Fun in Bodkin Creek (after a frustrating sail)

[Kyle]We left Veazey Cove on the Bohemia River right at sunrise, nicely coinciding with a favorable tide shift. The wind was practically nothing, but it was from behind, so we set up the spinnaker for the day’s sail down the northern part of the bay.

Setting off at sunrise, the ospreys are on most of the navigation markers in the Bay so far

For the next six hours, we fought a constant battle with the shifty winds and a temperamental spinnaker sail. It was the most frustrating day of sailing we have had in a long while. What an emotional roller coaster ride. We’d get the thing up and pulling and life just couldn’t be better. We had a big, pretty sail up, we were going fast and the weather was perfect.

Thirty seconds later, the sail would collapse and make a suicidal dive into the water, where the bottom would submerge and start streaming past and sometimes under the boat. We would then have to go forward, pull it out of the water and slowly try to coax the wet sail to fill again. After three or four minutes of this, everything would be looking great and we’d be happy. I would walk back to the helm and by the time I got there, the whole process started all over again. I must admit, after a few hours of this, my frustration went from mild annoyance to getting a bit stompy. There just wasn't really enough wind, but I refused to give in. Maryanne managed to avoid making it worse by becoming sweeter and more understanding with time. {Maryanne was laughing her ass off at Kyle's frustration, but he clearly wasn't seeing the funny side of it, so Maryanne was trying hard not to do so in front of him}. She knew I just needed to yell at the sail, so she made a very deliberate effort not roll her eyes in front of me, nor to yell back at me in response, which I’m sure she really wanted to do. She is such a good wife!

When the wind was just right, Kyle was very happy, but most of the time the sail needs constant attention or refuses to assist at all - Much to Kyle's frustration

For hours, all I wanted was a chance to sit still and rest for thirty seconds. I didn’t get it. The worst moments came when we were converging on another sailboat coming in from our left. With the spinnaker pulling, we were much faster and would pass ahead. When it collapsed, we would slow down and be on a collision course. In the zero to three-knot winds, we couldn’t get the thing to stay filled reliably enough to be sure we would clear. To make matters worse, the other boat had the right of way. The spinnaker in the light wind was really sensitive to course changes and we could only turn five degrees or so either way before it would collapse into a huge mess, so we really didn’t want to turn if we could avoid it.

With the variable speed of both boats, it wasn’t apparent that we were enough of a collision hazard to need to make a course change until we were a couple of boat lengths away on his starboard side. Just then, the spinnaker filled and we pulled ahead. At that point, we had a couple of less than desirable choices: I could stay at the helm, prepared to make a big turn when the spinnaker inevitably failed us, leaving Maryanne up there to fend for herself when it all went to hell, or I could help her babysit the thing at the bows so it stays mostly filled, and let the autopilot do the steering.

Eventually, it looked like latter would have the best chance of success, so we chose that option. Since our average speed was only twenty or thirty feet per minute faster, it took us a long time to finally pass a boat length ahead. It was a real nail-biter, though, because we couldn’t simultaneously look at the boat behind and the sail ahead. If we weren’t staring up at the sail, it inevitably started to collapse and the other boat would start gaining. It was really hard, then to look away at the sail and hope we were picking up enough speed to be pulling ahead again.

While all of this was happening, Maryanne was able to have a conversation about the whole thing with the other skipper in normal tones. He seemed much less concerned about it than we felt. I suppose that was because, although technically we had to do all of the maneuvering to avoid him while he stood on, which we were desperately trying to do, he still could maneuver and knew exactly where we were, so there was no danger we would actually hit.

Shortly after that mess, the wind finally shifted enough that we were in normal mainsail and jib range and the spinnaker was finally stowed. We picked up speed, and finally had enough time to sit down and have a whole snack.

Maryanne was just getting ready to read to me for a bit when a Mayday came over the radio. Apparently, a 27-foot powerboat had an explosion and burst into flames at the fuel dock at the Baltimore Yacht Club (which is not actually in Baltimore itself, but nearby). It had either burned through its lines or been deliberately cast off to separate it from the pumps and was adrift in the harbor, heading for other boats. A towboat responded, followed quickly by the marine police and a fireboat. The owner and two occupants were blown overboard by the explosion. He suffered burns over 50% of his body, the other two had minor burns.

