Unexpected Discovery (and other fun in NH)

[Maryanne]Kyle headed off to work quite early, so early that even he was OK (a little squirmy, but OK) with forking out for a cab to get him to the airport in time for his flight.

I was left with rain storms through most of the day so pottered aboard begonia waiting for it all to pass. Just after 3:30pm I called for a Portsmouth Yacht Club lunch vessel to pick me up so I could finally go ashore, explore a little more, and to claim back the dingy that Kyle had taken so early in the morning. There was no answer to my calls via VHF or phone to the yacht club; the little devils had gone home early. I was stranded. Once I eventually resigned myself to that fact, I settled in to a good book and enjoyed the bright post-rain skies.

Scenes from a morning coastal walk

The following day was forecast to have great weather, so as soon as the yacht club staff turned up, I went ashore with my bicycle and headed off. I was primarily headed for the Strawberry Banke Museum: set on ten acres of land, with over 30 restored period homes and gardens from colonial America through to early 1900's America. It’s a living history site with role-players presenting history at various locations on route (gardens, smithy, store-keepers, weavers, bakers, etc). Since my arrival coincided with its start, I began with a guided tour of all a selection of the gardens by one of the full time garden staff. Despite the fact that I know very little about plants and gardening, this was probably the best tour I’ve ever been given; the guide was clearly knowledgeable, and he was enthusiastic, and open to questions at all times. I didn’t leave myself nearly enough time to explore the full site, and although the ticket is valid for two consecutive days the weather forecast was so bad for the following day I was not able to return. It was well worth the entry price.

One of the many gardens at Strawberry Bank

I did manage to meet up with a couple of different couch surfers (who I invited to visit the boat) and shared a nice walk, some great company and some delicious food. Thanks to all the CS universe (specifically in this case: Samantha and Debbie)! And thanks also to Greg G. a local Cruising Club of America ambassador who very kindly insisted on taking me to a local grocery store (heaven for a cruiser!).

The highlight of my time alone however, was quite unexpected, and discovered on a trip to the local New Castle post office. I was not expecting much in the way of excitement, but found an unexpectedly quaint scene.. The building itself is beautifully nestled in the picturesque village of New Castle (smallest town, and richest per capita in New Hampshire), but the inside was a step back in time. Inside the Post Office boxes the locals rent were (presumably) original combination lock boxes – I’d never seen anything like it. Absolutely charming!

I've been in quite a few US Post offices, but never seen anything as charming as these vintage PO Boxes (presumably original)

Boston to Portsmouth (well, New Castle, which is close)

[Kyle]The wind forecast for our next leg to Portsmouth (New Hampshire) indicated that the best thing for us to do was leave as soon as possible after I got home from work. I was scheduled to spend another miserable night in the crew room as I had the week before. This time, however, I managed to drop my last two flights, saving me seven hours of work. Even better, I was able to make it home the same day, eighteen hours before I had originally expected. I arrived at Begonia well rested and ready to go.

Maryanne had the boat cleaned up beautifully. She also had done almost the entire pre-sailing checklist. All that remained once I was on board was hoist and secure the dinghy, start the engines and cast off the mooring line.

The wind, however, was not playing nice. Every forecast I could find said it should be out if the south, gradually weakening to nothing by the next day. The strength was right on, but the direction was way off. Instead, it was out of the ENE. This was pretty much the exact direction we would have to go for the first few miles until we were out of Boston Harbor. My plan had been to motor out of the mooring field, then shut down the engines and get sailing. I shut down one after a while to save fuel, but now we were fighting both wind and current with only one of our undersized engines. It was starting to look like it was going to be hours before we would be able to safely shut down the second.

To increase our speed, I raised the mainsail and bore away from the wind, leaving the engine running as insurance against the narrow channel and shipping traffic. Our speed shot way up, but the incoming current made our track a series of very acute tacks. We sailed from one side of the harbor to the other, but were still making the same speed toward the exit. At least the mainsail would already be up when we hit open water.

I checked the forecasts again, hoping for some sign of relief coming. They were all the same, saying I should have already been in south winds all day. I was hoping that meant our east winds were a local phenomenon caused by topography or a perturbation in the sea breeze and that once we made it to open water, things would normalize. As we passed Logan airport, it occurred to me to check the aviation forecast. The airport forecast was for ENE winds, turning south any minute.

A few minutes later, I unrolled the genoa, shut down the engine, and we were finally making good speed toward Cape Ann in seas that were not too lumpy as the sun set in a cloudless sky.

I went off watch to get some rest. Maryanne woke me at two a.m. We were rounding the cape. The wind had decreased, Begonia had slowed and the motion was just right to lull her to sleep.

In the wee hours, there was a steady procession of fishing boats coming in and out of Gloucester. Just at sunrise, I snagged a pot float in the port rudder. The last time this happened, I was in Delaware Bay and the water was warm enough to dive in and free it. This time, it was way to cold to even consider the same solution. Fortunately, I was able to stop the boat and then move slowly backwards under sail. With a little yanking and tugging with a boathook, it came free and we were back underway no worse for wear. I was sure I would wake up Maryanne with all of the noise right under our bunk, but she slept right through it all.

The morning air was so humid the boat was heavily coated in dew and the sea was covered in occasional patches of fog. Even though it wasn’t that cold, I could see my breath, each one of which lingered for another two or three before dissipating. An hour later or so, Maryanne emerged into a sunny morning just in time to see a pod of humpback whales pass by about a quarter of a mile to starboard. Their steamy breath shot plumes 30 feet up. They looked like a pod of locomotives.

The wind continued to decrease until we were ghosting along on a flat, mercurial sea. These lulls usually happen around sunrise, so I wasn’t bothered too much. Then we drifted to a stop and just bobbed there. The Piscataqua River at Portsmouth reputedly has the highest currents on the U.S. east coast. It is very sensible to arrive near slack water. Our distance was such that it made sense to run an engine for an hour or so until the wind returned. It never did.

We did manage to arrive at the Portsmouth Yacht Club just as all of the boats were swinging different directions on their moorings. An hour later, we were all pointed upstream leaving wakes behind in the fast-moving river.

Begonia arrives at Portsmouth Yacht Club

When we checked in to pay, we discovered that nothing was quite as we had hoped, mostly because the season just started about two days before. We were welcome to use the yacht club’s facilities, except when they lock up for the day, which is most of the time, since it’s out of season. There was even a short while where it was not sure if we could even enter or leave the boat while the yacht club was closed for the evening. The bus to Portsmouth (the yacht club is in nearby New Castle) doesn’t run this time of year and there are no stores open in town. Portsmouth is about an hour’s walk.

One good thing, though, was free wifi that was strong enough to be picked up at the mooring even down below in our berth. The staff was nice, too.

In the morning, which was a day I had originally not expected to have spare, we were given a ride into town. We wandered for a few hours, had a big lunch, and then enjoyed a long walk and talk on the exceedingly pretty route home. Along the way, looking for ice cream (the gelato place in town was closed for the season, but I wasn’t giving up), we managed to find a little hole-in-the-wall place where we got a brownie sundae and an oddly named whoopee pie which consisted of two slices of devil’s food with marshmallow crème sandwiched between. I wished we hadn’t already eaten lunch; this 100 year old, family owned, rustic restaurant (Gino’s) was in a quiet spot on the water, smelled great, was inexpensive and was full of friendly, local characters.

Whoopie Pie, ready for eating!

The day was over much too quickly. It was already time for me to start preparing for the long commute back to Newark the next day. We shared a bottle of wine in the cockpit until our revolving solarium spun 180º on the tide, then called it an early night.

{Maryanne: We'd visited Portsmouth before when we were shopping for boats in 2012 and fallen in love with this beautiful New England town, Kyle remembered so well my love for the place, he made sure we had it as a stop on our route}

Salem, Massachusetts

[Maryanne]With Kyle away, chores completed, and my week long transit pass with only one day remaining, I decided to take a side trip to Salem - home of the infamous witch trials of the late 1600’s. Aside from that notoriety, it was also one of the major shipping ports for early America, a picturesque New England town, and somewhere I’d long been curious to visit.

Scenes from old Salem

Let me start with the witch stuff since I did decide to attend one of the tourist-focused witch trial museums. It gave an interesting, if over theatrical, presentation of the key events, but for a fee, and with no more information than could be learned from the free National Parks center film just a short walk away. These and several other presentations did, of course, acknowledge that there were no real witches during the trials, just local hysteria, fear, spite, and power seeking.

The rules for what makes for valid legal evidence in a trial were clearly broken during the witch trials (which allowed spectral evidence), and I much preferred the presentations that put emphasis on this area, rather than the hocus-pocus rubbish. All the presentations I saw made quite interesting links with another period in USA history: the 1950’s McCarthy era where many were in dread of being declared a Communists (rightly or wrongly) where lives could be ruined by a spiteful accusation and with little ability to prove innocence. Strangely today in the USA the term communist is still seen as a significant insult (I’m not so sure about the term witch!).

One very surprising fact I did learn, is that of the modern day 40,000 population of Salem, 4,000 are self-described practising Wiccans (I was not able to verify this). Oh boy, I guess the place is a magnet for them. The religion of Wicca is a relatively modern one, invented in 1940s in the UK, from ideas based on research that have long been proven incorrect. It arrived in the USA in the 1960’s and basically brings together different practices from a number of ancient belief systems (Pagan, Greek, etc.), adds in the belief in spells and a little more nonsense, some occasional nudity, and there we have it: Wicca. Oh, except each Wicca group seems to add and subtract whatever it feels like so there is no central official set of beliefs. It is however a nationally registered/protected religion in the USA. What does Wicca have to do with the Salem witch trials? Nothing, but this does not seem to matter.

Although I can enjoy the entertainment value of shows like Bewitched, I have little tolerance for the modern day belief in witchcraft (zero evidence for, and plenty of people making money!), and was really rather shocked that the town was so filled with so many spell shops that advertised with full seriousness and no whimsy… Of course they are not ‘true’ to any particular form of the paranormal, and mix psychic readings with crystals and the like – anything to make a buck.

Salem Witch Memorial to those who lost their lives due to torture or hanging as a result of the scandalous trials

There was a very respectful memorial to those who lost their lives during the Salem Witch Trials, and I was glad of that – although amazingly the full exoneration for some didn’t take place until 2001.

With witches ticked off the list, I focused on some of the many other sights that Salem has to offer. It is one of the USAs older towns, and had managed to retain many buildings from the 1600’s and 1700’s. It is the birthplace of the National Guard, and has a long and important maritime trading history. So successful were they in sending ships out to trade internationally, that for some time it was the richest (per capita) city in the USA. The author Nathaniel Hawthorne was born there and worked there for some time; many of his books have strong story links to Salem locations (e.g. The Scarlet letter, and the House of the Seven Gables).

Nathaniel Bowditch, well known among all sailors, was also born in Salem, and his book (according to Wikipedia) Bowditch's American Practical Navigator, first published in 1802, is still carried on board every commissioned U.S. naval vessel. We certainly have a (digital) copy aboard Begonia. In honor of its nautical past, the town also provides a waterfront walk with information boards and stations providing nautical knowledge and play along the way.

The Friendship of Salem, and nearby Custom House

The Friendship of Salem built in 2000, is a full size reconstruction of a 171-foot (52 m) three-masted East Indiaman trading ship originally built in 1797. This ship is owned and maintained by the National Parks (so you can visit for free!); and I enjoyed pottering around in her, and later an official tour which included the nearby Custom House.

I didn’t find the time to visit, but Salem also has the Peabody Essex Museum, filled with exotic treasures brought back by sailors from Asian trading ports.

One of the interesting nautical themed presentation stations, and the curious Boston Typewriter orchestra

What did fill my spare time in Salem was the Poetry festival that coincided with my visit. I was able to attend some of the readings, and even an outdoor music show presented by the Boston Typewriter Orchestra (I kid you not). Quite a day!

Aside from the modern day witch silliness, I really enjoyed Salem, and was lucky to have yet another sunny day to enjoy her offerings.

Three (more) Days in Boston

[Kyle]I had a trip at work that did not allow me to get on a flight home the same day. There wasn’t enough time to get a hotel before the first flight out the next morning a few hours later, so I got to spend half of a night in a chair in the crew lounge. This provides a quality of sleep slightly worse than trying to sleep on a plane.

When I got home to Boston the next morning, I was still pretty beat. Maryanne was chomping at the bit to go explore, but was kind enough to let me have a few hours sleeping in a nice, flat bed before dragging me out.

Once I got some coffee in me, though, and once we actually got out into the beautiful spring weather, I was back to my usual explorey self. We started by taking the ferry to Charlestown and then walked to the Bunker Hill Monument for the 276-step climb to the top. The Battle of Bunker hill was the bloodiest of the Revolutionary War. Even though the colonists lost the battle, they inflicted enough damage on the British to convince them that they were up against a real army, turning the war in the colonist’s favour.

Monument to the Battle of Bunker Hill - a loooong climb to the top, but the views were great!

From there, we went to see the USS Constitution, a wooden, three-masted heavy frigate that is the oldest commissioned warship in the US fleet. We took the tour, given by active military stationed at the ship. It was pretty typical square-rigger stuff: cramped decks and LOTS of line (rope). I swear, a third of the weight of the ship must be line. They must get a bulk discount. Below decks, and in the accompanying museum, the details of life aboard such a ship were made clear. It was cramped, smelly, dangerous work with awful food. It’s hard to imagine anybody willingly taking it on. There was much resentment at the time of the British pressing Colonists against their will into service on British ships, so patriotism and revenge were drivers. Also, the pay was actually more than a typical farmer or shopkeeper, even more than the Marines that were also carried aboard, so that must’ve helped.

Exploring the USS Constitution - Maryanne seems to prefer steering to climbing the rigging, and Kyle wonders if we could find a home for this spare anchor

I was really impressed with the Captain’s quarters, which were about the size of the combined officers’ quarters and much more luxurious. I particularly liked the four-poster beds with the little glass wing cabins on each side. They were like little private solariums. If I were Captain, I’d want to spend all of my time there when we weren’t being shot at.

Another thing that impressed me in a different way was the ship’s history. Since she was commissioned, the Constitution has spent basically two entire years out of every five in port for refitting and maintenance. That’s even after having a full-time crew of hundreds performing constant upkeep along the way. Wooden ships are a lot of work.

From the Constitution, we started making our way back to Begonia on foot with some delicious ice cream we found for walkin’ around food. We crossed the bridge back into Boston and were meandering our way back toward the boat when Maryanne realized our timing was good to make the opportunity to visit the top of the Custom House Tower, now a very upscale Marriott, so off we went. {Maryanne: The Customs House Tower was added onto the original dome structure (to provide additional office space in the early 1900's), the tower once dominated the city, but has since been surrounded by modern sky-rises. The tour was much more than we expected, a private tour, with excursions to view the clock face mechanisms, and the cctv footage of the tower's nesting peregrine falcons}

A trip to the top of the tower - and sunset view with the tower reflected on the glass buildings. Cocktails were great, as was the additional unexpected entertainment!

We entered the beautiful lobby and bought two tickets for the tour-and-a-cocktail. In short order, we were escorted to the viewing floor by our own personal guide who told us more about the history of the building, the streets and buildings below, and Boston in general than we could ever remember. When he was done, he let us potter around on our own as long as we liked. It was starting to get a bit chilly, but we managed to hold out until we saw the sunset from up there.

We went down to the bar on the 2nd floor to cash in our drink coupons. We then planned to enjoy them in the quiet ambiance of their beautiful lounge. Instead, we came through the connecting door and arrived just at the start of… Well, I don’t know what it was. A presentation? A show? It was a re-enactment of 17th century parlour entertainment by a pair of musicians in period garb. I forgot about that. There was a sign in the lobby where we bought our drink tickets. I remember remarking to Maryanne at that time that it wasn’t my thing.

So now we were in the middle of it, where a graceful exit was impossible. Just for the record, I’ll go ahead and say it: I was wrong. We (that includes me - see previous) had a fabulous time. The musicians played songs, sang, told jokes (bad 17th century ones) and engaged the rest of us in parlour games. The woman of the group even played on a 17th century violin built a couple of generations before Stradivarius. Being there was so much more instructive than reading about it on a museum board. People back then had fun! - The ones not on ships, at least.

A Busier Day

I started off with a nice, hard run first thing the next morning around the waterfront and then all of the way to the far side of the Esplanade in clear, warm spring weather. Since Boston is such a runners' town, running along the Esplanade feels like being in a race. There are plenty of people keep pace with, pass and be passed by. When I got done, I was pretty wiped out, but poor Maryanne had been waiting on me before starting the day’s tourist itinerary. I quickly freshened up and we were off again.

Our first stop was at a place called the Mapparium in the Mary Baker Eddy museum. The Mapparium is a three-story diameter stained glass globe that is viewed from inside at the middle. The countries are all inverted so that they appear in correct relation to one another with only the curvature of the sphere being the wrong way. So the United States, for example, is still to the left of Europe, but is concave instead of convex like on the surface of a standard globe. Inside, there are also some pretty cool acoustic effects. In the very center, all of the sound is reflected back so the slightest noise is greatly amplified. People at opposite ends are also able to hear each other’s soft voices much louder than people in the rest of the room. Unfortunately, they were pretty strict about the “No Pictures” rule, so you’ll just have to imagine.

Being sailors and cartography buffs, the Mapparium is what drew us into the Mary Baker Eddy Museum in general. The Mapparium is only a small part of a much larger building that is also stunning in it’s own right. A complex of buildings with a similarly ornate and grand architecture surrounds this building. What we did not know until we had already forked over our $6 each to see the Mapparium, is who Mary Baker Eddy was. It turns out she was the founder (in Boston) of the Church of Christ, Scientist. The entire complex turns out to be a thinly veiled recruitment and indoctrination center for the Christian Scientists. We stayed long enough to try to search for any real science in the literature and displays before beating a hasty retreat. {Maryanne: The really cool thing about the Mapparium, is that as you stand in the center, all the surface is the same distance away, so the scale of each country and distances are true - you don't get that from a map (which is distorted to fit on the paper somehow), or even from an ordinary globe, as the surface itself curves away from your eye, and again distorts scale and distance. Again we had a private tour as no other visitors were there, so we were able to ask questions and play with the acoustics without worrying we were disrupting someone else's tour}.

Christian Science complex - Beautiful inside and out: home of the Mapparium, and Christian Science Monitor among many other things

Next stop was a quick pass through the beautiful Boston Public Library and then a pause at the Marathon bombing sites and memorial.

We had walked a long way and were getting hungry, so we stopped for a meal at a Vietnamese restaurant in Chinatown before our next tour. I like Vietnamese food (Pho Pasteur, extensive menu and great price!), and this stuff was good, but I don’t think I get how to eat it. I did what I normally do in restaurants: Pick something that looks good, order it and then eat it when it arrives. Yummy! It seemed, however, like all of the Vietnamese people in the restaurant (always a good sign) had much more elaborate rituals for their food. The guy next to me spent a good twenty minutes tinkering with the already prepared food after it came to his table. He took fresh mint leaves that were brought to the table as a garnish and carefully tucked them into the bottom of his soup around the outside of the noodles to steep. He then started adding this and that, before separating the dish into two bowls that ended up with vastly different ingredients. These were then eaten in what appeared to be a specific intended order. Everybody else at the table did pretty much the same thing. Here I was thinking, “Oh, yummy food! I’ll just go ahead and eat it.” I’m so uncouth.

Following the Vietnamese meal, it was time for a ghost tour. There are two main companies that do these in Boston. One let’s you spend a lot of time playing with ghost hunter “equipment” and seemed to be heavy on the paranormal. Maryanne, not being one to believe a cold spot or a wifi signal is incontrovertible proof of ghosts, chose the other one. It was only slightly better. The guy giving the tour did not seem good at public speaking. He kept losing his train of thought and going off on tangents. For the paranormal part, he showed us a few pictures of “orbs” – artefacts caused by light scattering in camera lenses – and telling us fourth-hand anecdotes in an attempt to creep us out with how haunted everything was. I caught Maryanne rolling her eyes at me a lot in response to one thing or another. It wasn’t all for naught, though. We got to see some nice stuff when it was lit up at night and there were some interesting historical titbits that made their way through, particularly how the Boston witch hunts eventually led to the more famous ones in Salem (through the ‘helpful’ guidebook published by Cotton Mather who is a key figure in both locations).

By the end of the tour, we had put in a lot of miles on foot for the day. Maryanne wasn’t wearing the best walking shoes and was starting to limp on both sides. My feet were okay, but I was struggling with a lot of leftover soreness from the run. We briefly considered getting the train back, but the nearest station was only slightly closer than the boat. It was also the other way, so we decided to just dig in and walk home. I had been looking all day for a place to get an ice cream, like we did the day before, but had so far had no luck. I was hoping we’d still be able to find some on our limp home. We found lots of bars, but no ice cream. Perhaps tomorrow…

An Extra Day

For some reason, Maryanne thought I had to go back to work a day earlier than I did. That gave us a bonus day, so to speak.

So even though I was still sore from the day before, I eventually got up the motivation to go for my morning run. It was the same nice weather, the same race feeling, only this time I was a tad slower. I did get to see the year’s first goslings – four adorable little puffball Canada Geese that couldn’t have been more than a couple of days old.

When I got home, I wasn’t feeling motivated for an ambitious day, but I was willing to do an easy one. I decided we would tackle the previous day’s ice cream problem first; just to make sure it’s done. As usual for us, once we were out and about, we wandered for four or five miles looking at whatever took our fancy while performing more mundane errands along the way. At the end, we found a good second-hand book store to help us weigh down the backpack. Then it was back to Begonia, as I had to get up early and we both had boat jobs to do, most of which Maryanne has already written about. One thing, though: I think she made our steering problems seem much worse than they turned out to be. The bent and cracked parts were the starboard limit stop bracket and the plate that connects the autopilot hydraulic ram to the steering linkage. The rudders, the cables, and the actual steering system itself are just fine. This is all good since on returning from work next, I plan to leave on the next available tide. Farewell Boston!

More Boston: Work, Play and Reflection

[Maryanne]Back in July and August of 2008 we’d visited Boston aboard Footprint for an extended stay (moored in Hingham, just to the south) . Unfortunately much of that time had us distracted with transmission issues and eventual replacement, but we had at least managed all the traditional major tourist hot spots of Boston, and Cambridge. This current visit, despite our much more central location, found us more laid back as tourists, and happy just to wander and see what we might discover. This was very much easier to do given the unexpected sunny weather we are experiencing, and the spring blooms decorating the views.

Once Kyle had headed off to work, I had laundry and a few basic chores to occupy me. We also had a new outboard motor to play with (a first for us, Kyle must be getting soft). We have a Torqeedo Travel 1003 which is an electric motor (quiet, no fuel to carry and spill, no oil changes, just a battery to keep charged). Kyle and I, it seemed, quickly had different philosophies concerning the motor. To Kyle it was for use in extreme cases (when we were a LONG way from land, weather was bad, etc), otherwise he expected we could still row or sail the dinghy everywhere we needed to go. I was taking a FAR more laid back approach – keen to delegate rowing and sailing to fun activities when conditions were just right. With a motor I could explore further afield, get places faster and with less effort… Hmmm how would we resolve this discrepancy?

One of Kyle’s concerns was that re-charging the battery would be an issue, and we should therefore conserve it by rarely using it; I set to test this theory and so far have managed to confirm this is NOT the case (yay for me!).

Another concern we both had was security for the motor and its parts (battery and tiller) if we were to leave the dingy at the marina dock, or on a remote beach somewhere while we explore inland. We’d searched the internet for ready-made items for this cause, but with no luck, and the manufacture themselves do not have any suggestions. To counter Kyle suggested we could just carry the readily removable items around with us (er, normally I’m going ashore to gather supplies, I really don’t want to start with a full and heavy backpack darling). I countered with a crude solution of fiber-glassing a D-Ring on to the tiller and planned to secure it to the dingy with a security cable (the battery already had a suitable handle to put a cable through). It would work, but was cumbersome.

So imagine my amazement when I pulled up at our Boston marina dingy dock one day, only to notice another dinghy with a Torqeedo (still a rare motor), and better still, one with an excellent, and far superior security bracket. I set to work to research again, and found not only the source, but also determined the owner of the dingy was also the fabricator of the bracket, AND that he had a boat in the same marina. Wonderful. Through this exercise I now have a great security system for the Torqeedo, and have met and befriended the wonderful Ron and Denni who also indulged us in a tour of their boat Sea Dragon – a beautiful 16m Alubat Cigale, a French aluminium monohull.

Our Torqeedo is now very secure mounted on our Portland Pudgy

This meeting of the Sea Dragon and her crew was to prove all the more fortuitous when we realized on returning to Begonia one evening that our steering wheel was full over to one side (having jumped its jury-rigged lock we had in place), and jammed, and that some of the hardware below decks was bent, and some even cracked. This is seriously bad. Kyle was not happy. This could seriously impact our plans. I was very relieved to know that Ron had all the skills and equipment to assist us in repairs (which he kindly did, very promptly, and I’m sure by pushing other work around in his schedule). Whew, disaster averted, and without interfering with our sightseeing at all! We now also have a superior steering wheel locking system.

We spent the first few days here trying to track down an annoying noise, at first I thought it was something loose in the rigging, but whenever I heard it and dashed outside to locate it, it would go away so I considered it might be coming from below, and I started to consider a propeller or rudder issue. Eventually we worked out it is the noise of the occasional passing subway train - from the tunnel that passes directly beneath us, the clattering track noise passing through the water and our hull. I get a much easier sleep now we've worked that mystery out!

Enjoying the weather, food, and excursions

It’s not all been work, strange noises and repairs though, while Kyle has been away I’ve walked some of the harbour trails (especially those areas where downloadable audio tours are available), and revisited the parks and generally got to know my neighbourhood. I make regular trips to visit the seal tank at the aquarium to watch them at play, and so on. I’ve indulged in crab cakes at water front shacks, and walked beaches further out of the town; making full use of my seven day travel pass. It’s been fun.

One area I was determined to visit, although with very mixed emotions, was the site of the recent Boston Marathon bombings. The two bomb sites aside from any remaining boarded windows are eerily normal high street scenes, clear of all memorial material, and discretely attended by police security, the areas fully open for people to walk by as before. The outpouring of sympathy and support messages has been constrained to the nearby Copely Square. This area is filled with a mix of home made signs, stuffed toys, messaged running items (caps and shoes), memorial candles, and such. A subdued and attentive crowd seems to be constantly present, some adding their names to boards, or finding a place for their own message or gift of good wishes. Boston Strong is the phrase that has captured the public response to this terrible attack, and it can be found everywhere, from T-Shirts to store window displays – a way for people to rise above the tragedy and see a way forward. In reading the many messages at the memorial site, I’m also reminded that the world is still primarily filled with good people. I still can’t fully comprehend my own emotions to the event or to the site, but I’m glad I was able to spend some time there, reflecting on these thoughts, and feeling hopeful that Boston is indeed strong.

A Beautiful Day in Boston

Beautiful Sunrise as we prepare to leaving the (now tranquil) anchorage to head into Boston proper!

[Kyle]The anchorage at Long Island (one of the Boston Harbor Islands) was perfectly flat in the morning at sunrise. We pulled up the anchor and had a quick trip the last few miles to the Boston waterfront with the help of a rising tide.

Since we’ve still managed to beat most of the crowds to the sailing season up here, we were able to pick up a mooring right in front only a water balloon’s throw from the dinghy dock or a soft shout from the people enjoying the public pier, or perhaps the other way around. (I didn’t!).

As we were finishing up our arrival checklist, Mark, the marina guy came out and offered us a dock for our stay for the same price as the mooring. Being able to step on and off of Begonia onto a dock tremendously convenient. The dinghy dock wasn’t too far, though, and the weather was supposed to be nice for the foreseeable future. Our mooring was in such a beautiful spot, and as the tide came in and out, we would have rotating-restaurant views as we swung on the currents. We decided to stay put.

For the first time all year, we got to launch the dinghy and go through that whole learning curve again. We rowed ashore. I had a long shower and shave (the beard was starting to get itchy) while Maryanne checked us in. Boston Waterboat Marina is small, but well equipped. The best thing, though, as I said before, is that it’s right in the middle of everything.

After a quick round-trip to Begonia to change, we headed out to tramp all over the city center. We had no itinerary, just a vague plan to wander in a rough circle. The only thing I specifically wanted to do is end up in the North End for dinner – Boston’s Italian neighborhood.

From the waterfront, we headed inland using our, “Let’s go that way because it looks more interesting” method. The first place we came across was the Quincy Market and Faneuil Hall, both packed with people out enjoying what was probably the second nice day of the year. The sun was shining. The trees were blooming. All of the tables at the outdoor cafés were full. It was a great day to be outside.

Boston Public Gardens - in early spring bloom and full of people enjoying the beauty

From there, we made our way to Boston Common and the Public Gardens. The grass was green there and the flowerbeds were all blooming. Lots of people were out having picnics or just enjoying a nice walk in the park.

The Esplanade and Charles River Basin - With the Hatch "shell" where many free music concerts are held. Sailing is encouraged for all with a very modest annual fee for unlimited use of boats and training

We made our way to the Esplanade at the Charles River (another fantastic public space filled with Bostonians enjoying the novel sunny weekend), along with tons of people out sailing in dinghies and small boats. It looked like a nice place to bring the Pudgy except for having (possibly) having to portage it around the lock and over the train tracks to get in.

We were getting hungry by then, so we made our way inland into the North End for an early dinner. One of the hardest things in a neighborhood like this is getting past all of the delicious smelling food on the edges to get to what you want in the center. I was heading specifically for La Famiglia Giorgio’s. We had eaten there before, the last time we were in Boston, and I remembered it as being the best Italian meal I’ve had. Actually, the meal we went out for with Pasquale and Enzo before we left Italy in 2011 squashed that one, but it is still the best non-Italy Italian food I’ve had. I hoped my memory was accurate.

We weren’t disappointed. The food was (again) amazing. I had Big Al’s Arrabiata with deliciously tender chicken and Maryanne had a Mushroom Linguine Cacciatore. I swear, each plate had a pound of pasta each, plus there was lots of bread and salad. After dinner, our server asked if we would like dessert. She said they had only one special dessert – a lava cake. I couldn’t imagine they sold many desserts here. Maryanne mused that one special dessert was literal. Perhaps they only make one and keep offering it to their overstuffed patrons until they sell it, maybe once only every few days, then they start making another one. I would have loved to be the guy to take it off their hands, but no way. Try the next table.

There was no way Kyle was not returning to this restaurant, he'd been bending my ear for days - I'm so glad we found it again... and boy did we need that walk back to the boat after such generous portioned and excellent food.

We waddled back to Begonia along the various piers of the waterfront (Maryanne made me walk the length of each one) in a vain attempt to work off our meal, enjoying the ambiance of the indoor/outdoor restaurants and the little parks. Boston really is a beautiful city. It was starting to get a bit chilly. I had optimistically dressed for the full midday sunshine, so was fine except in windy, shady spots. Maryanne was more pragmatically attired in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, giving her a more durable comfort. The walk back was increasingly a comedy routine where Maryanne would stop to make a big deal about examining a new blade of grass or carefully reading a historical marker while I shivered and pled with her to get moving. I know I could learn something here (I will NOT!), but being cold was actually part of my plan. I had to get up early for work the next day. Being comfortable would have made it way too easy to stay out late. I really needed to be home by sunset, and we were. Nightcaps in the wind protected cockpit as the city lit up was the perfect end of the day.