Days 5-7 -- July 27-29 -- Menemsha, Martha's Vineyard -- 41.8 nm

By the rules, you have to vacate the private mooring at Block Island to which the Harbor Master assigned you and find a recently vacated chartreuse public one before 10 a.m. This nuisance was one motivator of our decision to go to Menemsha, rather than spend a lay day in Block Island. We normally stay a few days there, but we were eager to get to Massachusetts, our destination, and dropped the mooring line at 10 a.m. Also, the Menemsha Harbor Master gave us a reservation (rafted up) on one of the two inside moorings, by phone.
Last time at Menemsha, in 2008, I had to thread one of our dock lines through the eye on top of the last available mooring in Menemsha Bight, outside the harbor, in Vineyard Sound, in heavy fog. I leaned very, very far over the side while lying on the deck on my stomach and using my long arms while  Lene steered the boat perfectly onto the mooring. Then we had to dink into the harbor and get to get to the Harbormaster's office at 7 a.m. to obtain an inside space for the second night. This time we had our reservation but phone before even leaving Block Island.

The channel cut between Block Island's Great Salt Pond and the Atlantic on Block's west side is approximately equidistant from that island's north and south ends. We decided to head north around the island because the winds were forecast to be from the westsouthwest, so the course from Block's north end would put the wind a bit closer to our beam. We saw a small passenger liner of the Atlantic Coast Line heading for the cut and thought it was too big to get through, but heard her radio for everyone to keep out of its way in the cut. We have seen such small cruise ships up and down the Altantic Coast, visiting charming ports that the behemoths could never get into.

We cut buoy 1BI, off the north end  of Block Island, by about half a mile. It protects big ships from the shoals that extend north from the island's northern tip. but we watched our depth meter and  chart plotter and never got into water shallower than 35 feet.

But the wind was very light and so though we put up sails, we motored most of the way, decreasing the engine's rpms as the wind got stronger until we could shut it off a few hours before our arrival in Menemsha. During the passage I was below for about 90 minutes giving ILENE's interior a thorough cleaning and vacuuming. The wind and current picked up so we could sail without engine and even more so as we passed Gay Head. We were visited by a pod of smallish dolphins. They played on our starboard side for a few minutes but it takes that long to turn on the cell phone camera so the photos I will add to this posting later will not include one of the dolphins.

At the destination we put out fenders on our starboard side and tied up to FunGirl, from Wickford RI one one of the two moorings in the inner harbor. FunGirl had a cat aboard and our cats did a lot of looking at Linus, but did not jump over. FunGirl had a charter boat out of Newport with seven adults from NYC aboard rafted to her starboard side. They helped grab our lines when we joined the raft.  They do not own boats but sail in Brooklyn and Jersey City. I told them of the Harlem's class of membership which gives them access to one of our several club boats for a very small annual fee once they are checked out to make sure they know the ropes. Part of our Club's effort to grow new sailors.

 We planned to have one lay day here but rain the next day caused us to extend. Each day one or two other boats left our three boat raft, and the mooring pennant was passed from FunGirl to ILENE. One of our two lay days we took the bus (actually two buses with a transfer mid-island; all-day senior fare $5 per person) to Vinyard Haven for lunch and some shopping and art galeries.  Lene was hunting for a plastic bowl to replace the blue one we used as a fruit bowl which I broke by heeling too much. In pthe restaurant where we lunched she spotted a lovely basket made by hand by African women and the search ended. We will keep it in the aft berth when underway so it does not go the way of the blue bowl.  I searched for a large blunt bowed heavy oak cargo hauling sailboat that we had seen being built in a shed during our last visit here in early September, 2013. It had been moved outdoors, to a beach location about half a mile further from town. The builder wad been ill but was back at work, though not the day I visited, now working on finishing the interior.
I did some planning for tides and distances to Hyannis, where we want to go to meet up with Lee and Patty, in a few days. Lee belongs to my book group.
The second lay day was rainy, a good day for an indoor project, and Eugene, a member of the Harlem had given me a great 12 volt LED lamp which I installed as an additional reading light in our berth. The selection of the spot to screw it on was easy. I consulted experts for the electrical connection, which was to a pair of wires that ran to a light in the salon. The selected "splicing" method was "butt connectors" with the wires from the battery and to ground  crimped in at one end and two wires, one
Pto each lamp, crimped in at the other, then shrink wrapped to try to seal out moisture, all concealed under a removable decorative piece of cherry wood.

