Honeymoon Passage 2002 -- a "Near Death Experience"?

This sea story is 14 years old. It occurred during our honeymoon in August 2002. My beloved calls it our "near death experience," one dark and stormy night, but she exaggerates. I think you will find it exciting despite my customary low key unemotional account of it, the only key I know

We sailed our Tartan 34, also called ILENE. (We could have called ILENE, "ILENE II" but I feared it would have sounded too much like a rustic woodland shelter--"leanto" -- on the radio.) She was very fast for its length. We had spent a couple of days going from New York City to Block Island, where we met up with other, longer and faster Tartans for a two week group trip to Maine with TONE (Tartan Owners of New England).

One fact that caused our problem was my lack of knowledge as to the amount of diesel fuel we had aboard. Our first boat, Just Cause, a Pearson 28, had a very simple gauge to measure how much fuel was left -- in that case gasoline.  A thin teak stick was inserted from the fill hole, located in the cockpit sole, directly down about two feet until it touched the bottom of the fuel tank. It had lines scribed in it for half and quarter full. When you pulled it out, the wet part told you how full the tank was. (Like a dip stick measures your oil.) The more modern boats do not have a straight path from the fill to the tank bottom, and so gauges have replaced the unbreakable stick, but the gauges never work.

We had filled our tank in Old Saybrook CT and with light summer winds had motored to Block Island. Our next passage was also a light wind day, and being shorter and hence rated slower, we left Block Island before the other boats in the group, and motored for Onset, Mass., at the juncture of Buzzards Bay and the Cape Cod Canal. But the others soon caught up and asked me if I could crank on a few more rpms. "Sure!"   Oh, I forgot to mention how blisteringly hot it was that day. After a while the overheating alarm piped up and we shut down the engine. I called on the VHF and told the others to proceed -- we would catch up. I checked out the engine for possible causes of the overheating and this took me longer than it would a trained mechanic, maybe half an hour. During that time the ladder that closes the engine compartment was off, exposing the engine to relatively cooler air while we drifted safely but slowly on the near glassy surface of eastern Block Island Sound. Finding nothing wrong, we turned the engine back on, the heat alarm did not sound, and we proceeded, under motor, but without those extra rpms.

We got to Onset in time for the party but after the fuel dock had closed for the night; no problem, we can fill up in the morning, before we leave. Except that the six hour period when the tide was fair in the Cape Cod Canal ended rather early in the morning. We had to leave Marion at daybreak, before the fuel dock opened, or wait until the afternoon. The group's plan was to transit the Canal, cross Cape Cod Bay passing Provincetown to starboard, continue across the Stellwagen Banks, the Bay of Maine, known as Bigelow Bight, pass Monhegan Island to port, enter Penobscot Bay and head up its west coast to reach our destination, Tenant's Harbor, Maine, the next morning after a passage of about 160 miles, which would take close to 27 hours at a 6 knot pace.

After motoring through the canal on the tail end of that fair tide we should have pulled in to the marina at its far end, to starboard, in Sandwich Mass and fueled up there. But I didn't. And the day's wind was again light, with the wind from behind us. So crossing Cape Cod Bay we were motor sailing and hence using more of our fuel. We also declined to detour into Provincetown for fuel. My mistakes. Bravado and the desire not to fall behind. After all, we are a sailboat, right?

In those days I had not yet figured out how to measure fuel consumption by keeping track of engine hours, so as to compute, from tank capacity and burn rate, how many hours I could run the engine before we would run out.

One bad experience near mid day was an accidental jibe as we were crossing the Stellwagen Banks on a near dead starboard run. Lene was hanging towels to dry on the port lifelines. She got whacked on the side of her head by the boom. Fortunately, she was hit when the boom had reached the very end of its swing, rather than potentially being thrown out of the boat if she had been hit mid arc. We were also fortunate, regarding that jibe, that the wind was light. The boom's swing was not very fast. A proper preventer line, which we have now, would have prevented the jibe. Lene sat, with ice in a towel held against her head and cried. All I could do was tell her how sorry I was while I continued to steer the boat. Thankfully, after an hour or so her mood brightened. The bump took longer to go down. But this close encounter with the potentially deadly boom is not what she refers to as our "near death experience". We continued, crossing the Stellwagen Banks, but without sighting any of the whales that cavort there.

The wind gently pushed us along all day and a storm was predicted for the night. We were flying the big Genoa and the full main, to get as much speed as we could without the engine. There was more wind pushing us along as the day wore on but the boat was not setting any speed records. We were not making any six knots.

After dinner and before dark we reefed the main and furled the genoa in precaution because a storm was predicted. This slowed us, but better safe than sorry. When the storm came up, it was a big nothing for us. A few gusts of wind but only twenty drops of rain and a vast quantity of lightning. But the lightning was from under the horizon, off stage. We neither heard thunder nor saw the bolts, but the skies all around us were bright as day when the fireworks exploded radiating light from under the horizon to the heavens.

And then it was over. No storm, no rain, no more lightning -- and almost no wind. But let's be patient; so we waited another hour to make sure the storm was really gone. Finally, maybe ten or eleven p.m., we shook the reef out of the big main, unfurled the big 153 racing genny and picked up speed.

And shortly, the wind came back, except now it was in front of us, from the northeast, and we were close hauled. The Tartan had a 6' 3" keel and pointed very well -- we were moving again and fast. But the wind kept building. Yep, a Nor'easter!  And the bearing to the mouth of Penobscot Bay was northeast. Too much sail up. We had to reduce sail to gain control and reduce heeling. We tried to furl the Genoa, but Lene was a lot newer to sailing, especially at night in a storm. I handled the lines, and a flailing jib sheet slapped against the main sail, tearing a seam. Unfortunately the tear was above the main's reefing cringle. If the tear had been below the cringle, we could have simply gathered the lower part of the main into the bunt of the reef and proceeded under the reefed main, which was our planned next step anyway. But the tear forced us to drop the main entirely, wrap it up, and proceed under Genoa alone. I'm pretty handy with needle and thread, but sewing that seam was a long daylight job in calm conditions, not standing on the coach roof in the dark in a howling wind.  Well one good thing: not much rain that night.

(We also found that the compass light was not working but were able to rig a flashlight above it and keep replacing its batteries)

I never thought to go back -- put the wind behind us. This would have reduced apparent wind speed by ten knots and permitted the waves to help us rather than slam down our boat speed, time and again. But what port would we put into? It would have to be one that we had never been to before. And at night in the storm? At least if we continued it would be light before we arrived.

The engine would not have propelled us much in the big seas that the winds were whipping up -- whether working with the Genoa or without. We tried. The boat was pitching too much, with the prop rising out of the water when the bow slanted down, thus exposing the prop to cavitation. This would not do the engine or prop any good nor move the boat forward very much.

Oh yes, we were tacking and my thought was that we were safer further from the rocky Maine shore than nearer. We had never yet visited the beautiful Isles of Shoals, but on the chart they looked big, rocky and ugly. Even their name evokes fear. They were nearer the coast.  The coast of lower Maine is a big bay -- Bigelow Bight. If we tacked north, in toward shore, and then east, back out again to the rhumb line, we would have averaged closer to shore. I elected instead to go east, away from shore and then north, back to the rhumb line, to stay in deeper waters. We ended up at one point about 40 miles off the coast, which Lene considers an error in my judgement to this day. I guess she is right. The rhumb line was far from the Isles of Shoals, which are only seven miles off the coast. But hypothermia would have finished us off in minutes whether we were one mile or 40 miles off shore. With what I know now, we were foolhardy in going off shore without a proper life raft and EPIRB. Our dinghy was no substitute for the former. It would have been swamped by the big waves in seconds and the water's of Maine will kill a person by hypothermia in a matter of minutes. We were lucky.

Lene asked me to call the Coast Guard.  I told her that they would ask: Are your lives are in danger? Do you wish to abandon ship?" If not, their job is to help us contact a commercial towing company to tow us if we need to be towed. This was before Alfie Girl and Witty were born and Lene wanted to say "Yes!" But I was not considering abandoning ship. I went below for a few minutes to consult the cruising guides and charts. We seemed to be about equidistant from Tenant's Harbor and Portland. I elected Portland, though it was far from the destination of the others in the group, because more repair facilities were located there. We radioed to let the others know not to expect us for the next few days. Another boat, relayed that message to them for us because we were more than 20 miles from them, out of VHF radio range.

It started to get light before daybreak and by late morning we saw the red and white buoy "P", standing outside Casco Bay, in which Portland Harbor is located. N 43 degrees, 31.6; W 70 degrees 05.5 minutes. Lene was exultant. But Portland was north of us in Casco Bay about 11 miles away, and that bay has many islands and shoals. And the wind had not diminished. We tacked our way up the Bay and tuned into Portland Harbor. When we pulled into the inner harbor we furled the sail and headed, under motor, straight for DeMillo's fuel dock where ILENE took a big drink, though her tank was by no means empty. But I would not want to have guessed wrong on that issue and tried to pull onto an unknown dock under genoa in big winds.

Then to Portland Yacht Services, which offers dockage and a mooring field and provides a home to many marine service contractors. They directed us to their mooring field but Lene got on the radio and told them that they WOULD give us dockage! They agreed when I added that we needed repairs. We were on the dock at about 5:30 p.m., about 36 hours after we has set out at daybreak the day before. Lene had gone below for a few hours of rest during the passage, I did not.

The yard told us they would scope out our work requests the next morning, the primary one being the repair of the mainsail. Much of our clothing and bed clothes had gotten wet, or at least damp. The dorades, which are supposed  let in ventilating air but filter out sea water, were great, but after being heeled over so far for so long they had let some of the seawater that was being sprayed up over the bow into the cockpit. So hot showers in the yard, fresh dry linens on the bed and Lene made a delicious pasta dinner before a very long good night's sleep. She recalls that I fell asleep while standing up making up the V berth, and that my head lay on the table while eating her dinner.

I had another fear, one that I did not tell Lene about until after we were safely tied to the dock. What if the Genoa had been ripped apart by the force of the wind? Then we would have had no good means of propulsion out in the wind storm. But that did not happen.

In the morning the local sailmaker came, took off our main, promised to bring it back fixed the next day -- and he kept his promise. It is amazing how cooperative the recreational maritime industry is, when possible, in fixing things promptly so cruising sailors can get on with their cruises.

(It was a racing sail, made of many panels of high tech fabric stitched together. Racing sails hold their optimal curved shape until the end of their life, when they fall apart. One panel had flown apart and the sailmaker warned us that this would now continue to happen, and it did, three weeks later, when we were near home. Racing sails increase speed but cost a lot more and do not last near as long. Ah the learning curve never ends. We got home at Labor Day and bought a new sail during the winter.)

In Portland, when everything was fixed I heard the best words possible from my new bride, my mate. What I feared hearing was: "I'm flying home and I'll see you back in New York!" But instead Lene asked:  "Where do we go next?" My reply:  "I married the right girl!" The remainder of our three weeks together in Maine and coming home, were great fun, but not the subject of this post.

I hope you enjoyed this sea story.

