I checked the Cape Cod Canal current tables from my anchorage just off Long Island in Boston Harbor after a 70 nm day. Oh, awkward and, together with rising SW wind during the day, dictating a very early start.
I went to sleep early. I keep a small travel alarm on the shelf over my berth which is the kind that has to be opened and have the button pressed to save its small battery. I woke up and pushed the button. Yikes! It was 0430, later than I planned to sleep.
I jumped up, started the coffee, did a few things we won’t go into, and pulled on my clothes. I glanced at the bulkhead clock, 0155. What? It must have stopped. No, it was running. I checked the travel alarm, it said the same thing. Before the “Twilight Zone” music really got started, I realized that I had dreamed of looking at the clock, woken up, and jumped out of bed.
I was wide awake now anyway. It was calm outside and there was a sliver of rising moon to give some illumination to the lobster pots so I figured, What the hell? I had breakfast and was underway half an hour later.
It was actually a good time to leave. There were no commuter boats or other traffic. Just as I was nearing Minot’s Light (1 – 4 – 3 flash, the “I love you” light), I saw a small furry shape running around on the bridge deck in the dim light of the GPS. I thought I had seen something that looked like mouse droppings under the main sheet but didn’t think it possible. I haven’t seen any other signs. I jumped up and, sure enough, there was a large mouse running around in and out of the winch handle pocket and cockpit seats.
Mice on a boat are really bad news. What to do? I turned around and got a spare bailer out of the other cockpit seat locker and put it down in the seat hoping to snare the critter. In a flash, it ran right into the inviting recess of the bailer. ZIP! Flying mouse, last seen silhouetted against the sky glow of the Boston city lights and headed towards being breakfast for one of God’s scaly creatures. I hope it was the only one.
The sun came up off Plymouth as I motored and motor sailed into increasing wind that eased as I close with the land just past the power plant. I hit the canal at peak fair current but missed sneaking under the railroad bridge before a closure.
There were the usual impressive standing waves off Hog Island which I rounded to come up and anchor here in the old original canal excavation, one of my favorite spots. From the looks of the weather reports I just checked. I might be here for a few days. I guess that means there is time for a nap.
I went to sleep early. I keep a small travel alarm on the shelf over my berth which is the kind that has to be opened and have the button pressed to save its small battery. I woke up and pushed the button. Yikes! It was 0430, later than I planned to sleep.
I jumped up, started the coffee, did a few things we won’t go into, and pulled on my clothes. I glanced at the bulkhead clock, 0155. What? It must have stopped. No, it was running. I checked the travel alarm, it said the same thing. Before the “Twilight Zone” music really got started, I realized that I had dreamed of looking at the clock, woken up, and jumped out of bed.
I was wide awake now anyway. It was calm outside and there was a sliver of rising moon to give some illumination to the lobster pots so I figured, What the hell? I had breakfast and was underway half an hour later.
It was actually a good time to leave. There were no commuter boats or other traffic. Just as I was nearing Minot’s Light (1 – 4 – 3 flash, the “I love you” light), I saw a small furry shape running around on the bridge deck in the dim light of the GPS. I thought I had seen something that looked like mouse droppings under the main sheet but didn’t think it possible. I haven’t seen any other signs. I jumped up and, sure enough, there was a large mouse running around in and out of the winch handle pocket and cockpit seats.
Mice on a boat are really bad news. What to do? I turned around and got a spare bailer out of the other cockpit seat locker and put it down in the seat hoping to snare the critter. In a flash, it ran right into the inviting recess of the bailer. ZIP! Flying mouse, last seen silhouetted against the sky glow of the Boston city lights and headed towards being breakfast for one of God’s scaly creatures. I hope it was the only one.
The sun came up off Plymouth as I motored and motor sailed into increasing wind that eased as I close with the land just past the power plant. I hit the canal at peak fair current but missed sneaking under the railroad bridge before a closure.
There were the usual impressive standing waves off Hog Island which I rounded to come up and anchor here in the old original canal excavation, one of my favorite spots. From the looks of the weather reports I just checked. I might be here for a few days. I guess that means there is time for a nap.