Battered

Voyage 20

20 July 2014

Sunday

HW 0312, 1544; LW 0907, 2331

Wind: E 11-15; Gusts 20

Seas: 2-3 feet

Temp: 68F

Weather: Cloudy

4hr 34 min (1450-1920)

16.8 nm

3.7 kts ave

The Admiral suggested we go out for a Sunday afternoon sail, which pleasantly surprised me since she generally finds sailing too slow, too boring, and too effortful.

Setting out in mid-afternoon on an overcast day, we drove the boat beyond Cromeset Point and then set the jib, making 3.3 knots.  The wind was out of the East, which was unusual for that time of day on Buzzards Bay.  Once clear of Great Hill we also set the mainsail, and began to zip along at more than five knots, close-hauled and heeling.

The Admiral at the helm, heading out

"Now this is fun!" exclaimed the Admiral, who is more of a powerboat gal.  "If this is what its like when we go out, then I could learn to like sailing."

For a nautical chart of the region, click here.

We hit our top speed of 6.7 knots out in the middle of the navigation channel that marks the approach to the canal, where both wind and waves are often a bit stronger.  Then we shaped our course southwesterly and sailed on a broad reach for Cleveland Ledge Light, on the Cape side of the bay.

Cleveland Ledge Light

A couple of controlled jibes brought us around the lighthouse just before 5:00 pm, and we turned northward to head back across to the mainland side of the bay.  But I noticed that the shrouds on the boat (wires running from the mast to the deck that secure the mast upright in place), had loosened to an alarming degree.

Okay, this should not do that!

I thought it prudent to take down the mainsail immediately in order to reduce tension on the wobbly wires.  But this maneuver proved a little tricky.  We were still in the vicinity of the shoals at Cleveland Ledge, and the waves of the open bay were a bit more formidable here, rocking the boat considerably.  I asked the Admiral to take the helm and point the boat into the wind so that I could go forward and lower the sail.  She is still getting the hang of working the tiller, which many people find counter-intuitive at first.  So there were moments when she wanted to go right, but instead steered the boat left, and vice versa.  Meanwhile, I was standing at the mast, both arms hugged around it tightly, clinging on lest I get pitched into the water by the violent rocking of the boat.

"Can you please warn me when any big waves are coming?" I yelled to her above the wind, which was now blowing almost 20 knots.

"They are all big!" she yelled back.

Eventually I wrestled the mainsail down and was able to secure it with the sail ties.

Under just the jib, we sailed northward back across the bay towards Bird Island.  We needed to clear the eastern side of the island in order to head back to our mooring on the Weweantic, still several miles up the bay to windward.  But there was a good-sized powerboat sitting just south of Bird Island, with a bunch of guys fishing off its stern near (the ominous sounding) Centerboard Shoal.  The problem was that they were windward of us and anchored kind of where we needed to go.  

One option was to tack before we reached them, but this would mean a new heading that would take us back out into the middle of the bay.  The Admiral disapproved.  So instead we sailed west of them, off their stern, then tried to make our way up to Bird Island.  But wind, waves, and current conspired to make a hard time of it.  At several points, the stiff breeze would help us reach to windward a few meters, only to have the waves and current push the bow back to leeward, almost completely negating the hard-fought gain.  

I had a greater appreciation for the frustration, patience, and determination of sailing crews to get their ships around Cape Horn, albeit in much more dangerous conditions.  We must have really annoyed the weekend fisherman, or perhaps they were just getting as cold and wet as we were, because they suddenly pulled up anchor and blasted out of there.

"I am not really enjoying this any more," confided the Admiral.  "Can we just get home?"

At 6:00 p.m., we furled in the jib and started the motor.  Heading into the wind, and against the current and ebb tide, we were able to make only three knots even with the throttle opened about three-quarters.  It was a long drive back to Knob Creek.

Well, that was exciting....

The Admiral, bundled up against the wet and cold, eyes homeward....

Always remember: just like when hiking, on a daysail, you should think about turning back before you really want to turn back -- your turnaround point is really only your halfway point.