The Coast Guard radio communication seemed a little lacking, and appeared to offer no actual assistance or coordination effort. The most irritating question was, ”Do you have a GPS position for the vessel in distress, over?” They asked this several times, often stepping on communications between boats fighting the actual fire. The initial call and several subsequent ones identified the location as the Baltimore Yacht Club fuel dock. For goodness sake, look it up!

Once things died down from that, Maryanne was checking her Facebook page, and found out that a couple of people who we knew from the Gemini users groups, Chuck and Mary Ritenour, were on their way to the same anchorage we planned to use that evening. A few email exchanges later, we were invited to raft up for the night and then go to dinner at a nearby restaurant with some people from their yacht club (Yacht Club of Cape Saint Claire).

Entering Bodkin Creek: More ospreys and plenty of other sailors

We passed on actually rafting up, since our fenders were buried deep and we planned to stay at the anchorage for a couple of nights, but joined them for the 'taxi' ride to the restaurant and for dinner at a local place called the Cheshire Crab. The restaurant has a free launch that came out to pick us up and drop us off, so we didn’t even have to deploy the dinghies.

Waiting for the water taxi to take us to meet Mary and Chuck and other members of Yacht Club of Cape Saint Claire

The group turned out to be most of the people from the yacht club. The ones who didn’t sail there drove in. We ended up with about twenty people, all sitting on a long picnic bench made from a bunch of pushed-together little ones. The food was average and took a long time to arrive, but the company was good and the setting along the river was perfect. I picture one guy in the back suddenly having to make forty dishes at once. At least the rest of the clientele’s orders were staggered. The wait gave us plenty of time to chat, which is why we were really there. We were going to stay all night anyway, so that spared us the uncomfortable “when are you leaving” part after the bill came.

There was good live music to boot, and a couple of the tipsier members even got up and danced. In all, it was a great, unexpected evening.

Actually dressing up for a Saturday night out with live music!

In the morning, we emerged to find the whole raftup was gone. It seemed that just as quickly as it emerged, the whole get-together vanished like a mirage, and we were left to enjoy the peaceful river on our own while they headed

Passage to the Chesapeake: Part II

[Kyle]In Block Island, we pulled up anchor in the pre-dawn darkness about an hour after the wind began shifting from southwest to northwest. Knowing we would need some protection from wind, rain and spray at sea, we had installed the forward half of our cockpit enclosure. From the helm position, reflections of the lights ashore as well as hundreds of anchor lights reflecting off of the clear vinyl windows made it hard to tell what was ahead and what was behind. The added glare from the instrument lights on the panel made it pretty impossible to see where I was going. I focused on spotting big things with the radar while Maryanne piloted Begonia out of the harbor from the bow by using a bright flashlight to spot hazards and then radioing me turning instructions via walkie-talkie. It was a real edge-of-our-seats departure as we were both worried that a critical instruction would be missed or misunderstood.

It was a relief to simultaneously make it out of the crowded harbor and start seeing the world filling with pre-dawn twilight. We raised sail with a reef in each, shut down the engines and Begonia shot southwestwards into seas left sloppy by the previous day’s blow. Although the wind was from directly abeam, our forward motion moved it ahead until we were almost close-hauled, keeping the cockpit comfortably in the lee of our half-enclosure.

We were going beautifully fast, but were a little close to the wave train direction for the sailing to be comfortable. Begonia was rolling pretty wildly, with every twentieth or so being just big enough to knock something over or require quick bracing to keep from being thrown off the seat. Every now and then, a wave would break just at deck height, exploding into spray and sending a flume of water backwards. The biggest one of these broke right over the top of the cabin as Begonia was rolled into it by the previous wave. The wave was probably only eight feet high, but it sent a stream of water back that submarined under the snaps at the bottom of the cockpit enclosure and soaked me from below with up-going sea water. Then I got rained on by all of the water that hit the inside of the canvas above me. I was glad I had been wearing raingear.

As we sailed off of the shallow Montauk Shoal and into the deeper water south of Long Island, the sailing smoothed out somewhat. It was still rough enough that we cancelled Maryanne’s plan of cooking lunch. It was hard enough to hold on in the galley, much less cook. I certainly didn’t want to do dishes. We settled for peanut butter sandwiches.

By dinner, things had settled down enough that Maryanne was able to make us a delicious chicken curry from a recipe she made up on the spot using what she had available. So far, there had been no hint of seasickness so I gobbled it up greedily.

We had another spell of really rough conditions for an hour or so before the wind shifted to the west for a few hours, and then shifted back. The waves being pushed ahead of the wind arrived from directly ahead, making for a confusing mess when added to the existing beam seas. I went off watch just then, but had a terrible time trying to sleep between the violent motion and the alarming noises.

