To Newport (during the Folk Festival)

[Kyle]The next weekend was the Newport Folk Festival. Sotito was keen to go and invited Maryanne and me to come along. Since the winds were forecast to be favorable both ways, we decided instead to take Begonia down and meet up with them. That way, they’d have more room for their other visitors and they wouldn’t have to modify their plans to accommodate my commute to work.

We had intended to have dinner ashore in Bristol the night before setting off, but then the sky opened up and none of us felt like a wet, miserable dinghy ride across the harbor. Instead, we stayed aboard and had dinner at one of the best restaurants in the area: Sotito.

We went home during a break in the rain, but it resumed soon afterward and we spent the rest of the night sleeping fitfully, listening to the rain pelt the cabin top, and hoping it would be done by morning.

It wasn’t. We stalled around a bit with inside jobs, but the rain kept coming. It was hard to get motivated. The wind was just perfect, though. We reminded ourselves that we were offshore sailors, dammit. We had all of the gear, so we put it on and went out for a sail in the rain.

It was great! We left early hoping Sotito would leave well after us so they could pass us along the way. We would each then be able to get photos of the other boat underway. In fact, we left even earlier than planned and the wind was great. We decided to use the extra time to go to Newport the long way. Instead of the 11-mile direct route, when we left Bristol, we tacked up the Providence River, rounded the northern end of Prudence Island, sailed down the West Passage into Rhode Island Sound Then we re-entered Newport from sea. Our route ended up being about 35 miles, almost all of it fun, fast sailing.

Along route we kept tabs on one another by texting screen shots back and forth of our respective positions on our navigation apps. Today's technology really is amazing. It took all of the ambiguity out of just saying we were in such and such channel kinda by this buoy or the other.

As Begonia reached Rhode Island Sound, it was looking like it was going to be a pretty close race to see who would get to Newport first. We seemed to have a slight advantage, so we planned to tack up the channel until intercepting Sotito, take photos, and then turn downwind to follow them in.

When we got into the wind shadow of Conanicut Island, we slowed way down. A storm came overhead and gave us one last, windless dumping. We spotted Sotito in the distance racing into Newport at the leading edge of the rain.

When we entered Newport Harbor, it was clearing up. We searched for a place to anchor, but the harbor was pretty full for the festival. All of the boats in the main anchorage had out two anchors to limit their swing and allow more boats to fit in and enjoy the festival.

If we were staying longer, we would have gone to the trouble, but two anchors is at least four times the work both to deploy and to retrieve. Maryanne called around and eventually found someone who had an available mooring for a boat of Begonia’s size.

{Maryanne: Safely at a mooring and with marginal weather, it was time to set to work on the engines - both engines needed an exhaust elbow replaced - it was NOT a fun job. Poor Kyle got stuck into the tight workspace and got on with it... I read a book, made some comfort food, and encouraged him temporarily put his tools down and to poke his head out in time to see the amazing sunset.}

Critical engine work makes it hard to enjoy the surroundings

Since the weather was still pretty gloomy, our engine work had run late, and it had been a long day, we called it a night. In the morning, Andy and Robin picked us up in Sotito’s dinghy for the trip to their boat. Robin’s son Chris was also there, along with a couple of his friends and we were to meet up ashore later with her young grandson, Connor.

We all piled into a launch and headed ashore. We split up, Maryanne, Robin and my first stop was a waterfront bar that was in a building where the big commercial fishing boats used to unload their catch. We knew this because Robin had worked on one of the big boats and they used to unload their catch in this very warehouse. She had lots of good memories about it and was able to describe how different it had all been back then and which things they kept the same.

A trip ashore with Robin, and drinks at the Aquidneck Lobster Co.

At the bar, there was an intriguing looking glass jug with a bunch of pineapple floating in it. Maryanne asked the bartender and he said it was vodka. We all wanted a taste, but it seemed a bit early for vodka, so he offered to give us a little taster shot to go with the ordinary beers we ordered as time-passers. The vodka was good, but we all agreed it was a bit strong to be getting a full-sized glass of it.

We finished our beers and headed out for a late lunch. I stopped to use the restroom on the way out, and when I emerged, nobody I recognized was in sight. I figured they must be making use of the facilities as well. I waited seven minutes and was still all by myself. I figured they must’ve thought I went ahead and left, so I went to try to catch up with them. By then, I was feeling much tipsier than I should have been after only 1¼ drinks. I staggered into the tourist crowds in a fog feeling somewhat anxious. The shorts I was wearing didn’t have good pockets, so Maryanne was carrying my phone and my wallet.

The only thing I had going for me was that Robin had pointed out the lunch place as we walked by it before so I knew where they were going. I went in and there was no sign of them. Uh, oh.

I went back outside and there they were. They had been in the office at the warehouse, seen me the whole time and decided to follow me when I wandered off. Sheesh!

