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JeffM
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« on: April 27, 2007, 09:45:21 PM » |
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Very late departure Friday night for me and two of my boys: getting a boat out of storage, rigged for sailing, and then loaded for a weekend cruise is a lengthy business! Left the ramp at midnight and motored the few hundred yards to an anchorage in Battleship Cove. Anchored between the battleship Massachusetts and a raucous waterfront bar that kept us awake into the wee hours. (One a.m. bedtime is a clue that Mom is out of town for the weekend.) Aron (12) and Stephen (6) slept in the bunk on the port side of the cb, while I had the narrower starboard side to myself. My tarp roof helped keep us warm, but I still got cold feet in nighttime temperatures that dropped nearly into the 30s.
A late night led to late rising, and a late departure after oatmeal, warm cinnamon rolls and coffee. We steered Beatrice Ann southward under the Braga Bridge and out across Mount Hope Bay. Sakonnet Harbor, at the mouth of Narragansett Bay, beckoned; it is a nice little town and a gateway to the “Southeast Corner” area of the coast between Narragansett and Buzzards Bays. (I hoped to sail that coast later in the season.) Unfortunately the forecast of a good beam reach turned into a beat to weather, lessening our chance of making the whole distance. We passed into Pirate Cove at the head of the Sakonnet “River” (really a passage), where I looked longingly at a little cove off-limits to sailors due to the bridge across its entrance. No time to drop the masts and explore it today—the wind against us made for a tight timeline. Lunch for me was pita bread and hummus—my favorite boat food: one-handed, nutritious, no crumbs.
Only entered the Sakonnet River after 1:30pm. The wind picked up a bit in mid-afternoon, taking my gaze away from the beautiful rural coastline as I fought a stiff chop. I began preparations to reef, before realizing that the rigging I had modified to make my tarp cabin possible wouldn’t permit reefing while underway. I resolved to ease the sheets a bit, and just spill a little wind when needed. Anyway, the wind got very light and shifty around 5:30. At that point I gave up any hope of reaching Sakonnet Harbor, still several miles ahead, and we turned for our planned anchorage at Fogland Harbor so we could drop anchor before dark.
We anchored in the pretty cove tucked behind the peninsula of Fogland. Although it is called a harbor, it is fairly undeveloped and mostly marsh except for a few biggish houses. We made the acquaintance of one of the residents, who was on his way out to work on the engine of his big powerboat. He admired our boat, and told us he and his wife had cruised extensively in their 40ft sailboat until age and health had restricted them to a cabin cruiser and local waters. Aron was delighted by the bioluminescent creatures—like fireflies--in the water, and resolved to capture some to see what they really looked like. We had a dinner of chowder, storytime (Swallows and Amazons), and went to bed at a more reasonable 9pm.
Sunday morning dawned bright but we didn’t rise until 7:30. After breakfast (fresh-baked muffins, warm cinnamon rolls, coffee) we went ashore right there to wander the beach, skip stones, and wade in the marsh for an hour or so. Several locals put their own boats in while we watched, driving their cars right onto the beach as if it were a paved ramp. Then it was off the beach for us just after 11am, homeward bound.
Two more adventures capped the day. Halfway home we made the latest of several jibes. Aron said, “The mast broke.” I started to tell Aron he had misinterpreted the sound, but stopped in mid-sentence when I noticed the mizzen wobbling a bit: the end of the base plug had broken, leaving the mast supported only at the thwart. We loosed the sheets and wallowed for a minute or two and I lifted the mast a bit while Aron got the remains of the plug out of the step, then I dropped the mast back in. The plywood plug had broken cleanly at an epoxy lamination. (The remaining plug is short enough that the aluminum can go all the way into the step—safer that way.) The second adventure was a good one: as we approached Pirate Cove again, I noticed that the bridge clearance at that little side cove was 25ft—and remembered that this was the same as the clearance of a bridge I had sailed under successfully last year. I determined that we’d try the bridge with sails spilling, keeping just enough speed to have adequate steering. We did—and lo and behold we made it with over a foot to spare even near high tide. We sailed around one of the little islands in the quiet cove, then went blasting fearlessly under the bridge, board all the way down and sails drawing well, now clearing with less than a foot between masthead and concrete. (Only later did I check that other bridge on the chart and discover I’d remembered it wrong—its clearance was 27ft!) We hit our own ramp at about 2:30, a satisfying adventure concluded.
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