It was a few hours before the motion suddenly eased into a gentle rocking and I fell fast asleep. An hour later, Maryanne woke me up for my watch. Ugh. The downside to being on a boat with only two occupants is that you can’t just say, “I need more sleep. Come back in an hour.” Maryanne needs the chance to sleep just as much as I do and the only way she can get it is if I’m awake, so I got up. The bummer was that it was still too rough for the first couple of hours to be trying to make coffee and then balance and time the sips right in the hope of not spilling it all over myself. {Maryanne: Not too rough, I did manage to turn last night's left-over curry into a Caribbean style roti for breakfast}

The good news was that, in spite of it being just a little rough, we had been moving fast since putting up the sails the day before. It wasn’t until the wind started decreasing twenty miles before the Delaware Bay entrance that our knotmeter finally dropped below nine. I was thrilled since the next couple of days were forecast to have very light winds. I had expected to go fast for the first half or two-thirds of the way and then spend another whole day crawling the rest of the way in light winds. What had been planned as a two or even three-day passage had taken one. In our first twenty-four hours, we sailed 221.8NM. Footprint’s record was 186NM while crossing the North Sea in close to ideal conditions. Since conditions have to be sustained and favorable, 200NM days are pretty rare in cruising boats. We generally plan 100-120 to allow for periods of light wind. I’m hoping that someday they become commonplace enough for us to become blasé about it, but for now I’m still excited about breaking the elusive (and arbitrary) 200NM day again.

Morning came just as we made the turn northwest bound into the Delaware Bay. I went off watch for a couple of hours while Maryanne dodged shipping in the channel. Since I wasn’t sure we would be arriving in daylight, I planned to hug the main shipping channel in order to avoid crab pot floats on a more direct route through the shallows. This turned out to be a completely unnecessary precaution. Crabbing here must have a strictly regulated season. When I came through the previous September on the way to New York, it was hard to find a 21-foot space between floats through which to sail Begonia. In spite of my best efforts, I still picked up a few. The busy heavy shipping lane was the only safe refuge. This day, there wasn’t a pot float in sight anywhere the whole way up the bay. {Maryanne: Crabs actually migrate around the bay and between different habitats, and the crabbers know it... no need to put lines or pots out where the crabs aren't!}

The current began flooding up the bay just as we arrived. The currents in Delaware Bay are very strong and we needed to maintain our speed to be able to make it the whole length before we would be essentially stopped by the outgoing tide. We motor-sailed in the dying wind until the sails were no longer providing any help. The rest of the day was a long, boring motor up the middle of the brown bay in flat seas.

Wind had died, but there was the odd passing ship or Osprey nest to distract us before sunset

About five miles before the eastern entrance to the C&D Canal, the sun set, the current reversed and we slowed way down as we fought through the last stretch in the dying light. We entered the canal just as it got dark. There is a bit of a lag between Chesapeake and Delaware tides, so the current in the canal was still in our favor until we got to the other side. Maryanne distracted herself with making us California Rolls for dinner (and I surprised myself by enjoying them so much, requesting seconds, and then thirds... Yummy).

By midnight we were through the canal and really looking forward to a proper sleep. We had intended to keep going another fifteen miles or so to a favorite anchoring spot of ours farther down the bay, but a nearby cove in the Bohemia River meant we could be asleep with the checklist done before we would even get to the other one.

The Bohemia is very shallow. Since Prydwen, the Tartan 30 in which we’ve done most of our Chesapeake sailing, had a fairly deep draft, the Bohemia never made it onto our short list of favorite anchorages. Even in Begonia, there were a couple of times when I winced at the depth sounder as the shallow alarm went off. Most of the river is .6m (2’) shallower than the charted depth. The tide was dead low, though, so we shouldn’t have a problem getting out. The anchorage itself is a bit exposed for rough weather, but on a calm day it was just perfect.

At noon, we finally emerged from bed to have a look at where we were for the first time in daylight. It was beautiful. The large bay was ringed by homes we could never afford and lots of big trees. Sailboats were out with their sails up, going nowhere. The powerboats were out towing skiers and generally having fun. It made it a bit wakey, but it was still a lot smoother than a weekday in Weehawken.

A nice anchorage at Veazey Bay in the Bohemia River, Maryland

Passage to the Chesapeake, Part I

[Kyle]We left Bristol way too early in the morning. I had not had nearly enough sleep, but I knew we had a long day ahead of us and we would need every minute of daylight we could get.

