VOLUME 33, NO. 10 THE HORNPIPE OCTOBER 2009CCSC 2009 Board Members

Andy Monjan, Commodore (amonjan@verizon.net) 410-531-3832Hank Zerhusen, Vice Commodore (hzerhusen2@verizon.net) 410-730-9129Nan Shellabarger, Secretary/Membership (nshellab2@gmail.com) 301-589-7469Ed Sabin, Treasurer (esabin1@comcast.net) 410-255-7362Cynthia & Duncan MacDonald, Social (DunMcDnld@verizon.net) 410-799-9517Judy & Steve Foland, Hornpipe Editors (Foland@aol.com) 301-261-6613

Commodore’s Comments

October is here, and for many of us there isthe opportunity for one or two more sails in blusteryand cold days. Others of us are delaying our winterpreparations in the hope of that glorious fall daywhen the temperatures are mild and the seas calm.However, we all are getting ready for the fall CCSCdinner and board elections at the McDonald’s houseon October 31. We still do not have a full ballot; sodo come to the dinner being ready and able tovolunteer for a year on your CCSC Board. So far,the following have re-upped for another year ofservice:Ed Sabin TreasurerJudy and Steve Foland Hornpipe EditorsCynthia and Duncan McDonald Social Chairs We still need the following positions filled:C o m m o d o r e , V i c e - C o m m o d o r e , a n dSecretary/Membership

Our 2009 cruise schedule was verysuccessful, and I am certain that our next Vice-commodore will be just as creative. I do hope thatwe will continue to have more sailing seminars, andeven get to have enough people to do a man-overboard drill. I also encourage each of us tocontact the group for spontaneous cruises, asGeorge Alberts did last month. Our next club-wideactivity will be the annual membership dinner earlynext year. Andy Monjan

Update from the Flynns

We haven’t sent a group email in a while, sohere’s a catch up.

The beginning of the summer was busy anda little tough. We got back to the boat in early Apriland had an incredible two-and-a-half months ofrain. Living on the boat, we didn’t dry out until theend of June.

Until mid-July, Tom worked part time atWest Marine and I was in “Bye Bye Birdie” withthe Howard County Summer Theatre. We had agreat visit from our RVing friends, Nancy andSteve.

We sailed very little until the first of August.Then we made up for lost time with four week-longtrips on the Chesapeake Bay. We didn’t sail a lot,but we got a lot of time out on the water and saw agood part of the northern bay.

Salty Sailor Tom Flynn

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One of the best parts of the summer was theamount of time we spent with friends — visiting,eating, and eating some more. It all culminated withour annual open boat in September. We had morethan 50 people! We talked that night about whatwonderful, generous friends we have, and howmuch we have enjoyed spending time with them.

The highlight of the summer: in honor ofmy upcoming big six-oh birthday, I got a tattoo!!It’s a small butterfly on my right shoulder, and I’mtold it’s tasteful and pretty. I wanted to dosomething that was out of character and somethingthat said, “I’m not dead yet!” But I’ve been told thatit’s not really out of character.

Adrian’s butterfly tattoo

We are getting ready to head west. Ourtravel schedule through February follows:

October 1 we leave the boat and head 2,400miles northwest to visit friends Tracy and John andKimberly and Rick in Montana. We’ll then go downI-25, see Dave in Estes Park and pick up the RV inTruth or Consequences, New Mexico, on October19. The rest of October, we will be in a NewMexico State Park near Las Cruces.

In November, we will be in Silver City, NewMexico. We spent a month there last spring andloved it. It has wonderful hiking, birding, and alovely, small RV park.

From December until the end of February,we will be in Tucson and southern Arizona.

As always, we welcome visitors — we loveto show off the other half of our lives.

To our Jewish friends and family, L’ShanahTovah. We both wish you a year of good health,happiness, and peace.

To our Maryland, Virginia, andPennsylvania friends and family, have a wonderfulwinter, we’ll miss you and see you in the spring.

To everyone, please keep in touch: call,email, and/or visit.

Love to all.Tom and Adrian Flynn

Solo Sail Up the Choptank

The embarrassing fact is that I didn't getvery far up the Choptank River: just about 15 milesupriver from Cambridge to the village of Choptanknear the town of Preston. I later learned that thatwas the old stomping grounds for Dick Callis, whogrew up in Federalsburg. Dick told me he used togo crabbing as a boy at Choptank. He and friendswould wade in the water with a basket stuck into aninner tube. The boys could see crabs scurrying inthe clear water and scoop them up with nets as theywaded.

Today there is a small marina operated bythe Caroline County Department of Recreation andParks at Choptank. This is one of the very fewmarinas on the upper river. There is deep waterright up to the entrance of the marina, so enteringwas not a problem. I stayed there one night beforeheading for home.

I had a good excuse to head back: I had aworrisome leak around my shaft log that had beengetting progressively worse. I returned toCambridge that day, and the Yacht MaintenanceCompany in Cambridge Harbor fixed the leak injust 30 minutes for a reasonable price. I'm thinkingof sending Charlie, the manager there, another $15with a thank you note, as they relieved me of a lotof worry and much bailing out of the bilge eachnight after a day's sail.