We patronized Larson's twice. One night for a piece of very fresh swordfish that Lene cooked aboard,  and the next for lobsters that we ate at their restaurant. Except their restaurant is an outdoor area adjacent to the store where on sits at crude boxes. We met a nice couple with whom we shared a box and sea stories, but ambiance was better aboard our boat.

Day 4 -- July 26 -- Block Island -- 44 nm

This was the best sailing day so far this summer. Not necessarily the fastest but the best, notwithstanding a half hour delay waiting for the railroad bridge across the Connecticut River at Old Saybrook to open. We dropped the mooring line at eight so it was the rush hour for commuter trains. The 8.5 knots of tide-aided progress down that river had to stop and during that time Lene made a delicious breakfast.

Mainsail went up while we were between the breakwaters with the Genoa following as soon as we got outside. Once we reached the turning mark outside the shoals, we had almost a straight shot for Block, passing over the Race about a quarter mile SE of the Valiant Rock buoy. We had tide until after we got out of the Sound and then the wind came up stronger. We enjoyed a broad starboard reach and made a gentle 7 - 8 knots, partly based on tide. We sailed without motor all the way -- breakwater to breakwater. At our arrival the wind suddenly increased to 25 knots once inside the Great Salt Pond! Arriving at 2:30 we had to wait, circling for another half hour until the 3 pm ceremony of the assignment of private moorings by the Harbor Master.
We hung out, rested up, lowered the dink, dinked in to the dinghy dock, and walked to the overpriced (by mainland standards) market for groceries and then to Kimberly's a newish restaurant next to the market for dinner. The place is very highly rated by Trip Advisor, and served good food at rustic tables set up on the front lawn. It is not a fine dining experience and not priced that way either. The wind had died down for the dinghy ride back and we enjoyed a calm cool night.

Day 3 -- July 25 -- To Hamburg Cove off the Connecticut River -- 46 nm

Each day so far we have covered greater distances. With 46 miles today  we left early, at eight a.m. and enjoyed an almost perfect tidal situation except for about two of the seven hours. We motored down the Housatonic at eight knots with tide at the beginning  and up the 8.5 miles of the Connecticut River, also at eight knots, due to favorable tide. It was pretty quiet out in the Sound early Monday morning except for a few family commercial fishing boat, a fuel barge on anchor with tug awaiting tide, Faulkner Island with its light,  a couple of sailboats going the other way, and then the two lighthouses at the mouth of the Connecticut River, the railroad bridge and the I-95 bridge. But the wind did not come up until 9:30  when we put up sails, and it was not until 10:30 that we cut the noisemaker and enjoyed a starboard broad reach at 5.6 knots. Our speed dropped after the tide began to flood at 11. Going up the river I passed so many familiar landmarks: the lighthouses, The Essex YC, and the Cove itself. I have been in the Cove on each of my three boats with many different people including my daughters and the world's best dog, Jesse. I waited out a hurricane there and Jesse attacked a peacock. Lots of memories, a real nostalgia trip.

We lowered the dink, drove in to the tiny town of  Lyme and tied up at the local YC dinghy dock; no need to lock it in this small town. Ilene sought juice, brown rice and produce. The small general store which features doll houses had none of these items. But I did score a postcard and a dove bar.  The same older lady who ran the place 20 years ago was still in charge. It rained during the evening and night, requiring the closing of hatches, making for a hot sticky night. I did fix the electric fan which stopped after Alfie chewed through the wires, but it was still sticky.

Hurricane holes are great places to stay during storms because the high surrounding hills and crooked entranceways cut out the wind and waves. But they diminish wifi and internet too, so we missed some of the Democratic Convention.