Our first planned stop was at Block Island. The planned distance was only 32 nautical miles, but the wind was against us, so I knew we would have to tack the whole way. The currents were against us for the first part of the day so we had to get moving and keep moving.

Apart from the fact that our progress was painfully slow in the down river direction, it was a beautiful day for sailing. It was warm and sunny and we had long enough between tacks to enjoy the beautiful scenery. Even though it’s not ideal, a tacking day is good for working out the kinks of our coordination and refining our routine.

Since it was early at the start, most of our company was fishermen. We tacked through a large group of clammers. They were using rakes on poles so much longer than their boats that they towed them behind. When the rakes were on the bottom, the men dug through the mud by working the t-handle on the other end in a manner that was somewhere between suggestive and obscene. I know they’re hard working men doing real, honest work but, c’mon. Get a room! We tried not to blush as we went by. They seemed to enjoy goading us.

It was afternoon, a full tide cycle, before we finally passed under the Newport bridge amid hundreds of other sailboats. The now favorable current drastically reduced our tack per mile ratio and we were out in the open waters of Rhode Island Sound in short order.

Without land in the way, we now were able to make hour-long tacks. We went out to where land was just a sliver on the horizon and then tacked when we figured we would be able to lay a direct course to the northern tip of Block Island. It worked for a few minutes, and then the wind gradually bent us back toward Newport. We tacked again and it started to die off.

It was getting late in the day and we were running out of time for this. We started one engine and then the other to add speed. Pretty soon, the wind was gone completely. It was smooth enough that we were able to stow the sails neatly as we raced to make it before sunset.

Sunrise at Bristol, Sunset (and no wind) approaching Block Island

We didn’t quite make it. We got to the harbor entrance early enough to be able to spot any errant pot floats, (we snagged one earlier), but it was dark by the time we actually made it into the harbor, and our spotlight was put to good use.

Salt Pond was wall-to-wall boats. We idled around the anchorage forever before we finally settled on a spot that was a little close to our comfort to set the anchor. We put out plenty of scope (chain to depth ratio), backed down between boats to make sure we were holding and then pulled up as much chain as we dared to give everyone enough room to swing. The wind was light. So we weren’t too worried about our home breaking free. In the end, we had travelled through 76 nautical miles of water to get here.

Since we’re on all chain, we swing less in light winds than rope rode boats. On a wind shift, we noticed the stern of the boat behind us was only half a boat length away. We hoped he wouldn’t make us move. We were very tired, it was very late and we needed to go to bed.

By morning, way before I had enough sleep, I could hear it: Aldo’s was calling. I emerged to find fog so thick that I could only see the boat nearest us. Through the fog came the call, “Andiamo!” The last time we were here, the guy called out “An-dia-MO!” (let’s go) This guy sounded like he was yelling “Paaasta Bowl!”, until he was right next to us. It was actually, “AAAA-ndiam-OOOO!” Perhaps the different guys all have a different way of saying it. It seems like the most Italian way to do it would be, “andi-AAAA-M-O!”

Aldo's bakery delivery service - Yummy (they do lunch, which includes a raw bar, later in the day too!)

Anyway, we didn’t have to make breakfast. We got two very sticky sticky buns, two yogurt parfaits and a big cup of rough coffee. We tried our best to come to life, but we were too tired. We managed only to get the dinghy into lifeboat mode before we were back in bed.

We emerged in the afternoon to finish the last of tidying up from our passage and simultaneously preparing for the next one. We got an unexpected bit of entertainment when we noticed the Coast Guard going over to the biggest mega yacht in the harbor. They were anchored well into the nearby no anchoring zone, which had been designated to protect shellfish beds. They had been in the middle of the harbor in deep water when we arrived the night before. After much observation, we surmised that they must have dragged anchor and reset it there to keep from running aground. They were swinging freely, so they weren’t stranded, but they were also staying put, so it seemed their props might have been damaged.

This giant boat (and its toys) did (we assume) drag anchor and find itself in a no anchorage area - luckily all before sunset

After a while, we noticed another large yacht near their old location being given a lot of attention. They attempted to set a spare anchor while being backed down by a towing service. It was unsuccessful, so they were towed off. We assume there must have been some damage by the bigger boat as they dragged through, perhaps fouling their props on the smaller boat’s chain (yes, we totally decided to make up our own story to fit the events we happened to witness).

