Ian McColgin
05-03-2008, 04:07 AM
So yesterday we sailed to Chatham for the annual shave and a haircut. I couldn’t do it on May Day, what with all the sunshine and northwesterly moving to southwesterly breeze to push me along in the sunshine. No, I had to wait for a gloomy day, some rain, and light easterlies. And an ebb tide to contend with.
We dropped the mooring at 0935 and the easterly made it a bit of a soldier’s breeze to sail out of Lewis Bay, hardening up on the port tack as we cleared Half Tide Rock and headed for the buoy off Great Point. And herein lay the first of the day’s - challenges? - frustrations? - tribulations? I could manage about south on the port tack and east on starboard with a goal southeast of me. The slot between the point and the Bishop and Clerks shoal generates its own wicked current and its own peculiar sea state and this day had a little short chop that pretty much stopped Marmalade on the port tack unless I bore off a bit west of south. Even then we hobbyhorsed often dead in the water. On starboard tack we could aim east but leeway and the current just on the weather bow pushed us back north. I spent over half an hour accomplishing a half mile trying to use Great Point’s shoals as some shelter from the current. A fatuous hope.
At last we doubled the point and gradually escaped the current sailing east - right at Chatham - on a tight starboard beat. We were making about 4 knots through the water and getting out of the current with each fathom gained. By Bass River, a bit after noon, I could count on making three knots - you all know the three knots joke - and if the gentle to moderate southeasterly held I’d make Chatham ok.
Love cell phones. I called the Chatham Harbormaster to confirm that it was looking good for me to be at that little bridge by 1600. If the wind held and did not back. That little bridge. Remember Emily’s pix of the large schooner Tyrone squeezing through last spring.
No sooner had I called than the wind backed. The sea state was not as confused as off Great Point but it still favored the starboard tack so I let it drive me east northeast till I bounced off the shoals in Dennisport and had to tack out. From here on the wind seemed malevolent. I’d tack and the wind would shift, so I was effectively tacking through 120 degrees, I tried sailing deeply into a shift to tack and keep it as a lift. I tried tacking on the shift. I tried playing close to shore. I tried standing out a few miles. Still three knots through the water but that translated to barely a knot and a half made good. I called the Harbormaster suggesting that I’d be hard pressed to get in by 1700 and I knew he was planning to go off 1630 latest. He said he’d rather hang and get me through than mess with it Saturday morning so come ahead..
I finally got stabile air where I could hold 070 on starboard and 170 on port with slightly slacked sheets on the port tack to give power over the seas, and at 1630 was at Chatham Roads. And most glad there was a fishing boat to lead me in as the channel has shifted and even the temporary markers are a bit off. We sailed well in before the bending wind forced me to turn on the engine and strike sail. I called the Harbormaster that I was in the slot. He told me to look to port - he’d driven out on Harding Beach to relax while awaiting me.
Even the long drive he had around to the bridge was faster than Marmalade under power and I saw him pull up to the bridge and lower the road barriors as I turned down the little Mill Pond channel. And I came ahead, wondering how close he planned to cut the opening to my arrival. I slowed up when we were in talking distance, turned to stem the flood, and we chatted.
First opening of the season. One of the motors hummed but did not work. Tried opening on only one motor but that was wracking the bridge until the breaker tripped and the bridge settled back the inch or so he’d gained. Sorry. First opening of the year. How about Monday if it’s repairable that fast.
So I picked up a Stage Harbor Marine mooring right next to the bridge, put things to right, gave Mother Ocean her obligatory quaff and, my own in a nice porcelain cup on the stern sheets, rowed the ten minutes under the bridge and up to Pease Boatworks.
What’s sailing without a bit of challenge?
We dropped the mooring at 0935 and the easterly made it a bit of a soldier’s breeze to sail out of Lewis Bay, hardening up on the port tack as we cleared Half Tide Rock and headed for the buoy off Great Point. And herein lay the first of the day’s - challenges? - frustrations? - tribulations? I could manage about south on the port tack and east on starboard with a goal southeast of me. The slot between the point and the Bishop and Clerks shoal generates its own wicked current and its own peculiar sea state and this day had a little short chop that pretty much stopped Marmalade on the port tack unless I bore off a bit west of south. Even then we hobbyhorsed often dead in the water. On starboard tack we could aim east but leeway and the current just on the weather bow pushed us back north. I spent over half an hour accomplishing a half mile trying to use Great Point’s shoals as some shelter from the current. A fatuous hope.
At last we doubled the point and gradually escaped the current sailing east - right at Chatham - on a tight starboard beat. We were making about 4 knots through the water and getting out of the current with each fathom gained. By Bass River, a bit after noon, I could count on making three knots - you all know the three knots joke - and if the gentle to moderate southeasterly held I’d make Chatham ok.
Love cell phones. I called the Chatham Harbormaster to confirm that it was looking good for me to be at that little bridge by 1600. If the wind held and did not back. That little bridge. Remember Emily’s pix of the large schooner Tyrone squeezing through last spring.
No sooner had I called than the wind backed. The sea state was not as confused as off Great Point but it still favored the starboard tack so I let it drive me east northeast till I bounced off the shoals in Dennisport and had to tack out. From here on the wind seemed malevolent. I’d tack and the wind would shift, so I was effectively tacking through 120 degrees, I tried sailing deeply into a shift to tack and keep it as a lift. I tried tacking on the shift. I tried playing close to shore. I tried standing out a few miles. Still three knots through the water but that translated to barely a knot and a half made good. I called the Harbormaster suggesting that I’d be hard pressed to get in by 1700 and I knew he was planning to go off 1630 latest. He said he’d rather hang and get me through than mess with it Saturday morning so come ahead..
I finally got stabile air where I could hold 070 on starboard and 170 on port with slightly slacked sheets on the port tack to give power over the seas, and at 1630 was at Chatham Roads. And most glad there was a fishing boat to lead me in as the channel has shifted and even the temporary markers are a bit off. We sailed well in before the bending wind forced me to turn on the engine and strike sail. I called the Harbormaster that I was in the slot. He told me to look to port - he’d driven out on Harding Beach to relax while awaiting me.
Even the long drive he had around to the bridge was faster than Marmalade under power and I saw him pull up to the bridge and lower the road barriors as I turned down the little Mill Pond channel. And I came ahead, wondering how close he planned to cut the opening to my arrival. I slowed up when we were in talking distance, turned to stem the flood, and we chatted.
First opening of the season. One of the motors hummed but did not work. Tried opening on only one motor but that was wracking the bridge until the breaker tripped and the bridge settled back the inch or so he’d gained. Sorry. First opening of the year. How about Monday if it’s repairable that fast.
So I picked up a Stage Harbor Marine mooring right next to the bridge, put things to right, gave Mother Ocean her obligatory quaff and, my own in a nice porcelain cup on the stern sheets, rowed the ten minutes under the bridge and up to Pease Boatworks.
What’s sailing without a bit of challenge?