30 Aug – 1 Sep 2008: summary
Took a full load of NPCs and one or two good crewmen up to Cacaway Island on Langford creek, Rock Hall, and back to HH. Crew/NPC list:
Sage,Barth, JM Barth and George (Friend of JM’s), Mom. (latter three are of course the NPCs). Also the dogs including Trooper.
Times EDT.
30 Aug 2008
We left HH at roughly 1630/1700, rather late but I was quite comfortable sailing at night with the navigation expertise of Enriqué (the name I just gave my charting software)…until night hit and I realized that my gps cable was missing! Back to the ol’ chart-n-compass navigation (and the braille method thereof). Made it without incident (albeit a bit late) with Mums, Sage, and Barth on a sharp lookout for unlit green marks. Quiet anchorage off cacaway island on Langford creek, with few other boats around, clear starlit sky, no moon.
Weather: a weak low pressure forecast for the day did naught but clear up the overcast sky. No wind: motored the whole way. But temps were moderate and the overcast skies meant no beating sun. Barometer was stuck around 30.09 in.
31 Aug 2008
JMB and George en route to Rock Hall
Awakened roughly 1000 (way too early) by the early-to-bed NPCs, but with a good breeze blowing. After several coffees it was time to take the dogs out. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary visually, but something was certainly odd with the dinghy. A blink and another glance and it came into focus: the dinghy had decided to blow loose and was drifting towards the trawler downwind. Last to tie it was Barth, so off he goes swimming. I jump in after him, and we reach the dinghy in enough time. Tragedy narrowly averted. Just then we realize the crew of the trawler had all gathered on the bow to enjoy the show. They made a polite comment, but in retrospect a little applause would have been nice. In fact, perhaps the crew still aboard Bahia could have cheered on a little!
Around noon we weighed anchor and sailed right off, with the engine running to top off batteries. Nice run down Langford Creek and the western part of the bend of the Chester. Winds running NNE around 10-15kts, skies clear and temperature just right. Tried to run the spinnaker; thing is still way too big but we managed to hoist it and fly it on a reach…it would fill, but would not fly up. Took it home to cut it down to size. Rounding the bend had an uphill run to Rock Hall. But managed to beat handsomely a Beneteau 331 that was tacking against us. Reached Rock Hall “4” buoy still hard to the wind but with dying breeze around sunset (1940/1950 edt). Anchorage on Swann creek was jam packed but managed to back into a opening, and fixed dinner for JMB and George around 2100. Another clear starlit sky, with a ton of anchor lights and some redneck fireworks. All these boats anchored around, we took the binoculars out: no talent, but did manage to see a light-shifting star.
On crowded anchorages
We (I ?) sail, and part of the reason we do so is to get away from the bustle and bright lights of the city. If I wanted to bump-and-grind or dance heel-to-toe, I’d go downtown or on a honky-tonk Saturday night. Similarly, if I wanted to arrive at a party by boat instead of car, I’d have gotten a stink-boat. I like to go out in a deserted anchorage and stare at the stars and pristine shoreline, swim in clear waters (I’m only guessing here, but if half the boats did not use their MSD appropriately, there’d easily be a hundred boats’ worth of poop in that water), maybe go fishing a bit, drink my rum in the company of good friends. The type of place where you wave at a passing boat with that dismissive motion that says “it’s nice to see someone else found their way to this place, but it may be even nicer that they’re moving past.” The place where you row over to the other boat at the anchorage because you feel that bizarre camaraderie felt between between strangers when they’re the only people around: you row to the other boat because it’s the only other boat to row to. If you can take your pick amongst trawlers and bow-riders, dinghies and yachts…well, you feel less inclined to go say hi. On a semi-deserted anchorage, you share a sense of brotherhood with the one or two other boats around. On an anchorage with a hundred boats packed in like sardines, what unique experience unites you?
That’s one side, the curmudgeonly old man yelling “get outta my lawn” side.
But there is another side. We are all there, on a boat, on the water. We’re spending our nights anchored out in the water because we share a passion for the water, the wind, the cool damp air on a late summer night, even a bit of salt spray in our coffee should it come to that. We’re there because we know that we enjoyed a downwind run today, and if tomorrow the wind don’t shift and we have to beat hard to get back, we’ll enjoy that too. We’re still connected, whether we meet individually, two boats at a time on a secluded anchorage over a period of ten years, or if we meet all at once at a popular anchorage. On land we may never meet, we live different lives, listen to different music, drive different cards. On the water, we’re family. Whether two of us or two hundred, we greet each other as we sail past. When we chat at the dock bar and someone asks “what kind of boat do you have?”, we don’t have to dissect the question and size up the questioner to determine how to answer the question. When we talk of speed we give it in knots without thinking, and describe adventures in words and phrases that would leave the lubbers staring blankly at us as if we had been giving “The Jabberwocky” a little too close a reading. Not to paint all boaters with the same brush…there is diversity even on the water. The usual lines are drawn between racers and cruisers, powerboaters and sailboaters. When you look over the water and it seems there’s about as many anchor lights as there are stars, however, you don’t see that jackass that waked you so hard you spilled your beer, nor that slowpoke that wouldn’t move over to let you pass him on the channel. You see people bobbing on the water doing the same thing that everyone else is doing: having fun enjoying the water. Time to go out and wedge in between boats anchored too-close together, get out on your dinghy, and join a raft-up you don’t know. Diversity is a good thing.
1 September 2008
Relaxing on the sail while Sage keeps watch
More early reveille. After some dillydallying weighed anchor around 1130-1200. Had to push the engine for about 30 seconds to stay well clear of a down wind boat but mostly sailed out of the anchorage and down the creek and Chester. Winds NNE again around 12kts.
North of the bridge we hang off a rope dragging from the stern to cool off a bit as the sun and heat had built. The wind proved a bit too much and after a little hangin’ out flailing in the water (exactly as a fish out of water), acting as bait for Nessie, we had to practice man overboard drills with yours trully and then later Barth. Sage, naturally, managed to use his monkeybility to make it back aboard under his own power, albeit with lungs slightly fuller of baywater (but I’d say still less full than Barth’s and Mine).
Motored when the wind died as we were on a schedule to get the Barths and George back by 1600(ish). Arrived HH ~1630.
Remarks? (to borrow a line from Johnny Dollar)
Boys rarely keep for more than a night on the boat, but all in all a good time.