It rained heavily most of the day, which made it easier to stay in and not feel guilty about not making the long trip from our anchorage way in the back to shore. In truth, the wind forecast required that we get another super-early start for the three-day ocean crossing. Going ashore would be pushing it and we knew we would need our rest.

Preparing to Depart from Bristol, Rhode Island

[Maryanne]Yikes, suddenly it was days away; we were leaving, and there was still too much not yet done… It’s amazing how time can pass with a few basic chores, and good company to keep you occupied.

The immediate priority was to be sure the boat was prepared for 10 days away from any provisioning. Our next passage south would only take a few days, but we’d do it slowly, and gunk-hole along the way, making the most of weather windows. So I’d need provisions for 10 days (minimum). Suddenly I had to switch my mind into a planning mode that has decayed from lack of use over the summer. Kyle always laughs that I have enough food aboard for 6 months even before I set foot in the grocery store, but I like to have fresh fruit and veggies, and options, and I also like a big enough variety that I can experiment and dabble with food dishes as the mood takes me.

Lynn and Robin again came to my aid. Along with farmers' markets for fresh local veggies, I was whisked to a warehouse/bulk store (BJs) where I was able to source a year’s supply of such things as giant bottles of Tabasco not normally found in standard supermarkets (along with several $100’s of other items). I even manage to pick up a major off-shore flare kit that I'd been attempting to acquire for some months. I find it hard to rationalize how excited I can get at finding a well-stocked normal supermarket, let alone a warehouse store. The secret, I find, is getting it all stowed away before Kyle realizes just how much I have purchased (much easier than explaining why we need it, and him eventually accepting we do indeed, but worrying the boat may sink). Transferring that kind of shopping expedition from car to dinghy, to boat is quite a workout too.

Transporting, loading and unloading the dinghy - so much easier on a nice calm day!

Eventually I had a plan for groceries, laundry, etc, and realized that I did indeed have time to spare, and the weather actually cooperated too – a day in Bristol to do what I should have done much earlier in our stay – the Herreshoff Museum.

Herreshoff Museum

Non racing-sailors may not have come across the Herreshoff family, but they were boat building legends. An impressive pair of brothers (one blind) who designed and built a rash of sleek, fast, boats at the time when money was no object (row, sail and steam power); including 8 consecutive winning defenders of the highly competitive America’s cup (from 1893 to 1934). They even designed and patented America’s first sailing catamaran in 1876/1877. And they had done all this in Bristol, those very boats launched from a yard in view from our anchored Begonia. The museum houses a host of boats (large and small), a photo time line of the America’s cup story, and a couple of films depicting the boat building history and the America’s cup race history. (Oh, and I also learned that Herreshoff is pronounced Herrers-off, no ‘sh’ sound in there!).

Within Bristol itself, I took time for a last wander around the local stores, have tea in some of the cute little coffee shops, a few more restaurants, and generally enjoy the working waterfront. It is a great little town and I was happy to have spent time there.

[Kyle]For my last “weekend”, which was really just one afternoon and the next morning, we made a point of having a big lunch with Andy, Robin and Lynn at a nice waterfront restaurant. Andy and Robin were in the last stages of replacing one of Sotitio’s digital engine controllers, so they went back home to finish up and Maryanne and I had one last stroll around Bristol.

[Kyle]Bristol is not that big, so we arrived at Sotito to see the last of the day’s work. Sotito’s floorboards were up. Robin was sitting on one of the big engines with a manual and Andy was doing the wrench turning even farther down. Everything was looking good. One of my favorite things about the scene was the juxtaposition of Robins toenail polish with the fuel filters in between. That’s a sure sign of a real catch if I’ve ever seen one.

[Kyle]In no time, Sotito was back in entertainment mode and we were having one last evening aboard before moving on. We ate so much! Robin made one of her delicious dinners, then we had the last of the chowdah from The Black Pearl, then we had dessert, then we had drinks (okay, we were doing that all along). After that, it was time for big, bear hugs all around and wishes of Bon Voyage.

A few 'just in time' fixes and Sotito departs Bristol

[Maryanne]We dined with our friends and said our farewells. It was especially hard to say farewell to Sotito, and to Robin in particular who has become such a wonderful companion. Sotito left Bristol a few days before Begonia, and I was able to join with Lynn at the dock to wave them off on their trip back to Weehawken. They sweetened the departure by offering me use of their car for my final chores – a very nice sweetener indeed.