We had a quick lunch of clam chowder. Wow! So far, the best New England clam chowder I’ve ever had in my life was from Fisherman’s Grotto in Monterey, California. Yes, California. That stuff is amazing! I have been all up and down the east coast since then. I’ve had lots of good chowdah, but none of them has been close. This stuff – the stuff at The Black Pearl in Newport – is really close. It’s been so long since I’ve been to The Fisherman’s Grotto that I can’t definitively say which is better, but they’re really close. I’ll have to go back to Monterey to check. At any rate, the chowdah at The Black Pearl is definitely worth a hundred-mile detour to get. We got a hot quart to eat then and there and a frozen one to take home for later. Nobody should leave The Black Pearl without at least two take-home quarts.

Excellent chowder at the renowned (and ancient) Black Pearl - yummy!

With full bellies and our heads clearing rapidly, we decided to spend the nice day wandering around the town while Robin went to collect her grandson. Along the way, I actually shopped for things: A nice shirt and two pair of trousers made out of lightweight, quick drying cruiser-friendly fabric.

{Maryanne: During our tour of Thames street (pronounced Thaimes, a strong 'th' and an aimes), I was especially taken by a pair of entrepreneurial young ladies selling Lemonade - just SO American, I love it. I also managed to pick up a whole bunch of new books to devour from the beautiful Maritime Center - a great resource for visiting boaters with showers, laundry, etc}

No sooner had I bought the pants, than I lost the shirt. I knew I shouldn’t shop. That was the most expensive thing. Maryanne conducted a heroic phone search and was able to get reunited with it three days later. Time to head back to Sotito.

We spent most of the rest of the afternoon swimming and talking. At one point, Andy got restless, so I joined him in the dinghy to go check out the Folk Festival. It wasn’t the festival, per se that was entertaining, but the enormous collection of overloaded, rafted up boats anchored nearby, their decks covered with people dancing and having fun. On the way back, we saw a guy crossing the main channel on a paddleboard, going right through the boat traffic. What was he thinking?

Dinner came with a show. Sotito was right at the edge of the main traffic lane, so all of the pretty boats in the harbor came right past us while we ate, talked and watched the sun go down.

Sailboats and Sunsets - The best of Newport

It was a few hours later that it came time for us to go home. Robin was going to take us and then pick us up in the morning when Andy suggested we just take the dinghy ourselves and bring it back in the morning. Sotito’s dinghy is a RIB with a 60hp motor (i.e. their dinghy is more powerful than our 2 main boat engines combined). We were home in no time.

We were up early for Sunday breakfast at the Fisherman’s Church Institute. The institute was designed to serve seafarers of all kinds. They have showers, laundry, rooms and a kitchen that serves a full breakfast on Sunday. Well, They used to serve a full breakfast. We didn’t know that. The full breakfast of the past has been pared down to a pick-up-your-order-at-the-counter breakfast, which is eaten in the main dining room. It wasn’t the experience we were hoping for, but it was a good, cheap breakfast. Also we took the time to explore the facilities. The 'church' part is a beautifully painted room, very peaceful, an there is also a fantastic library (and even accommodation available).

After breakfast it was time to get launches to our respective boats in order to get off of the moorings by checkout time. Sotito takes less to get going and she was gone by the time we unzipped Begonia’s sail cover.

We tacked through the Newport Bridge before we were becalmed at the big ship anchorage. The lull was short-lived, though, and we were soon headed north in a building wind.

Great skies and great sailing home.

Bristol appeared much too quickly. I was tempted to pass by and enjoy fine sailing to a new place, but I needed to be up for work in the wee hours, so we pulled down the sails and we anchored in our old spot. The nice weather of the day before left and it started to rain again. Perhaps we stopped at the right time after all. Once again, and perhaps not surprisingly, Sotito beat us home.

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!

A mini-Rhode Island Cruise

[Kyle]After a couple of weeks at anchor in Bristol Harbor, we were keen to actually sail again; chomping at the bit to get out of town, so to speak. My otherwise terrible work schedule did have a decent stretch of days off that we could use to put some miles on the log.

Since there had been no wind on our last leg into Bristol, we hadn’t yet had a chance to see Begonia kick up her heels now that we were freshly scrubbed and free of the previous winter’s bottom growth.

Our first leg didn’t really satisfy our need. The water in all of Rhode Island that day had only boat wakes to disturb the calm surface. It was nice to be going faster on one engine than we had been on two, but I wanted to go fast.

Calm waters as we pass by Tiverton (RI), and another great sunset (this time at Third Beach)

Fast would have to wait. We motored our way to the crowded anchorage at Third Beach at the mouth of the Sakonnet, and set anchor in the sand. We spent the rest of the afternoon watching families frolic on the beach and on their boats.

I took advantage of the clearer water to touch up my last bottom cleaning job. I was amazed at how fast the growth re-accumulated back in the healthy waters of Bristol Harbor. The main problem is the tiny shrimp-like criters. The little twerps quickly form a mat several twerps thick along with all of the crud that washes by. They are surprisingly strong and seem to be able to maintain a grip at speeds of up to five knots, which we have trouble obtaining without any wind and while dragging all of the shrimp. They also clog the speedwheel, making it read 0.00 all of the time. That drives me crazy. They brush off easily, but they don’t like it. They swarm after me like angry bees and I emerge from a cleaning job covered with them like a bee-beard guy. At least they don’t sting, but they do either bite or pinch. Luckily, they seem to flee from fresh water and they really hate soap, so I can get them off of me once I’m done, but it makes for a really nasty job.

