First Overnight

13 July 2016
Voyage #17 of the Season 
32.0nm
11h 36m moving
23.5 hrs aboard

Winds SW 13-16 kts, gusting 22-25 kts
Waves SW 1-2 ft, 3-4 secs
Sunny, 77(F)
Humidity 79%
1020 mb
Visibility 10 mi

Water Temp 65(F)

Great Hill LW 0831 (0.8'), HW 1556 (3.9')

Uncatena Island LW 0857 (0.7'), HW 1554 (3.3')

I ran into Ed, my boat guy, the other week, and he asked if I had been anywhere yet.  I was embarrassed to say 'No, only day sailing.'  I had made a bunch of those upgrades with an eye towards some coastal cruising and overnighting, but it was proving more challenging than I expected to schedule something.  Then last week, when my wife went off on a business trip, a window of opportunity opened.  It was time to get started.

My original plan was, of course, much too ambitious.  I wanted to sail to Cuttyhunk and spend the night.  And I swear one day I really will do that -- hopefully, this summer!  When "Go Day" arrived, the weather was fair but winds were uncooperative, blowing 15-20 knots out of the southwest.  Even before I left the house I knew I would not reach Cuttyhunk sailing against headwinds like that.  But I always have a Plan B, and that was to head for Quisset, at the western end of Cape Cod, near Woods Hole.

At 1030, I drove down to Dexters and dropped my gear on the dock: overnight duffle bag (with C-PAP machine, sweatshirt, sleeping bag, change of clothes), two cooler bags (one for beverages: water, Gatorade, beer; the other for food: salami, cheese, Tzatziki, salads, a couple of roast beef sandwiches, and a half-dozen Braeburn apples), a plastic jug of extra gasoline, and my usual yellow backpack "boat bag."  I hopped in the dinghy (no more vandalism, I am happy to report), rowed myself out to the boat, tied on fenders and dock lines, and brought her over to the dock for loading.  The wind was light and westerly, blowing the stern of the troublesome close-moored Grady White powerboat away from the dock.  I was able to approach the dock without any problems.  Easy-peasy.

An hour later, having stowed my gear, prepped the boat, and reefed the main sail, I got underway.  Running the engine a modest 4 knots, I cleared the mouth of the river in ten minutes and turned off the motor.  Winds in the lee of Great Hill were already at 16 knots, gusting 20 knots, and pushed me along at 3-4 knots as a sailed out on a starboard tack under reefed main alone, making my way SSE into 2-3 foot waves.  At 1220, approaching Dry Ledge, I did the first of what would become a long series of tacks as I tried to work my way southward against the mounting wind and waves.

1220: Port Tack 270-degrees

1225: Starboard Tack 180-degrees

1250: Port Tack 270-degrees

1300: Starboard Tack 180-degrees

It soon became a very wet ride as the waves hit up against and over the sides of the boat.  When I failed to turn my head away quickly enough, I got smacked in the face.  When I was able to turn away fast enough, I got a refreshingly cool drenching on my torso, waist, and legs.  Perhaps I should give some thought to installing a dodger.  No pictures, alas.  I did not want to risk water damage to the iPhone, and I forgot to turn on the GoPro.

As Piao lurched along into the headwinds, her speed varying between 2.5-4.5 knots with the gusts, I began to feel some frustration and doubt.  The waves were building as I moved farther out into the Bay, and some of them were as high as the lifelines.  Piao seemed to be riding them fairly enough, but how long would it take in these conditions to make it all the way across the Bay and down to Quisset?  It was just after noon, and the GPS was displaying an ETA of 1844 -- almost 7:00pm!  For a few minutes, I considered bagging the trip and heading home.  At least the bone-jarring thuds would stop.  As I approached the northern side of the shipping channel and looked towards the Cape Cod Canal for a traffic-check, I could see a tug with large barge in tow emerging into the Bay.  I needed to make a decision.  It wasn't hard to make.  I needed to get across that channel well ahead of the tug and barge.  By 1320, I was in the middle of the channel, healing 30-degrees in four to five foot waves at 5 knots under reefed main alone, eating wall after wall of seawater in my face.

1335: Port Tack 270-degrees

1340: Starboard Tack 180-degrees; Tug and Barge entering Channel

1350: Port Tack 270-degrees

1405: Starboard Tack 180-degrees

1420: Port Tack 270-degrees

1435: Starboard Tack 180-degrees; Cleveland Ledge Light; waves above lifelines

At 1500, I really had to pee.  I couldn't hold it any longer.  The ride was too full of bumps, bangs, and rolls, and the wind and waves too strong, to leave the helm unattended and duck into the cabin.  Instead, I decided to heave-to for a few minutes.  I was pleased how well the boat responded: the rough ride changing almost instantly to a gentle rolling, as Piao drifted slowly back to northward.

Five minutes later, I zipped up my pants, pulled in the sheets, and set the helm over on a port tack again, back out towards the shipping channel.