Day 2 -- July 24 -- To Stratford CT -- 27.5 nm

I have never before sailed into the Housatonic River, in which Stratford is located about two miles from its mouth. We often visit Fran in Kent, CT and Lianne in Great Barrington, MA, both on the Housatonic, but far above the head of navigation. Last fall, see blog, I sailed from Essex, CT to Hampton, VA on Bob's "Pandora" with Gregg as the third member of the team. Gregg keeps his boat at the Housatonic Boat Club, in Stratford and praised his Club. I decided to visit and had put Stratford on the proposed 16 day and 9 day Harlem cruises, and decided to go alone.
We left Greenwich at 11 and used motor and full sails, more of the motor as the tide turned foul. I had always been fearful of sailing up a river with a strong current, but the same current holding us back as it rushed into the Sound, rushed upstream, pushing us along. We arrived at 3:30.
A young lady via VHF directed us to an inappropriate mooring, basically only a light line that held the pickup stick could be cleated to the boat, with no real pennant nor a hole through which to try to thead our own line to be used as a pennant. The launch operator (they call them "Stewards") saw the problem and offered us a berth at the dock, for the mooring price, only $20. We were greeted and helped with our lines by a gentleman who gave me a HCB burgee and asked me to send him one from the Harlem, to which I agreed. HBC is the oldest YC in Connecticut and is a nice down to earth place with good facilities including Lene's favorite: outdoor showers. Gregg came ashore from a day of sailing with his wife by launch and I had the pleasure of introducing them to both Ilenes. HBC has a kitchen but no restaurant, which holds down expenses. I will definitely visit again. A very friendly vibe.
After our home cooked dinner I went for a walk, looking for a postcard for my grand daughter. The HBC is right next to the theater of the Stratford Shakespeare Festival. But it is closed, semi permanently, and on Sunday evening the town was pretty well locked up too. We were right at the foot of the ramp leading from the clubhouse to the dock,  and a photo of ILENE illuminated at night from above will be inserted here if and when I ever get my laptop working again. I bought an app to insert photos for the blog from the IPad, from which this is being written, but I have not been able to make that app work.

Day 1 -- July 23 -- Were Off! -- With Leeds the Way to Greenwich -- 16nm

Last trip in to NYC --  to park the car in our garage -- for security purposes. The Harlem YC parking lot is clearly secure enough against crime, but if a Nor'easter comes in while we are away for five weeks the floodwaters have ruined the engines of  cars parked there. The subway back was uneventful and we were off at 11 a.m.  This was the date originally scheduled for the commencement of  the Club Cruise, which did not come off, but PC Mark and Marsha, on Leeds the Way, wanted to join its first (and last?) day, so we selecte the nearby Indian Harbor YC in Greenwich, CT, as our destination. But first the City Island Fuel Dock to pour 19 gallons of diesel into the good tank.

Then we sailed, or motor sailed,  using Genoa only. The primary problem was that with great weather and gusty winds we had to cross about four heavily entered races. With winds from the south, the race organizers set up their courses NS, to require the racers to beat and run, and so with our eastern destination, there were racers coming at us from port and starboard -- in large numbers over most of the width of the Sound. The racers think they own the water of their courses and want us to "go around" the entire area. We did this for one of the races but mostly plowed through, being careful to alter course and or speed to avoid any collisions or even close calls. But our sails create wind shadows and we are one more of the obstacles, like commercial shipping, that confront and challenge racers.  We had one incident where we had turned away and then the race boat totally lost control of its high tech sail and veered toward us in an effort to straighten things out, forcing me to do a 360 to avoid them. When the wind hit our sails from the side we heeled sharply for a few seconds, upsetting Lene who was below and yelled at me. The other problem was that the gusts heeled us from time to time and the small L.L. Bean "Water Hog" mat that acted as the "rug" in the galley which Lene likes to "air" on the coach roof took a brief flight and sank quickly.