October 16 - November 2 -- Five Work Days -- 24 Hours Total

Lots of work getting ILENE ready for winter. And the fun days were not sailing related.
Fun was seeing Lene star in a one act play in a night of eight such plays called "Repercussions," twice, and Nathan Lane in "The Front Page", once. Also a five day visit to my oldest daughter and her family in Oregon where I chaperoned my granddaughter's Halloween party for about 40 eighth graders, visited the local museum of art, and enjoyed a delicious brunch with Judy and Meridel, who connected with us in Turks and Caicos in 2012. I attended the 55th reunion of the Bergenfield HS class of 1961; had a skin problem biopsied -- and it is not cancer; lunched in New Jersey with cousin Judy and enjoyed a lecture by the Administrator of the Department of Labor's Wage-Hour Division, who enforces some of our labor laws at Cornell's ILR School's New York City offices.
The boat work:
+ Replaced remaining halyards with messenger lines.
+ Untangled them from the remaining lines that descend from the mast and wrap those around the mast so they won't slap against the mast all winter.
+ I screwed up in placement of first reefing line: I put a big knot in the end as a stopper so that I would not draw that end into and through the boom. But I placed the knot on the bottom instead of the top of the boom so that I succeeded in drawing the knot to the inside of the forward end of the boom where I will have to attempt to retrieve it with the snake next spring. Sometimes I am an idiot.
+ Rigged the whisker pole forward and the 2 x 4 from the aft end of the boom to the radar arch -- to complete the ridge line for the canvas cover.
+ Washed the topsides and tested for rust removal and cleaning of the waterline with chemicals; it will work.
+ Braced up the boom from the cockpit sole with another piece of 2 x 4.
+ Winterized the engine with five minutes help from Ilene. Located in the cockpit, she turned the engine on, waited until she saw the pink antifreeze come pumping out of the exhaust and turned the engine off again. I was in the cabin (with the ladder to the cockpit connecting us removed to gain access to the engine) pouring the antifreeze into the raw water strainer, leading to the engine's water pump.
+ Drained the hot water heater, disconnected its intake and output hoses from it and to each other and winterized the fresh water hoses with ten minutes help from the Huguenot's Orlando who poured the pink stuff into the fresh water pump via a hose and funnel while I raced around turning on each of twelve hot and cold shower and sink faucets until they each flowed pink.
+ Winterized both heads.
+ Winterized the salt water wash-down pump and the air conditioner, except the latter was still full of antifreeze, because it not used this past season.
+ Checked the sacrificial zinc in the refrigerator's condenser and I need to order some new ones though I checked and I do have new spares of the other three zincs that protect the propeller and its shaft.
+ Drained the sump under the engine and the bilge.
+ Used emery cloth to clean corrosion from the tangs of all the battery cables, bringing nice shiny copper into view, and reattached them to the battery posts.
+ Removed six of the wooden bars that hold the seven heavy batteries in place. Without them the boat would bounce the batteries around. These had become weak and blackened by battery acid and will be used as models for new ones to be fabricated -- no bouncing expected during the winter.
+ Removed the bimini and took it to Doyle Sails-Island Nautical canvas shop for (a) cleaning, (b) replacement of the clear plastic window aft center for viewing aloft, which had become clouded with exposure and dirt in the last decade, and (c) reinforcement (patching) the front edge which had become worn and frayed by many handholds during the same period.
+ Covered the boat with its canvas winter blanket, placed padding at the chafe points and tied all of the strings that hold the cover in place, under the bottom, from side to side.
I did the cover all myself except the hardest part, the aft half, for which serendipitously, I met Ken, a stranger, at the right moment. He is a Civil War re-enactor. In uniform with a big drum at his hip, he was walking back to his home near Yankee Stadium when he saw me. He asked several intelligent questions and I invited him aboard for a tour of the boat which he eagerly accepted. And he offered to help, at just the right time. The only problem we encountered with the huge complicated piece of canvas is that perhaps because I laid the bimini's stainless steel framing hoops atop the 2 x 4, where it is out of the way, rather than in the cockpit, or because I tightened up the front half too much, too soon, we could not get the last zipper, at the port quarter, the one I replaced this summer, to close -- about half an inch gap. So Ken, who said he is a tailor as well, sewed it up like I did last winter. I gave Ken our boat card and if he calls in March or April, as he said he would, he will have a boat ride.