In all, I stayed at the (free) Cambridge citydock three nights and found it very convenient tothe library, laundromat, stores, etc. I was the goofyguy in the shorts and big hat peddling around townon my folding clown bike. Robbie came down forone day, and we stayed at a B&B for one nightbefore she returned to her teaching.

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Prior to entering the Choptank, I had beenholed up at a marina in Knapp Narrows for threedays waiting for some scary strong winds andweather to pass by. I made the mistake of tying upto the outside of the first marina I came to whenentering Knapp Narrows. It was very exposed, so Ispent more hours than I wanted bouncing up anddown trying to keep some fenders between me andthe marina pilings.

Turns out that I may be a fair weather sailor.Ed Sabin

Maine AdventureIncoming #1 June 26, 2009

The trip to Maine had officially commenced.There was no denying it any longer — and I hadbeen in denial for quite a while! Four months onthe boat just seemed a whole lot longer than I couldwrap my head around with any degree of comfort.

We left Williams Bay, Wisconsin, on May19, and there it was June 26 and the day before wewere to make the dreaded 83-mile haul up the NewJersey coast to Sandy Hook unscathed. It was theprospect of that passage, after last year's, that hadhad me cowed for months, and it was over with!!!At least until we had to do it again on the returntrip. It's not all that scary if the weather holds, but itjust seemed as if it was just such a long time to keepon my toes and make sure that Bob didn't fall asleepat the wheel out there.

The past five weeks were becoming a bluralready. The first one had been spent tripping overall of the gear we'd brought but couldn't yet getstowed away. The second week had been spentlying low with a killer headache from the heat,humidity, and, no doubt, heebie jeebies about thetrip ahead. Someone who saw me (one of the fewtimes I emerged from the boat) said that he'dthought about saying hello but said that I lookedlike that might not be a good plan. Really, it wouldhave been all right, but then I would have to havekilled him to make sure that it didn't happen again.

Week three had been a hoot and a half atcamp Moseley while the boat was hauled and Bobredid the bottom. The morning of the day wearrived at camp Moseley, Sarah and Harvey had hadtheir kitchen literally ripped out down to the plasterfor a complete redo, and its contents were squirreled

away all over the house. A new event had beenadded to life's olympics: extreme hosting andguesting. For added sport, none of us told Bobwhere the cutlery was being kept and laid bets as towhen he would just give up and put his cereal bowlon the floor next to Jackie's (the dog).

The last week at Hammock Island Marinawas spent stowing about 500 pounds of provisionsand then heading out for a four-day shakedowncruise to our favorite place on the Chesapeake,Dividing Creek on the Wye River. I know it was agood sail. I just can't remember anything about it.

Upon returning, we did a last sweep throughthe boat, ditching everything we figured we coulddo without.

It was a lovely sail that day, June 16, and allwent well; but to look at us, you'd have thought wewere not in the same climate, let alone on the sameboat. I was bare feet and legs with a light cottonsweater, and Bob was sporting work pants and shirt;foul weather jacket; and farmer johns, with a neckgaiter pulled up to his nose and a watch cap pulleddown to meet it; and wool socks (I hate the woolsocks; they have so much to answer for.). Yes, itwas me and Eleanor of Aquitaine (or, as Bob insistson calling her, Katherine of Aquitaine) out on theseas yet again. We anchored in Veasey Cove on theBohemia River.

We laid over for a day because of rain. Wekept checking the weather reports to see how thingslooked for getting down the Delaware River andBay and then up the New Jersey coast. For a while,it seemed as if we might just do a DonaldCrowhurst and spend the next three months theresending back bogus emails, but the scenery was justtoo bleak for that.

On day three we headed out of theChesapeake and Delaware Canal to Reedy Islandfor the night.

It was day four and the Delaware River andBay were every bit as long as they had always been.(Bob said we made better time this year than lastyear, but then he's on that other boat.) And the baywas as boring as last time — except for the flies. On the positive side, the flies did provide exercise,and we didn't have to open tinned meat for dinner. Bob called dibs on the legs, which was fine by meas I prefer white meat anyway.

And speaking of dibs, I had started on

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Christmas gifts, with plans to call dibs on the use ofall snack-food and cereal wrappers, when that olddarning injury from last year's wool sock seasonflared back up. But perhaps it was just as well. The#1 crochet hook wasn't working out all that wellanyway. The project definitely called for a #3 orlarger. That type of plastic can get really slippery.It also meant that all those different projects I hadbrought along with which to amuse myself whileBob was upstairs at the helm were pretty much notgoing to happen, along with a number of otherthings. I had been so hoping that I would be able tocontinue with the tradition, started last season, ofbead rolling. But I scaled back the goal and, ratherthan using every bit of paper that came aboard, triedto content myself with just using every bit of everyone of those 150-plus canned food labels we werepacking. By doing the proper warmup and cooldown exercises and not extending those thumbs anymore than absolutely necessary, success would bemine.

Thank God we had a new can opener with avery smooth action. But anything that could havebeen given up would have been, and using the spacebar might have been next (God help you then...).