We were assigned the largest mooring we have ever had, used by a 100+ foot sloop which was off cruising. Indian Harbor is an elegant, posh, old fashioned Yacht Club. Examples: paper hand towels in the restrooms have the club's burgee imprinted on them and the rest rooms are equipped with hair dressing and mouthwash and big white fluffy terry towels if you shower there; the launches have miniature flags for each of the flag officers which they hoist during that officer's launch ride and the launch operators wear white with epaulettes; the menus in the restaurant, except that given to the man who the staff presumes is the "host", have no prices. You get the idea. A bit "stuffy" as well, though the wait staff and launch operators were friendly and efficient. They were having a white wedding: all guests wore (and were) white and the chairs, balloon pods and chairs were all white. This event took up the large front patio area for the ceremony and cocktail hour and the dining room after that, but there were very nice tables in the bar and we had drinks and later, dinner.

In the morning, a delicious breakfast on Leeds the Way before our departure through the east entrance to the harbor headed for Stratford CT.

July 20 - 22 -- Last Three Days Before the Summer Cruise

First day back from Sheepshead Bay was a Wednesday, and the Old Salts convened, eleven of us. With ILENE's engine not working, though I did figure out the culprit, but needed help fixing it, we sailed on PC Mark's catamaran, Deuce of Hearts. It was her first sail with brand new high tech racing sails made but Z-spars, the guys who did the sails on our old ILENE, the 34 foot Tartan. Mark's is one of two Harlem boats entered in the Around Long Island Regatta which starts on a Thursday late in July. And the boat was very fast with the crisp new sails in light air. I cast off the mooring lines and dropped the main, but that is all I did, except for schmoozing, eating and drinking. Normally I like to do as much of the sailing of the boat as possible because it is fun, but this time I was tired and served as a passenger. First time in 20 years and I may do it again in less than the next 20.

The next two days were a whirlwind of getting ready to go. I had seen water in the clear yellow plastic bowl of the Racor primary fuel filter. Herr Deisel was a genius, but even he could not get his engine to run on water. When water reaches the engine it shuts down. I had switched from the aft fuel tank to the forward tank a minute or so before the shutdown. This was the tank into which I had poured water at about Christmas, 2014. I had pumped out all the diesel and all the water then, or so I had thought, but apparently not all the water after all, it is heavier and lies on the bottom from which the liquid is drawn. And I had apparently used and refilled the aft tank, the "good" tank, ever since then. We bought a brass hand operated fluid transfer pump and unscrewed a whole lot of screws that hold the cabin sole in place and those that hold the lid on the non-working fuel gauge sensor to provide access. Then we started pumping from the bottom of the tank, we thought, but pulled up more diesel fuel than water.  Ed's next idea: remove the end of the hose that carries the fuel (and water) from the tanks to the Racor, insert the hand pump into the hose (a perfect fit) and start to pump away. We got about a gallon of water out of the tank before it was mostly diesel again. All the removals were poured into the plastic yellow five gallon diesel Jerry can. Then came replacement of the secondary Yanmar fuel filter, and "bleeding" remaining air and water from the system. And the engine runs again!  We were still not out of the woods, though. Running it for half an hour chilled the refrigerator, saving the food. But during that half hour the Racor bowl acquired some water, which we removed. So for now, long runs will be fed from the good tank and short ones of less than half an hour will be run from the bad tank, after which the remaining water will be drained off from the Racor, half a cup at a time.

The other major problem was the electric winch, which makes the raising of the main sail so much easier for an old guy. Its failure was intermittent, and to prove the point it worked when I tried to demonstrate the "clunk"  I was hearing instead of the grinding sound for Ed. Ed checked out each of the four heavy gauge wires that run to and from the control box and all were good. So the problem was in the motor, the cylinder mounted directly under the winch itself.  Ed took it  off and webrought it to Bronx Ignition. They replaced the graphite "brushes" that rub on the coils of wire and make it go. Same day service. Ed volunteered to come back the next day to reinstall it but with his remote help I figured it out. I had to do it twice, because I found a flat plastic bearing ring in the box in which Bronx Ignition gave it back to me, that I did not know belonged and hence had left out the first time I reinstalled it.  One difficulty was holding the heavy thing up, above my head, while fiddling with each of four small Allen head bolts. I built a scaffold to keep it up so I had both hands to deal with the bolts and their wrench. The other problem was that I could not push it up high enough into the base of the winch to close up those bolts. Ed said: insert the winch handle into the winch and give it a small turn. It worked! The cogs of the gears lined up properly and the motor could be closed up.

