April Sailing

Compliments of my buddy, Captain Bob Damiano, I had my first sail of the 2016 season on April 8-9: an overnight journey from Boston to Barrington, RI, aboard S/V Argon, a Tartan 4000.  Last year, Bob and his partner, Linda, sold their house and downsized to a new live-aboard life-style as they began serious preparations for a transition to blue-water sailing.  They will be heading to Bermuda this summer, and then on to the Caribbean.  You can read about all that at their informative and entertaining blog, "Argon Voyages" (www.we-argon.blogspot.com).

Argon's deck, just four days earlier....

Argon was headed down to a boatyard in Barrington for some mast work and other maintenance, and Bob invited me to crew with him on the overnight trip.  On Thursday evening, I took the train up to Boston and grabbed an Uber over to Constitution Marina to join the boat.  Bob and Linda had just added side curtains to the Bimini and dodger, completely enclosing the cockpit, which turned out to be a godsend during the voyage, keeping us dry and warm.

Argon in her slip, with her new toasty little cockpit greenhouse

After victualating, including stocking up on rum and bourbon, and after feasting on some seriously delicious gourmet pizza at Todd English's "Figs," near Bunker Hill in Charlestown, we bedded down for the night in preparation for an early morning departure.

Bunker Hill at night

We got underway around 0730 on a glorious but chilly morning, with 7 knots of wind.  Heading out President Roads, Bob had us turn right at Nixes Mate and down the Narrows between Lovell Island and Georges Island with Fort Warren.  The Nixes Mate Daymarker is on the National Register of Historic Places.  Legend has it that it is named after a Mate who was hanged there on the charge of murdering his Captain (Nix) while at sea.  In the 1720s, the corpse of pirate chief William Fly was gibbeted on the tiny island after his execution as a warning to other would-be pirates.  #valarmorghulis 

Nixes Mate

Bob promised favorable brisk winds, WSW to start but expected to veer North later in the day.  That would have made for a quick and comfortable run down to the Cape Cod Canal in time for slack water.  At least that was the plan.  The first part of the weather forecast turned out to be pretty accurate; the latter part less so.  #itsObamasfault

Minot's Light

Our whaleboat team ('Polar Oartex') raced here last fall, in some challenging open water conditions

Winds held pretty steady WSW all day.  At 1020, as we sailed by Minot's Light, off Cohasset, it was blowing a steady 20 knots and gusting to 27 knots.  By 1300, it was blowing a pretty steady 30 knots.  This meant sailing close-hauled into wind and waves.  Bob was no too happy about all this, as it threw awry his sail plan, but I was having a great time.  I had never sailed in such strong winds.  #exciting

Looks like a scene out of an old "Batman" episode, when they tilt the camera angle in the Joker's lair....

Argon is a big boat. Compared to my diminutive 23-foot Piao, she is a dreadnought.  As Bob remarked, Argon "eats for lunch" rather big-ass waves that would pose a much greater challenge to Piao, almost half the size of 40-foot Argon.

Argon eating lunch....

Still, water rushing over the toerail as we raced south at over 7 knots, pounding waves and heeled far over in a starboard tack, was thrilling. There was a lot of spray, and plenty of waves sent cascades of water over the bow and foredeck, and splashing against the dodger.  I was happy to sail with the enclosed cockpit, which kept us dry and warm throughout the voyage.  #bringiton

This is "Yee-ha!" sailing!

There were a few times when the winds were just too strong and we had difficulties holding our course.  Bob had us fall off the wind a bit, but this inevitably blew us eastward, out to sea, obliging us then to tack back toward shore.  But with the winds holding WSW, this meant our in-shore tack put us on a Westerly (or even WNW) heading, meaning we were backtracking and losing ground.  Bob can curse like a real sailor.  #pottymouth

Here you can see where we were obliged to fall off

Engineers are dedicated to solving problems.  Never golf with an engineer: it makes for a long and painful round of play.  At one point, Bob noticed that the foresail was not optimally rigged for the conditions.  Argon's big Genoa has a several grommets at its clew, arranged in an arching semi-circle (whereas the jib on modest little Piao has just one clew grommet).  The sheet was attached to a higher point on the clew, which prevented Bob from pulling it down taut and snug to the deck, as sailing close-hauled in such conditions warranted.  "I'm gonna have to go fix that," he said to me, and disappeared into the cabin to retrieve a tether line.  Wait. What? Are you kidding me?  #NoRedShirt

You are going up there? Seriously?