But back to the Delaware Bay. We weremaking our approach to Cape May and, as it was agorgeous evening, I’d opened up all the ports andhatches to get a breeze going through before westopped; and, dang, if a huge boat full of guys,drinks in one hand and cigars in the other, didn'tcharge past us (in a no-wake zone I want noted) inthe Cape May Canal, swamping us on port. Guesswho sleeps on port? Yes, my binkie then had to liedown on a mattress that had been totally soaked andsullied by water in which fish too had lain down.And it's salt water. It kept absorbing more water.

(Thank God, Vicki, I had that lavendersachet that you had given me and that I kept inbinkie and took a little whiff of whenever needed. Carol, the fresh lavender that you sent me off withlived on the groove of the finger holds (or maybethey’re just something to catch drips) under eachportlight and freshened every bit of air thatmanaged to find its way inside the cabin. Thankyou both!)

Day five and we made Atlantic City justfine; although during the last four hours it wasraining. Turned out the real pour was just waiting

until we'd tied up to refuel and get ice and water.Dang, what a mess. When we finally got settled forthe night and all the wet stuff hung up, there wasn'tmuch dry space left. Note: Dress minimally forrain. You can always get warm later, but theclothes won't dry out for days.

That was the last Saturday before we spentfour very long days waiting for a wind and weatherwindow that would give us a shot at making it toAtlantic City in a reasonable amount of time withBob still able to stand long enough to drop theanchor. It rained off and on the whole darn time; butsince we never left the boat, at least we didn't getanything wet that then had to be dried out. Wehad high winds some of the time, and the boat wasso rocky that it was the first time I’d ever takenBonine when not under way!

We played a lot a Scrabble (I was 1-2-1, butthat first 1 was, admittedly, a squeaker and the 2'swere brutal). Polished off four New Yorkers, whichI saved to start rereading later during the month, ifnot that week (Aging upside: You don't have topack nearly so much reading material, which savesspace for more comfortable shoes. Gone are thedays of pretty little nothing shoes with their tinystraps.)

And speaking of straps, Bob cut my hair! Itwas driving me crazy, so I put on a sundress andtold him just to follow the line and not to cut thespaghetti straps. He did good near as I could tell,and I wasn’t planning to look in any mirrors untilsometime in October at the earliest.

With regard to our trip to Atlantic City theday before — we were up at 3:00 a.m. and off thehook at 4:15 a.m. (We would have been off a halfhour earlier, but the most amazingly tenacious sealife came up on the chain and Bob had to beat it offwith a boat hook and then some.). We then had avery long day — 15 hours plus and uneventful(Yes!!!). Not much wind, and what we had wasn'twith us, so the ride was a bumpy one the wholeway. But Bob was sporting a new look — chromeyellow Mustang jacket with flotation (giving him areally bulked up appearance), swim trunks, andfoul-weather boots to keep the sun off of hispigment-challenged feet and ankles. It's really quitefetching in a Village People kind of way.

We had a thunderstorm after we left AtlanticCity. What a storm. Wildest thing I’ve been in

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yet. We were tossing and turning every which way.Bob stood at his station at the companionwayholding a compass and GPS, and I assumed mystation on the sole holding a huge pillow. Alwaysafraid of flipping. (It could happen. Keels havebeen known to just spontaneously fall off, I’m sure. Men just don't tell you about it.) I figured thepillow would lessen the severity of the resultingconcussion.

Thunderstorm at Atlantic Highlands

Incoming #2 – July 2, 2009

The trip through Hell Gate and up and outthe East River last Saturday, June 27, went reallywell. Trying to tie up at the fuel dock in PortWashington proved to be a bit more of a challenge.I knew it was looking dicey when the dock girl keptmuttering, “This is bad. This is really bad.” It tookthe both of us and three of them, plus an old guyfrom a motor boat already tied up, but we wrangledMagdalena into place, fueled up, and got the hellout of Dodge. My, it made for an exciting finish tothe day. I hate exciting finishes. I hate exciting,period.

Sunday, June 28, we hung at anchor anddecided to row the half mile into town for freshproduce, having missed the lettuce that Elizabethswore she threw off the Brooklyn Bridge. Twomiles later we made it. Poor Bob, he was rowinginto the wind the whole way, and danged if thewind didn't change and he had to row back into it aswell. But at least he was fortified by the best Italiancream ice, chocolate mousse chip. I helped himwith it but was still savoring the cup of Starbuck'sI’d crawled up to a counter and ordered, which was

a hell of a lot better than what I was brewing onboard. I thought I would invest in better beansduring our next venture ashore.

Monday was just the best yet. We sailed toPort Jefferson and met up with friends, Joann andLew from the observatory, who were visitingfamily. They all came over on son John's J-boatand rafted up for a visit aboard Magdalena. I lovedplaying hostess and giving the tour. It didn't takelong, and then we got down to G&T's and some girltalk. God, did I ever miss girl talk

Tuesday turned out to be a bust. We wereheaded right into the wind, and it was anotherBonine day. This time the midship hatch was openand starboard got drenched (But I won. I don't siton the starboard settee because it doesn't get muchof a breeze, and when I’m hot flashing that's just nota plan for either of us to try to live with.). Weaborted the morning's route and put in at NewHaven to ride out a very rocky night at anchor. Weboth noticed that the pitching seemed to go incircles, like a Ferris wheel mounted on a carousel. It was the oddest darn thing.

