We are back from a rejuvenating 3-day weekend sailing trip to Block Island, Rhode Island. The weekend gave us just about every kind of weather that a coastal sailor could expect to encounter, from force 6 winds and choppy 6-footers, to "bluebird day" conditions, to near calm night sailing. The weekend started on Thursday night with my Hunter 336, "Escape Artist" staged at Brewer's Yacht Yard in Mystic. My friends David, Kathryn, Chris and Sandrine all drove up to Mystic to join me. Wife Dotty was dropping off her daughter for her freshman year at the University of Vermont, and would join us on Saturday morning by way of New England Airways. As usual, I was the only sailor on the boat though all four of my friends have joined us sailing many times. I had moved the boat to Mystic on the previous weekend so we could jump-start our trip with a short sail to Block on the following Friday morning. After unloading the cars and stuffing the boat with everyone's gear and provisions, we mulled sailing over to Stonington for dinner at Skipper's Dock (and a night hanging on the free pier there). Since it was raining off and on, we headed instead into Mystic for unremarkable chain Tex-Mex at Margerita's Restaurant on the west side of the river. Next time we'll go to the Voo Doo for cajun instead. Even though it's one of the most charming towns in the Northeast, Mystic is not overflowing with good restaurants. I have yet to have a really good meal there. With a NOAA forecast of 20-25 kts and 2-4 foot seas in Block Island Sound, we double-reefed the main at the dock on Thursday night. I was never a boy scout, but I do believe in preparation. Carefully reefed sails set better, and it's nice to have the slabs neatly laced and not flapping around below the boom. Friday morning greeted us with overcast skies and winds out of the northeast, building steadily after sunrise. We sailed out of Fishers Island Sound on a close reach with winds in the high teens, jib rolled all the way out, fighting a 1.5 knot foul current. When we bore away from Watch Hill to point the nose at Block Island, the wind piped up to the low 20s, but the seas were fairly calm due to the short fetch to the northeast. We started rolling up the jib, keeping upright as the wind freshened. When we cleared the lee of Point Judith, the fun began. The waves now had a good 20 miles to fetch up from the headwaters of Narragansett Bay, driven by a wind that had been blowing hard for several hours. Speed, duration, and fetch, right? The wind was hitting 27 knots for 5-minute stretches, and the waves were 4-6 footers, steep and choppy. The jib was rolled up all the way by now, but the boat was doing remarkably well under the double-reefed main. So much for the NOAA forecast, of 20-25, 3-6. Do they ever get it right? I expected at least one person to get seasick. Kathryn looked a little pale and I was watching her carefully. She was the only one of the four who consented to taking a dramamine before we started. But ultimately they just sat under the dodger with amazed smiles on their faces, watching the seas roil and occasionally blast me in the face. Chris, ever macho, wanted to share the experience, so he sat in the windward stern pulpit seat so he could take face shots, too. At one point I saw a small river of green water rising over the dodger to get me, and I ducked behing the steering pedestal and let it fly over head. "Ha, did you see that?" I crowed as I stood back up, just in time to get a mouthful of water from its wingman. One thing I have noticed, is that seasickness is exacerbated by fear. So, I never let them see me sweat. I smille and make jokes and basically go out of my way to have a great time, even when the sailing is very difficult. It really seems to help. Needless to say, everyone aboard was wearing a life vest. I wore an inflatable harness and was clipped to the boat at all times via jack lines and other safe points. No one was allowed to leave the cockpit but me. These are tough conditions for coastal sailors, but we knew the boat would protect us if we just stayed in it! When we finally arrived at Block Island, we expected to find shelter in Great Salt Pond. However, the wind was from the northeast, and salt pond is very exposed to that direction due to a low tidal marsh to the northeast of the harbor, near an area appropriately named "Breezy Point." After we entered Salt Pond we were disappointed to find winds still in the 20-25 knot range. I never make marina reservations at Block Island. We can't plan ahead 2 years, so that leaves Boat Basin out. Payne's doesn't take reservations (or answer the radio!) and Champlains, like Shiela back in high school, never says no... at least so I thought. A cell phone call to Payne's dock brought the bad news: they would take no boats due to the high winds, fearing that boats attempting to maneuver inside the old pier complex would create an expensive pin-ball game. We got the same story from Champlain's, and of course Boat Basin had been booked solid since 1998. The owner at Payne's suggested that we grab one of the town moorings and bide our time until the wind dropped, then we could come into the marina. Normally, taking a mooring wouldn't be a problem on a Friday morning, except that the bad weather out in the sound was making people reluctant to leave. To make a long story short, no mooring. Finally, we anchored at the far northeast corner of the "anchorage." I put it in quotes because Great Salt Pond is so full of private moorings that the total area left for boats to swing from their own tackle seems like no more than a large back yard. We dropped by the aforementioned Breezy Point, where it was indeed breezy, swinging within 10 feet of a private mooring. I decided that if the mooring's owner showed up, I'd tell him I was there first and he'd have to move