So ILENE is ready for the winter, but with a list of winter projects. I'm listing them here with the hope that by doing do, I will have challenged myself to actually get them all done this winter before working on the bottom and recommissioning for the next season.
1. Repair wood for insertion of new Perco latch in center of salon sole.
2. Call Groco expert and with his advice, repair aft head so it does not "spit" while flushing -- maybe it is only the joker valve.
3. R
Drill holes and use bungs to remove dings in cabin sole and refinish it -- about 20 pieces of it. This is the biggest job and i can use the cabin, if covered with drop cloths, as a cat free workshop, but only when it is warm enough for each coat of polyurethane.
4. Restore operability of the door to the forward head so it can be closed and locked.
5. Open the fresh water tanks, clean their interior, and reseal.
6. Figure out why the self tailing feature of the starboard coach roof winch is not operating consistently.
7. Get a faux teak panel cut and installed to dress up the deck of the swim platform.
Enough to keep me busy this winter?

September 29 -- October 16 -- Two More Sails, Hauling and "Going Out of Commission" Closed Out the 2016 Sailing Season

Left to right: Fred, Sophie and Mike. The next to last sail this season took place during the afternoon of the second day of  Rosh Hashonna, usually a good day to sail weather wise. Two members of the Torah Study Group, Mike, an attorney, and her Honor, our former mayor, Sophie, joined me as did Fred, who lives in our apartment house and was responsible for setting up the gym Lene and I use. Fred is also a sailor, on J-24s at the marina by the World Trade Center. I began the sail impressively, by motoring over the pickup stick of a vacant mooring and getting it caught against he rudder! I don't hold back on reporting my miscues. We got off by pushing the line down with the boat hook. No harm. Look where you are going, Roger! We sailed into Little Neck Bay, all the way to the southern end where the boats are all on moorings. Mike lived in the area and provided commentary. we were close hauled coming out and did four tacks to get through the channel off Kings Point, before falling off a bit and heading around Hart Island and for home. Good weather and decent wind.

The season's last sail was a sad one, though everyone had a good time. This was not the first time that our group took Nick out from the Hebrew Home for the Aged in Riverdale for a day of sailing. Nick was a master carpenter and wood worker and dance instructor. He had a boat at the Harlem and claims he taught John, another now former Harlem man, how to sail. John came up all the way from Oxford, MD for the trip. The others on board were Pat, the only other current Harlemite, who is an RN and provided strong, gentle and expert care for Nick. Nick's memory and physical agility have sadly deteriorated since our last sail with him. Don is also a former Harlemite and Harry. a long time friend and client of Nick's rounded out the crew. Here is Nick with John. I regret that I screwed up the lovely photos of the other guys which Pat sent me and this post is way overdue.

We had lots of wind at the start, so I put in a reef and we beat out past Execution Rocks. Near green can "1", off New Rochelle, we hove to for lunch. I had read about this technique but never done it before. By back winding the small jib to the wrong side and locking the wheel over to the other side and adjusting the sheets we got a very stable platform for lunch while drifting, at about 20 degrees off the port bow at 1.2 knots. A neat trick and I will try it again in stronger winds. Lene will love having  stability during her time in the galley. It is only possible because I installed "regular" sheets to the small jib this year in addition to the self tacking one. Thanks guys. We expected to fly back with the wind behind us but it died down so we shook out the reef and ILENE headed back much more slowly than she had gone out. Pat insisted on buying a light dinner at the Club for everyone at the end of a good day. But alas, future socializing with Nick will most likely not be afloat.

The work days, included three of only an hour each involved with the winterization of the water maker, engine and air conditioner (with help from Lene with the motor from the cockpit while I poured antifreeze in from inside the cabin with the ladder between cockpit and cabin removed to provide access to the engine) and a four hour day in between on which I drove ILENE from City Island to the Huguenot YC in New Rochelle for hauling and then stripped the sails from the boat. The fifth work day, was when I took the sails off the boat, folded them, brought the main to Doyle Sails for work and the other two to our upstairs locker at the Harlem and lifted the aft half of the winter cover to ILENE's deck, plus removing lifelines and stanchions and running messenger lines up the mast to be able to restore the halyards to their positions atop the mast from where I removed them for washing. A seven hour day and with the heavy lifting my back was a bit sore.

