The Two Towers

Anchoring in the Provincetown harbor requires dropping the anchor in about 50 feet of water far away from the town moorings. The sandbar gives excellent protection from practically all winds so long as one has enough chain or rode. We let out 250 feet and were rock solid through the night.

As David and I were having coffee in the cockpit the view of the harbor was taken away by the fog that moved in from the Gulf of Maine and placed us into a bubble with a 100 meters of visibility. In a little while the fog lifted and we were underway. Alla and David were cooking breakfast while we were slowly gliding with the wind to round the sandbar and head north. The sea lions were still in the same place looking at us and at a guy on the beach who was taking pictures and selfies.

Chasing whales

At the northern tip of the sandbar we were lucky to see a back of a whale. It was shy and quickly went to do its whale things in an unknown direction. We took that as a good sign and soon were overtaken by the whale watching boats. Once they slowed down to less than a knot, I placed a couple of waypoints to see if the whales would continue to frolic in the same place. Obviously, us doing 5-7 knots is quite different from 30 knots that these boats do on the way to the whale grounds.

And then we were totally engulfed by fog. Luckily the lobster pots disappeared, so steering wasn't as nerve wracking as it would be otherwise. Nevertheless, it was a bit concerning to hear motor sounds and not seeing the source of the sound. A motor boat suddenly appeared out of the fog and passed us safely, then a sailboat which was blending into the fog and was barely distinguishable at first.

As the fog lifted we reached the waypoints but didn't see any signs of whales. We kept going north and finally saw a back of a whale as we were crossing the Boston shipping lane. It didn't stay with us long.

As we started to cook pasta for lunch, Irina and David who were still looking around from the foredeck sighted a whale breaching. And again, and again. Headsail down, motor on. Boats are not supposed to approach the whales by less than 100 yards, so I kept the distance as the whale would dive and then resurface to do backflips, wave the flippers and put on a little private show. There were no other boats in sight.

Thatcher island

The head wind picked up but wasn't overpowering the code-0, and most importantly we could point straight for Thatcher island. Peter wanted to fly the Russian navy flag so we were flying in full glory to our destination for the night.

Cook's view from the galley

The 40 mile passage to the island is quite long, so we spent time playing word games. The temperature dropped, so the crew bundled up a bit. Vlad sat on the bow for a while enjoying getting sprayed by the waves that Salty Ginger was cutting at 6-7 knots. Fast ride!

Getting onto the island is a bit challenging: there is no dock, but instead an angled set of boards which are ok for kayak landing. We picked up the guest mooring at low tide, so the boards were all exposed and super slippery.

It didn't make sense to mount the engine on the dinghy. It's not clear where the rocks are and replacing the pin in the propeller is not something I wanted to do again (once per season should be enough).

Vlad wasn't feeling well and stayed aboard, but the rest of the crew were happy to stretch their legs on terra firma.

Last time on the island, Alice and I were attacked by a mother gull and couldn't walk around the entire island. I'm glad I asked about it. The friendly keepers immediately said, "Oh, yeah, take a stick!" and pointed us at a bunch of sticks in a bucket. "The geese are even worse than the gulls. You can smack them if they get too aggressive, but don't hit the gulls, they'll back away from whack-a-gull."

North tower as seen from the top of the south tower

Irina in front of the Fresnel lens in the south tower

Keepers houses (also a small museum) and Salty Ginger on the mooring.

View south towards Boston

Bird poop everywhere gives a distinct, but not totally unpleasant smell to the entire island

This time around no birds attacked us. The big gull chicks were not that happy to see us, but would walk off the path before the mother would display her motherly rage.

When we came back to Salty Ginger it was clear that the choice of the overnight stay is far from ideal. The northerly winds were sending waves and rocking and rolling the boat. So, after dinner we organized the beds and crashed for the night.