Monday, June 25, 2012
Arriving in Block Island
We made good time, making up for any veering off-course to arrive at the entrance to Great Salt Pond with an hour or so of daylight to spare. The anchorage was blissfully unpacked. Despite loads of room to anchor, we found ourselves following Mike’s lead and took a mooring ball. We’d talked to him about an hour or so before we were coming in the entrance and he told us the mooring ball behind Bent was still empty. By the time we got there, it wasn’t and we picked up mooring ball number 37 and tidied up to meet our friends at The Oar.
Text messages
When we turned our phones on again, we were able to catch up with some of our friends via text messages.
· Sun Jun 24 12:55 p.m. Moon to Bent: How you guys making out? Are you there yet?! We are just north of ac. Al had an alternator issue but is fixed & they are ~25 miles behind us. What about you?
· Sun Jun 24 12:55 p.m. Moon to Bent: How you guys making out? Are you there yet?! We are just north of ac. Al had an alternator issue but is fixed & they are ~25 miles behind us. What about you?
· Mon Jun 25 12:33 am (delivered Mon Jun 25, 2:15 pm), Bent to Moon: 25 miles from entrance buoy at block. Lined it up from 70 miles out and Laying it. Expect some turbulence in the straight. Keepin an eye on the weather.
And then there were two…
One of the hardest things about putting together any race, rally, raft-up is getting everyone’s schedules to mesh and then hoping nothing goes wrong. Unfortunately even the best-laid plans go awry and all the boats we thought were coming on the rally dropped off one by one before we left the dock on Saturday morning. Finally, by Monday afternoon, Al & Patty texted to say that they were not going to continue on the way to Block Island. After alternator issues, and seeing the storms, they opted to stay put in Atlantic City for the rest of their vacation.
· 2:20 pm, Moon to Full Circle: We ran into some rain last night & storms this am but all’s well. We r 25 miles from marker & expect to be in Block by evening. Hope all’s well there.
· 2:20 pm, Moon to Full Circle: We ran into some rain last night & storms this am but all’s well. We r 25 miles from marker & expect to be in Block by evening. Hope all’s well there.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
THE STORM
Peter took over his watch sometime around four am and unlike the previous night there were no emergencies—no boat flooding with water, no bilge and auto-pilot switches accidentally bumped off. No incidents to report whatsoever.
A few hours later when I woke up, it was light out and it was still raining. I looked out at Peter. He was having fun. He had on his yellow rain jacket, his old one from West-Marine with the rip in the shoulder showing the navy blue lining, yellow hood pulled up to his steel-rimmed square glasses, cinched under his beard. He was wet, but smiling. I stood on the companionway steps to look out and saw how windy it was. The wind was blowing the tops of the waves off! It looked like the waves were raining on themselves. I struggled to remember the Beaufort scale and where lopped-off waves fell on that scale. I kept pointing to everything like the flag flap-flapping and snapping in the breeze. At sea, a storm of any degree always instills awe and I was amazed and a little scared of the power of the wind and waves.
With the flag blowing to the port side of the boat, I knew the wind was coming from the east as we close-reached on a starboard tack to Block Island. We were feeling pressed for time—we wanted to be in Block well before sunset to be able to see to navigate the opening and also to anchor. Peter always says it’s no good going into a place at night—it’s part practical know-how, part superstition on his part, but I’ve learned to trust his instincts. With friends awaiting us, we knew if we didn’t get in there by nightfall, we might not get in until the next morning and we’d be missing out on fun. Although we didn’t have cell phone service out there, we guessed Mike and Andy were probably already in Block Island and Liz was due to arrive by train that evening. We were still five or six hours away if everything went to schedule.
With our time schedule dictating the course north east, and the wind coming from the east, and the swell pressing in to shore from the southeast, the angle of the waves was making the ride uncomfortable.
Peter recounts his watch saying that as we closed in on Long Island the breeze was building. The closer to land we got, the rougher it was because it shoals up and the seas stack up, making for steeper waves. The wind getting bigger and bigger and bigger. It was not a dramatic sky at that point—the clouds were even showing signs of breaking up over toward the East and we were hopeful that it would clear up before long.
Gradually, the sky got greyer and greyer. It didn’t feel like a big system (to Peter!), but the breeze was building. As we closed in, 60 miles down Long Island, 15 or 20 miles off shore, Peter, ever the quiet, stoic captain, did not share what he later said he was thinking: “Fuck, this is big.”
The wind was blowing hard from the east. Peter shouted over the wind, “Which way you think that’s blowing?” pointing to the mass of black clouds. I shouted back with a laugh, “I don’t know! I was just thinking the same thing. The wind is blowing…that way,” I motioned to the flapping flag, “…it should be blowing it away from us right?” But within minutes, we had the answer—it was coming fast towards us and we knew we were in for a bit of an uncomfortable ride. We later admitted that we were both thinking, “Oh shit that’s coming right at us.”
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Status updates via texts
Keeping tabs either by cell phone texts or on the VHF radio when distance allows...
The Moon:
· 4:43 pm I text to everyone, “Hey all. We got a late start. Shaking things out here. Prob about 3 to 4 hrs behind al & patty. What time did mike & andy leave? We’ll monitor 16, 13 & 69.” On the importance of ice and other essentials
As we left Philadelphia, we decided that despite our stores of dry ice and block ice and all our frozen items, we didn’t have a single cube of ice for a soda or a gin & tonic.
Over the past few weeks, as we discussed preparations and new improvements to the boat, finally realizing we wouldn’t get them all done, we needed a solution to our sans-refrigeration Tartan. As a classic sailboat from the 70s, refrigeration was not an option and previous owners did not make the upgrade. The Tartan does have a nifty cockpit ice box compartment in which we keep a few cases of soda cans and usually load up with six or more bags of cube ice, but exposed to sun and air, it isn’t very cool. We battled the quick-melting ice cube method all last summer and decided we needed a smarter approach this year.
After doing some research, we decided that we would try the DRY ICE approach. Our friend Mike offered to pick up a block or two for us on his way over from New Jersey along with block ice which is hard to find here in Philadelphia. Mike picked up our coolers on Thursday and returned them on Friday afternoon, full of dry ice and block ice. In fact there was little room for any food in the coolers! We turned one cooler into a freezer—the critical point about dry ice is that it evaporates with exposure to air so the less often you open the cooler, the longer the dry ice will last—and in that cooler we sandwiched in all the vacuum packed frozen meat packets (chicken, steaks, fresh chorizo, pork chops) next to a big chunk of dry ice and a block of regular ice. The other thing I’d read about dry ice is that it will freeze everything in the cooler. So in the smaller cooler, we had just one block of dry ice but no room for anything else at that point. The nifty cockpit ice box compartment is not a good place for dry ice and unfortunately we had not planned a stop for bags of cubed ice. With the departure already delayed by storms and oversleeping, we just ignored it.
After getting underway and realizing the warm sodas, the lack of ice cubes and the next stop 50 hours away would make for some disagreeable crew, Peter conceded to plan to stop in Delaware City.
After getting everything stowed away in its proper place…
Once I started moving tools, life vests, sail bags and the swim ladder, I discovered a small problem. Without panicking, I called to Peter in the cockpit to say that something seemed amiss, not wanting to admit that I’d found hoses spraying from all sides somewhat resembling a fountain in both looks and sounds—wshhhhhhh!
After checking out the source of the leak, Peter said we had so many stores on-board that the stem through-hulls were below the water line for the first time, forcing the seldom-used hoses into service. The hose proved to be old and spongy—Peter could put a finger through them. We moved the cases of water and gin to the bow of the boat and were able to get the through-hulls above the waterline, but a fix would be needed before too long. Good thing we had a stop planned!
As we motored into the infamous Delaware City Marina (we’d all spent too much time there a few years ago salvaging a friend’s sunken boat and had sworn off a return at any price…except ICE oh and a hose leak that matched Love Park’s fountain!), we thought we saw a familiar mast, then it was the hull, could it be….yes, we saw the blonde head pop up out of the companionway and we knew it was Terry and Ron on Golden Echo! Terry and Ron had been our dock neighbors for years until they retired and moved on. It was great to run into them unexpectedly—they were there doing some work on their boat, getting ready for their next trip.
Delaware City was hot, buggy and the electricity was out, but the staff of the marina treated us like old friends. Somehow our arrival there marked the beginning of vacation and we felt the cruiser vibe take over, foretelling the pace of our whole vacation. We pulled up to the dock, hopped off, hugged Terry and Ron and then all went hose shopping in the marina store. After jokes from the harbormaster about charging Philadelphia prices since the computerized price checking system was not working in the electrical outage, Terry and Ron offered to put the equipment on their bill (the credit card machine was out of order too!) so we could be on our way.
