Reunited in Newport, Rhode Island

[Kyle]We entered the Cape Cod Canal at the beginning of the ebb, which flows from Massachusetts Bay to Buzzards Bay. The still morning air turned into a light headwind which, of course, was just that induced by our forward motion.

Sailing through the Cape Cod Canal, and on to Rhode Island, there is plenty to see

On the other side of the canal, we tried a few times to raise the spinnaker, but each time, after just a few minutes, it ended up laying limp on the front of our mast. After the wind died even more, I finally conceded that we were going to need to use an engine for the rest of the day. At least the water was glassy smooth and the temperature was just perfect.

Based on our present speed and tomorrow's forecast (also for very light winds), my plan was to stop for the night in New Bedford, Massachusetts, and then continue the next day into Newport, Rhode Island. Our real immediate goal was to reunite with our friends Robin and Andy there.

As we were droning along, Robin texted Maryanne and asked about our progress. Maryanne asked me for an estimate and I told her we expected to be in Newport tomorrow. Then we had a bit of a communication breakdown. Robin's response was "Great! You can come with us on Sotito to Bristol for the Blessing of the Fleet!"

Uh, no we can't. By 'tomorrow', I was thinking we'd be lucky to be there before nightfall. Maryanne clarified things, but we were still several hours from meeting in the middle. Grumbling, because I just hate motoring, I looked at everything again and worked out that we would likely have to motor most of the way tomorrow as well on our way from New Bedford to Newport. Since it was basically the same number of engine hours, we might as well just keep motoring to Newport so we can get there today. Then all we will have to do to make sure we are at Sotito in time will be to not oversleep.

With the help of a favorable current, we actually made it to Newport before dark.

Newport Harbor is enormous (and full!). Technically, there is a space set aside, away from the hundreds of moorings, where it is permissible to anchor. We had a look at it, but it was so crowded that we both decided we wouldn't be comfortable letting the boat out of our sight for fear she would swing into something. We decided to suck it up and pay for a mooring for our stay. That plan also had the benefit of putting us way closer to Sotito, which should allow us to get through the whole week on one charge for the dinghy motor.

First thing the next morning, we took the dinghy over to reunite with our friends. As always, Robin was beyond welcoming. A whole elaborate breakfast spread was fanned out before us, including a bunch of stuff we knew she got just for us.

Even though it is much bigger than Begonia, Sotito is much more straightforward to prepare for a trip - no faffing with sail hardware required. Five minutes after Andy said he was going to warm up the engines, we disconnected the shore power and we were off. Within minutes, the giant, now-warm engines were out of the harbour and steaming us upwind to Bristol at fourteen knots.

A trip aboard the beautiful boat Sotito (with new friends and old) to see the Blessing of the Fleet in Bristol - where Andy and Robin throughly spoiled us - we loved it

The Blessing of the Fleet is a Bristol tradition, primarily for the Portuguese/American fishing community. We were front row as several boats in the parade passed under the Fire Department Boat's water cannons.

In reality, the event itself was rather anticlimactic, spread out over a few boats and lasting over an hour. Still, it was nice to see that the water cannons work and the main point was to hang out with our friends (plus others also visiting Sotito). Andy tells us that they are wondering if it is time to finally sell Sotito, so this trip with them to Bristol may very well end up being the last outing for all of us on a boat that holds so many fond memories for us.

With our Newport mooring being so close to Sotito's dock there, our best option for getting ashore in Newport was to tie the dinghy up under the flare of Sotito's bow and use their marina as a base. That was perfect for us, because even if we were busy doing non-socializey stuff, we always had an excuse to stop by and spend a few minutes, before getting on with the real business of our day.

