Boisterous sail

Quiet morning

We didn’t have anywhere to hurry out of the cove at Jewell island. It was windless, sunny and pretty. Mark and I dove into the water for a short refreshing swim. Leo asked, why we were swimming here as opposed to swimming later in the day when it’ll be warmer. First, we can do both! Second, it was supposed to be windy in the middle of the day and we had a 24 mile long sail planned. Not likely we would swim in the middle of the Gulf of Maine. Third, why not!

While I was down below I hear Mark telling Peter to call me because we had an unexpected visitor. Oh, I thought to myself, must be one of the neighbours that haven’t departed yet. But it was no human visitor. It was a gull that decided to check out what was going on the boat.

The visitor stayed for a while. We didn’t make sudden movements, but slowly moving around to reach for cameras, etc didn’t bother the bird. Then he left. Without even saying goodbye.

Lessons in patience

When we were ready to lift the anchor, the wind was very light, so we motored until we were clear of the rocks. The the sails went out and we started moving. First at 3.5 knots, then 3, then 2.5. Peter, who was at the helm, suggested we motor, because this is boring. To which Alice responded: “everyone likes to sail when there is lots of wind, but those who can sail in light winds win regattas.”

As earlier during this trip, being patient in Maine pays off. Maybe that’s why we have now seen 2 boats named Patience. A front of wind was clearly discernible some distance away and it was moving towards us. Up goes our speed from half a knot to comfortable 5-6 knots. The waves start to build, which made Leo queasy, but Mark was able to talk him through and Leo’s mood was slowly brightening up.

In anticipation of more waves, I cooked a very simple pasta with chicken, no tomato sauce. It’s amusing cooking at an angle. Things slide, but generally in a predictable way: down. Unless we tack. Then down becomes up and things slide the other way. Except for the stove that is gimballed and will magically keep a horizontal surface.

We passed a picture-perfect lighthouse a few miles offshore. The slalom that we had to do around the lobster pots in its vicinity was a bit exhilarating!

The seas continued to build with the wind. First we rolled the genoa, because it was overpowering the boat. Then came in the mainsail. Sailing at its best, although perhaps the conditions were not ideal for everyone. When we saw a couple of boats on the horizon flying spinnakers, we agreed it was pretty gutsy.

It was pretty exciting [video] with waves breaking on the bow. Water was flowing on the leeward side of the boat practically nonstop. Amazingly enough, we weren’t really getting “are we there yet” from the kids. The were real troopers, helped us to tack under close supervision as the forces on all the lines were large.

Once we dropped the sails to pull into the cove, the motion of the boat with beam to waves became very rolly. Luckily, we did that a few hundred meters from the entrance to the little cove, so it didn’t last long. And suddenly as we go through the entrance, the water is flat. Only ripples from the wind, and only one other boat for company. Exactly what we were looking for!

Inside the cove

Anchor set, lines cleaned up, let’s go swimming! Alice was the only one who actually took a swim. Peter abstained, Leo jumped out shivering as soon as he hit the water.

The tide was still falling and in the huge flatland exposed by the low water we saw a number of people walking, sliding on the water. They were some half a kilometer away from us, our neighbouring boat Consultation (psychotherapist or lawyer aboard?) was empty, so we lazed around before cooking dinner.

The night was a bit hazy, but the stars were clearly visible, so we removed the bimini and enjoyed the view of the setting crescent and the stars.

Tidal pools

The low tide today was at 8:45, so we knew we needed to get organized to walk on the mudflats. We’ve been getting up pretty early anyway, but being totally in vacation mode, we usually have long mornings.

Given the short distance we needed to travel to the freshly formed beach, we didn’t even put the motor onto the dinghy. Peter and I rowed ashore while a curious seal popped its head out of the water to check out what was going on. And off went the explorers.

Alice and I have been to this cove 5 years ago, and I was happy to come ashore once again to watch oysters, hermit crabs, crabs and other creatures move around in the shallow water. It’s hard to believe that some 6 hours later everything will have been covered by 9 feet of water.

The boys had a little fight and Leo stormed off into the depth of the bay. Mark and I saw a place with quite a few mussels, so we though it’d be a nice thing to supplement our diet with fresh seafood. To my big surprise a few oysters were perched precariously on the rock and it was actually possible to separate them. 

The boys made peace. We explained them that yes, it can be hard to live with people in a tight places, but the trip should be fun for everyone. It seems to work for now. The boys rowed the dinghy back to Salty Ginger. Alice and I swam back and Mark was coordinating the rowing.

Electricity

Fast sail speeds brought unexpected problems to our electrical system. First, I moved the output of the hydrogenerator to go through the same breaker as the wind and the solar. Yesterday, that caused the breaker to trip repeatedly. That’s something I fixed at the cove.

Today’s weather is similar: ~15 knots of wind from the south and again it’s in our face. This time, the line that’s holding the hydrogenerator in place tore. So, as sufficient as we are when all 3 reusable sources of energy are engaged, something always goes not according to plan. That’s part of boating life.

Peter steered a bit and went down to read, Leo steered a bit and handed the wheel to his father. Sails are reefed again, Alice is on the helm and we’re off to the Isles of Shoals.