My oldest son, Mike, arrived and we too a rather hurried tour of the town and the Corwith Cramer due to reports of lots of whales in Cape Cod Bay and wanting to be at the canal entrance that evening.
We departed just minutes after a NOAA ship which had been a fixture in town since my days there departed for the last time amid horns from every ship in port a cannon salute from the WHOI dock. It was a fitting end to this week of memories for me.
We hoisted the sails just inside the bay side of the the hole and then had a warp speed reach down to Phinney's Harbor in a classic Buzzards Bay smokey southwester. We sat drinking beer and watching the solstice sun set. It was on the solstice that I decided that I wanted to design the ship which would become the Corwith Cramer and devote my career to educational and research vessels, a decision which took me to Woods Hole in 1973.
We departed early the next morning in order to have plenty of time to hang around in the bay if the whales appeared.
Mike wearing my hat:
There were some wonderful low fog swirls in the canal:
You meet the most amazing people on the water. We came up on this sailboat going very slowly. I figured he was one of those people who think they are being kind to their diesel by running it at 25% power or else he was saving fuel.
As we passed, he shouted, "I think we missed the tide. Are you still going to try and make it through?"
I looked down at the GPS and it was showing 9.3 knots. I just shouted back, "I think, I'll take a chance.", and kept going. I thought a minute or two later of going back and attempting some nautical education but there were heavy swirls in the water and it didn't seem smart to return and try to get close enough to communicate. He probably figured it out if he took a look at the shoreline which was zipping by in an impressive fashion. Anyway, he kept on.
I don't know if he was dragging a pot, if his prop was fouled, or he just thought the eddies meant the tide had turned. I missed a great shot of him with his mast sticking out of the fog and his hull entirely hidden.
We had a fantastic sail across the bay to Provincetown, just the right wind to keep the boat moving pleasantly and still be perfectly relaxing. Alas, no whales. The had evidently moved on.
We took a tour around inside the breakwater and the wind was so nice we didn't want to stop sailing so we put the sails up again and went back out. We ended up anchoring in 40 feet of water able to look down and see a crab crawling over the anchor line with about 3 feet under the keel. The depth changes very quickly inside Long Point.
Another early start this morning. Very light wind on the nose so the sails haven't gone up all day. However, we did see one large Right Whale, three smaller ones, and a few other small ones that we couldn't identify. According to an email from a friend this morning, the main group has moved back down to off Chatham, evidently following the food.
It turned into a very hot run into Gloucester. We toured the harbor and then anchored over in Lighthouse Cove where we sit baking and waiting for the cool of the evening. Now I know why cruising south of Georgia doesn't appeal to me very much.
We departed just minutes after a NOAA ship which had been a fixture in town since my days there departed for the last time amid horns from every ship in port a cannon salute from the WHOI dock. It was a fitting end to this week of memories for me.
We hoisted the sails just inside the bay side of the the hole and then had a warp speed reach down to Phinney's Harbor in a classic Buzzards Bay smokey southwester. We sat drinking beer and watching the solstice sun set. It was on the solstice that I decided that I wanted to design the ship which would become the Corwith Cramer and devote my career to educational and research vessels, a decision which took me to Woods Hole in 1973.
We departed early the next morning in order to have plenty of time to hang around in the bay if the whales appeared.
Mike wearing my hat:
There were some wonderful low fog swirls in the canal:
You meet the most amazing people on the water. We came up on this sailboat going very slowly. I figured he was one of those people who think they are being kind to their diesel by running it at 25% power or else he was saving fuel.
As we passed, he shouted, "I think we missed the tide. Are you still going to try and make it through?"
I looked down at the GPS and it was showing 9.3 knots. I just shouted back, "I think, I'll take a chance.", and kept going. I thought a minute or two later of going back and attempting some nautical education but there were heavy swirls in the water and it didn't seem smart to return and try to get close enough to communicate. He probably figured it out if he took a look at the shoreline which was zipping by in an impressive fashion. Anyway, he kept on.
I don't know if he was dragging a pot, if his prop was fouled, or he just thought the eddies meant the tide had turned. I missed a great shot of him with his mast sticking out of the fog and his hull entirely hidden.
We had a fantastic sail across the bay to Provincetown, just the right wind to keep the boat moving pleasantly and still be perfectly relaxing. Alas, no whales. The had evidently moved on.
We took a tour around inside the breakwater and the wind was so nice we didn't want to stop sailing so we put the sails up again and went back out. We ended up anchoring in 40 feet of water able to look down and see a crab crawling over the anchor line with about 3 feet under the keel. The depth changes very quickly inside Long Point.
Another early start this morning. Very light wind on the nose so the sails haven't gone up all day. However, we did see one large Right Whale, three smaller ones, and a few other small ones that we couldn't identify. According to an email from a friend this morning, the main group has moved back down to off Chatham, evidently following the food.
It turned into a very hot run into Gloucester. We toured the harbor and then anchored over in Lighthouse Cove where we sit baking and waiting for the cool of the evening. Now I know why cruising south of Georgia doesn't appeal to me very much.
Last edited: