First Installment

Well, here we are! Docked in East Moriches, NY, out on Long Island.  We've been out for 5 days, now, and we're still alive and no one has filed divorce papers yet.  But I should start at the beginning.

The last week before we left was sort of an insane stumble towards getting our house packed up and finishing touches on the boat.  Also, long, emotional conversations with my dog about how we are coming back and we love him and he's a good dog. It was a stressful week, and we didn't leave on May 10, our scheduled departure.  We were determined to leave on Sunday, and we did! After breakfast with Cody's mom (it was mother's day after all), a trip to the grocery store to provision the boat (I perhaps went overboard, so to speak), and much shuttling around and dropping off of cats and pet supplies (for which I am so incredibly grateful to Elise and Tucker!!!) we finally got going at 2:30 in the afternoon.

The timing was actually pretty important, because we has to go through the cut bridge in Gloucester, and we can only do that on an outgoing or slack tide.  As it was we barely made it, and then we were free to set sail and really begin our voyage.

Once we'd set the main and the jib we got caught by a big gust and I was like, no, it's too soon for that.  First we were going to reef the main but then we "disagreed" about how to go about it. Lesson 1: practice sail changes before you need to use them.  So we sailed onto the jib alone all the way to . . .Magnolia! Magnolia is part of Gloucester, you see, so it is pretty anticlimactic.  But the point is we were out and there was no going back.  We dropped anchor and it was a little choppy, so I promptly got a little sea sick while I was getting the cabin organized. Ugh, too soon for that to.  I took some Dramamine and a nap while Cody cooked dinner, then we passed out after an extremely long day.

The next morning we really began our trip (for real this time) hoping to make it down near the Cape Cod Canal. Taking the canal instead of going around the cape cuts a couple hundred miles off, and we can sail the cape anytime.  As it turned out the wind wasn't in our favor as it was coming out of the very direction we needed to go. We cut towards Providencetown, then back to the southwest. The seas built to 3-5 feet and we had a pretty choppy end to an otherwise smooth day, sailing in on a fully reefed main and the jib.  We ended up in a little inlet between Scituate and Plymouth.  We got inearlyenough to hang out and do some stretching before dinner. Unfortunately, it would become apparent that we had anchored in a crazy vortex of doom. Between the wind and the tide there were some wild currents pulling us around.  Eventually we moved onto an empty mooring (I'm perplexed why someone would knowingly moor their boat in a Vortex of Doom) but then the current caused the mooring ball to bang against the hull while we tried to sleep. Cody went out to fix it meanwhile I laid awake worrying that he'd been sucked into the Vortex. At any rate, we didn't get a ton of sleep in there.

We set our alarms for 6 the next morning to set out for the canal. We just rolled out of bed and got moving, with the intention of getting coffee and breakfast underway.  A cold front had blown in from the Northeast overnight, and we were greeted (pre-coffee, mind you) by 6-8 foot seas competing with an outgoing tide. Lesson 2: check the weather report in the morning beforesetting out, sometimes it changes overnight. In the hours since we'd last checked they had issued a small craft advisory.  We motored north for an hour so we could sail southeast to the canal as efficiently as possible. Setting sail in 6-8 foot seas on our boat is, well, challenging. (If anyone wants to get us an early Christmas present we could use a Stoway mast and a rolling job furler. Thanks, that would be great.) I managed to get the main set while not falling off the boat or completely losing my shit.  I realize 6-8 foot seas ain't no big deal, but it was a first for me and was definitely, well, a little harrowing.  A few thoughts on that experience:
1: at some point while I was hanging onto the mast for dear life I though, "dammit, I could be anywhere else but here right now. I could be riding my bike, or taking summer courses to finish 
school sooner, or running, or anything! ... But. I guess I'd still rather be here. I'm a 
f$&;ing idiot."
2: for some reason I had Zoot Suit Riot in my head the whole time.

Go figure, huh?

3: we worked very effectively, and I think Cody was pleasantly surprised that I handled the conditions so well. But that competence I displayed was fueled almost entirely by hatred and rage. I do my best work so fueled. You know, just general, undirected hatred and rage.

Anyway, at some point Cody decided he wanted coffee and I felt sick every time I took my eyes off the horizon, so for a while I took the helm and Cody made himself coffee. I popped Saltines and Dramamine, and managed to not be incapacitated.

We prevailed against the conditions and ended up about a half mile from the canal with 2 hours left before the tide turned in our favor and with a big freighter heading toward the canal.  We effectively heaved-to in the rough seas to allow the freighter to pass, then decided to test our motor against the current. And we killed it! Getting through the canal was so easy and quick.

Once on flat water I managed to finally eat, then we caught a sweet north wind down Buzzards Bay on a sweet 8kt run. We decided to spend the night in Mattapoisett, but we were having so much fun that we got distracted and overshot the harbor, then had to motor back. But it's still the offseason up North so the Mattapoisett harbor master gave us a mooring for the night, and we went ashore to refuel and pick up beer (of course). I think I got dehydrated that morning in the rough stuff so it was another early evening.