We bought five bags of ice and invited Terry and Ron back to the cockpit for gin & tonics. The salon was in total disarray now that we couldn’t store anything in the quarter berth, but there’s one thing about sailboat friends: they never see the mess and instead focus on the gimbaled mechanism on the stove and tell stories about mishaps and hard won solutions. Over cocktails, we caught up on tales from our honeymoon sailing in the Grenadines and their winter cruise through the Chesapeake (these are not the usual in-search-of-tropics sailors, instead they both prefer cooler temps and dream of cruising as far north as they can go). As the drinks ran low and the gossip slowed down, we knew we had to get going. We were off again, motor-sailing to get out the mouth of the bay and head up to Block Island.
Over the past few weeks, as we discussed preparations and new improvements to the boat, finally realizing we wouldn’t get them all done, we needed a solution to our sans-refrigeration Tartan. As a classic sailboat from the 70s, refrigeration was not an option and previous owners did not make the upgrade. The Tartan does have a nifty cockpit ice box compartment in which we keep a few cases of soda cans and usually load up with six or more bags of cube ice, but exposed to sun and air, it isn’t very cool. We battled the quick-melting ice cube method all last summer and decided we needed a smarter approach this year.
After doing some research, we decided that we would try the DRY ICE approach. Our friend Mike offered to pick up a block or two for us on his way over from New Jersey along with block ice which is hard to find here in Philadelphia. Mike picked up our coolers on Thursday and returned them on Friday afternoon, full of dry ice and block ice. In fact there was little room for any food in the coolers! We turned one cooler into a freezer—the critical point about dry ice is that it evaporates with exposure to air so the less often you open the cooler, the longer the dry ice will last—and in that cooler we sandwiched in all the vacuum packed frozen meat packets (chicken, steaks, fresh chorizo, pork chops) next to a big chunk of dry ice and a block of regular ice. The other thing I’d read about dry ice is that it will freeze everything in the cooler. So in the smaller cooler, we had just one block of dry ice but no room for anything else at that point. The nifty cockpit ice box compartment is not a good place for dry ice and unfortunately we had not planned a stop for bags of cubed ice. With the departure already delayed by storms and oversleeping, we just ignored it.
After getting underway and realizing the warm sodas, the lack of ice cubes and the next stop 50 hours away would make for some disagreeable crew, Peter conceded to plan to stop in Delaware City.
After getting everything stowed away in its proper place…
I tackled the formidable quarter berth in order to organize our little home away from home… 
Once I started moving tools, life vests, sail bags and the swim ladder, I discovered a small problem. Without panicking, I called to Peter in the cockpit to say that something seemed amiss, not wanting to admit that I’d found hoses spraying from all sides somewhat resembling a fountain in both looks and sounds—wshhhhhhh!
After checking out the source of the leak, Peter said we had so many stores on-board that the stem through-hulls were below the water line for the first time, forcing the seldom-used hoses into service. The hose proved to be old and spongy—Peter could put a finger through them. We moved the cases of water and gin to the bow of the boat and were able to get the through-hulls above the waterline, but a fix would be needed before too long. Good thing we had a stop planned!
As we motored into the infamous Delaware City Marina (we’d all spent too much time there a few years ago salvaging a friend’s sunken boat and had sworn off a return at any price…except ICE oh and a hose leak that matched Love Park’s fountain!), we thought we saw a familiar mast, then it was the hull, could it be….yes, we saw the blonde head pop up out of the companionway and we knew it was Terry and Ron on Golden Echo! Terry and Ron had been our dock neighbors for years until they retired and moved on. It was great to run into them unexpectedly—they were there doing some work on their boat, getting ready for their next trip.
Delaware City was hot, buggy and the electricity was out, but the staff of the marina treated us like old friends. Somehow our arrival there marked the beginning of vacation and we felt the cruiser vibe take over, foretelling the pace of our whole vacation. We pulled up to the dock, hopped off, hugged Terry and Ron and then all went hose shopping in the marina store. After jokes from the harbormaster about charging Philadelphia prices since the computerized price checking system was not working in the electrical outage, Terry and Ron offered to put the equipment on their bill (the credit card machine was out of order too!) so we could be on our way.
We bought five bags of ice and invited Terry and Ron back to the cockpit for gin & tonics. The salon was in total disarray now that we couldn’t store anything in the quarter berth, but there’s one thing about sailboat friends: they never see the mess and instead focus on the gimbaled mechanism on the stove and tell stories about mishaps and hard won solutions. Over cocktails, we caught up on tales from our honeymoon sailing in the Grenadines and their winter cruise through the Chesapeake (these are not the usual in-search-of-tropics sailors, instead they both prefer cooler temps and dream of cruising as far north as they can go). As the drinks ran low and the gossip slowed down, we knew we had to get going. We were off again, motor-sailing to get out the mouth of the bay and head up to Block Island.
