The Downside of Cruising
They say great art and writing requires suffering. The problem I’m having now is that this life is just so damn nice it’s effecting my writing. Compare my first post with my recent ones and you’ll see where lack of angst and longing leads. Anyway, I’ll give up on the deathless prose and just stick to the facts.
The morning after the heavy rains in Yarmouth, I motored down the coast and through the Tusket Islands, burning diesel and bucking the tide in order to possibly round Cape Sable. I could see this leg and the view was magnificent. It’s a wonderful collection of islands I’ll post pictures of the next time I find WiFi.
I pulled into Stoddart Cove for lunch and a nap and to see if I would get a return phone call from a friend who I’ve offered to help put the engine back in his sailboat. He was off Cape Sable when the damper plate came apart and was towed into a harbor on the west side of the island. He took the engine back to his home in N.B. to repair it. Just before I left Yarmouth, I got an email saying it wasn’t running right and he might not be coming.
The conditions were perfect for rounding the Cape and, not hearing anything from him, I decided to take advantage of them. Gawd! This is a horrible place. I don’t ever want to see it in even slightly bad conditions. The tide rip I went through near slack water without enough wind to sail just makes the imagination run wild.
Shortly after rounding the cape, a lovely breeze sprang up and I finished the 66.8 mile day spanking along on a close reach up into Barrington Bay, another of those “about as good as it gets” legs.
I spent a quiet night anchored out and them moved into the small harbor by the causeway to await word from my friend. There was an email this morning saying he was coming and the harbormaster said he would have him call as soon as he shows up. 1400 and still no word. However, I’ve been ashore in the dinghy to fill a jerry can with diesel and buy 8 bags of ice. The clerk at the store found a ride back to my dinghy for me without my even raising the question. He figured it out from what I was buying. Is this a great country or what?
The high tides, fast currents, and long anxious legs are behind me. I’m now in cruising country of frequent shelter, moderate tides. I have 19 days to reach Halifax and I can finally start that puttering I keep talking about but never seem to get around to actually doing.
BTW our very own POTL is posting this from my email. She’s opened a separate SBO account with the username “Strider Reports” to do this. I know Phil frowns on multiple user accounts but I’m sure he’ll make an exception in this case. I’ve figured out that I can’t even look at anything on the web without chewing up bandwidth like brush going through a wood chipper. Every image, cooking, and invisible connection to a tracking sited loads date roaming charges onto my bill. I’ve got to keep strictly to email until I get to WiFi again. If there are any particularly good responses, she will cut and paste and email them to me.
Folks, this is the life.
Roger
(By way of POTL)
They say great art and writing requires suffering. The problem I’m having now is that this life is just so damn nice it’s effecting my writing. Compare my first post with my recent ones and you’ll see where lack of angst and longing leads. Anyway, I’ll give up on the deathless prose and just stick to the facts.
The morning after the heavy rains in Yarmouth, I motored down the coast and through the Tusket Islands, burning diesel and bucking the tide in order to possibly round Cape Sable. I could see this leg and the view was magnificent. It’s a wonderful collection of islands I’ll post pictures of the next time I find WiFi.
I pulled into Stoddart Cove for lunch and a nap and to see if I would get a return phone call from a friend who I’ve offered to help put the engine back in his sailboat. He was off Cape Sable when the damper plate came apart and was towed into a harbor on the west side of the island. He took the engine back to his home in N.B. to repair it. Just before I left Yarmouth, I got an email saying it wasn’t running right and he might not be coming.
The conditions were perfect for rounding the Cape and, not hearing anything from him, I decided to take advantage of them. Gawd! This is a horrible place. I don’t ever want to see it in even slightly bad conditions. The tide rip I went through near slack water without enough wind to sail just makes the imagination run wild.
Shortly after rounding the cape, a lovely breeze sprang up and I finished the 66.8 mile day spanking along on a close reach up into Barrington Bay, another of those “about as good as it gets” legs.
I spent a quiet night anchored out and them moved into the small harbor by the causeway to await word from my friend. There was an email this morning saying he was coming and the harbormaster said he would have him call as soon as he shows up. 1400 and still no word. However, I’ve been ashore in the dinghy to fill a jerry can with diesel and buy 8 bags of ice. The clerk at the store found a ride back to my dinghy for me without my even raising the question. He figured it out from what I was buying. Is this a great country or what?
The high tides, fast currents, and long anxious legs are behind me. I’m now in cruising country of frequent shelter, moderate tides. I have 19 days to reach Halifax and I can finally start that puttering I keep talking about but never seem to get around to actually doing.
BTW our very own POTL is posting this from my email. She’s opened a separate SBO account with the username “Strider Reports” to do this. I know Phil frowns on multiple user accounts but I’m sure he’ll make an exception in this case. I’ve figured out that I can’t even look at anything on the web without chewing up bandwidth like brush going through a wood chipper. Every image, cooking, and invisible connection to a tracking sited loads date roaming charges onto my bill. I’ve got to keep strictly to email until I get to WiFi again. If there are any particularly good responses, she will cut and paste and email them to me.
Folks, this is the life.
Roger
(By way of POTL)
