Boat projects

Because the wind was up more than we preferred this morning, and because awesome Dockmaster Glenn gave us the local-knowledge report about crossing Delaware Bay in this wind (short version: don’t do it”), and because Glenn said we were welcome to stay a third night at the dock for free, we postponed our plans to sail to Delaware today.

She's actually reading an ebook, not writing in the log. Look how lovely and smiley!

That left the day free for boat projects and more beach. We’re having lunch now (pasta) and will then head to the beach. But this morning, such projects!

Ellen got us caught up with the ship’s log. We were about nine days behind. Moss had some school (metric makes so much sense, why don’t we use that system in the USA again?).

Gooseneck.

And I tried to refine the reefing system (see “Busy Busy” from February 20, 2018). There was an odd clutch system in the forward end of the boom that would prevent the reefing lines from running free. So I had to take the boom off the gooseneck and figure out how to pull out the clutch parts, then figure out how all the lines were supposed to run. I think I got it all back together correctly, but we will need a calm day when we can raise the sail at anchor and practice with the reefing system to know for sure.

Winch we seldom use. But it works great now.

Then I decided to rebuild a mast winch that probably hasn’t been serviced since the boat was launched. It certainly hasn’t been serviced since we have owned Cupcake. Winches are supposed to be re-greased every year or two. Ellen scored an excellent tin bucket where I could wash the parts. Mission accomplished.

People say cruising is nothing more than boat repairs in exotic ports. I don’t know if Cape May counts as exotic, but we certainly got things done.

Didn't lose a single part.

It looks like the composting head likes to be emptied every two weeks, not every three weeks. So we do have poop excitement planned for the afternoon. That revolution will not be televised.

Our neighbor yesterday. Her bow thruster woke us up this morning at about 6am when she headed out.

Lovely Cape May sunset.

Cape May

Staying two nights here so we could have a beach day today (See the relevant Moss post for her enthusiasm). Nice bodysurfing at the beach, sand was as fine as powdered sugar. Don't really understand the rules about when and where a beach badge is required, but we found a perfectly lovely beach where we could just walk right in.

The dock master here at Two Mile Marina has an excellent business card.

Euphemisms

Here's a euphemism: bumpy.

Here's another: spirited.

Here's a third: vigorous.

The real meanings behind those euphemisms describe, barely, the 53 mile sail from Manasquan to Atlantic City. We set off before 7am in rain, expecting winds in the 10-15 knot range and seas around 2-3 feet. What we got was much more: 15-20 knots of wind, gusts to 30. And the seas were averaging around 5 feet with frequent waves bigger than that.

So now that we are in a snug harbor, 5' waves don't sound so big. But out on the ocean with no safe spot for 53 miles, with the wind building at our back, with rain lashing our faces, the sailing was pretty spirited. The ride was fairly bumpy, and the whole day was pretty vigorous.

The boat handled the weather without any trouble. In fact, it was by a wide margin our fastest passage ever. We averaged well over 7 knots, went surfing down the faces of the waves at 11 knots, and regularly saw numbers deep into the 9 knot range. All of this is super speedy for a boat that has a typical top speed of 6.5 to 7.5 knots on a good day.

We made a few mistakes. The first was putting ourselves in a position where we felt we needed to leave a protected spot. Our marina was noisy, bumpy, and expensive. We prefer to anchor anyway. Also, all the touring we had been doing got us off our schedule, off our weather watching. So when we woke up to an ugly day, we let ourselves convince ourselves that the weather was going to be fine and that we needed to move.

Another mistake we made was setting out on a bumpy day when we had an all or nothing destination. The New Jersey coast is unkind to sailboats. There are very few inlets where we can pass the bridges and the shallow depths. That reality means we had nowhere to bail out to if things got too rough to make it to Atlantic City.

Atlantic Highlands

After a delightful, calm, beautiful night anchored at Liberty Island Park, we set out bright and early to head across to Atlantic Highlands. The plan was to meet another cousin there. I had been basing all my expectations on staying at Sandy Hook, NJ. No idea where Atlantic Highlands was, thought the whole plan would fall apart. Turns out they are basically the same place.