1505: Port Tack 270-degrees

1510: Starboard Tack 180-degrees

1550: Port Tack 270-degrees

1610: Starboard Tack 180-degrees

By 1630, as I approached Sippewisset, I decided to risk a little extra sail, and unfurled the jib.  Piao responded nicely and bumped up her speed to just over 6-knots.  She was flying toward Quisset now, as if she could smell the harbor.  Each time I put her over on the in-shore starboard tack, the ETA on the GPS display dropped enticingly lower, while it climbed depressingly higher on the off-shore port tacks.

1640 Port Tack 270-degrees

1650 Starboard Tack 180-degrees

Finally, at 1720, I found myself off the entrance to Quisset harbor.  As I furled the jib, doused the main sail, and put on the sail ties, I saw a bunch of small dinghies come streaking out of the harbor headed toward the starting line for a local race.  Really?  In these winds?  Well, I thought, good for them.  I've had enough for today.  Turning on the motor, I headed into the well-protected horseshoe-shaped harbor.

Approaching Quisset Harbor....

Ten minutes later, I had picked up a mooring (#168), washed my face and hands -- very happy to have fixed that galley sink -- and changed into some warm dry clothes.  Mixing myself a 'Dark and Stormy,' I pulled out the cockpit cushions and lay down to rest and relax.  It had been a six-hour slog down across Buzzards Bay, beating into those 20-knot headwinds the whole way.  I was pooped, but feeling very satisfied.

One small step for Man....

Just after 7pm, a guy from the Quisset Boatyard came by in a dinghy and collected the $35 overnight mooring fee.  "Where'd you come from?" he asked.  "Marion," I told him.  "Whoa.  You must have been screaming out there!"  He shook his head, looking at little Piao.  My neighbors were all much larger boats, but he was no less warm and welcoming to me.

My neighbors for the night in Quisset....

With business completed, I set up my cockpit table and settled down for some dinner.  I wasn't really all that hungry, so I didn't bother with the stove.  I just ate a roast beef sandwich, an apple, some homemade Tzatziki (yoghurt-cucumber-dill dip), Genoa salami, Jarlesberg cheese, and half a baguette.  Then I opened an icy-cold beer, lit up a Macanudo cigar, and lay quietly reading about Howard Blackburn until sunset.

Evening snacks in Quisset....

After the sun went down, it got a bit cooler and I put on some sweatpants.  I had thought I would stay up late reading and writing, but I found that I was dog tired.  By 2130, I was ready to turn in for the night.  The harbor was quiet; I seemed to be the only one aboard their boat that night.  There was a gentle breeze blowing, so I kept the cabin hatch open and was pleased to have a whole night of freedom from the bugs.  I made my bed on the port quarter berth (the galley is on the starboard side, and the V-berth is filled with gear), and fell asleep gazing up at the stars in the night sky.

Sunset in Quisset....

I awoke a few times during the night, usually when a series of big-than-usual waves rolled the boat a bit, but as the wave action subsided it quickly rocked me back to sleep.  I finally got up at 0800.  There were little kids skirting about the harbor in small dinghies, taking sailing lessons.  Very friendly, with impeccable manners and excellent grammar.  "Good morning, Sir!  How are you?  I am doing very well."

Young kids taking summer sailing lessons in small dinghies the next morning....

I lit the Origo alcohol stove for the first time to make some coffee and instant oatmeal, and discovered -- relatively painlessly -- that alcohol flames are invisible.  The weather forecast for the day called for Southerly winds, 12-17 knots, gusting 25-30 knots, with waves from the southwest, 2-feet high, at four second intervals.  That sounded strong, but promised a quick run home with the wind from astern.  My biggest concern was the threat of thunderstorms in the afternoon.  Hoping to beat the weather, I cast off the mooring and got underway again at 1000.

Leaving Quisset, running under reefed main.

Home is somewhere that way, over the horizon, to the north....

I put the boat on a port tack, set the jib, and steered a steady course of 351-degrees in the direction of Great Hill.  Piao made between 5-6 knots as she rolled with waves on her port beam and quarter.  Not far from Quisset, I passed a couple of boats with 'Diver Down' flags, and steered well clear of them.

Dive Boats off Quisset....

I also spied the schooner, Tabor Boy, from Marion's Tabor Academy, hull-down under full sail on the western horizon, her sails aglow in sunlight as she headed out Buzzards Bay.

SSV Tabor Boy under full sail on the western horizon....

I made Cleveland Ledge Light by 1130, Bird Island by 1200, and Great Hill by 1230.  This straight run home taking only 2.5 hours -- less than half the time of yesterday's out-bound leg, zig-zagging repeatedly against those headwinds.

When I returned to Dexter's, I had to maneuver with extreme care and dexterity to get to the dock, which was obstructed.

I promised my wife that I would not say anything, so I won't say anything....

All in all it was a great trip!  I wish it could have lasted longer and gone farther.  But "Crawl, Walk, Run."  Next time maybe Cuttyhunk, and perhaps Lake Tashmoo on Martha's Vineyard.....

32 nautical miles
11.5 hrs moving
23.5 hrs total