A Circumnavigation of Fisher’s Island

The day was absolutely perfect. I rowed in to get ice, take out the trash, and arrange for a short-term slip.  We have some work to do on the dinghy, and it’s hard to take something apart when you use it a dozen times a day. This is an entrance to the marina – bathrooms to the left. First we had to clean the bottom.  Rather than break out the brushes, we went for a sail. James dropped the pennants that attached us to the mooring.  I pulled the jib out as we blew down on the wind.  In very few moments, we were sailing out of the mooring field. Down the river we sailed.  The wind was fresh, the sun was shining, and it was warm. We ran downwind under jib alone until we got past the bent number 5 green. Somebody must have smacked this thing awfully hard, because they’re made out of solid stainless steel beams and tough stuff that normally you would want to avoid while underway in a little plastic boat. James raised the main and tied two reefs in right away. We were promised 10-20 all day, and that’s what we got. James decked himself out for all weather before we got started. I was acting like it was summer. We had a goal for the day – to circumnavigate Fisher’s Island.  That involves leaving the river, transiting the infamous passage between Long Island Sound and Block Island Sound, known as “The Race” for its swift currents, and rounding back up through Fisher’s Island Sound. Race Rock is well marked. We sped through the Race at 6-7 knots, picking up a nearly 3 knot boost by hitting the Race at the strongest ebb.  Then it was broad-reaching down the Fisher’s Island shoreline with the[…]

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A Day in the Life

I turn over, dislodging the cat from my hip.  He cries and jumps down to be soothed by James.  The clink and pour of coffee rouse me further and I consider getting up.  I can lounge until 6am if I like, or I can get up earlier and have more coffee before the row into the marina.  Today I laze a bit. When I swing my legs around to dismount the v-berth, the cat chirps and vibrates at me from the companionway.  He’s still our timid skitty and has barely made it onto the side decks as of yet.  James, sitting in the cockpit, breaks off his contemplation of the S.V. Sophia Christina, late of Anacortes and salvaged after Hurricane Irene put her on a weather beach.  He smiles at me and says, “Hey, baby.” “Good morning,” I reply and stretch.  It’s warm already.  Days are getting into the mid-80’s.  I pull a couple pieces of clothing on and pour myself a cup of coffee.  I forget to thank him for making it.  He gets up at 5am, grinds and brews the coffee before I’m conscious.  Thanks, James. Being moored along the ferry route means that we get tossed regularly.  I sit cross-legged on the settee, coffee in hand, and James say, “Big wake.” My response is a minimal nod.  The boat starts rocking, settles, and rocks again, harder, the motion damping down slowly.  I imagine the double-whammy being due to the bow wave, followed by the wake from the props at the stern. Getting up at 6am gives me 15 minutes.  I’m putting on my shoe a few minutes early.  No rain, so we don’t have to allow time for bailing the dinghy.  We get aboard, one of us swinging down from the rail of the big boat to[…]

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