On Wednesday our destination was Block Island, but we had a late start after a relaxing morning in Mattapoisett. There wasn't any wind to speak of on Buzzards Bay so we motored clear of the islands and it picked up nicely. We were on a single tack for the next 6 hours but the fog rolled in for the last few.  We were crossing the shipping lanes that run into Providence so we kept blowing the fog horn, but we never saw or heard another boat. I cooked dinner on the boat while we finished the voyage - lentil and veggie soup, beets, and garlic bread. The fog was freezing and the hot soup was oh so good.  As we neared Old Harbot where we intended to spend the night the fog thickened further. We were watching out for a breakwater shown on the chart, a channel marker, and the high speed ferry line that runs to Block Island. All I can say is that we were so happy to have the iPad Ross and Nancy gave us for Christmas with our awesome iNavX navigation program. Just as I said that the breakwater should be right ahead so us, Cody said, "I see rocks!" We were able to navigate into Old Harbor without a hitch. 

There was a big ferry at the dock, but very few boats in the tiny harbor. We snagged someone's mooring since the holding was a little dicy, and there was no one around. It was super spooky in the fog. You could see the outlines of buildings but not what they were, and there was a shadowy figure watching from land. I told Cody that the ferry was probably a ghost ferry that went down years ago but appears to wayward sailors on nights like this. I possibly may have an overactice imagination. At any rate, it was some of the calmest water we've slept on, and you could have forgotten you were even on a boat. It would have been a great night for sleeping except for the karaoke bar on the ferry blaring Celine Dion until midnight. Really, who plays the theme from titanic on a boat? Seems like you're asking for trouble.

We set our alarm for 4 the next morning, but when it went off I started whining about karaoke keeping me up and Cody reset it for 5. After coffee, breakfast, and the latest weather report (we learn sometimes) we set out for Long Island. This day was our test to see how far we can get on a long day so we can plan our leg across to NJ, which will be 70-80 miles. We tried working in 2 hour watches, so the person not in watch could relax or take a nap. It worked well, and that nap was quite needed. It was a bit foggy again. Not so bad as to impair visibility, but enough to deal a blow to moral. It's amazing how moods can change when the sun starts shining.

We approached Moriches Inlet slowly, as the map showed 3 foot shoaling. With out centerboard up we only draw 3 feet, though, so we were able to get by with no problem. We followed the channel markers up to Tuthill Cove, looking for an anchorage. The whole area was incredibly shallow, and there's no way we could have made it in with a fixed keel. We decided we should get a bite at the restaurant, which has a dock, and inquire about good anchorages in the cove. We performed a disgracefully inept docking, then headed inside. Of course, everyone at the bar had watched us fumble around at the dock and had something to day about it. You just can't go by Tri-oomph without noticing her.  

A couple at the bar moved over for us to sit down and we stared chatting. We asked about anchoring and the guy said, "you don't want to be out there in that wknd. Just tie up to the fuel dock and when the dock master, John, shows up in the morning, tell him Ken said it was okay." Well, it turned out that Ken was a dock builder and had built the docks at that marina. So after a good dinner and conversation, we did as instructed and got a great night of rest tied to the fuel dock. When John showed up in the morning we talked to him and he was so accommodating. He found us a slip for the next couple nights and gave us a bag of ice. Then he offered to drive us to town when we said we were going to walk in for some errands. Well, we really needed the exercise so we declined the ride, but what a nice guy. Lesson 3: sit at the bar to meet people.

Walk into town we did, about 2 miles to the laundromat (I am so excited for clean dry clothes!) and another mile to the grocery store. 6 miles of walking felt amazing after 4+ days of sitting.  We got back to the boat as John was leaving for the day, and he told us we could sleep in the office if we wanted, because it was supposed to pour overnight. We assured him we were fine. He left, then came back 5 minutes later bearing Marina t-shirts and Labat Blue. What a guy.

We manage to bath, sort of. Cody took a cool shower on the trampoline as the solar shower never really heated up.i managed to wash my entire person, hair included, in the sink of the marina restroom. No small feat, believe me.

We were getting settled in for the night when someone walked up to the dock. It was our friend Ken from the night before, telling us to come to the restaurant and he'd buy us dinner. We'd already eaten, but we went down for a beer. Everyone wanted to talk about our boat and they all seemed to think we were nuts to go out on such a small boat. But they also thought we were rad for embarking on such an adventure. 

Too many beers later we passed out on our boat just as the weather hit. The wind was howling and it probably poured 3 inches overnight. We discovered a leak in the roof (over Cody's side) that we'll try to fix today.

What's next? The seas are still a little rough today and there is a small craft advisory until tonight, so we plan to leave early tomorrow morning. Like, 3 AM. We're hoping to passage to Little Egg Inlet,100 miles from here in New Jersey. If we hold 6 knots that's 17 hours. When we first set out our running lights weren't working so we couldn't sail at night safely, but Cody fixed that problem yesterday (without having to haul me up the mast, wonderfully) so we are okay if we don't make it in daylight. From Little Egg it's just 50 miles to Cape May, our first planned layover. 

We're doing really well, apart from cursing the cold North Atlantic weather. I'd be lying if I said we hadn't frequently lamented our decision to not trailer the boat to warmer waters before embarking. We've worn lots of layers plus our Grundens and boots every day we've been on the water. It's really cold, and our little boat gets really wet in even 4 foot seas. But it's all an adventure and a learning experience. We've eaten really well on board and, apart from the lack of exercise and a permanent hunch to our backs from trying to stand in the cabin, we're feeling good.

I've mostly been taking pictures on the nice camera my dad gave me, and I'm writing this with my iPhone (I shit you not) so the pictures are a little limited. Here's a few.