GOC was its usual friendly but more formal (tie and jacket) self, a time to talk with friends after the season with the traditional flag lowering ceremony and a time for distributing prizes to the racers. Jeep, our retiring Commodore announced that the Club had actually operated in the black, by several thousand dollars, in each of the past two years -- money to be spent on improvements. Good news; no assessment or dues increase in the offing.

September 12 - 28 -- Mostly Mountains -- But Some Sailing Too

Yes Lene and I took a nine day Globus bus tour out of Calgary Canada with her brother and his wife, Mike and Linda.

We enjoyed breathtakingly beautiful majestic vistas, like Bierstadt paintings, only real. And good food, good companions and easy living with the driving done by experts.






 But I also managed to get some water related activities in, though not sailing.


Lake Waterton is a beauty on which I took a ride on the 1928 m/v "International,"

which has been taking tourists from the town of Waterton in Canada to Goat Haunt, Montana. There a Border Agent will admit you to the US -- if you want to walk a far piece to the nearest town. The boat was pretty and has been used exclusively for its current purpose for almost 90 years.






On the way back I noticed this small weird shadow on the eastern side of the lake and turned to see what caused it.

Another such boat trip was on Maligne Lake a half hour drive upstream from Jasper. This time the boat was rather unremarkable, one of seven on the lake. It was run by two young women who took turns driving and tour directing. The Garmin showed depths in meters, and was not needed because the lake is deep everywhere. It also showed SOG but in kilometers per hour! Its registry document said it was to be operated by a crew of three but....    It ran a straight shot to the landing half way down the long lake and slowed only to avoid creating wakes for the few canoeists.

We also had some river experiences. In Fort Steele, a semi-reconstructed, semi-original 1890's town, the museum showed a model of an unusually broad and flat stern wheel driven boat used to carry lead ore from the mines to the railroad. It operated for only about three years and only in spring when the water was deep enough.

Later we walked on a river

-- that's right -- a frozen river, Athabasca Glacier. Thousands go there every day, even in the shoulder season, and our presence and heat and dust are contributing to the gradual end of the glacier, currently losing its mass. The next picture shows a bus and two small tiny horizontal dashes in the ice. These are parked busses!

Later we were among 17 folks in a big inflatable raft steered by our guide with two oars from oarlocks amidships to keep us abeam to the current during our six miles on the glacially cold Athabasca River, down to just above the small town of Jasper.

But you prefer to hear about the sailing. Only three days.

One was with Peter, who was of ILENE's crew on the trip from Hampton VA to Tortola in November 2011, in the earliest days of this blog. We were out there for about four hours of pleasant sailing in light wind, through Hart Island Sound, into Manhasset Bay to the Race Committee float, past Kings Point and home In Manhasset Bay portion of the journey the wind died completely so the engine had to be used. Peter had the helm as much as he wanted and we reminisced. We passed and circled this schooner which hauls tourists out of New York. Light wind, like I said.

After Canada I sailed with Vic, my successor as President of our congregation,

30 years ago. He brought his three grandsons: Levi, Madden and Jagger. We had lunch in the salon after a "Cooks Tour" of the interior and sailed for about four hours. We went over to near King's Point and then under the bridges to the huge prison barge opposite Rikers Island before heading home by much the same route. Wind was out of the north and light at the start so we used the Genoa and main, but later when the wind got stronger, I switched to the smaller headsail. Levi had been to a sailing training camp in the BVIs this summer and wanted to go through the channel to Flushing and LaGuardia Airport, because of his interest in aviation, but it would have been a beat on the way back north so I said no. All three of the lads had the helm and did very well. The tide was flooding throughout our sail so westbound we made a very slow SOG, but we rushed back with favorable tide. Vic and I shared some red and then we had an early light dinner at the Club. A wedding was taking place there which slowed service a bit.
The most recent sail was what may be the last excursion of the Old Salts. There were seven of us and it was the shortest OS sail on record. It was blowing quite a bit at the mooring so I started out with a reefed main. Once out there, no longer protected by the lee of the Island the wind was stronger. With the addition of the small jib we were making 7.8 SOG without tidal effect. Mike, who had the helm, was having trouble steering, and we were heeled more than was comfortable for some of the ladies. The wind meter was showing 32 wind speed units. So I furled the jib, tacked and headed back for what was probably the longest noshing and drinking session in OS history, including more than three bottles of wine.
           Mike, Sandy, Marsha, me, Debra and Sarah. Thanks, Matt for the picture
.