Meal #1:
Spanish-inspired tapas with a bit of Italian bubbly
This is one of the meals that has the longest shelf-life but is always one of our first meals because it’s so irresistible.
Our usual boat tapas line up: Jamon de Serrano, marconi almonds, cheeses, artichoke hearts, a can of olives preferably stuffed with anchoas (which Peter likes but you can’t tell him they’re anchovies in English because he doesn’t eat anchovies!), and any other little extras you feel like adding. If I have stale bread, I make pan con tomate out of it by rubbing garlic on the bread and then smooshing tomatoes and drizzling olive oil. If not, a nice cheese cracker will do.
Here, the Italian flare is accentuated by pecorino romano cheese (a very nice hard cheese that would last a long time if we didn’t use it for salads and dinners and…) as well as some arugula. If you’re feeling more Italian, prosciutto and regular olives would make fine understudies.
Wait…we forgot the cherries! They went nicely with the manchego.
Bring out the Bubbly
All this is accompanied by cava if we’re being strictly Spanish or in today’s case, a leftover bottle of prosecco I didn’t want to leave sitting in the fridge at home.
Any bubbly helps make it feel like a celebration and we always save a little for The Moon, a nod to the seafaring tradition of sharing libations with the boat and the sea.
When we opened up this very bubbly bottle (the cork read “Life is a Bubble”) it spilled out so Moon got her sip first!
Cruising up the New Jersey Coast
Peter’s watch saw us past Cape May in the early morning hours and all morning we cruised north-east toward Block Island, past all the seaside towns marked by amusements, water towers and the high rises of Atlantic City.
Friday, June 22, 2012
Off-shore Preparations
After a busy spring, and sailboat chores supplanted by Day Sailer chores (yes, we’ve increased our fleet to three boats, not including dinghies!), we had a lot of work to do before going off shore, before spending any quality time on the sailboat.
When school got out, I spent the first several days catching up on house chores while Peter got started on some of his projects. Peter’s list: rebuild v-berth, uninstall old holding tank, install new one, install AIS system, install refrigeration, the list keeps growing. My list: clean the sailboat inside and out, provision and get all the little “necessities” that make a trip feel like vacation.
I write this as we motor-sail to Block Island with Peter still finishing his list!
We decided not to rush the refrigeration as it’s an involved job so that was off the list early in the week. That meant provisioning would have to be either items that do not require refrigeration or another solution.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Summer Solstice Rally to Block Island
The Plan
Meet in Block Island for drinks at The Oar.
The Rally Defined
A rally by definition is not a race, but rather “a get-together of hobbyists or other like-minded enthusiasts, primarily to meet and socialize (dictionary.com). In sailing circles it often indicates a group of sailors who plan to go to the same place at roughly the same time. The energy of the group keeps everyone on target. There’s a truism that I’ve seen and experienced first hand: you’re never ready, you just have to go. I’ve seen people work on their boats and work on their boats and never leave the slip. I’ve argued heatedly with Peter about leaving our slip with the boat in total disarray. But it’s true, you just have to leave and you can do some of the work on the way and some of it just doesn’t matter. It’s important to just GO!
 |
| Click here to listen to this great SUMMER song! |
“Don’t you think it’s high time that you sailed away? Leave today, don’t fall behind!” (lyrics from “Summertime” heard Thursday on WXPN).
Our Rally Lineup
Peter and I in The Moon; Mike and Andy on Mike’s boat, Bent; Al and Patty on their boat, Full Circle; Liz by train and ferry; and Pat and Jim, a few sailing friends of Mike’s possibly joining in their boats
Go Time
We all planned to leave sometime Friday evening at first, but then violent storms delayed the start for all. Peter and I, exhausted from the surge of work done in preparation for the trip, decided to get a few hours sleep. We planned to wake up at 3 and leave, but at 7 a.m. when the sun woke us up, we knew we'd overslept and we still had a few things to do. We got off about 9:30 to get to the fuel dock and then started down the Delaware River. We guessed that Mike and Andy had left as soon as the storm cleared. Al and Patty left a message around 6 a.m. saying they were leaving so we knew we were not far behind them. We passed Pat’s boat on a mooring in Essington, letting us know he would not be coming. We were down to three boats and seven people on our way.
Updates were posted via text messages, phone calls and VHF radio chats. We were all looking forward to getting into Great Salt Pond in Block Island.
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