Speaking of routes, Bob had been usingMaptech's Ocean Navigator to work on our routefor after we got through the Cape Cod Canal. For awhile, all of our way points were in the IndianOcean, but then Bob did some fancy fiddling withthe numbers and it looked like we'd be able to avoidmost of that body of water. Sometime betweenleaving Cuttyhunk and going through the canal, weappeared to be crossing the equator, but thatchanged as well. Getting Maptech's OC Liteinstead of the pro version just might have beenworth the money, but not nearly so entertaining.Why, just listening to the sounds that emanatedfrom Bob's settee (on starboard — hee, hee, hee) ashe plotted and charted was worth twice the price ofadmission.

A day earlier we had headed out early undera lovely sky with a gentle breeze to go with it. Oneof our better sails so far. We were taking the windas it came and not worrying about our course whenNOAA came on with t-storm alert and things startedgetting a tad dark all around us. Bob donned hismanly gear and the engine went on. We put in atDuck Island, near Westbrook, Connecticut, just intime for a dandy blow. The next morning we wokeup to fog socking us in on all sides. As it was our

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first really significant batch of the season, wereviewed the horn blast signals.

One long — Hello, we're out here.One long, two short — Oh, lovely, how nice

that you're out here, too.One long never ending — Get the hell away

from us. That was not an invitation to raft up fordinner.

Best game of Scrabble ever. I won by 130-some points. I think Bob's mind was on the fog.

Weather permitting we were off toStonington, Connecticut, on the morrow. I hadbeen so hoping we could get ashore while thelibrary was still open. What was I thinking notbringing along any mysteries.

We were watching the skies for incoming. Isure was.

Incoming #3 – July 11, 2009

Left Duck Island bright and early on the July3, stopping in at a marina in Westbrook where wedid a trade with the sea gods: They gaveth full fueland water tanks and an empty holding tank (Thelatter sounds like a negative, but trust me it's not.),and we gaveth up visibility. Fog for two hours plus.The kind of fog that kept coming and going, so justabout the time we relaxed, we were socked back in. Every now and then we'd hear a really big horn, butcouldn't see do-wop out there. But definitely couldsee biggish blips on the radar. I couldn’t decidewhich do-wop was more unnerving: that which Icould only hear or that which I could see comingon, like storms.

Dropped anchor in Stonington, but it waspretty crowded and we had to take the edge of thefield, which made for a bumpy night.

Up and out for Dutch Harbor, west ofNewport, on the Fourth of July. We anchored therelast year with a less than enchanting view inland. Iwas determined to hold out for a more up-marketspot the second time around. If I was going to envypeople on shore their flush toilets, I wanted them(the toilets) to be plentiful and well appointed. Themansion we anchored beneath probably hadbathrooms nobody had even found yet. And I’ll betthat the tennis and pool houses had at least twobathrooms each. Fireworks display was zip, butwinds made for a rocketing red glare in my eyes

when I woke up.The trip over to Cuttyhunk on July 5 was

rather nice and uneventful until the last two hours,when the wind picked up to 25 knots sustained anddidn't die down until twelve hours later in themiddle of the night. We went flying into the outerharbor and decided to pick up a mooring rather thanto trust the new splice on the rode. Call us weenies,but it was really blowing. All afternoon andthrough the evening Bob kept going forward with aroll of rigging tape to wrap more boat parts to avoidchafing and damage of the line to the mooring ball.Based on the size of that roll by morning, the bowof the boat must have looked like a mummy.

Monday, July 6, and we were off to Onsetand the mouth of the Cape Cod Canal. Have norecollection of that sail, but I remember waking upthe next morning and seeing three boats with pirateflags flying in their rigging. I hate pirate flags. Ihate the whole pirate motif. Moored off Plymouth,we saw a 12-foot fishing dinghy, christened theBuccaneer, clad with a black plywood hull andquarter deck (cunningly positioned on its bow ratherthan its stern) and with a plastic tube cannon, flyingthree of the pirate flags. But theme boats might justbe a problem in Plymouth. There was the expectedMayflower reproduction open for tours at the cracko' dawn, but then there was also a Mississippiriverboat named the Pilgrim Belle cruising folksabout.

Tuesday, July 7, was a gorgeous day. I wasfeeling particularly perky as it had been showernight the evening before. Bob had commented onhow we hadn't been using much water this trip, thenwe realized that we were each trying to stay upwindof the other. It had just been too cold and too windyto scrub down in the cockpit, and I still loathed touse the shower in the head. But if I’d known whatthe canal had in store for us, wind and cold bedamned, I would have washed my hair as well.

There was a tall ship rendezvous in BostonHarbor that month, and there were two stunningFrench schooners with huge crews of stunningFrenchmen going through the canal with us, theEtoile and Belle. We took pictures of them, andthey of us. It just happened that I was wearing mySuper Marche Moore, a tank top from our '83 trip toTahiti. What kismet — they speak French and I’mwearing French.