And one four hour work day. It was unusual in that every one of the four items on my list of chores actually got done: 1) Clean out the raw water strainer and replace all of the three filters which it feeds to the water maker, commission it and make one hour of water. Soon I have to pickle the water maker again for the winter. It was not needed this summer but has to be maintained nonetheless. 2) Top off the remaining battery cells with distilled water. 3) Check the chart chips in the chart plotter to have the serial number for my complaint to Jeppersen that there was a blind spot between the Throggs Neck and the Hellsgate Bridges with no chart. Turns out that there is chart coverage of this busy area, but only at the 3/4 mile scale, which I had not tried. 4) Complete installation and screwing in of the new stanchion and reinsertion of the port lifelines through it and reattachment of them to the bow pulpit.
And one day for a delightful leisurely lunch in New Jersey with Jim, former captain of "Aria" and he gave me some excellent sailing books, some of which I've donated to the Club's library; others are keepers.
And with the official arrival of fall, the weather threatens to be as nasty as it was pleasant this summer.

September 6-11 -- Including a Wedding and a "Funeral".

Three sail days. averaging 2.5 hours. First was Old Salts after lunch went off promptly after all the problems with service the week before.  Mark, of Deuce of Hearts, accepted my invitation to sail on ILENE, I think his first time. He helmed through Hart Island Sound which was tricky because we came close hauled, and out past the red buoy marking No Nations rocks. Then a rookie, Sarah, a new social member, took over and did well deeply into Manhasset Bay, about a half mile past the racing barge and back out to Big Tom. I took over and sailed between the rock and the Island. The other three aboard were regulars. The refreshments were aboard ILENE, where we were joined by four of the five, including Bennett, who had sailed on Ohana.
The next day after a few hours of boat chores I got picked up by Rhoda and we sailed Jazz Sail over essentially the same route as the day before. I brought my whipping kit along but found that I had whipped the ends of most of her lines on a prior trip. The genoa sheet was new and its ends are now properly whipped. I noticed that the boat's main, when fully and tightly raised, ends about 14 inches (estimate) below the top of the mast. Also, the sail's foot ends about the same distance short of the aft end of the boom. In other words, it appears that the boat can carry a larger mainsail. Rhoda took photos and will check out my theory with Catalina. The more pressing problem however, as we are entering the stormy season, is the wobbly nature of the attachment of the port bow cleat to the boat. At least the starboard one is secure. We had dinner at Archies, our first time there, and were pleased with the food.
An "O" (Other -- related to sailing but not sailing or living or working aboard) was for the wedding of Erica, daughter of our friends Bruce and Linda, former Harlemites, at the Mamaroneck Yacht Club. A lovely wedding and we met two other former Harlemite couples, PC Tex and Maria, and Ken and Linda, who have recently gone over to power boating. The other three couples at our table were all Huguenot power boaters.
Finally, a day sail with the three adult children of Joel and Leticia, Harlemites who died in the past few years. My friend Jim, formerly of "Aria," set up the day for us. I got some boat chores done and the boat completely ready to go before they arrived, including a reef in the main because the winds were strong. The primary purpose of the sail was the dispersal of the ashes of their parents who loved sailing and were very active Harlem sailors though I had never sailed with them. The guests declined my offer to provide a religious component to the ceremony because their parents were secular ethical humanists. The scattering took about 20 minutes near Execution Rocks, with the mourners seated on the starboard coach roof between the mast and the dodger. There was weeping and appropriately I kept away from them, at the helm, during this time, keeping on port tack on a near  beam reach, with the wind slightly aft of the beam to reduce heeling. It served a cathartic purpose for them, I believe. The rest of our time together was pleasant, social and happy. They had brought snacks and wine and we had a very light early dinner at the club after returning to the mooring.