The early start got us out on the water before too much craziness started. We joined an enormous container ship as we passed under the Verrazano Narrows Bridge. In high school I had a Geometry teacher who used to exhort us to keep our proofs simple. “I’m just asking you to show me the angles are the same, not to build the Verrazano Narrows Bridge!” He would say. I get it now – that’s a big bridge, probably pretty complicated math went into its construction.

Big ship. Big bridge.

Crossing to Sandy Hook was largely uneventful but we did spot some huge dolphin-types as we got very close to the Atlantic Highlands anchorage. What really happened was that a couple of the dolphins came up for air with a whoosh and a splash about 15 feet from the stern and grave me a big fright. 

The crew relaxing at Atlantic Highlands.

Inside the breakwater at Atlantic Highlands we found a nice spot to anchor, just outside of the crowded mooring field. Took the dinghy to shore for a look around. I do want to say how pleasant, accommodating, safe, and secure the Atlantic Highlands anchorage was. A real treat.

In town we stopped at a farmers’ market and picked up some pies and some pickles. The pickles were excellent – we got some whole-sour pickles and some sweet horseradish pickles. At first bite the horseradish pickles were a little too sweet, then the horseradish kicked in and they were fantastic. Just finished them today. Alas.

Monkey. Bars. Monkeybars.

Because I had been craving a bagel for a while, we had lunch at a nice deli, then went and played (Moss played) at a playground while the adults sweated.

Later in the afternoon, Cousin Elise picked us up (air conditioning in the car!) and took us home for dinner (and laundry and more air conditioning). Her daughter Margaux and beau Ben joined us for a really nice dinner. Then other daughter Amanda and husband Sean showed up with a carload of friends from DC. Suddenly it was a house full of Millennials.

Elise loves selfies. We love Elise.

Millennials.

The next day we upped anchor and made the easy run down to Manasquan, NJ. Took a dock for the night (nowhere to anchor) and met up with everybody again for a Beach Boys concert. 

As a native Upstate New York boy, I have looked down on New Jersey my whole life. And as a Mainer now, I have had a prejudice against most other coastal states. No longer. The Jersey Shore is beautiful. The towns we saw were charming, lovely, and full of summertime fun. Who knew? (Ok, millions of people, but still…)

The New Jersey shore has more than its share of gazebos. Moss is so overwhelmed, she has to close her eyes.

Checking out the tents.

The town of Ocean Grove is where we saw the concert. Ocean Grove is full of lovely Victorian homes and these really curious summer cottages that are half wooden camps and half canvas tents. They get passed down from generation to generation as summer homes and look like a great time. Families with kids and older people were all over the place. What a super way to pass the summer.

When Margaux and Ben visited us aboard Cupcake, they brought the appropriate boat gift. Delicious. Thanks guys!

In case you are wondering why the flurry of posts all of a sudden, it is because we have wifi. The last 10 days our cell-carrier throttled our bandwidth (or whatever) because we used too much in the first 20 days of the month. Now we are into a new billing cycle, so we can upload pictures again. Also we are getting semi-reliable wifi from the nearby Harrah’s Resort and Casino from our anchorage in Atlantic City, NJ.

East River, New York

The big deal for boats transiting the East River is that all the water funneling southwest through Long Island Sound tries to force its way down the river as the tide rises in the Sound, and all the water funneling into New York Harbor tries to force its way up the river when the tide turns at the Battery.

The crux of the whole situation is Hell Gate, where the tide can run up to 5 knots. If the tide is adverse, the passage becomes impossible and dangerous for a pokey sailboat like Cupcake. If the tide is favorable, the journey is swift and easy. 

We wanted swift and easy, that’s why the timing was so critical leaving City Island. Cutting to the chase: we timed it perfectly.

The trip began with passage under the Throg’s Neck Bridge – our first fixed bridge. Although the span is something like 135’ high (Cupcake needs 55’) our smallest crew member was nervous as we passed under. No problem. Plenty of space.

After passing the Throg’s Neck, we saw a big ugly barge-thing tied up along shore. A little Googling told us the barge was a prison barge (the defense attorney in me is appalled that such things exist). Seems to be an 800 bed, 161 million dollar cost-saving brainstorm. 

The next sight down the river on the penal theme was Riker’s Island. 10,000 inmates. 85% are being held pre-trial. More than 9,000 assaults each year. Top ten most dangerous jails in the nation. Cost to incarcerate one inmate there for a year: $201,000. There has got to be a better use of our money, a better way to treat our people. Everyone should be appalled at these numbers.

A few bends in the river and we started seeing the Manhattan skyline more and more clearly. The view is spectacular and exciting. I’ve been nervous about passing through NYC, but Ellen was very eager to have the experience. As is generally the case, she was right, I was wrong.

The tide was with us through Hell Gate and we moved along at 6-7 knots. Passed Roosevelt Island and the United Nations, saw the Chrysler and Empire State Buildings, dodged a few big barges, tugs, and ferryboats. It was a busy, exciting trip. 

As we got closer to the Battery at the tip of Manhattan, the water traffic got crazier and crazier. Ferries, seaplanes, motor yachts, all sorts of vessels coming and going, throwing big wakes, generally ignoring little Cupcake the country mouse. 

And then we saw the Statue of Liberty. We explained to Moss that the United States used to welcome immigrants and refugees, and that the Statue of Liberty was the tangible representation of that welcoming nature. The statue, at least, is still standing.

Crossing New York Harbor to our anchorage at Liberty State Park was a hot and hectic ride, but once we got to our anchorage, everything was as calm as could be. It is amazing that there is a pond-still anchorage so close to NYC and we were the only boat anchored there. As the afternoon turned to evening jet skis and little fishing boats came to the boat ramp to haul out. A young woman on a paddle board came by at dusk and got a gentle chiding from Ellen about being a woman alone on the water. And another reminder to wear a life jacket. 

The night was calm and restful after an eventful day.

Hooked at last. This is the view we had at anchor after passing through NYC. The torchlight at night was a beautiful beacon.

View of the Battery as we steamed towards the Statue of Liberty.

That's a big ferry.

Just some of the river traffic.

City Island, New York

The days since our last stop in Connecticut have seen us sail through two additional states, meet some fine people, and see some wonderful sights. 

After we left the rainy but nevertheless pretty cool anchorage at Sheffield Island, we motored (sooner or later Cupcake will get to be a sailboat again, but we understand that the trip south will largely be a motorboat ride) through a rainy fog into a foggy rain that eventually resolved itself into a sunny day by the time we got to City Island in The Bronx. (Side note #1: Why are some places known as “The” places like The Bahamas, The Bronx, The Hague, The Netherlands, while others are known just by their proper names, like Schenectady, Timbuktu, Transylvania?

(Side note #2: I had been too embarrassed to let on that our radar wasn’t working when Cupcake was launched this year. Then in the fog as we made our way down Long Island Sound through increasingly frequent commercial traffic, the lack of radar seemed like less a pride issue and more of a safety issue. Because I installed the system myself a few years ago and it always worked well, there was nobody else for me to blame for the problem. 

I checked the wiring twice, went up the mast to check the wiring up there, added dielectric grease to all the connectors, (Side note #3: dielectric grease is my second-favorite greasy potion, I have two tubes aboard. My first-favorite greasy potion is Marine-Grade Anti-Seize Paste. I have a whole tub aboard) and messed around with the software. 

No dice. 

Then the other day I took a third look at the wiring. (Side note #4: each fall when the boat is hauled out of the water for the season, the mast is taken down. When that happens, all the electrical bits up on the mast (VHF antenna, WiFi antenna, radar, masthead light) need to be disconnected at the base of the mast so the mast can get stored in one place and Cupcake can get stored in another place.) 

When I installed the system a few year ago, I made sure the positive wires were red and the negative wires were black so they couldn’t ever get mixed up. I also labeled each wire that came down the mast as “+” or “-“, and I labeled the corresponding wire to which it needs to connect at the base of the mast, also “+” or “-“. I also marked with Sharpie next to the connections which was + and which was -.