Leaving me at the helm, Bob directed me to turn into the wind while he went forward, carefully, to adjust the clew of the foresail.  I confess this made me more than a little anxious.  Argon would have been a lot of boat for me to handle alone, in those conditions, should he go for a swim.  I insisted we review MOB procedures before he left the cockpit.  I must say, the dude knows what he is doing, and in just a few minutes he had reattached the sheet to a lower clew point on the foresail and was safely back in the cockpit.  Once, in Tenth Grade, I held my breath for just over three minutes (Joe Ranieri timed me); this time might have been a little longer.  #whew

Despite Bob's best efforts, the wind still seemed to conspire against us.  It was still slow going, and we were getting pounded.  Around 1600, as we were off Plymouth, Bob decided enough was enough, and we brought in the sails and resorted to motoring.  Somewhere south of Manomet Bluffs, at 1755, the Plymouth Harbormaster fastboat chased us down and hailed us across the water.  Bob gestured: got radio?  Yeah, that works better.  They said someone had reported a sailboat struggling off Plymouth and they had come out to see whether we were in need of assistance.  Bob thanked them, and politely declined.  Still, I thought, it's comforting to know someone is watching.  #NSA

That's a rather strong current, Capt'n....

Needless to say, we arrived at the Cape Cod Canal a bit late (well, okay, very late -- 6:25pm), and the current was running against us.  The seven-mile transit -- which usually takes Argon about 45 minutes -- took more than three hours that night, as we struggled against the contrary current.  

Entering the Cape Cod Canal, hours behind schedule

But sheltered from the winds, this was some welcome "down time."  While I watched men with flashlights fishing in the darkness along the banks of the canal, Bob went below to heat up some tasty tomato soup to warm our bellies.  #traderjoesyum!

Speed [thru water]: 7.0 knots; Speed Over Ground: 2.0 knots

That's 5 knots of contrary current!

But wait, there's more!  That night Bob and I both learned that one should monitor VHF Channel 13 when transiting the canal.  Just after 9pm, as we approached Mass Maritime Academy on the western end of the canal, I noticed the lights of the Bourne bridge behind us became eclipsed by a large black mass.  A few minutes later, Argon was lit up from astern by massive floodlights reminiscent of a Foghat concert in the 1970s. WTF?  Then we were hailed on VHF by a tug pushing a massive barge, that had come up behind us in the darkness, catching us at unawares. #holyshit

Hey, Bob, where did the Bourne Bridge lights disappear to?

"Canal Control has been trying to reach you on 13," the tug captain told us.  Bob adroitly maneuvered over to the northern edge of the channel to give the behemoth a wide berth.  "Geez, you'd think they would try [Channel] 16 [for emergencies and initial hailing] if they got no response on 13," Bob muttered.  But he did not say that into the radio.  Bob's far too polite than that.  #classyyachtsman

Emerging into Buzzards Bay, my neighborhood, we discovered the winds on this side of the canal had diminished to only about 12-15 knots.  However, Bob noticed that there quite a few ATONs (navigation aid buoys) that were off-station.  We motored on in the darkness past Marion's Bird Island Lightuntil we reached Mattapoisett harbor around 2300.  Bob decided that we would put in there for the night.  The harbor channel is marked with unlit local navigation buoys, and we carefully threaded our way in the darkness, ahead slow, up to the mooring fields, scanning continuously with a hand-held spotlight.  Sometimes we couldn't see the markers until we were right atop them.  Finally, after skirting around a forest of winter sticks in the mooring field, Bob selected what he deemed to be suitable anchorage.  We dropped the hook in 12-feet of water, made all secure, and retired below for a welcome hot meal.  #destinationknobcreek

Luxurious accommodations compared with Piao

The next morning we weighed anchor around 0700 and headed down Buzzards Bay toward Newport.  Again we were under motor power, but this time because there was virtually no wind: a paltry breeze of only 4-6 knots.  We passed New Bedford around 0900, and Cuttyhunk an hour or so later

Very different conditions on Day 2

As we passed the "Hens and Chickens" off Gooseberry Neck, a fog bank was rolling in from the south.  Off the port beam, to seaward, it was difficult to distinguish the horizon in the blended blur of grey, although to starboard, toward land, there was a crisp blue sky.

View to port

View to starboard 

Bob decided we would turn in and run up the Sakonnet River, rather than making for Naragansett Bay.  This was a new route for me, as we followed the east side of Rhode Island (the actual island), with its picturesque seaside communities such as Quaker Hill.  At its northern tip, we zigged sharply SW until we cleared Hog Island, and then zagged northward onto the Providence River as we made for Bristol.  There we took the Warren River and threaded our way up its rather narrow channel to Warren, where we turned left on to the even more narrow Barrington River.

The twisty-turny Sakonnet River route

As we approached our destination, Stanley's Boat Yard, Bob took care to rig the fenders neatly and smartly.  "We will be tied up next to the Barrington Yacht Club," he explained.  "Everything has to be 'yachtsmanly.'  Besides, Linda will be watching.  It's really her boat."

Trying not to run us aground while Bob rigs lines and fenders

Linda was indeed waiting on the dock to catch our lines.  I threw her the wrong line first (Bob had rigged two spring lines, one thicker, one thinner; "throw the big one first," he said, but I failed to heed him).  #deckhand_fail

Ever the gentleman captain, Bob forgave me and still offered to drive me home.

Trip distance: 133nm (by my iPhone app)

Trip time: 31hrs 57min (including 8hr 18min stoppage time)