First, some pictures of yesterday I didn't get posted due to our first thunderstorm adventure.
Mike working on a mysterious writing project during the long, hot, power run from Ptown. He must be the last of a generation to write in longhand on a yellow pad. I bet he even talks on the cell phone:
The new Pinky Schooner Ardell passing Gloucester's iconic paint factory:
I was pleased to see the Schooner Westward tied up next to the Harvey Gamage. If she got up here from Fall River under her own power, she must be much more alive than she seemed when I saw her a few weeks ago:
Last evening, we anchored in fairly deep water and thus rather minimal scope due to the moorings. Later, a small but potent thunderstorm popped up just inland with some impressive cloud to ground vertical strikes. The core of the cell fortunately missed us but there was a period of strong winds that stretched out the anchor rode until we were up against a very fouled mooring. Always one to make lemonade out of lemons, I threw a line on it so we were ridding to both mooring and anchor.
Lemonade isn't particularly good for you. The ball evidently had quite a few barnacles on it because I discovered scars on the topsides near the waterline that Strider will probably carry to her grave.
I woke up early and got underway due to forecasts of scattered thunderstorms for this afternoon. Mike slept until Cape Ann was well astern. The morning started with rain but we ran out of it into calm and sunshine off Newburyport. The sky looked good off Portsmouth and we were making good time in the calm so we decided to keep on for a 2000 ETA at Richmond Island.
A look at the Doppler radar off the Nubble showed ominous cells popping up and there were alerts for hail and damaging winds. What did we ever do without onboard Internet? I decided that a diversion into Kennebunkport was in order. Both the online and print cruising guides said moorings were nearly impossible to come by so I called for a slip reservation at Chicks. After giving them my credit card number, I thought to ask for the rate. $4.00 a freaking foot!, My foot! That's the highest rate I've seen this trip and twice the norm.
Mike wasn't too happy. He's even more of a rustic and purist than I am. As we ran up to the breakwater, I was asking myself, Does this look like a $4.00 per foot sky?
Once I'd put in a load of laundry and walked up to town for a six pack and we were knocking a couple back in the cockpit after showers, the sticker shock was wearing off. It seemed even more reasonable when the sky began to look like this with lightning flashes under the clouds:
We were amused to see several powerboats heading out while sailboats were going the other way.
The wind came on strong with the rain. We were soon below with everything closed up tight and the boat heeling far enough for the beer bottles to slide across the galley counter top. I tried to get a picture of the impressive heel angle but, no luck.
Next, we heard a strange sound and looked out in the cockpit to see hail bouncing off the seats. I've been hailed many times in a boat but this is the first time I have ever been hailed.
It rained for quite a while and radar showed us to be in the weak spot between two cells one of which would have been right over us. I asked Mike how he would have liked to be off Biddeford running out to sea under bare poles followed by a long run back to anchor in the rain. I think he's got a little better appreciation for his dad's weather sense now.
$4.00 per foot sky? I think so.
Mike working on a mysterious writing project during the long, hot, power run from Ptown. He must be the last of a generation to write in longhand on a yellow pad. I bet he even talks on the cell phone:
The new Pinky Schooner Ardell passing Gloucester's iconic paint factory:
I was pleased to see the Schooner Westward tied up next to the Harvey Gamage. If she got up here from Fall River under her own power, she must be much more alive than she seemed when I saw her a few weeks ago:
Last evening, we anchored in fairly deep water and thus rather minimal scope due to the moorings. Later, a small but potent thunderstorm popped up just inland with some impressive cloud to ground vertical strikes. The core of the cell fortunately missed us but there was a period of strong winds that stretched out the anchor rode until we were up against a very fouled mooring. Always one to make lemonade out of lemons, I threw a line on it so we were ridding to both mooring and anchor.
Lemonade isn't particularly good for you. The ball evidently had quite a few barnacles on it because I discovered scars on the topsides near the waterline that Strider will probably carry to her grave.
I woke up early and got underway due to forecasts of scattered thunderstorms for this afternoon. Mike slept until Cape Ann was well astern. The morning started with rain but we ran out of it into calm and sunshine off Newburyport. The sky looked good off Portsmouth and we were making good time in the calm so we decided to keep on for a 2000 ETA at Richmond Island.
A look at the Doppler radar off the Nubble showed ominous cells popping up and there were alerts for hail and damaging winds. What did we ever do without onboard Internet? I decided that a diversion into Kennebunkport was in order. Both the online and print cruising guides said moorings were nearly impossible to come by so I called for a slip reservation at Chicks. After giving them my credit card number, I thought to ask for the rate. $4.00 a freaking foot!, My foot! That's the highest rate I've seen this trip and twice the norm.
Mike wasn't too happy. He's even more of a rustic and purist than I am. As we ran up to the breakwater, I was asking myself, Does this look like a $4.00 per foot sky?
Once I'd put in a load of laundry and walked up to town for a six pack and we were knocking a couple back in the cockpit after showers, the sticker shock was wearing off. It seemed even more reasonable when the sky began to look like this with lightning flashes under the clouds:
We were amused to see several powerboats heading out while sailboats were going the other way.
The wind came on strong with the rain. We were soon below with everything closed up tight and the boat heeling far enough for the beer bottles to slide across the galley counter top. I tried to get a picture of the impressive heel angle but, no luck.
Next, we heard a strange sound and looked out in the cockpit to see hail bouncing off the seats. I've been hailed many times in a boat but this is the first time I have ever been hailed.
It rained for quite a while and radar showed us to be in the weak spot between two cells one of which would have been right over us. I asked Mike how he would have liked to be off Biddeford running out to sea under bare poles followed by a long run back to anchor in the rain. I think he's got a little better appreciation for his dad's weather sense now.
$4.00 per foot sky? I think so.