We had all day to get only a few miles the following day, so I was determined to sail in the practically windless conditions no matter how long it took.

It took all day. I think we got up to three knots once, but we spent most of the day on either side of a knot in about half again as much wind. Only a favorable current saved us from motoring. It took the air flowing past us ten seconds to get from one side of the cockpit to the other. I was amazed the sails could make use of it to push us along, no matter how slowly. It certainly didn’t feel like a “breeze”. It was hot! Just in case Maryanne’s skin stopped working, I made sure I gave her the full report about how hot it was every couple of minutes so she wouldn’t miss it {Maryanne: Oh, how I appreciate the regular weather updates!}.

At great length, we finally arrived at our anchorage at Dutch Harbor, grateful for the brief breeze generated by the engines for the last couple of miles. The Athena is set up so that the port engine has to be running for the windlass to work. Starboard just makes it easier to control. We like to get the engines warmed up and run them with a load every start. They’ll last longer that way, but it means we usually motor the last couple of miles.

Dutch Harbor Lighthouse, and one of the many planes that seemed to buzz by throughout the day

We found a spot we liked clear of the mooring field a couple of rode-lengths away from the only other boat around. It was close enough that it would have been awkward not to wave, but too far to yell so that we would each have our privacy.

I waved and just got a stare in reply. He must not have seen me. I waved again. Another stare. Maryanne tried it. Nothing. When his companion came out, we tried it all over again on her. Still nothing. Oh, well. Good thing we’re so far apart.

It started to cool off as the sun got lower in the sky. Maryanne made dinner and we ate in the cockpit, conversed and then enjoyed a beautiful sunset over a glass of wine. When I got up to clear the table, I noticed that our neighbor was only about two boat lengths ahead. They were apparently on an all-rope rode. When the current reversed, they had drifted all of the way to the other side of their anchor. Without the force of any wind, Begonia just pointed into the current and stayed essentially in place, laying to the last twenty pounds of chain.

The guy was out in the cockpit grilling. He spotted me and yelled, “Hey! You think we’re a little close?”

Uh, oh.

Etiquette dictates that the first boat to anchor has the right of way, so to speak. If he insisted that we move, we would have to move, which I really didn’t want to do because it’s a huge pain in the ass. His snippy tone hinted that was where he was about to go with it.

“Oh, no, it’s okay.” I responded. “Our anchor is way back there.” I helpfully pointed at our trip-line floats. “We won’t get any closer to you than this.”

He stared at me for a second. I was hoping he was taking in the logic of my argument and not about to make his own counter argument. I had more waiting just in case about how I measured him at 500 feet away on radar when we set the anchor, but if he wanted to push it, we were going to lose.

Instead, he muttered, “I’m just sayin’…” and disappeared into his cabin.

It was pretty clear that his real objection was our very presence in the first place. He just wanted the whole place to himself. That’s not really reasonable in Rhode Island, which is chock full of boats. I was honestly surprised three of four more boats didn’t join us as the day ended.

I waited in the cockpit a bit longer to see if he would come out to continue the debate. I half expected him to be naked apart from the hat (see: To Norman Island, BVI, April 2009) he had that kind of vibe about him. Instead, he stayed inside, so I figured we got to stay put.

At sunrise the next morning, I got up to find the other boat miles away with the current going the other direction. Shortly after, our antisocial neighbor began pulling up his anchor. They were gone by the time the kettle started whistling. I had the urge to go on deck and wave a big, happy goodbye, but they were going the other way and probably too far away to see me anyway.

. . . . . .

A couple hours later, we lifted our own anchor in a building breeze. Since it was such a nice day, we tacked the wrong way for an hour or so just for the fun of being out in a sailboat on a sunny day. We turned downwind. The wind continued to build and by the time we passed our anchorage, we were really starting to move. Take that, shrimp!

By the time we reached the north end of Conanicut Island, we were solidly in the nine to ten knot range. We were tearing a hole in the sea! I must admit, I probably took a little too much pleasure in passing everything going our direction with sails, but it was such a beautiful, perfect sailing day and it felt good to know we had picked such a capable boat.

Finally a great sailing day - everyone wants to be out on the water (even those without a boat)

We were having so much fun that we decided to keep going past Bristol and anchor in the Kickamuit River, farther to the northeast. The Kickamuit has a very narrow, shallow entrance channel filled with moored boats to negotiate, but once passed, it opens up to a big almost empty “lake”. We anchored all alone in the middle of it and were treated to yet another beautiful sunset.

Relaxing and play time for all

By morning, the winds of the previous day were dying down. We left early and spent a couple of hours tacking ever more slowly towards, and then through the Hope Bridge. By the time we made it close enough to start the engine for the anchorage in Bristol, we had pretty much come to a stop anyway. What a great few days. It was a shame I had to go back to work.

Wait a minute, I didn’t!

For Part 2, we had a few days cruise planned aboard Sotito.