Daily Archives: September 6, 2012

No wind. Or is there?

We continued our slog down Long Island Sound towards New York in dead calm, motoring again. We wanted to get to Manhasset Bay where our friend Alan on Snow White was anchored. We saw more weather moving in and hoped we could get the anchor down before the rain.

Three hours before our turn into the bay Jack said, “We have no wind.”

I know that, I thought, that’s why we’re motoring.

“Really,” he said. “The instrument says 0.0. It should show our apparent wind while we’re moving.”

Sure enough, the instrument and the repeater both registered 0.0. We stepped out on deck and looked up. The little cups that spin with the wind were just sitting there. Huh? We weren’t hit with a gust or anything. How could it just stop working? A couple of hours later the wind actually kicked up and still the thing wouldn’t budge. Jack was grumbling non-stop about things breaking.

We turned into the bay in what felt like 15 knots and as we went further in we came under the protection of the shore. I stood on deck with the binoculars trying to get the lay of the land and spot Snow White.

“I think it see it,” I yelled, “but it looks like nothing but moorings.” I strained to see where boats were anchored.

Just then an old flat bottom skiff motored towards us. The driver slowed down as he approached and called out.

“Pick up any yellow mooring. It’s free for two nights. If you need launch service call on channel 9!”

We like free, and we easily found an empty mooring right next to Snow White, who was anchored just on the edge of the mooring field. In five minutes we were secure, just as the rain started.


Alan finally noticed us and dinghied over in the rain. We had a nice reunion dinner and we regaled each other with our adventures since we last saw each other in Norfolk, VA. We told him about our wind instrument and he matter-of-factly suggested it was just in need of a cleaning, which involves a trip up the mast, something I’m not willing to do, nor do I trust myself hoisting Jack up, even with an electric winch.

“I’ll do it,” Alan said. Are you kidding?! I love cruising people, and they must think we’re so lame because we don’t know what we’re doing and we’re old. But yes, Alan, we’d love for you to go up our mast!

The next morning he arrived with a set of ascenders and proceeded to march his way up our 60-foot mast as if he hadn’t a care in the world. I hid down below, cell phone ready to dial 911 in case I heard a loud thud.





There was no thud. Alan brought the offending piece of gear down and he and Jack probed it and squirted it and blessed it and Alan scampered back up and reinstalled it. Success! We have wind! Or at least we know the speed of it.

That was above and beyond for Alan to do. After Jack saw how easy the ascenders are he’s considering getting a set for himself because this is not the last time someone’s going to have to chase down a problem at the top of the mast and we can’t always count on Alan to be anchored nearby.

I’ll still be below with my hand on the cell phone.


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Westward ho!

What was supposed to be southeast winds 10-15 knots turned out to be 5 knots on the nose, so once again we had a long slog motoring toward New York. We could have waited for a fair wind, but the forecast told us it would be a long wait.

We saw that weather was moving in and we just buckled down and put 60 miles on the log as we watched the clouds forming ahead of us. Luckily we made the inlet at Port Jefferson and dropped the hook in a protected spot behind the beach before the rains came. It was Monday so we had our traditional Monday Beans, this time red beans and rice.

It was a very wet night, but a peaceful anchorage.


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Leaving Block Island for New London

As promised the Great Salt Pond at Block Island started to swell at the seams. We saw as many as five boats rafted-up on one mooring, but still they came. Amazing!

After a restless night, I awoke for an early crew call to an iffy sky and little wind.

After a quick breakfast we slipped the mooring and were gone by 8:00am.
Dave “Frogman” Strife repeatedly dove down to de-barnacle the saildrive propellers the day before so we expected a nice turn of speed.

Thanks to EV’s ace photographer Nancy, we’ve documented loading the bicycles.



We treated our guests to a lumpy crossing of the Long Island Sound into New London Marina, two blocks from where their car was parked. We were the only boat in the mooring field.

We were serenaded by Fort Adams canons.

The magnificent Coast Guard tall ship Eagle was tied up across the channel.

Tomorrow we pull out past the race for a long slog down the sound, hoping to raise Port Jefferson.

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