I planned to leave Tashmoo at eleven a.m. I had read that this would be one hour before high tide. But I saw that it was already high at 10:30 so we left then, and had no less than ten feet under us on the way out. (So we did not come in at high tide two days earlier!) Once out, we raised full sails and tried wing on wing for a while, heading about 280 magnetic. Then a broad reach, followed by dead air (during which we motored for five minutes) before the wind came back. But now it was on our port bow and then port beam. So wind came from all over the place and at all speeds from zero to 19 wind units.
Passing through Quick's Hole back into Buzzards Bay was easy. It is wide and we gybed in it. It was warm and sunny and a pleasure to sail. We saw about fifteen boats anchored in single file at the western side of this hole, including three sailboats. I want to investigate whether this can be done safely overnight, and in what wind conditions. We took a mooring in the inner harbor of Cuddyhunk at 2:30 after four hours underway. Our speed under sail varied between zero and 7.4 knots. And our average speed was about 3.6 knots.
I marvel at old time sailors' ability to navigate to a destination by dead reckoning. One goes off course in gusts and speed is never constant and has to be measured through the water with set and drift (which are also constantly changing) needing to be factored in. Our chart plotter tells me where I am, what direction I'm actually moving (not heading) and how fast I'm actually going across the surface of the earth. It makes sailing very easy -- until the electronic toy breaks or looses juice. Still, near shore (at least by day and without fog), one can take bearings on notable landmarks and have a pretty good idea where one is. And far off shore, until one approaches shore, it is less important to know exactly where you are.
We lowered the dink but dined aboard both nights here. A sloop, "R and R", took the mooring next to us. Parents with a son and daughter. The kids were good at following instructions of the father to perform needed tasks. Then I saw father and son in their dink, struggling to get their outboard to start. After a few minutes I offered them ours so the kids were able to get their ice cream after all. I get help from so many folks that it's a pleasure to be able to give back.
The moorings here were apparently reset since the last time we were in the inner harbor. (In 2013 we anchored in the less protected outer harbor.) They seem much closer than before, too darn close for comfort, privacy or safety.
It rained our first night but the days have been lovely, clear, bright, warm but not hot and evenings of late have called for a light quilt, reminding us that fall is on its way.
We dinked ashore in search of fresh fish, remembering a time when we approached the dock from land and saw a thick rope hanging down from a scaffold --- which turned out to be half a swordfish. That time we paid for a healthy slice and cooked it immediately once aboard. But alas, those days are over. There is a new man who brings fish to Cuttyhunk (though not today) but he gets his fish from the markets in New Bedford, not from the sea. We got a Cuttyhunk postcard, walked to the top for the views (Newport bridge towers, New Bedford, and the Vineyard) got two gallons of water and 1.5 of diesel in our auxiliary yellow tank. There was a restaurant and a B and B called the Fishing Club at which I had breakfast once with Jim, K.C. and Art maybe ten years ago. The B and B is still here but the restaurant is gone. Young men still cruise around in the mooring field offering plates of raw bar, and cooked lobsters can be purchased at a stand near the dinghy dock. However, the former restaurant is now a gift shop, though the tiny food market is still here. You think nothing changes in a small island like this, winter population 15, but changes do take place.
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