The rest of the two days were for other errands and chores. I took the boat to the dock to fill her with water. Took off the propane tank to New Rochelle for a fill up and re installation. The Jerry can of bad diesel waster went to Buddy's, where I picked it up empty next day. Lene did the laundry. We visited the supermarket to top off provisions.

We are ready!

July 19 -- A Scary Exciting Passage From Sheepshead Bay Back To The Harlem

The day started out easily enough. We took in the matinee of Disney's Finding Dory at a multiplex about seven  blocks from the Miramar YC. (Save your money; some animations are great for adults; not this one.)

We prepared and pulled in our mooring lines at 3:15 p.m. The reefing points from the prior day's sail had been  left in the main. Attached to its halyard, with the stack lack unzipped, it was ready to be hoisted. But the winds were strong from the WNW, and once clear of the Bay's channel and in the channel off Coney Island we found that the small jib, close hauled on starboard tack, was all we needed, with the engine, to make great speed and heeled the boat considerably. Rounding the western end of Coney Island, the wind intensified and came too close to our nose, so we furled the jib and motored into the wind, which slowed our speed considerably.

I got to thinking that we had been using up the diesel fuel in the same tank ever since the season began and maybe it was time to switch to the fuel in the other tank, which was full. This was done, without mishap, but about two minutes later, the engine died, and did not start again for the rest of the day.

At this point we were just west of the Verranzano Bridge and closer to the Brooklyn shore than center channel. I made a mistake, fortunately not a fatal one. I went back down into the cabin, took off the ladder that covers the engine and switched back to the first tank, thinking I could restart the engine. What I should have done first was to unfurl the small jib. That came next, and was done in record time. But meanwhile we were dangerously close to the rip rap or large rocks that protects the Belt Parkway, which was our lee shore and the wind and waves were pushing us onto that shore as we drifted powerlessly. If the rocks grabbed us there would be no escape; the waves and wind would grind us into the rocks. After the jib was unfurled, it took time for me to trim it in, with a few seconds lost during a trip forward to unwrap the new side sheets that wrapped the central sheet preventing my hauling it close. We were so close that Ilene panicked with fear: I screamed at her, something I have never said to her before and hope never to say again: "SHUT UP"!  It calmed her and later she told me I had done the right thing. Panic attacks never help. I was panicked too, but time spent immobilized by panic and thinking about consequences rob the mind of the need to think clearly about what to do next. It almost cost us out boat, and possibly worse.
Luckily, Sheila was too ignorant of our peril to be fearful; this is not an insult, ignorance can be bliss. The boat was being pushed sideways, it's starboard side parallel to the shore, and we were not making way yet. Way, forward progress, was the necessity for the rudder to bite the water and push our bow away from the shore. Lene had pulled the wheel fully to the left, but this causes the rudder to act as a brake against the vital necessity of forward progress. When the sail was finally set and drawing, I grabbed the wheel and eased the amount of right rudder and we started slowly forward and then away from the jagged rocks. Lene later estimated we had twenty five feet of water, at the surface, between the boat and the rocks which were waiting to tear into our hull. That would mean less distance to the rip rap sea wall at the depth of our keel. My estimate, at the time, was that her 25 feet were only 20. Either way, we were way too close for comfort. Once we started moving gradually away and had built up a bit of speed we tacked over to put our stern to the wall and more serious distance between it and ILENE. 

Like they say, "hours of boredom interspersed with moments of sheer terror". (Actually, though, I never get bored while sailing because there is always so much to occupy the mind.)