In my religion there are three major commandments or "mitzvahs": "Visit the sick. Comfort the bereaved. And rejoice with the bride and groom." During this period no one was sick but I was able to accomplish the other two.

What is happening?

From Aug 26 to date there has been a vast increase in the readership if this blog. From 30 page views per day to about 150. I'm not complaining; I write this for public consumption. But I'm curious. Have I done something right? Any explanatory comments would be appreciated. thank you. Roger

Wednesday to Labor Day -- first six days back

Wednesday I lowered the dink, tied up the davit bar, drove the dink to the dock, unlocked and removed the outboard and took it to the locker, deflated the dink using the pump to suck all the air out of it to make it smaller, tied it up, and, with friends, hauled it upstairs in the locker house and into the locker where itislocked up for the winter. Amazingly, while it was getting soft on cool fall-like evenings, I never had to pump more air into it since I pumped it up in mid June. Lene did the laundry.

The afternoon was the Old Salts sail. The only problem was lunch, which our restaurant fouled up completely by not having food. We waited two hours and then half of us left without lunch. Things like this have got to stop. It's no good for the would-be diners, and not good for the Club either, which needs its members to patronize its restaurant. Things came off the rails this time and it must not happen again. There were 15 of us and I sailed with about half of them on Bennett's "Ohana" and  the others on Mark's "Deuce of Hearts". I took ILENE out of circulation this week until her transformation from "cruising/live aboard" status back to a day sailer could be completed. Two and a half pleasant hours underway followed by the customary appetite ruination aboard Ohana. Two new faces. Lisa, is a new non-boat owning member whose family keeps a big power boat. The week before had been her debut session with us and she repeated this time on the same boat, Deuce of Hearts. I told her that next week she must join a keel boat to become a real sailor by getting the sensation of heeling. The other newcomer, this also his second time, was Bob, a friend of Marcia, who helmed Ohana a lot.

Thursday I took the outboard up to Island Outboard for adjustment and winter service -- except not the oil changes due to the little use she got this summer, I estimate less than eight hours. And then Lene and I filled our mini SUV with stuff, including the kitties and their stuff and transitioned to our urban apartment. Funny thing that night. Lene was laying by my right side, as she does aboard. When I got up in the middle of the night she said "What are you doing?!"  Well, I was climbing over her like I have to do in the Pullman berth when we are aboard! At home it is not needed because I can get up from the left side of the bed. Force of habit.

Friday I spent about three hours on the boat, test-installing the replacement stanchion, packing up a second carload of stuff and preparing ILENE for the expected arrival of hurricane Hermine:
chafing gear on the mooring pennants, tighter wrapping of the roller furled headsails, closer positioning of the anchor, and removal of blocks and lines that could be whipping around in a big blow. Mark and Marcia invited me to join them on "Leeds the Way", out of Minnefords South Marina. Also joining us were Walt and Rita and a couple from our hosts' ski club. Into Manhasser Bay for two hours a of sailing. I trimmed a bit.  Dinner after at Artie's.

Saturday through Monday we visited our friend Lianne in her home in Great Barrington and brought Ellen along.  We were joined for dinners by Susan and Stan, did theater and visited Leanne's son and his family in Kinderhook NY. No sailing, but all was not lost. Herman Mellville, author of Moby Dick, which got such big play in New Bedford, wrote that Great American Novel in his home, Arrowhead, in Pittsfield. I learned a lot during a guided tour of the house by a very well informed docent, Jeff Aldrich, who intends to enter graduate school in American Colonial History soon. The view from Mellville's study of Mt. Greylock, the highest in Massachusetts, was excellent and he wrote that he saw in its ridgeline the back and tale of a whale. Moby Dick was a huge commercial and popular failure when published in the 1850's. It was not recognized for its genius until 70 years later, long after he was buried. Between New Bedford, a few weeks ago, and The Berkshires, now, lies most of the latitude of Massachusetts and a whole lot of whaling content.