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The rest of the day we could hear the Frenchcrews talking to one another over the radio. It wasso cool. And seeing their sails and those of two tallships (also out there, but speaking boring English)on the horizon and nothing between them andMagdalena was very exciting. Kept musing aboutwhat it would have been like, centuries back, to beat sea for days and then spy something like that inthe distance and have no idea what it might portend.

French Schooner in Cape Cod Canal

That afternoon we put in at Plymouth, theland of tricked-up boats and impossible-to-figure-out-how-to-get-to fuel docks. We anchored in anarrow strip of water surrounded by shallow waterwhere about five or six mooring balls, not noted inour guide book, made anchoring a bit difficult. Itwas legal but uncomfortable, as we were just thisside of the channel, which was very busy with atleast four tour boats of varying sizes coming andgoing all the next day, Wednesday, July 8, as wewaited out the weather. Capt. John and Sons IVwas interesting. Sometimes it seemed to be amarine educational venue and at other times itsounded like it might be a disco. Capt. Bob andCrew I wasn't too fond of either. Both liked to getway too close and were way too rowdy.

Had every intention of checking outPlymouth Rock when we put in for fuel and waterthe next morning; but given the high winds (Whatelse are there?), the approach to (or rather thedeproach from) the dock looked a tad trickier thanwe were up to at that hour, and I never got off of theboat. Have since decided that what with the ebband flow, tides, and currents, just about any rock Isaw anywhere along that coastline may have beenonce in Plymouth and that I would make do with thenext one I stepped onto.

July 9 saw us heading out of Plymouth andinto the wind. It was brutally windy and wavy formost of the way, and, for the first time, I decided tostay in the cockpit the entire leg. Not behind thewheel, mind you, but at least in the cockpit. Part ofthis decision was based on wanting to know justwhat Bob was dealing with out there every day andpartly on me getting knocked about too much if Istayed down below. There were scads of crab pots(or maybe they were lobster ones then), and my jobwas to watch for them on starboard. The plasticwindows in the dodger were getting too scuffed upto permit much visibility, so most of the day I washanging out past the edge of the dodger to get aclear view. And I don't think that on the coldest,windiest day of skiing I’ve ever felt as windblownand tired as I did when we finally dropped anchoroff Peddocks Island in the Boston Harbor islands.Thank God Bob eats this stuff up, because that isthe last time I’m doing that. Next time it's thatrough, I’ll just lash myself onto a settee and throwcrackers at him. Yes, even when it's nasty out there,he needs to be fed.

On July 10, we motorsailed, in little wind, toGloucester and picked up a mooring ball. It was myfavorite spot up to that point in our cruise — a realworking harbor. Loved the forms and colors. Wethought about deploying the dingy and goingashore, but I didn’t want to ruin my idealizedimpression. And besides, it was so darn windy(which was why we were hanging out there that dayinstead of continuing on) that even in the harbor thewater was kicking up.

Sunset outside of Biddeford Pool, MaineOur progress to Maine had been much

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slower than we'd expected — almost half again aslong. It had just been that kind of weather andwinds, and I was just that kind of crew. We hadbeen hoping to be in Penobscot Bay by July 11. Weplanned to dinghy ashore often while up there andwalk in those fabled woods. Then we wouldprobably head back south around the August 4. Itwouldn't give us the month we'd hoped for up there,but then, hell, it would probably be snowing by thetime we got there anyway.

I’d decided that these sailing adventuresmay not be for the faint of heart and definitely notfor the sound of mind or the unmedicated.

Right then the weather report was lookinggood for heading onto Portsmouth: rain butmoderate wind and in an OK direction — whatever.

Incoming #4 – July 30, 2009

We made it to Pepperell Cove, Maine, onSunday, July 12, and on July 29 started our return tothe Chesapeake Bay. Didn't get as far east as we'dplanned, but it would have to do. We spent most ofthe intervening three weeks having a typical Maineexperience. For every day of sun, we spent threehunkered down in fog, mist, or rain. I was excitedon July 29 when I heard the weather person say thatwe were in store for a glorious weekend, only tothen hear him predict some fog and some rain andtemps in the 70s. Parse that sentence anyway youwant and I’ll be damned if I can find the gloriouspart, unless it was the use of “some” instead of “lotsof.”

Two days into our Maine leg we spent afabulous 24 hours with friends Pam and Allen intheir home in Falmouth. The company andconversation were great, not to mention a choice offive, count them, five, flushing toilets to choosefrom; plus, Pam loaded me up with books. Thentwo days later we met up with Laura and Earl onMorning Star in Lewis Cove in Linekin Bay nearBoothbay Harbor. It was so exciting to come in andsee them at anchor; although it took us a while tofind them, since the fog was so thick we keptmissing them. At a length of 40 feet, that missingthem seems hard to believe.

Had a lovely week and a half of cruisingaround, joining up for hikes ashore, and hostingeach other for meals aboard and exchanging reading

materials. I am still pinching myself that we reallypulled this rendezvous off. I hadn't doubted thatthey and Bob would make it, but I had doubts everynow and then that I’d still be aboard when they did.

Morning Star on the way from Linekin Bay

to Dix Island

Owls Head Light near Rockland, Maine

When the weather was clear, it wasindescribably beautiful, and I knew why paintersloved this area. When it wasn’t, my spiritsdampened along with everything I owned.