if he didn't like it! The two things in the boating world that frustrate me the most are anchorages full of private moorings, and channels full of lobster/crab pots. Fortunately, Salt Pond did not live up to its reputation for bad holding. The Delta bit in so fiercely when I set the hook, that I was almost yanked down into the locker! On Saturday morning, we called Payne's again and got the go-ahead to come in. We got the anchor up just in time to miss Aldo's bakery skiff coming into our section of the anchorage, calling "Andiamo, Andiamo!" Once we were safely tied up at Payne's we bought some of the freshly homemade doughnuts sold at the counter there, which helped us get over the heartache of missing Aldo. Dotty arrived--just in time for a doughnut--from Westerly, RI on New England Airways, a $45 flight that lasts 12 minutes. Why anyone would ride the ferry for two hours from New London is beyond me. Dotty was the only passenger, so she sat in the co-pilot's seat! Once we were able to step off onto the dock, we settled in to a normal Block Island weekend. We walked in town and shopped. Dotty bought a new handbag, approximately 15 minutes after swearing that she didn't need another one. We rode our bikes down to Mohegan Bluffs, and all the way out to desolate Sandy Point. David and Kathryn, very fitness oriented, loved the challenge of pedaling Block Island's many hills. The Orvis store cancelled our Saturday morning beach fly fishing trip since the winds were still up a bit, so we slept in instead! We ate a wonderful dinner at the Mohegan Cafe in town, where I was fed some very special sea scallops. Grilled very quickly, with delicious caramelized grill marks, they were moist and succulent inside, served with a mango relish and hot pepper jelly. I only had six, and I refused to share them! I skipped appetizers and soup in order to have the caramel apple pie a la mode dessert, which was even better than it sounds. I was the only one who ordered dessert, but I could only eat about 1/3 of the huge serving. Kathryn lept on the remaining pie and shared it with Dave. Everyone agreed that it was plenty for three or four people. We also had a great lunch at a little outdoor cafe overlooking Old Harbor with a self-serve window (the name escapes me!) that had the best onion rings I have ever tasted. I've read and heard that the residents of Block Island hate the rental mopeds. There are a few "NOPEDS" bumper stickers around if you look. Surely the scooters (moped is a misnomer) are dangerous--to their riders--and I suppose their buzzing around is irritating. But the single thing I think that detracts most from the Block Island experience is the car ferry. Why can't people, just for a day or two, let go of their beloved steel beasts? The island is only 5 or 6 miles from end to end, for heaven's sake. Kathryn had an idea for one or two "car-free" weekends on Block Island. A resident overhead her talking about this, and gushed that it was a wonderful idea! Coming back on Sunday we enjoyed beautiful blue skies and fair winds. The NOAA forecast was for winds 10-15 out of the north, shifting to the west in the afternoon, seas 1-2 feet. Even though the forecasts are so often wrong, I listen anyway. We began the return trip sailing about 30 degrees east of our intended course, hoping for the predicted lift when the wind shifted around to the west. We shook out all of the reefs and raised every last bit of dacron available to catch the 10 knots (true) of breeze. With the autopilot doing a yeoman's job, I made a simple lunch which was served in the cockpit. I gloated as we passed a big catamaran also clawing to windward. He made me eat my words about a half hour later when the wind backed around to the west and the big cat stretched out on a beam reach, apparently heading to Westerly. He was last seen disappearing over the horizon ahead of us! As predicted, the wind shifted to the west and we put the nose right on our target, the sea bouy at Watch Hill. As *not* predicted, the wind rose to 18-20 knots (are they ever right?) and there we were with all our laundry out. I was too lazy to reef, so I made everyone sit on the windward rail and we finished our day like a racing crew, sailing fast with the lee rubrail nearly in the water and the crew getting splashed with spray in the warm sunshine. I dropped the whole gang at Brewer's Yacht Yard in Mystic, where the trip started for everyone but me. The unwaveringly cheerful, very attractive young woman at the fuel dock kept it open past 5 so I could top off with diesel. She was the same nice person who took my reservation the previous week, calling me back immediately when an extra day that I needed became available. Did I mention how attractive she was? Once everyone was unloaded, I was to single-hand the boat back to our home marina in Westbrook. Dotty had left her car in Westerly, so she couldn't join me. The sail back was spectacular. The show began when I motored out of the harbor right ahead of the Mystic Whaler, a 110-foot two-masted schooner carrying passengers--and full sail in the channel--for a sunset cruise. I almost forgot she was back there until she fired her cannon upon exiting the harbor, startling me. She passed close in front as I slowed to raise the sails in Fishers Island Sound. I felt proud raising and setting the sails by myself in front of all those tourists! I'm sure they wondered where the rest of the crew was. With the tide against me, I started beating up the sound in dying winds into a beautiful salmon pink sunset. Soon after the sun made its exit, the stars came onstage. Finally, an enormous orange moon finished the fireworks when it rose right on the stern as I stretched the port tack close to the rumb line. I didn't get into bed until 1:00 AM. Strangely, I woke up at 6:30 feeling like I had slept 9 hours.