[Kyle]After work, I got the treat of being picked up from the Providence airport by Maryanne in Robin’s powder blue Thunderbird, which she had left behind until there was a convenient time for Lynn to drive it to Weehawken. It was a beautiful day and Maryanne had the top down, and we drove back to Bristol Marina through the beautiful Colt State Park. My life is odd. Sometimes I feel like a homeless waif, spending my time transiting between work and home on foot and through dodgy bus stations. Suddenly, I’m in a convertible on a sunny day. It reminded me of our wedding day, when Carlos lent us his little blue convertible for the trip to our hotel.

Two Cute Blue convertibles that we've been lucky enough to enjoy - thanks folks!

Exploring Rhode Island without Kyle

[Maryanne]In Bristol itself there remain a host of tourist sights I’ve ignored to date but hope to squeeze in before I leave. I did manage to visit Lindon Place, an 1810 mansion in the center of Bristol. It describes itself as the “crown jewel” of Bristol; I’m not so sure about that but it did seem a nice place for a wedding, and was a pleasant distraction for an hour on a sunny day. It has hosted at least four US presidents and has a chandelier in the dining room believed to be originally from Buckingham Palace.

Bristol also has a great library: the Rogers Free Library (with plenty of summer fun activities for kids that I would have loved to join in with; so ageist!)

On the water there are so many pretty coves, and places to stop, swim, relax, but Newport is by far my favorite; there is plenty to do, but also plenty going on if you just sit and watch.

Newport waterfront scenes

I did take a solo trip to Newport, primarily to visit the Museum of Yachting, and walked (voluntarily) 3.5 miles to visit it from the town bus station. Unfortunately this was only to discover the museum had moved. I must have passed by it around mile 1 (oh, well, the exercise won’t do me any harm, but I lost the incentive to seek out the museum after that.). I also ended up walking nearly all the way back (but that is just due to my stubbornness and stupidity, and wanting to walk by some of its famed mansions one more time).

As a respite during all that exercise I did force myself to stop off at Gary’s Handy Lunch diner while in Newport – Oh boy, it’s a classic and I love it (established 1967). They serve simple food at crazy low prices, the décor is retro diner (probably original, but definitely clean and in good order), and the service is FANTASTIC.

A random Dog bar (on one of the wharfs), and scenes from the great Gary's

I am a huge fan of the American Diner scene, and actively seek them out as we travel about America. I did drag Kyle to the diner in Bristol. I didn’t match up to Gary’s, but had it’s own special kind of grumpy, grimy charm (that will make it a one time only visit).

I joined Kyle on one of his his commutes to work, for the bus ride into Providence. I had imagined I’d be a tourist in Providence once Kyle took the train on to Boston, but the weather was questionable so I spent most of my time in the mall (so unlike me) and hidden away in the warm, dry cinema for a movie treat. There was some sunshine while I was there, and I walked along the canal to discover not only a gondola service, but also to find it full of wedding parties snapping photos during a brief spell of sunshine – a happy walk.

Providence Canals with unexpected gondola

Yet again the presence of Sotito is ensuring that we have way more fun that we should expect (the chore list is definitely growing with Sotito as such a wonderful attraction and distraction). I joined them in Newport (along with a new selection of their wonderful friends) – only to experience yet more stunning views and enertainment from her decks (and, of course, more great food). For this visit it was the Jazz festival that dominated the town. Although we had a mooring in the harbor we spent a great few hours anchored right off the fort where the festival sound system seemed to be perfectly setup for us, and there was even a giant screen projecting close-ups of the stage performers; SUPERB!

Great views, Great company and food, and the odd totally unexplainable sighting

Back at the mooring we relaxed and awaited the sunset. As we were assembled on the bow a row boat, with a team of 10 people rowing and a coxswain to coordinate, approached and passed us, they were having fun (their rowing was not that coordinated, so it was great to hear them laughing). They would occasionally just jump in the water to cool off, and they would take plenty of rest breaks. One of the guys just swam up to Sotito to chat with us at the bow and found a place to relax on our mooring can. A big seagull, a seal, a cockroach – there were plenty of friendly nicknames bandied around and when they all climbed back aboard and rowed away it was with a farewell of “Sotito – Salute!”.

The row boat "Savage" entertains us for a while in Newport

We’ll be leaving Bristol shortly and I need to really address some of the items on my growing chore list. However the weather is great, there is still a host of attractions I’ve yet to enjoy; I feel my list will only grow.