One morning I decided to cheer myself upand pull out my beaded flip flops. Good thing I didor we wouldn't have known that both of our shoelockers were filled with moldering articles just thisside of being unrecognizable. The loss tally wastwo pairs of Birks; one each of deck shoes andsneakers for Bob, plus his dress sneakers (youknow, the ones with holes only on the outer edges);two day packs; and a duffel bag.

Fog lifted, so we ventured out to Vinalhavenfor the night to see just how “glorious” the weekendreally would be.

Incoming #5 – August 15, 2009

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Day 60 (or 90 if you count the month gettingready to cruise, and I think you should. Yes, let'sjust do that.). Day 90 of Suz in captivity at sea andgetting just snarly enough about it that I thought Icould probably plan on being put on land soon. Ifnot, I was going to figure out how to get that dinghyoff of the foredeck by myself and row to land, anyland.

Unfortunately, with my bum right thumb(That's right, still couldn’t use it without pain.) andBob's newly bummed right arm, neither one of uscould do it right then and had to work as a team justto open the tins for dinner at night. (Are there lefthanded can openers? Surely that was part of ourproblem with the maneuver.) And cans and packetsof Kitchens of India were pretty much all we hadleft yet once again. Once we had eaten that last halfof an onion and a very old apple (I should havebeen putting the new ones on the bottom each timewe provisioned.), it was going to be rather bleakcome meal times.

Lunch August 14 was sad because I’dforgotten that we'd run out of ham three daysearlier, and I remembered that only after having putmustard all over the last of the pumpernickel bread— mustard really doesn't go that well with peanutbutter, but then peanut butter doesn't go all that wellwith pumpernickel bread anyway, as we found out.

Maine already seemed like a really, reallylong time ago. We had been working our way westand south since the August 6 anchoring back inPepperell Cove for our last night in Maine. Thenext morning, the Coast Guard's tall ship trainingvessel, Eagle, was coming along the river towardPortsmouth Harbor as we were heading out. It wasaccompanied by fire boats that had all their hosesshooting and at least a hundred motor boats andsailboats as an honor guard. It was one of thoserare, one-out-of-four sunny days, and the scene wasspectacular. And the wake caused by all of thoseboats coming at us gave us a sustained taste ofwhite water sailing! Not a bad end to that part ofthe adventure. What a thoughtful send off!

Coast Guard Eagle

Except for a layover day in Dutch Harbor,Rhode Island, so that Bob could dive and see whatwas wrong with our prop that was out of balanceand causing the engine to vibrate like it was goingto grind a hole in the hull, we'd been movingsouthwest every day. The propeller problem turnedout to be a huge plastic-mesh bag that couldprobably have held 50 pounds of potatoes (Wouldthat there had been some in it.), wrapped around theprop. The bag was a really rich purple. I was sure Icould make something from it. Something for eachof you. Corsages maybe?!

But I wouldn’t be making them anytimesoon. That thumb was really a bother. I was unableto do much with it, and no doubt that contributed tomy snarliness. I’d not realized how much makingthose paper beads had added to my joy during lastseason's cruise to the Vineyard. But, as I had myheart set on using all of the labels from this year’scruise, I had been saving them up with the hope thatyou all would want to join me for a demo andworkshop, yes?! For those of you who wouldn't beable to be there in person, there would be a “howto” video online, and I would mail you your labels. I was hoping we could do this one day during thewinter when the lake had frozen over and there hadbeen a fresh snow so it could be combined with mylong-held dream to organize a string of snow angelsacross the Bay, Williams that is. I hadn't firmed upthe numbers yet, but I was estimating it at about1500 feet from Conference Point to Cedar ParkPoint. Say that the average arm span is around fourfeet; I was looking for 400 or so folks each willingto flop down at the signal and give it their best. Ifwe just couldn’t get that many volunteers, thenperhaps we could get at least 40 people to make 10snow angels each or, conversely, 10 of my nearest

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and dearest could make 40 apiece. Then it wouldbe back to Weed-Hall to get the blood flowingagain rolling those beads. There would be cocoa! Bob would be really happy if you agreed to takepart, as he doesn't want to roll beads and he sure ashell doesn't want to make 200 snow angels.

That downward leg was proving to be asbumpy as the one up, and foggy to boot. Onemorning we were socked in with a solid wall of fogat anchor off Stonington, Connecticut. You couldhear the Saturday morning racers out there blowingtheir foghorns as they jockeyed for position whilewaiting for it to clear up. Back in the harbor everyboat must have had its VHF radio busy as fogreports and/or requests for them were flying backand forth over the air waves. I swear that theminute some guy said he could see his ownbowsprit from his cockpit, you could hear anchorchains rattling on all sides and there was a mad dashto get out while the getting was good. I had mydoubts and asked Bob if all the other boats sailedover the edge of the Earth (and I know there is onesomewhere out there) would he (and by default I)do it too. I think you all know his response. Andso, ladies, I at last have the title for my memoir,Travels with Bob: or I Married a Lemming.

Oh, a suggestion: on days when you'vetaken a Bonine tablet, do not, and I cannotemphasize this too strongly, do not have tinnedsardines (or even fresh ones for that matter) forlunch. On days like that, one's lunch tends to get allover one, and one reeks of it all day and into thenext morning. The fragrance put me in mind oflinseed oil and, while it was an excellent sensoryaccompaniment that afternoon out on deck readingMilton Avery: the Late Paintings, it was downrightnasty when closed up in the cabin later in theevening playing Scrabble with Bob: the CurrentHusband.

It was time for dinner. It was another two-can night and then it was to be shower night!!!

Incoming # 6 – August 28, 2009

Day 103 and we were back in theChesapeake Bay at anchor in Swan Creek, about 13miles from home. The next night we would beswinging in our Hammock Island berth onceagain!!!

The previous two weeks had alternatedbetween seeming like they'd never end and flyingby. It took us four days (staying at Port Jeffersontwo days) to make it from Stonington to PortWashington, where we laid over for a day andpicked up fresh provisions. Thanks to HurricaneBill, the weather predictions weren't looking toogood for the upcoming trip down the Jersey coast. It had also turned beastly hot and, as hanging out inthe water was going to be the only way to getthrough it, we needed to figure out the better placeto wait for a window to make the big move: PortWashington or Atlantic Highlands? After taking adip in the harbor at Port Washington, and having tomake sure that we faced into the current at all timesso as to be able to push the trash away as it floatedtoward us, we went with the latter choice and onAugust 20 did the East River leg in excellent time— we were flying!

At anchor in Atlantic Highlands

The Atlantic Highlands anchorage was fullof cruisers waiting to move. Last year we'd gottenthere earlier in the month, but this year everyoneseemed to be waiting for a window to make the runto home ports in the northeast. Daily discussions ofweather reports ensued amongst the captains andcrews.

There was Charlotte-Ann out of Canadawith a family of four on board for a year. Thechildren were eight and six and utterly fearless bothon the boat and in the water. The dad worked onemonth on and one month off on an offshore oil rig.That mom was going to be working double time onemonth on and then have one month off this year.

Celebration had a live-aboard couple from

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Florida who don't plan to reside on land again untilthey have grandchildren.

Dream Catcher II put all of us to shamewhen the crew (Ms. Dream Catcher) spent hoursfloating around the boat and dinghy with a bottle ofcleaner scrubbing her little heart out. I just hatewhen they do that.

Pradel hailed from Lancaster, Pennsylvania,where in retirement they've started a company towork with the inner-city schools helping to enablemid- and high-schoolers to recognize, control, andfocus their emotions. She recommends a bookentitled Rapt. Unusual boat names always getasked after. Pradel was a wine that they had likedduring their honeymoon on the Cote d'Azure 47years ago. I just love stories like that. Unlike thestory about the name our boat, Magdalena, whichwas the boat’s name when we bought her and weretoo cheap to select a name of our own and pay to re-register her with the Coast Guard.

And then there was Brynteg. We never didget around to asking Paul what that meant. Ah,Paul, prettiest boy I’ve seen in a really long time;and what an equal opportunity sweetie. I swear thathe was making eyes at both of us.

We rode out yet another pretty big blowwhile at anchor, followed by a really stunningsunset. That made it four for four interestingexperiences storm-wise. I was really getting tiredof that. Every day was a scorcher, with constantdips to swim in the water and undying gratitude thatthere weren't any jellyfish.

At last we headed down the coast to AtlanticCity, a long but OK day: good weather, a westwind, and big swells coming in from Bill.

Sunrise the second day of the trip wasspectacular, followed by one of the best sails of thesummer on the way to Cape May. All the boats metup again there except for Paul. Have no idea whatbecame of Brynteg, and more's the pity.

The predictions for leaving Cape Maylooked not great, but certainly not all that bad, forgoing up the Delaware Bay, so we were up and outby 6:30 a.m. But, dang, the predictions were wrongon all counts. The wind was not 5-10 from thesouthwest but rather 10-15, gusting to 20, from thewest-northwest to northwest. The seas were not oneto two feet but two to four feet with spindrift. Wesailed fast, but after about six hours, the wind

veered to practically on our nose, so we motorsailedthe remainder of the trip. However, we sure madegood time!

We hit the east end of the Chesapeake andDelaware Canal by 3:30 p.m. and decided to keepon going through to the Bohemia River. We gotthere and said, “What the heck. Let's push on andget a jump on tomorrow!” Sunset was at 7:30 p.m.,and there was just enough twilight left when we gotto the entrance of the Sassafras River to make itthrough the crab-pot floats. We dropped the anchorin the dark and managed to do so without hookingthe submerged boiler shown on the chart! It wasone heck of a long day, and while I wouldn't say wewere on the ragged edge, we sure as hell could seeragged edge. And I don't care what Bob says, nuts,dried prunes, and cheese sticks were a perfectlyadequate dinner that night.

Odds and Ends

A few of the things seen:

- A loon in the Cape Cod Canal. The onlyone we spotted, and it wasn't even in Maine.

- Lots of seals. They look like very gnarly,very dirty lobster-pot floats, and then you notice thewhiskers.

