home is where the boat is: Massachusetts

Saturday, October 5 – Monday, October 14, 2013

Rounding Cape Ann

The day we left Maine for Massachusetts—quickly passing through New Hampshire—was a long haul. We left Jewell Island in Casco Bay just before sunrise, and arrived in Gloucester just after sunset. We traveled about 76 miles, and saw dolphins, minke whales, and other wildlife as we went. This sudden push for some distance, after having slowly wandered Maine, was due to weather. Strong winds and rain were predicted to hit the Northeast the following day and these would linger for a while, allowing the ocean swell to build and making our passage through the relatively unprotected waters from Casco Bay and then into the infamous Cape Cod Bay potentially more rough. It was a long, overcast day but the clouds cleared just before sunset and a strong light bathed Evelyn and the twin lighthouses guarding Cape Ann, and provided just enough light to find the anchorage in Gloucester and settle in.

We stayed in Gloucester for three nights waiting out the gale, and even in the protected harbor the water became chunky and made Evelyn toss and bob about. The worst of it was actually during our second day, and we had gone ashore for a few hours—when we returned we saw the swell, and the boats tossing, but we couldn’t see Evelyn yet and we thought we should be able to. Our hearts sank and we began to run—luckily there she was, just fine, but tossing away. After that we decided we’d feel more assured just sitting aboard her when it was rough, and since then, that is what we’ve done. We trusted the anchorage, the anchor, and the holding ground, but it’s so easy for things to go awry.

Despite the rain, we had a wonderful time in Gloucester. We loved watching the working boats go to and

Lynx in Gloucester

fro. We rowed (in the rain) all through the many arms of the harbor and checked out all the boats—many wooden or historic. We watched the many schooners (at least eight)—both those visiting to avoid storms and those based out of Gloucester—sail about and fire their cannons. We explored the grounds of the maritime museum, walked through town, restocked our groceries and spent time in the library. Gloucester’s harbor oozed with maritime history and tradition, and we loved that. But you could also feel that there was a gritty edge to the city—for example, even the library made you leave your phone/license/item of value to use the locked restroom—and we have friends whose experiences weren’t as pleasant as ours—but we were truly glad that we visited.

Tuesday morning we left Gloucester—there was partial sun and the seas had subsided to 2-4 feet, and the wind was 15-20 knots (gusts to 25) off of our quarter, which made for a great sail down the coast. We spent the night in Duxbury, just north of Plymouth. It was October 8, 2013, and exactly two years before, on October 8, 2011, we had spent the night in Plymouth as we had travelled North, delivering Evelyn from where we purchased her from in Jamestown, RI, back home to Maine. We thought the coincidence was uncanny and almost stayed again just because, but we also thought it would be fun to try somewhere new. Also, Plymouth’s harbor is quite time consuming to enter due to its many shoals, and we wanted to get going early in the morning and hoped Duxbury would provide a quicker exit.

Gigs & Dories in Gloucester

It did. But it also provided a horrible night’s rest! We anchored off Clarks Island, which did not provide as much shelter from the strong winds as we’d hoped, and the current ripped by us all night, making Evelyn feel as if she were in motion. We were glad to leave the next day but soon found ourselves in uncomfortable seas—had the anchorage been better, perhaps we would have turned and stayed, but winds were expected to increase again and we didn’t feel confident about staying put.

The wind was again about 20 knots with gusts to 25 from the Northeast, and so the swell had continued to build overnight. The waves were hitting Evelyn more along her side than behind her though, so the ride was unpleasant and very wet—more than once a wave landed right in my lap. It got even sloppier as we entered the Cape Cod Bay, and the wave heights were more irregular and less predictable. I am not great at guessing sizes, but they were tall enough that when we sank into the trough between waves, we could not see anything but the walls of water on either side. We had just our mizzen and staysail up and were sailing fine, but as it continued we decided that we wanted to get through it as quickly as possible, so we motor-sailed towards the Cape Cod Canal.

Sunset at Duxbury

By the time we reached the Canal we had been tossed about for almost four hours, were wet and cold, and couldn’t wait for the protected ride through the sheltered Canal. We had also noticed that the Peapod’s u-bolt fitting, to which the bowline attaches, was wiggling loose due to the yanking action of riding the waves, and we were afraid the screws holding it together might jiggle loose and come undone. But all of that was just preparing us for the real show—Though short in duration, entering the Canal was the trial of the day, a couple of minutes filled with intensity. The manner in which the winds and swell from the Bay interacted with the current and narrow entrance to the Canal, created tall, steep, choppy waves. And soon we were no longer sailing, we were surfing.

Waves pushed us one way, wind pushed us another, current pushed as a third. The entrance was narrow, with a rock jetty to one side that the waves seemed to push us towards as we surfed downwards, then the wind would catch us at the bottom and help push us away and up the next wave. Meanwhile, the Peapod was surfing without direction or guidance. The little boat kept speeding past us, reaching the end of its towline, yanking fully around and then getting caught by another wave that would push it in another wild direction—foreword, backward, sideways—however the poor little boat was oriented at the moment. We felt there was a good chance it might take a wave and sink, or its bowline might part and it would rush towards the rocks, and Lou announced that if something happened here in the entrance there might be no way to save it—Evelyn herself was having enough trouble. It felt chaotic.

