41-35.073N
071-17.257W

Docked in Little Harbor
(Hinckley Marine)
Portsmouth, RI

August 31, 2002

Woods Hole, MA, on the edge of Cape Cod, is the point from which Robert Ballard started many of his explorations, including the successful search for The Titanic.  With all the appearance of a college town, Woods Hole is home to seven or eight scientific/educational institutions, including The Marine Biological Laboratory, and The Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute.  Several visitor centers provide an adequate understanding of the work that takes place here.

We moored two days at a guest mooring of The Woods Hole Yacht Club.  On our last evening, The Yacht Club sponsored 'ladies night," a race that started and ended at our mooring.  We cheered for Wind Ward, skippered  by a lady we had met earlier in the day, the executive director of The Woods Hole Historical Museum.

We interpreted the weather report for our trip to Newport as "safe but uncomfortable."  Our assessment was correct.  We first fought our way into Buzzard's Bay, through a narrow channel called, in part, "Broadway," against a 3-4 k current.  That means we were making about 2 knots.  Once released from the current, and west bound, we put up the main with one reef and the genoa with two reefs, to handle an 18-23 knot wind from the north.  Great sailing!  We moved at least seven knots, and for a minute or two, ten knots, as the wind increased to 25-30.  We added a reef in the main before entering Newport Harbor, and we probably should have lowered all sails, because our life changed after the turn north.  For the next three hours, we fought our way to the marina, with motor at 3000 rpm, hardly ten miles, with wind, waves, and probably current, right on the bow.  In this, we paid the price for our earlier pleasure. We arrived cold, salty, dirty, and tired.

The Hinckley Yard is the best we have seen:  clean and professional.  While Chichi visits Indianapolis, John remains to supervise application of two coats of bottom paint, configuring the boom with a preventer, polishing stainless and removing rust and yellow stuff from the hull, replacing one battery and adding another to give us 420 amps, changing zincs, checking wiring on the wind generator (the batteries were not getting the output for the silly reason that one breaker was open), acquiring charts and guides for future travels, programming a new lap top identically to the old, analyzing the circumstances of clients and calling them to see how they are weathering the bear market, and other tasks that constantly appear on a boat.

Chichi returns September 7.

48-28.515N
070-45.502W

Anchored in Tarpaulin Cove, north of Martha's Vineyard
Who was Martha?
August 21, 2002

After an uneventful return visit to Block Island (we visited four years ago), we had our best day of sailing yet.

A minor cold front came through yesterday morning, providing 15-20 knot winds out of the northeast, with gusts to 24-25.  We left  Block Island with reefed main, and motored north to the marker, where we turned east, thereby getting wind at a perfect 45 degrees off the bow.  Out went the genoa, and we were on our way at 6 knots.  Later, the wind dropped to 15, and we raised the main to 100 %, and brought out the stay sail.  Then we roared at 7 knots.  When the wind increased to 22 or so, John got nervous, and we reefed both the main and the genoa, making the ride more comfortable, but a lot slower, less than 5 knots.  We could not keep the ideal 091 degrees, and we had to tack north once, pushing us away from our goal for half an hour. By the final hour, we were sufficiently off course that we had to bring in the stay sail and genoa, and motor to this cove.

The cove is quiet and lovely.  Wine, cheese, chicken wings, and moon, made for a great evening.  Six boats like us are anchored nearby, and the very impressive Shenendoah, a small "tall ship," probably used either for training or for tours, sits nobly about a quarter mile away.

41-18.887N
071-58.888W

Anchored near mouth of Mystic River
August 17, 2002

                                                                                                  A Special Place
                                                                                                  Mystic Seaport
 

"Move those muscles you yellow bellied, worthless pots of hanging tentacles.  Grab those oars.  Climb those lines.  Because THAR SHE BLOWS."

Such are the sounds of Mystic Seaport Museum, a living tribute to the history of the sea, and to the whaling traditions of Mystic, Block Island, Melville, and the last known whaler in existence, the bark, Charles W. Morgan.  Every day, several times each day, the staff make like sailors, raising sail, lowering the long boat to chase a whale, climbing lines, and singing or chanting the many songs used to create a uniform rhythm as these "sailors" (with the help of visitors) work hard to set a sail, or to raise/lower a long boat.

In other spots, at other times, we are taught how to find stars and constellations, how to coil lines, how sailors slept and ate.  And we have the ideal way to visit, docked by the side of these outstanding exhibits.  We rise in the morning, and go to sleep at night, alone among these treasures, without the press of hundreds of visitors, who arrive at 9, and leave by 8.  When we tire, we return to the boat for a snack, or a rest.  The new moon and Venus are prominent sources of comfort and romance.

Children, big and small, are entertained by the daily "Tale of a Whaler," about a woman chasing her lover to sea by pretending to be a man.  Members of the audience become a light house (John), the wind, a mother, new sailors, and experienced sailors, each with a role in the play.  Great fun.

This is a working museum.  Youngsters are taught how to sail.  Boats are built or refurbished.  Mystic built the replica of the slave ship Amistad that was made famous in the Steven Spielberg movie. That ship now docks at nearby New London.  The museum's own teaching ship, The Brilliant, takes students for the real experience of the sea.  It circumnavigated The Atlantic Ocean as part of The Tall Ship 2000 Race, and it won the race, both in its class, and overall, while providing a magnificent experience to 30 or 40 students (six at a time).  Its captain, George Moffett, is an acquaintance.  We met him more than 20 years ago on a schooner trip from St. Thomas.  His new book includes all the emails he sent to the museum and to the sponsors of the trip.