And then when I connected the wires this spring, I did it backwards. Two simple, color-coded, over-labeled connections, done 100% wrong by the guy who put it together in the first place.

So, on the bright side, the radar is now fixed and works like a charm. My goodness I can be an idiot when I put my mind to it.)

Anyway, we dropped anchor in what could most accurately be called the middle of the City Island mooring field. Plenty of space, nobody minded. And what a secure spot. Good sticky Bronx mud. Got permission from Barron’s Marina to use their dinghy dock, and went ashore for the first time since Mystic.

Got groceries, had lunch, waited out a thunderstorm in the cafe where we had lunch (watched a James Bond movie on their TV while we waited) and got some bits and pieces for the boat.

The next day I got up early and went for a run the length of City Island. The key to success in the restaurant business on City Island is to name your Seafood/Italian restaurant something like Ray’s or Tony’s or Joey’s. The key success in any other business on City Island seems to be to make it a beauty parlor. 

The people of the island are friendly as can be, provided you don’t say “good morning” to them as you jog by in the morning. That phrase (and similar ones like “hi” and “how you doing?”) are met with very suspicious looks. City Island is not Maine.

We met up with our cousin Steven for lunch. He drove us to The Bronx to an Italian Seafood place. (Moss thought he was driving crazy fast because 40mph was the fastest we have moved in weeks. He was obeying the speed limit but does have a bit of a potty mouth.) Moss ate calamari (tried it first, was told what it was second, didn’t care and kept on gobbling it up). We checked out a market where some guys were rolling cigars. Saw all kinds of animal parts laid out for eating (pig trotters, for example), so much delicious looking sausage, sampled the best mozzarella cheese I’ve had in a long time, and generally enjoyed a little walk in the city.

Then Steven took us to his house where we the propane parts we needed to finally fix the second tank were waiting (remember that we’ve been on one tank since Woods Hole). Ellen has been nervous that we will run out without warning and without a second tank, so no brownies have yet been baked aboard.

Said goodbye to Steven after a delightful day with him, went back to Cupcake and hooked up the propane. SUCCESS! Everything worked perfectly, no leaks, lots of gas in both tanks.

The next morning we were planning to run down the East River, past Manhattan, to anchor near the Statue of Liberty. Timing was critical (my father and probably other sages will tell you that time and tide wait for no man). We needed to get ashore by 8:30 to buy eggs and milk, be back on the boat by 11am, up anchor by noon, leave the gas dock by 1pm, be at the Throg’s Neck Bridge by 1:45pm, in order to be at Hell Gate as close to slack tide or a fair tide at 3pm. Critical, careful, meticulous planning.

So when Ellen started the stove to make coffee and pancakes, the propane sniffer gave the green light, turned on the solenoid valve to let the gas flow, and then after about three minutes shut it all down with the shriek of the gas leak alarm.

Turns out that in all the yanking and wrenching on the gas valve at the tank end of things, I kinked the old copper line running to the stove and caused it to leak. Once the gas started flowing, the leaking gas made its way to the bilge where it was detected by the detector.

Now the clock was ticking: we needed to get a replacement copper pipe (with proper flared ends, etc.) in time to work the tides through Hell Gate and into the City. What to do?

We went ashore, and about a block from the marina we saw the Cottam Heating and Air Conditioning shop (motto: Reliable, Conscientious, Responsible). On a whim, we popped in and asked if they could make a pipe to replace our broken one. Turns out the owners, Gary and Vicki are not only sailors, they are Pearson sailors.

Had a very pleasant chat with them about sailing in the Long Island area, about long-distance cruising, about making the long-term cruising dream happen. While we were talking, one of their employees was busy making a replacement propane line for us. Finished it in a few minutes and then wouldn’t let us pay. We walked out with a new copper pipe, a handful of chocolate candies, and a nice dose of sailing magic. Thank you very much Gary and Vicki and everyone at Cottam.

