Wow, August already. Hard to believe that we've been doing this for more than 12 weeks now. But we managed to take the good with the bad. Speaking of the bad, let me rag on Port Jefferson a little. The last time I (Jim) visited while delivering Magdalena with the Dormans last November, we got kicked off the vacant docks of Danfords for "insurance reasons." What a crock. But the town seemed rather pleasant so we thought we'd give it another try. Big mistake. We parked the dinghy behind the launch boats on a float dock under the pier. No way we could be in anybody's way. Well, after our walk, we checked on the dinghy only to discover that it was gone. The launch operator was somewhat evasive when asked what had happened, but volunteered to take us on a search. Only later did we learn that it was the launch operator who had towed our dinghy out to small work barge in the harbor. The owner of the work barge found the dinghy tied to his barge but couldn't figure out how it got there. So he towed the dinghy and tied it up the police boat at the town docks. We later learned that they want you to tie your dinghy up at Danfords's small boat dock; for (are you sitting down) $5 per hour!
In another unrelated instance, we visited the local library to see about using their computers as we've been able to do at every town we've visited. However, you can only use the computers in Port Jefferson if you own property in the town. So much for the public library!
The channel in Port Jefferson has been continuously dredged over the year and the sand piled up near the east entrance to form a 100-foot high pile known as Mount Misery. We climbed this sand pile early the next morning for a spectacular view of Long Island Sound. As the sand pile is named, so to were our feelings toward Port Jefferson. We had considered spending another day to rest up, but something told us to get out of dodge soon.
Long Island gunkholing at it's best. That's how the guides describe the Sand Hole. Our trip to Port Jefferson was thus far uneventful, broken up by a stop at The Sand Hole. While affording 360 degree protection, the only residents were swarms of green headed horseflies. We witnessed boat after boat driven out of the anchorage, flyswatters in hand. We contented ourselves to stay on the boat away from the beach (where they seemed to be worse) and cool ourselves with an occasional swim in between swatting at flies. Long Island Sound may have many other things going for it, but good gunkholes ain't one of them.
From Port Jefferson, things did get much better, albeit not without a moment of panic. We crossed the Sound on Wednesday with an enjoyable Northwesterly breeze headed for a slew of rocky islands and islets know as the Thimble Islands. Lying just off the Connecticut coast near New Haven, there are hundreds of rocks in a three-mile square area, 23 of which are large enough to be inhabited. We were very careful making our approach and everything seemed to match with the chart. We could see other boats anchored and moored behind our intended destination. However, at the last minute we just couldn't account for this one small red nun buoy. Our position seemed correct for entering the Thimbles, but our instinct said that something was not right. So remembering what a friend John Moran once said, "if you're not sure where you are, then stop." We put the helm hard over and rechecked the charts. Just as we did, we noticed another small sailboat nearing our position. We motored over to see if we could follow them in only to find out that they wanted to follow us in. Not a good idea for them and back to the charts for us.
Only after we safely threaded our way though to anchor did we find out how close we had been to becoming another victim on the unmarked rocks around the Thimbles. A couple ladies from New York arrived on their boat shortly thereafter. We had met them while at the Sand Hole, they on a 1937 28ft wooden sloop. They told us that we must catch the launch for the small town of Stony Creek. Soon after, we spotted and flagged down the launch and thus had the unexpected pleasure of strolling around this picturesque little town. The launch driver didn't seem to mind assuming the role of tour guide, pointing out many of the more interesting homes of the Thimbles. As we shuttled by the place where we were confused by the chart, he told how often other boaters make that mistake and ended up with broken boats. Scary.
Unfortunately for the boat called Ricochet, they did not avoid the rocks. We first heard about this incident over our VHF radio as it was developing. Overhearing their distress call as we were on our way to Stonington, Ricochet radioed that they were near Watch Hill and taking on water. Later that day we saw Ricochet hauled out at a marina in Stonington with a portion of the fiberglass around the propeller shaft damaged. Confusing since the damage was between the keel and the rudder, but neither of these appeared damaged. But nonetheless, it must have been a very disappointing (and costly) end to their vacation.
From the Thimbles, it was on to Stonington, a small fishing village on the far eastern coast of Connecticut near Mystic. Normally a quiet town, we arrived unexpectedly during their big annual celebration, the Blessing of the Fleet weekend. The festival has a rather somber side in that it's in memory of Stonington's fisherman lost at sea. Following a lobster feast on Saturday night, the festival continued on Sunday with the fisherman's mass, a small but an energetic parade, and finally the blessing of the fleet. As the waterman paraded their decorated boats past the flagship boat, the Priest cast his blessings on each. During the short service, we heard the Priest mention something about blessing all boats out there, so we felt that perhaps we were included. At least we hoped so. As the watermen are usually such an independent group as a whole, it was nice to see them step, if only for a moment, into the limelight. While normally these work boats see rugged service with little fanfare, for this one day they were polished and gaily decorated. Just imagine balloons, streamers and flags flying off these rusted hulls. It was really a sight.
After our experiences at Port Jeff, Stonington really was a blessing. The folks at the marina where we landed our dinghy were always helpful and courteous and the folks at the library went out of their way to accommodate us. They even allowed us to plug in our computer to the library phone line so that we could check our email. A very nice place to just stroll around, gardens around the town's many quaint historic homes gave an indication to the pride of the townspeople. We also traveled by cab to the tourist mecca of Mystic for an afternoon walking by the landmarks of Mystic Pizza, the oldest drawbridge in the country, and the Mystic Seaport Village.
Kitty update: The kitties are hanging in there. When we tie up at a dock to get fuel, Atlas is still very determined to find a way off the boat, while Apollo creeps around the deck tentatively. They are not comfortable with the engine on, nor when the boat heels when we sail upwind, but they seem to recover very quickly after we've reached a new place. Atlas has developed a strange habit when we're underway; he seeks refuge in the covered litterbox.