Newport is famed for its luxury "cottages", which any normal person would call a mansion; this time we visited the summer "cottage" of Rough Point

And walked the scenic Cliff Walk

And other attractions of Newport

We spent most of our time with Andy and Robin, but we also managed to do the Cliff Walk, which Maryanne did once while I was away at work, but I have never done. On another day, Robin lent us her car, a beautiful powder-blue Thunderbird convertible, so we could run far-flung errands, as well as get in a lap of Ocean Drive. {Maryanne:We did so much, but mostly it was quality time hanging out with Andy and Robin. Robin had encouraged us to see the exhibit of the Great Elephant Migration which we manged to see multiple times, we were able to see their new home (and their next home) in Newport, and visit farmers markets, etc.}

During the week or so we were there, Andy and Robin had lots of other visitors besides just us. They know a lot of interesting people and we had great fun staying up too late telling and listening to stories over too many bottles of wine.

While we were there, I also got a very special visitor of my own. Ben, the First Officer I chose for my retirement flight back in 2016; he lives not-so-nearby in central Connecticut now. When I told him we were coming to Newport, he generously offered to bridge the gap by making the drive to see us for the day. He brought his friend, Sam with him and with the help of his car, and Robin and Andy's dinghy we all had a great day of Newport tourism together. Ben and I did have a few initial minutes of pilotey shop talk, but mostly it was good to catch up on what we have each been up to since.

Along the way, we of course stopped by Sotito to visit Andy, Robin and other friends they had visiting for the weekend to make introductions. All of us, old and new friends alike, sat around Sotito's big table talking and laughing. It was like we had all known each other from way back. Everyone gets the most amazing welcome from Andy and Robin.

Afterwards, several of them remarked to me that they really like Ben and Sam. Me, too. One of the downsides to Maryanne's and my lifestyle is that we are often on the other side of the world from the people we care about. Had we not lived on a boat, Ben is one of those friends that I would love living down the street from, so we could pop in and see each other all of the time. Of course, Connecticut can have some pretty rough winters. Perhaps we need to start lobbying our friends to all relocate to a village in Hawaii.

The night before we left Newport, we had one more big evening aboard Sotito, with yet more new friends added in. Luckily, we didn't need to leave our mooring until noon the next day, so there was no pressure to get to bed too early. We even had time in the morning to borrow Robin's car again for one last run to the market for fresh produce.

Enjoying great food and quality time with old and new friends in Newport

Our goodbyes understandably took a little bit longer when it finally came time for us to make the last trip to Begonia in the dinghy. Who knows how long and how many miles will pass under our keels before we can meet up again. We fudged our mooring depart time a little, but it was basically still midday-ish. Fortunately, we were only going a few miles to anchor for the night in a nearby bay closer to Long Island Sound, so we could get an early start. After all the recent activity, it seemed a bit lonely spending the afternoon with no exciting new people to meet.

[Maryanne]Newport is famed the world over in sailing communities (mostly for its racing sailors), but it is a beautiful desitnation for anyone and we were so glad to get to visit again (we'd previously visited in 2008 and in 2013). But primarily we were visiting to spend some time with Andy and Robin. Our sailing plans are likely to take us away from the USA for many years so this was our last chance for a while. They have been amazing friends to us since we met them back in the winter of 2012/2013, in Weehawken, where we shared a marina when Hurricane Sandy hit; we could not pass by without seeing them. It was an extra (and special) bonus that we were also able to meet up with Ben while we were there.

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Newport Harbour Moorings location >> On google maps

Mass-Hysteria

[Kyle]After our time in Biddeford, we spent another day on the Saco River town moorings to stow the carload of stuff we had brought aboard.

Then it was time for us to continue southwards. Looking at the map, it looked like there was a pretty big built-up area along the way. There seemed to be some disagreement as to the exact name, so we decided to play it safe and give it a miss. Instead, we sailed for a day and a half to the eastern end of the Cape Cod Canal.

A slow sail to Cape Cod

The sailing was mild and almost uneventful. I say 'almost' because just after we crossed the Massachusetts border with the rising sun, we were ghosting along at just over a knot, when the radio cracked to life.

Somebody out there seemed to be really upset with somebody else out there. The man on the radio let out a torrent of loud swearing in a thick Boston accent (Boston! That's it!). He followed that string with another that had fewer obscenities, but only because it was interlaced with graphic threats of violence to the offender. He seemed to be upset that someone was coming closer to his boat than he would like. Several others came on the radio and mocked him, which only seemed to upset him more. Welcome to Massachusetts! We are told that, locally (and elsewhere), these people are known as Massholes.