Meanwhile I hauled up the reefed main -- no electric winch -- which gave us more speed. We dodged some moored barges, and beat across Buttermilk Shoals. Sailors instinctively fear shoals, the dreaded shallow spots in the water. These particular shoals were very well marked by buoys to keep the big merchant and military vessels safe and I had always stayed off of them before as well. But we had to make time because the favorable tide would eventually reverse, making it impossible to get through Hellgate. And the chart showed that the minimum depth of the Buttermilk Shoals was twelve feet -- no problem for our 5'8" draft.

Lene steered through the channel between Brooklyn and Governors Island which was not close hauled but a nice reach, though with the wind obstructed by the island. We arrived at the Battery, heading north to the Brooklyn Bridge, with tide pushing us north, but winds from the north too, but very light. Indeed we had no steerage but we're drifting. I shook the reef out of the mainsail to give us more power. We were off the new Marina on the Brooklyn waterfront and called them, but they had no boat to tow us the 200 yards in and the current was pushing us past them. They suggested the Liberty Landing Marina in Jersey City, but again we were already north of the Battery. Ilene prevailed upon me to call BoatUS. We pay insurance to them for towing service. They wanted detailed lat and lon, rather than accepting much clearer location information: "We are currently under the Brooklyn Bridge, and moving north." We asked for a tow to the Harlem and I told them it was fifteen miles. They said they would have a tower meet us "IN TWO HOURS!"

So we continued north. Ilene called the Coast Guard on VHF to ask if they knew of any place on either side of the East River where it was shallow enough to anchor and where we would be out of the way of big traffic. We established cell phone communications. They did not know of anchorage areas, and told us that we would NOT be able to pass Hellgate. I said that if the tide turned adverse, we would try to anchor in the southern part of the Harlem River (which is where our club was first established in 1883). They asked about our safety and I told them we were not currently in danger except for fear that during our tacking up the East River, we had little maneuverability, making me fearful when we got close to one side or the other. That's right, the WNW wind had become northerly, requiring tacking, and weak, in the canyon between tall buildings on both sides of the river, except for occasional gusts. I kept trimming the sails to get as much speed as we could in hopes of getting past Hellgate before the tide turned. The Coast Guard promised to call us every half hour and kept its promise. A hour after telling us that the tow boat would be with us in two hours, we called BoatUS, who said it would be two hours from "now"!

But the favorable tide kept with us all the way through Hellgate, after which we were met by chance by fire boat 43 of the NY Fire Department. They asked if we wanted a tow, but at that time we were making six knots so they just stood by for about an hour and followed us, to be available if needed. Thanks guys!  

We decided to take the longer but wider passage north of North Brother Island rather than the narrower one between it and South Brother Island, especially as we were close hauled and I did not relish the possibility of needing to tack in such a narrow channel.

Once past The Brothers, the water got wide, land obstructions dropped away and I figured that even if the tide turned adverse, we would be able to sail our way home unless the wind died. Sheila was now getting anxious about how long the trip was taking so I gave her a tranquilizer -- some Savignon Blanc -- with the chicken Lene had cooked.

When we got past the Throggs Neck Bridge, the local City Island franchise of BoatUS towing appeared on the scene, wanting to tow us. I was speaking on the phone with the Coast Guard. I told both  the Coast Guard and BoatUSthat now, only two miles from home, I wanted to try to do it alone, and would take a tow from the Club Launch when we were 100 yards from the mooring. It was ego speaking, rather than my rational brain. Lene said: "TAKE THE TOW", it is free, because of our insurance. In the other ear the Coast Guard guy said the same thing. The wind was very light and it was getting dark. The tower was saying the same thing, into my third ear.

The wind was as light as possible, mere zephyrs, and the tide would surely turn adverse during the hour or two that it would take us to traverse Eastchester Bay to our mooring at one or two knots. So we dropped our sails, took the tow rope, and we're on our mooring, in the dark, at 9:30, six and a quarter hours after our departure. While the tow boat was tied to our starboard side, Lene and Sheila, mounted the launch from our port side and they drove in to NY and Lene slept in Sheila's apartment. My next post will feature engine repair. This was a long scary passage.