to stay 6 feet apart on a 41’ sailboat! We will miss them enormously.

After cramming another load of stuff from the launch into our “floating RV,” we cast off at 11:34 a.m. on Tuesday, September 8, 2020, headed first to Cuttyhunk Island.

CUTTYHUNK

We’ve visited this special island many times over the past 20 years and recommend it to all who want to experience life in the s-l-o-w lane, well, at least for a day.  Many (maybe most?) residents of Massachusetts have never even heard of the place and fewer still have visited. (Yes, you can get there from here—via the Cuttyhunk Ferry from New Bedford.) Located at the end of the Elizabeth Island chain (which starts at Woods Hole), the year-round population is only about 25 and swells to 300+ in the summer.  Most residents walk everywhere or ride in golf carts although we have seen a pick-up truck or two, although who knows how they got them onto the island.  Highlights include a walk to the top of the hill to view all of the island and on clear days you can see the ochre-colored Aquinnah cliffs on Martha’s Vineyard.  Need directions?  Just follow the Road to the Top of the Hill. That’s what the sign says, folks.

There are a couple of beaches, the Island Market (only holds 6 customers at a time), and the Cuttyhunk Fish Club for breakfast (the “Betty’s Back Baking” handwritten sign posted on the town bulletin board was what first tempted us).  But the real draw for David is the Cuttyhunk Shellfish Raw Bar featuring local oysters on the half shell and homemade clam chowder, delivered right to your boat every evening. Yum!

After wine and cheese and sailing inspiration at the home of Blue Water Sailing friends Win and Martha, we enjoyed our first sunset of The Great Adventure: