After gassing and returning the Jeep Renegade, some provisioning and scoring some souvenirs, we set off for our night's destination, a vacant cove in the Washabuck, (which, I believe, has nothing to do with money laundering). The passage was a beat on starboard in 30 to 35 knots of apparent wind with just the small jib. We were heeled considerably but despite all that wind, the seas, though flecked with whitecaps, were not greater than about 18 inches high. Roughest passage in the Bras Dor Lakes.
Eighty feet of snubbed chain between our bow and the hook. and a peaceful night of solitude
except for the period of torrential rain. Why can't humankind use our God given brains to figure out a way to always make the rain fall during the night. The return trip, after pumping ot the dink, involved less wind and a pleasant
beamy port reach.
Then boat cleaning and laundry and provisioning. We also scored some lovely small hand crafted butcher block boards but for serving, not for cutting.
No comments:
Post a Comment