Based on nothing other than the signal strength and the fact that we were pretty far from land at that point, I guessed the altercation was coming from a group of fishing boats clustered over a seamount ahead of us. No one had arrived or departed the group for as long as I could see them (It was the end of my watch. Maryanne was awake, but had not yet climbed out of bed.), and they all seemed to be at least a quarter of a mile apart.

As we got closer to the group, I saw that most of them had three or four floats surrounding their vessels about 20 meters off, which could have marked anchors, nets, pots, or something else we didn't know about.

This was going to be difficult. If their gear was restricting these vessel's ability to maneuver, we needed to give way. If they were anchored, we definitely needed to give way. The struggle for us was that we were sailing under our spinnaker, with barely enough wind to hold it up. We were riding a fine line between it collapsing because we were sailing too close across the wind, or having it collapse because the wind was on the wrong side. Without gybing, that gave us about forty degrees of range in which we could steer without the boat drifting to a stop and losing steerageway. That would have then put us at the mercy of the current. Maryanne was getting up and right now I didn't have the time to be going forward and going through all of the motions of executing a gybe.

After trying to sail with the wind slightly on the wrong side to get around one end of the whole group, I realized the current was still going to take us closer to that boat's floats than I'd like. My second choice was to steer as far across the wind as I could to head for the biggest gap between boats, putting us about an quarter of a mile between floats on either side. The problem was that the wind was fluky. Occasionally, the spinnaker would collapse and I would have to make a hard turn downwind to refill it before the boat accelerated enough for me to use the rudders to ease my way back to where I was. It was a while before I realized this plan was going to work and I wouldn't have to resort to my third backup plan of calling Maryanne to come on deck in her underwear to help me do a quick gybe (the process takes about a third of the time with her help). Then we can get out of there sideways.

As we were ghosting through at just under one knot, which, for reference, is the speed that an elderly person who is recovering from surgery walks to the bathroom while hunched over a walker, we heard a noise.

"HEY!!"

A person on the vessel nearest us to port was hailing us with quite a pair of lungs. We immediately recognized the voice as the one we had heard on the radio earlier. That's when we realized it had been US he had been yelling at on the radio since we broke the horizon. It was MY brains that he was threatening to come aboard and roughly remove from my skull for pointing in the general direction of his still-distant boat.

Editing A LOT for brevity, and paraphrasing for our readers with more delicate sensitivities, he basically asked us why, with the entire ocean at our disposal, we needed to sail so close to his boat. He apparently needs a very large bubble of personal space.

"That's not how sailboats work!" I answered (Again, edited for brevity), "Plus, we're nowhere near your boat! You're so far away I bet you can hardly even hear me!"

"What!?"

"Exactly!"

"You almost hit my boat!"

What!? "We didn't almost hit anything! We're at least a quarter of a mile away! Besides, at this speed, even if we did, we would probably just bounce off!"

Another very long streak of threats and obscenities followed. Remember, we were going very slowly.

By now, Maryanne was up and ready to face the public. With a gentle touch of her hand on my forearm, she indicated to me that it was her watch now and that she would be taking over.

Maryanne undoubtedly looks cute and harmless, but remember, she grew up in rural England. There isn't an English primary school kid who can't out-swear a Southie longshoreman any day of the week. Also, she is obviously an accomplished sailor - an English sailor. Not only that, but her first University was in Liverpool. Her response is paraphrased as before, but went something like this:

"My good Sir, you could not possibly have been in any danger whatsoever from our measured course of action to avoid not only you, but even the vicinity of your gear! We're not even going fast enough to cast a ripple of a wake upon you! Furthermore, your threatening and, quite frankly, uncouth behavior (she says it with the extra 'u' in) is most ungentlemanly, indeed! You're are a cad, Sir, and an especially unpleasant one at that! I suggest you consider genetic testing, because it seems likely to me that there is an above average chance that your lineage may include some unwanted, and also very poorly behaved garden pests! Your primary care physician will need that information for any future treatment plans! I would have that person start with the very serious case of halitosis that I can detect from even this great distance! I'm sure it's NOT the fish!"

Or words to that effect.

He was so taken back that his parting shot to us was, "God Save the Queen!!" Oh, yes. That was a good one (and a bit late). We'll be crying ourselves to sleep over that one! I guess the moral of the story is that you never know what kind of day someone is already having when you innocently step into it.

By the time the far end of the same day arrived and the sun had just finished dipping below the western horizon, we were pulling up close to the beach at Sandwich, Massachusetts, to set anchor until the next day's favorable current to go through the Cape Cod Canal.

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Anchorage location >> On google maps

Menemsha aboard Sotito

[Kyle]We started by packing and filling up the dinghy with stuff for a few days away. We had yet another evening of fantastic food, great company and perhaps a little too much wine before retiring to our respective berths for the evening. In addition to Andy and Robin, their friend Lynn joined us aboard Sotito for an adventure weekend.

We were all up bright and early the next morning for a trip to Menemsha, one of the few towns on the Island of Martha’s Vineyard. We cast off the lines and glided out of Bristol Harbor. From the bridgedeck, it seemed like we were flying low over the harbor.

Once we got through the Hope and Tiverton Bridges, Andy looked at me and then pointed a thumb at the helm. I figured I was a temporary lookout while he used the restroom or something, but when he got back, he said he was happy enough to leave me there for the time being.

The ladies relax, while the men 'man' the helm

Although the winds had decreased in the last day or so, there was still a pretty good left-over swell waiting for us when we got out of the river into Rhode Island Sound. We tried for a while to maintain a direct course to clear the western end of Cuttyhunk Island into Vineyard Sound, but it turned out of be much too wet and uncomfortable. We experimented with various off the wind headings until we found a comfortable-ish one that ran east towards Buzzards Bay. After thinking about it for a while, we eventually decided to continue into Buzzards Bay to the gap at Quick’s Hole, between Nashawena and Pasque Islands. That way, we would be in the smooth lee of those islands until emerging from Quick’s Hole into Vineyard Sound.

Once on the other side, we were hit full force with the Atlantic swell. The ride became very wet, rolly and uncomfortable. The force of the swell was slowing Sotito down, so Andy bumped up the power from a lope to a trot to maintain control and smooth things out. Robin and Lynn were sitting in deck chairs on the top deck (White knuckled, gipping the arms of the chairs). They were safely wedged into a corner, but effectively marooned there by the big, empty space between them and the handholds on the bridge.

The trip across Vineyard Sound wasn’t too long, so we all only had to endure the conditions for a short time. When we got to the entrance to Menemsha, I was amazed by how tiny it looked from up there on the bridge. It barely seemed wider than Sotito, although in reality it was probably three times that. The wind had really started to blow by then right across the entrance and the current could be seen sweeping by and breaking into eddies on the other side of the breakwater. I was so worried that the wind or the current (or both) would set us sideways against the rocks as we entered. Andy lined Sotito up, gave her enough power to maintain control and plunged right in. No problem! Honestly, I would have been a lot more comfortable landing on a small runway in a snowstorm.

Once past the rocks, Andy had to make a quick 90-degree turn into the small harbor. The harbormaster called and said he was clearing another boat off of our slip and told us we would need to loiter for a while. It was a long wait; Andy managed to look like he holds his boat in tight quarters with counter winds and current every day. Our dock cleared. It was right on the downwind side of the harbor. In order to land, Andy would have to get Sotito sideways to the wind, where the only counter to the winds huge force would be his bow and stern thrusters. We would then be at the mercy of the wind as it pushed us into the dock, relying heavily on fenders during the impact. The bigger a boat gets, the less it can be fended by hand or worked in with lines. Begonia could have been nosed up to the dock until a line could be attached, and then gently eased in using asymmetric engine power to bring her in slowly. Sotito is big enough that all of the manoeuvring has to be done from the helm.

He timed it well and we came to a surprisingly soft landing. I don’t even remember hearing either of the thrusters activate. We were all relieved when the lines and fenders were in place and we could let out that big breath we had been holding in.

Sotito arrives in Menemsha

We had a quick walk around the harbor to get our bearings and in short order, it was decided that dinner would be aboard Sotito with the seafood being sourced from Larsen’s Seafood on the wharf. There was to be hot buttered lobster rolls, stuffed clams and oysters for everyone, swordfish too (just in case anyone might feel hungry).

Exploring Menemsha (as always there is ice cream involved). Do take a good look at the chandlery sign.

We were just sitting down to our hot lobster rolls when the show started. A boat came in and was assigned one of the Mediterranean-style slips. These are slips that have two pilings to back between before bringing the stern to the dock instead of the more usual alongside finger float. The wind was still blowing hard and it was right across the docks. The boat would get lined up to back in and then get blown sideways past the slip. Sometimes the stern would hit the piling, the boat would spin and there would be a mad flurry of all hands on all nearby boats as she was pulled back out for another try. Finally, after lining up a couple of slips upwind, she drifted into alignment and made it in with judicious power and lots of fending.

Kyle watches on as a visiting boat is assisted into its dock with a few good nudges from the harbormaster

Then the second guy came in. He was in nowhere near the same control as the first. He bounced from one boat to another using a random series of manoeuvres, mostly with throttle screaming, and adjacent boat owners running out to protect their boats and offer help. Eventually, the harbormaster came out and used his skiff as a tug to help guide the guy in. (It turns out he had been a tug captain before, so he knew what he was doing). The guy still didn’t make it. He raked his way across a few anchors, tearing a hole in his sides.

The harbormaster, having run out of options, then came over to ask Andy if he could raft the guy up to Sotito. Andy didn’t like the idea (none of us did), and although we technically could say no, it really would have been inappropriate to send the guy back out to sea. The harbormaster put one of his staff aboard at the helm and the raft-up went without incident.

The guy who owned the other boat was weird. After much thought, I imagined that he might be the mentally challenged nephew of some mobster. He had enough money for a big boat and a paid crewmember, but he seemed to have little idea what was going on around him. Usually, when rafting on the outside of another boat, it is customary to introduce oneself and ask if it’s okay to cross over intervening boats, at least the first time. This guy acted like Sotito was the dock itself, even going so far as to push past one of us to get where he was going, all without saying a word or making any eye contact. Only when Andy blocked his path and addressed him directly, did he give vague, one syllable responses. Odd.

When it was all over, we returned to our cold lobster rolls, followed by glasses of wine at the bow for sunset. Much has been said about the beauty of Menemsha sunsets. We missed it. The sun just descended into the haze and then faded away. Andy announced the official sunset time fifteen minutes later with a long blast of the big horn.

After dark, the beach emptied. The high tide arrived, and with the strong recent winds was unusual high (well over the fixed docks). It was quiet for a while, and then the docks started to fill up. The whole town had come out with flashlights to catch squid for bait. It felt like another era. Parents and older siblings were teaching the little ones how to fish. The kids were so animated and excited about the whole process. I didn’t see anyone on their smartphones and there were no teenagers rolling their eyes and declaring, “Omigod, this is soo stupid…”

Enjoying the last of the sun at the beach, and then the high tide at Sotito

Waiting for Sunset

. . . . . .

And then there was sunrise...

Our second morning in Menemsha, we were all up bright and early. The three women got a bus to the Chilmark Flea Market while Andy and I stayed behind. After a while, he was getting groggy and I was getting antsy. Fortunately for me, we had brought along the Portland Pudgy. While Andy napped, I rigged the sailing kit and set off for Menemsha Pond.

I was initially fighting both wind and current, so I spent a long time being the entertainment for the crowd in line at the ice cream shop as I tacked back and forth, back and forth, advancing only a few feet each time.

Kyle enjoys some sailing on the dinghy (and a LOT of tacking)

After a couple of hours, I was getting weary, but the current was starting to slacken making my tacks more productive. I told myself that I would at least get into the pond before turning back. Once I got there, I realized I had enough depth to make long tacks, so I changed my goal to making it across to the other side of the pond.

Along the way, I saw that I was about to be overtaken by a bunch of 5 meter racing sailboats. I tacked to get out of their way. After a while, I ducked to look under the sail and found that they had tacked, too, and were paralleling me. One of them tacked again and we were on a collision course. I was on a port tack, so he had the right of way, but I didn’t want to interfere with the race either, so I turned downwind to pass him port to port before rounding up again astern of him as he went by. As he passed, he held out a gloved hand, gave me a high-five and yelled, “Cool boat!”

“You, too!”

We were both having fun.

At the far end of the pond, I turned to run back downwind. Even though the current was now flooding against me, I made it back to Sotito in a fifth of the amount of time it took me to get out. Along the way, I even got to surf the Pudgy down standing waves in the channel.

When I got back, the harbormaster came and told Andy and me about his plans to pull our neighbor off of the raft so he can leave. They attached a bridle and pulled the guy out straight sideways. He was at the helm, but was given very clear instructions not to touch the wheel or rev the engines, only to shift into idle forward or reverse as directed by the tow.

There was barely enough power in the launch to counter the wind force on the big hull. It took ages of working in the lulls to inch him away. During the process, Andy was able to converse a little with the guy’s Ecuadoran deckhand, who spoke very little English (The owner spoke no Spanish). He worked as a fiberglass guy in the marina where the owner keeps his boat. He was offered a few extra bucks to come along and make repairs along the way. It was his first time and he was clearly very anxious about the condition of the boat and its owner. We don’t think he’s going to volunteer again.

Once the bridle was disconnected, the guy proceeded to scare the crap out of everybody in the harbor by coming right at them, and then narrowly avoiding collision with LOTS of power and black exhaust. It was both a relief and a worry to see them make it through the harbor entrance into the open sea.

We stayed put for another day to give the winds a chance to die down. The sunset was another fizzle. When Andy blew the horn, a couple of nearby kids nearly jumped out of their skin. At first, they looked really scared, then they squealed with delight at the big noise, encouraging him to lay on it a little longer than last time. {Maryanne: During our stay in Menemsha Sotito had a steady stream of friends visit to share in the feasts; we were so lucky to meet with some amazingly talented and kind folks. Indeed, the whole stay was packed with great company, great views, great food and fantastic weather.}

Fun and Food - the nature of the weekend

. . . . . .

By morning, the wind was gone. For the first time, since we got there, Sotito was not getting squashed against her fenders. Robin, Maryanne and I took Sotito’s dinghy for a last trip around the harbor and then out to Menemsha Pond. We covered my whole day’s sailing in the Pudgy in 30 minutes.

Robin having fun with a quick blast in the Dighy to Menemsha Pond, and a lone boat anchored outside as Sotito departs

We untied Sotito, left the harbor and were immediately in swell left over from the blow of the previous few days. The weather was forecast to be mild, but we had one more big, red blob on the radar to traverse before we would be in the clear. As the storm approached, it started to rain in sheets. We got the bridgedeck windows rolled down just before it hit.

We spent the 20 minutes or so rounding Cuttyhunk Island with all five of us squinting through the rain streaked windows trying to visually identify and correlate every radar return. While it rained, gusts added height to the swell and Sotito rolled uncomfortably.

The storm passed as we entered the Sakonnet, the banks on either side blocked the ocean swell and suddenly it was a nice day again. Andy did the thumb-at-the-helm thing and I was back in his seat. He decided to stop for lunch and a swim at an indentation called Fogland. I kept expecting Andy to step in and take over, but he let me stay at the controls until the anchor was set and the engines were off.

Kyle gets to play at being captain of a much bigger boat, Robin and Andy finally get to relax once the storm has passed and all is safe

It got hot fast, so we all wasted no time jumping in for a cooling off. We had lunch (more amazing food) and were soon back underway for the dock at Bristol – what a weekend!