- Whales. We had one in front of the boatspouting; another behind us breaching; and one onstarboard for at least five minutes, breaching as wesailed beside it.

- Lots of porpoises, at least 50 at one timejust before the Cape May Canal!

- Bob with long, curly hair. I loved it. Hedidn't.

- Black guillemots, a type of auk and verycute.

- Common eider ducks who swim in aperfectly straight line formation, one behind theother.

Some things for which I am grateful:

- That I found out that I do like to be at thehelm when we are going through a canal, with themotor on and big red and green markers on eitherside every mile to show me the channel (And the

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water is calm.). Unfortunately, we didn't find thisout until the last half hour of our last canal passage.

- Cheese sticks that, if individually wrapped,are great for feeding the helm when in not-so-greatconditions. If you lob enough of them from thecabin into the cockpit some of them are bound toland close enough to the wheel that they can bereached when there's a lull in the seas. Later atanchor, you just gather up the misses, wash them,and save them to lob another day when dining ondeck is required but serving is just not going tohappen.

- Clorox wipes, Clorox spray, Cloroxanything, baby wipes, baby powder, Bonine

- That there aren't leeches in the Atlantic andits bays. Realized when we were getting a lot ofspray over us one day that if leeches came with it, itwould be really unpleasant.

- That Bob can stay awake and uprightindefinitely if he's on a boat, since I have a hardtime doing either, which could be from that rollingaction, or it could just be denial.

- That we were back at Hammock Islandafter 75 days out. It seemed as if it might takeabout that many more days to get the boat cleanedup and the mildew killed off of it and off ofeverything in it. It was time to get on with it, butwhat a hoot and a half we'd had making that mess!

- That we made the trip and had a great timedoing it, despite what I may have written and maysay in the future; and we all know that I’ll haveplenty to say...

Incoming #7 – September 2, 2009

We made it back to Hammock Island onSaturday, August 29, and the weather was so damnglorious that I almost considered starting out on thatcruise all over again!

I had once again lowered my standards andcleanup was easier than expected.

We were looking forward to heading hometo Williams Bay, Wisconsin, sometime during theweek of September 6, and then we would see whatnastiness awaited there.

Oh, Bob adds this: We traveled 1,535 milesand spent 63 nights at anchor and 11 nights onmoorings. The number of different

anchorages/moorings was 30. We had 27 layoverdays, most weather induced.Suzanne Bucher

September 19-20: Destination ReedCreek/changed to Severn River/changed

to Eagle's Nest

After returning home from San Franciscothe previous weekend, following a nice long visitwith the grandkids, I thought it would be a goodidea to suggest a CCSC cruise to Reed Creek for theSeptember 19 and 20 weekend. An all-hands emailto the club membership stirred up some interest.The weather forecast then changed to one that madea cruise to the east rather problematic, so I shiftedthe destination to the Severn River.

Jutta and I headed out on Saturday morning,with a nice breeze and fair weather. We expectedtwo other boats to join us — Barbara and MattCoyle on Nancy Anne and our commodore, AndyMonjan, along with Usha, on board Impulse.

As we sailed to the south-southeast, on abroad reach, approaching the eastern side of the baybridge, we got a call on the cell phone from Matt,who said Barbara had a medical issue come upquickly and they were dealing with it (Thankfully itwas not serious, but could have been.). So NancyAnne would unfortunately not be taking part in thecruise.

We had been keeping a watch for Impulse,which was in her slip at Hammock Island when weset out. After thinking it over (and after seeing thewind lose some strength), we decided to head backin the direction of Bodkin Creek, maintaining awatch for any sign of Andy and Usha under way.We were a mile or more north of Baltimore Lightwhen I saw what looked like Impulse moving southat a good pace, just west-southwest of us. I changedheading and confirmed through the binoculars thatit was indeed them. I tried to raise them on theVHF, then got out the air horn and signaled themseveral times. I was nervous that they would fadeout of range before they saw us, and I doubted Icould catch up with them, but we finally caughttheir attention. I motored up to them, and wediscussed options for rafting up, quickly deciding tohead into the Magothy and on to Eagle's Nest. In

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the process I almost pulled off another of my stupidboat tricks, leaving the boat on autopilot as I chattedwith them, and nearly running them down (Andylater joked that we almost rafted up right there!).

We enjoyed a lovely evening at anchor, withhors d'oeuvres from both parties and margaritasprovided by the Monjans. A comfortable night'ssleep was followed by a lazy morning enjoying thesetting and the company (Although I learned to mysurprise that, based on sounds we were hearing,there is a shooting range on Gibson Island.).

On a fine September Sunday we bothenjoyed an easy trip home.

Where are we now?

Can you guess this location?First, the photo was taken recently, and the

sailboat in the photo is indeed Breezing Up. Second,but this might give it away, the sun is setting, notrising.George Alberts

Weird Phenomenon

Recently we were out overnight. The moonwas full. The air was clear. And there were only afew clouds around. The water was quite still.When we looked into the water around the boat, wefelt that we were hundreds of feet above the surfaceof the water. We were unable even to determinewhere the surface of the water was. It was anincredible feeling — almost like floating in space.Has anyone else experienced this? Does thisphenomenon have a name?Carol Durr