The calm of Buzzards Bay

But then—suddenly—the chaos ended. We surfed down the last wave and all was calm. The water was
calm. The wind was negligible. It felt sunnier. People were fishing, relaxed on the shore, or walking along a path, smiling and laughing. We were in the protected zone, and it felt like we had entered into a different universe. Here everything was sunny and calm; meanwhile we were dripping with salt water, tired, and adrenaline-filled.

We sat a moment, spun the Peapod around to use its other lead, made lunch and relaxed. Cape Cod Bay felt like an exaggerated dream, as if that experience couldn’t possibly have existed in such close proximity to the peace of this moment.

As we reached the end of the Canal and approached the entrance to Buzzards Bay we braced, ready for round two. But everything was calm there as well—flat calm. Buzzards Bay was like glass, though a healthy breeze blew across it. We could have easily spent the rest of the day sailing lazily.

But we were exhausted. The adrenaline had worn off, we had had a very poor sleep the night before, and it had been the most stressful weather and experience of our trip so far. So we motored on to Hadley Harbor—a spot we had heard was protected and beautiful—and found that it was. There was an intensely colorful sunset that evening, and Hadley Harbor was apparently the perfect place to relax and unwind.

Relaxing in Hadley Harbor

We took our time the next morning, fixed up the Peapod, then rowed around and visited tiny Bull Island, where we stretched our legs and walked along short trails. At about one o’clock the tide was right to traverse the Woods Hole passage, which lived up to its reputation—a busy, tight passage with a strong current to complicate things.

After cutting through we started across Vineyard Sound, heading towards Vineyard Haven on Martha’s Vineyard. There was a place called the Lagoon that we wanted to anchor in while waiting out the next couple days of predicted northeasterly weather, we had never been to Martha’s Vineyard, and Lou wanted to see the boats as well as the Gannon & Benjamin shipyard.

Vineyard Haven is a special place. While we were in Vineyard Haven we experienced for the first time during this trip something we’ve experienced in different ways since then, but something that impresses and astounds us every time—the kindness, compassion, and generosity of strangers. We have been happily surprised, again and again, with how wonderfully kind and friendly people can be—and it is uplifting, and inspiring, and makes me happier than I could ever express. I can only hope that during my lifetime I too can embody this kindness and make others feel as welcome as I have felt.

Vineyard Haven

We hadn’t been in Vineyard Haven an hour and found ourselves in a bind—bad weather coming, sun setting,
and we had to pass through a bridge to get to our anchorage (which we knew) but that bridge requires 24 hours advance notice to open in the off-season (which we did not know). We had just met Noreen, an incredibly friendly woman while fueling up at Tisbury Wharf, and she had invited us to call her if we needed any help or advice during our stay. So there we were, half an hour later, calling to learn what was available in off-season Vineyard Haven, where we might be able to anchor, or what we might be able to do. She helped us find a mooring in a safe spot, and because of her help, we were able to enjoy a few days in Vineyard Haven. Without her help, we probably would have had a rough night, perhaps crossing back to the protection of Hadley Harbor if we hadn’t found another option. It helped so much to have the advice of someone familiar with the area.

But the generosity of Vineyard Haven didn’t stop there. Two days later we found ourselves sitting in the kitchen of a friend’s sister, playing hide and go seek with her adorable children, while eating freshly baked pumpkin bread and cleaning our two loads of dirty laundry. We felt completely at home, and completely welcome.

And Martha’s Vineyard was gorgeous as well! We explored the towns of Vineyard Haven, Edgartown, and Oaks Bluff—all beautiful and unique—enjoyed pizza and ice cream, found parts needed for Evelyn in the marine stores, and shopped in a very conveniently located grocery store. We had our first “real” (land-based) shower since leaving Northeast Harbor. And while I spent some time in the library, Lou had a memorable visit to the Gannon & Benjamin shipyard, where he had the chance to chat with Nat Benjamin. It was a wonderful trip to Martha’s Vineyard, and we are eager to return some day and see more!

Cuttyhunk

We left a few days later and traveled to our last stop in Massachusetts, the island of Cuttyhunk. We sailed down Vineyard Sound and through Quicks Hole cut with a strong breeze, so we arrived in the afternoon with plenty of time to walk around Cuttyhunk. We walked for a few hours, to the beaches along the eastern edge, and watched a beautiful sunset. The island was quiet and peaceful, and a perfect ending to the Massachusetts portion of our cruise.

The next morning we left and raised sails but found no wind, so we turned the engine on and moved towards Point Judith, Rhode Island, where we would spend the night. Along the way we saw dolphins again and again, and at one time were surrounded by at least two dozen of the playful creatures. They surrounded our bow and stern—and Lou and I, each stationed at an end of the boat—enjoyed watching our companions as they swam with us. The water was clear and they were easy to see, and it was exciting to have their company as we travelled towards Rhode Island Sound.

Other photos from our time in Massachusetts:

Gloucester

Fins

Ardelle

Lynx

Duxbury

Clarks Island, Duxbury

Hadley Harbor

Bull Island

Hadley Harbor

Seeker, a scow schooner being built in Vineyard Haven.
This was particularly fun for us to see, because our friends
Fred & Jamie sail aboard Lily, a scow built on Martha's Vineyard
in the 70's; see her here: Schooner Lily