We spent Wednesday and Thursday nights at The Seaport.  The two nights prior, we docked at Spicer's Marina, also near the mouth of the Mystic River, where we spent all day Tuesday repairing the mounting between the diesel engine and the alternator, thanks entirely to the help of

                                                                                                   A Special Person
                                                                                                       Dave Macy

who commissions new boats for Cabo Rico Custom Yachts, and provides unlimited, generous and caring service to owners.  It is said of Dave, "If he don't know it, it ain't to be known."  Dave combines a love of the sea with a passion for fixing.  Observing a problem, diagnosing its cause, and fixing it, give him pleasure and satisfaction.  He knows these boats.  He loves these boats.  He says, "I work for Cabo Rico because these are the best boats in the world."  The boats are made better by his presence, his knowledge, and his good humor.  Before hours, during hours, and after hours, Dave is fun to know.  He helps in every way he can, while rendering story after story about his sailing experiences.  With his enthusiasm and dedication, his willingness to help, his ability to teach, and his qualifications as a licensed captain, Dave is a special person.
 

40-47.395N
073-59.035N

Moored, West 79th Street Yacht Basin
New York City

August 6, 2002

We love New York City.

Our hearts beat faster as we departed Atlantic Highlands, NJ, (Sandy Hook), knowing that The Battery was only 14 miles away.  We started off beautifully, with full main and Genoa, on a broad reach, heading north to cross under The Verazano Narrows bridge, the first of a half dozen giant works of man that crisscross New York Harbor, The Hudson River, The East River, and western Long Island Sound.  Making 6 1/2 knots, we turned west of north near the bridge, too close to the wind for effective sailing, and too crowded for constant tacking.  So, back to the motor, and on our way.  At one point, Chichi panicked, thinking we had only 10 feet underneath, but the depth meter really said 100 feet.  As we passed under the bridge, we first saw five or six anchored barges and large ships, and, just beyond, The Statue of Liberty.

The Statue of Liberty means a lot to us.  She watches and protects.  During a trip to Beijing in 1988, Chichi and I visited "Lady Liberty," constructed by Chinese dissidents, some later killed in the government's "clean up" of Tianenman Square. She always has been important to us, in part because Chichi is an immigrant, though she arrive in The United States through Nuevo Laredo, and her first tastes of America were a Greyhound Bus and a steak/baked potato dinner in Austin.

We passed The Statue, then headed up The Hudson River, past all the major land marks, and past the old piers where The Queens Mary and Elizabeth,
The United States, and France, all docked.  (John took "France" to Europe in 1964.  She now is known as "Norway," and we saw her once in Miami Harbor.)  John had been intimidated by the trip up The Hudson, but that feeling went away when were able to see the 79th Street Boat Basin a few days earlier.  We took a quick ride into Manhattan from Sandy Hook, by New Jersey Transit, and grabbed a cab to 79th street.  So, the arrival by boat was easy because we already understood the layout.

We have been in many friendly towns, but New York equals or exceeds them all.  At every point, on buses, street corners and in subways, when we felt lost while studying a map, one or two New Yorkers have come to offer advice and direction.  Then, they all say, "we hope that you have a wonderful time in our town."  You can feel the pride here.  Is it a result of September 11?  Who knows.  And it does not matter.  We only know that this is a wonderful place to visit.  Here are highlights:

"The Graduate," with Kathleen Turner, Jason Biggs, and Alicia Silverstone, with autographs afterward.
"Proof," with Anne Heche and Neil Patrick Harris (Doogie Houser, MD), and autographs afterward
The South Street Seaport
Ellis Island and Liberty Island
Roth's 93d Street Steak House, with daughter Cindy and her husband Andre
Two films off Times Square:  "Minority Report" and "The Bourne Identity"
The Today Show, on the plaza
The Carson Dailey talk show (Chichi, on a standby ticket), with David Bowie
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, especially the work of Thomas Eakins
"When Bush Comes to Shove," by The Capitol Steps
"Line," a 60 minute play about how to be first in line

In the next three days, we hope to see one more Broadway show, The Yankees, and visit The Actors' Studio, and John hopes to have a class in first aid, a requirement for a Coast Guard captain's license.  Our plan is to leave Friday, to round The Battery, turn up The East River, under The Brooklyn Bridge, past Roosevelt Island, through Hell Gate, past LaGuardia, and on to western Long Island Sound, perhaps with a night anchored at  City Island.

A note on the morality of business:

Cindy and Andre moved to New Jersey in early July, hoping to quickly find a home.  The first proposition they made was accepted, then the seller reneged  because another buyer offered a higher price. The circumstance reminded me of The Autobiography of  Conrad Hilton.  Mr. Hilton described the purchase of what now is known as The Chicago Hilton.  Then, it was the property of Henry Crown, who made a deal with Mr. Hilton on a hand shake alone.  Later, Mr. Crown was offered a higher price, but he honored the hand shake.  A person's word is a bond.  A hand shake is a deal.  In hot markets, the weaker among us do not honor either their word or their hand shake.  Our only defense is to never do business with them again.