Finished out last-minute grocery shopping, upped anchor, filled Cupcake’s diesel tanks (only our second fuel stop since leaving Maine), and sailed towards the Throg’s Neck Bridge.

My typing paws are getting tired. Stay tuned for the East River installment. Wifi is slow, pictures will be up eventually.

Mystery schooner

We spent the past few days moving the boat. After a pleasant night at Fishers Island we headed to The Thimbles, a group of small private islands on the Connecticut shore. Ran with the tide down Long Island Sound and really moved along. Saw 9 knots at one point. 

Because there happened to be an empty bourbon bottle aboard, Moss drafted and launched a message in a bottle. We seem to get an astonishing 10% return rate on our messages. Better than I do with texts. Ouch.

Got to The Thimbles early in the afternoon so we had time to relax, do a load of laundry (and hang it to dry), and go for a swim. The current rushing past Cupcake was stronger than Moss could swim. Looked away for a minute and the next thing we knew, she was swept out of sight and washed up on the Long Island shore. (Just kidding, all the grandmothers reading this can relax. We keep a very close eye on our smallest crew member.)

We caught the tide for another run further down Long Island Sound this morning. Saw a steady 7+ knots. In the rain, also all morning. It’s not all cocktails and sunsets yet. In fact, it has been too few of each, despite that empty bottle. The past few days have been pretty wet ones, but the crew is cheerful. Tomorrow everyone gets shore leave in the big city.

For a while, Moss and I drove the boat together. She is good company. Then she discovered a new perch on the companionway hatch under the dodger. Driest spot in the cockpit this morning. I managed a nap below underway until a fly landed on my face. Yuck. I'm getting good with the flyswatter and killed 25 of the biting devils today.

Now we are securely anchored in the lee of Sheffield Island, Connecticut. The wind is blocked, but there’s a little swell bending around the point, so Cupcake is letting us know we are on the ocean.

Ellen and Moss just finished stage two of preparing a Rustic Italian bread. I'm informed this is the first bread Ellen has baked that employs a sponge. It's not that kind of sponge, it is some kind of bread-lingo-sponge. Smells great so far.

Special recognition to anyone who can identify the sleek schooner that just pulled in and dropped anchor. You have all heard of her. If you know her name and her story, please post a comment.

Cruising tip of the day: buy, read, and learn your Eldridge Tide and Pilot Book. It has a wealth of information you need to know about tides and currents if you intend on sailing the east coast of the US.

Goodbye Mystic

Today we did not cover a lot of sea miles, however, the day was well spent. 

After breakfast, we toured Mystic Seaport Museum a little more. Learned about the Vinland Map, discovered in 1957, purporting to have been drawn in 1440. The map showed the Vikings arrived in the New World hundreds of years before Columbus. The story was one of mystery, forensic scholarship, carbon dating, etc. You know, the usual.

In the end, it appears the map was a forgery from the 1920s, although subsequent archaeological excavations in Newfoundland show the Vikings did spend time in North America in the 700s or so. Pretty neat stuff. Sucks to be Yale University, paying who knows how much for the map.

In any event, the uproar in the 1960s when the map was revealed to the public was impressive. Lots of Italian-Americans felt that Columbus’ honor had been besmirched. The Viking-Americans were not as vocal, probably because they are not so numerous. 

Then we checked out an exhibit about the Vikings on loan from Uppsala University, Sweden. Short story: the Vikings were a violent, brutal people. I would not have enjoyed living as a Viking, living near Vikings, living in the time of Vikings. (Ellen says this position is because I do not like cold-weather or salted fish. She also says I would look dashing in chain mail.) And those people got around. One Viking woman sailed far enough in her lifetime that she met both Native Americans and the Pope on their home turf. 

This is Moss. She is not a whale. If she was a whale, she would have been chopped up into bits and boiled down in the try pots behind her. 

Speaking of brutal, we also checked out the Charles W. Morgan, the last wooden whale ship extant. It is a big, tough boat with limited headroom below. The business of killing and rendering whales is thoroughly documented elsewhere (see Moby Dick by Herman Melville). The try pots on deck were a pretty graphic reminder of the whaling business.

