A beautiful breeze yesterday and a forecast of strong southerlies convinced me to leave Stamford and skate over to Port Jefferson for a good slant down the sound today. Due to a comedy of errors I’ll let Four Points tell you about if he feels inclined, I ended up waiting two hours for him to deliver the mail he had forgotten to bring to Atlantic City (Spare alternator parts). By the time I cast off, it was a choice between arriving well after dark or motorsailing. I opted for the latter, who knows what kind of plastic tarps are lurking out there in Long Island Sound? It was still a very pleasant passage. Strange to leave at 1700, go what was a normal day’s distance many times on the ICW, and still arrive before sunset.
I’ve heard that Long Island Sound can be calm but it was almost spooky running across and down to the mouth of the Connecticut River this morning. The water surface looked like a skating rink, I could see the few lobster pot buoys about three miles away. The forecast southerlies began just as I reached the jetties but the tide was also turning and it was easy to talk myself out of continuing.
I ran up past the Route 95 Bridge and anchored. After changing the oil (it was a bit early but it felt like a be kind to the engine day) I settled down in the cockpit to look around.
Holy Cow!
I’m sure this is the first rock I’ve seen in over six months. I don’t mean pieces of stone brought in by truck or barge and dumped for rip rap but the living rock of the earth’s crust contiguous with the very mantle of the planet. It’s the skeleton of our mother earth poking through the thin film of life, exposed by the geologic forces and weather. I think I’m finally home.
Today, I covered half the distance from last night’s anchorage to where I need to be on June third so there is going to be some heavy duty futzing around during the next couple of weeks.
I’ve heard that Long Island Sound can be calm but it was almost spooky running across and down to the mouth of the Connecticut River this morning. The water surface looked like a skating rink, I could see the few lobster pot buoys about three miles away. The forecast southerlies began just as I reached the jetties but the tide was also turning and it was easy to talk myself out of continuing.
I ran up past the Route 95 Bridge and anchored. After changing the oil (it was a bit early but it felt like a be kind to the engine day) I settled down in the cockpit to look around.
Holy Cow!
I’m sure this is the first rock I’ve seen in over six months. I don’t mean pieces of stone brought in by truck or barge and dumped for rip rap but the living rock of the earth’s crust contiguous with the very mantle of the planet. It’s the skeleton of our mother earth poking through the thin film of life, exposed by the geologic forces and weather. I think I’m finally home.
Today, I covered half the distance from last night’s anchorage to where I need to be on June third so there is going to be some heavy duty futzing around during the next couple of weeks.
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