Also saw a home from the 1800s, complete with a docent who was cooking cornbread over the open hearth. That’s where your Dutch oven cast iron cookery came in handy. She had already baked a delicious-looking blueberry pie.

Two-way traffic, current, wind, and rain.

We had to get off the dock in time to make the 11:40am bridge opening, so we cast off in the rain and joined the queue of boats waiting for the bridge. Ellen said it was like a driver-ed simulation, the only thing missing was a little kid chasing a ball into the street.

The Cupcake Rainy Day Salute.

Then we putted down the river and waited for the train bridge to swing open in turn. After that, we had just a 6 mile ride to Fishers Island, off the coast of Connecticut. Because Fishers is part of New York, we are now in our sixth state since leaving Maine. And we are out of New England. Looking forward to a whole new set of accents. Bring it on, New Jersey.

As Matt says nearly every time he gets aboard Cupcake, "there sure are a lot of ropes on a sailboat." (To be clear, this is not Cupcake's mast.)

Mystic Seaport Museum

Eager readers are still waiting to hear what Ellen and Moss have to say. So I will just post some photos from our day at Mystic Seaport Museum. We changed plans and crossed to Connecticut from Block Island on Friday, rented dock space at the museum, and spent the day checking out the sights. We've got to be off the dock in time for the 11:40am bridge today so no time to waste if we want to check out a few more exhibits at this extremely cool place.

Bascule bridge on the way up the Mystic River. Also transited a railroad swing bridge.

One of the workshops where little boats get restored. Love to see that Beetle Cat.

All the way up the Mystic River, the Seaport Museum is a treat.

The 250' long ropewalk was saved from destruction in the 1950s when this old-school method of making rope was made obsolete. The full-sized ropewalk was over 1000' long (which was the length needed to make 100 fathom ropes, the standard length).

The building smelled of tar and hemp and salt and wood. Fantastic.

Lemons to Lemonade

We have had a busy, fun, productive few days. On Monday we woke up to a bang and a hisssss. Turned out the hose to the second propane tank I installed last month had too sharp a bend in it and the kink was too much. Bang. Hissss. This is the lemons part.

Quickly shut off the tank and then cursed because tank #1 was empty…ran out the night before. What to do about a propanemergency in Woods Hole? First called Josh Olins to see if they were going to be heading anywhere propane tanks could be filled (tank #1 works fine). Then realized that we didn’t want to hustle back to Woods Hole from our anchorage because even if we left promptly, we would hold up the Olins Show. 

On a whim, we called our pal Matthew Layne who had intended to sail with us to Block Island but plans fell through. Turns out he was able to drop everything to spend the week aboard Cupcake on our way to Block. This is the lemonade part. His wife, our pal Dasha, drove him to Woods Hole, then took us all to the hardware store for a fill up, then to the grocery store for, well…

Fixing the propane, sort of.

Dasha thanked us for taking Matt off her hands, and off we went. Tuesday we had a delightful sail to Tarpaulin Cove on Naushon Island. Tacked out to Martha’s Vineyard, then back to Tarpaulin. Swam and relaxed.

Then on Wednesday we had another perfect sail from Tarpaulin, out to Martha’s Vineyard, and in to Cuttyhunk Island at the very tip of the Elizabeth Islands. (See what Ellen and Moss wrote for details.) More swimming, walking around the island, ice cream. Man alive it has been hot and humid.

First time we were able to dive on the anchor. It buried itself in sand within about two feet of hitting the bottom. Safe and secure, just the way we like it.

Today we woke up with the sun (which has been rising later and later) and set out for Block Island. It was a motorboat ride, then a sail for an hour or so, then a motorsail. We are anchored in busy busy Great Salt Pond and just got back to Cupcake after having hamburgers ashore with Matt and taking him to the ferryboat home. 

The last time Ellen and I were on Block Island was 24 years ago just after we were married. We haven’t changed a bit.

This is one of the spectacular views from Cuttyhunk.

Finally, anybody have any ideas about this unusual five-cylinder radial, air-cooled engine we spotted on Cuttyhunk?