Our time at Block Island
passes fast.
 |
| Sunset at the anchorage in Salt Pond, Block Island |
We are in the midst of a
severe east coast heat wave, but our ocean surroundings temper the sizzling
days that others are experiencing on the mainland. Our recurrent nemesis, laundry
and grocery shopping, send us back to Newport for two days, as prices and
services on the islands are jacked up for the tourist trade. Last year an islander commented that they
shouldn’t be blamed as they only have two months to make a year’s income. I’m still pondering the validity of that and
suspect pirates still haunt these islands.
 |
| Busy summer day in a packed Newport Harbor |
Clean and re-stocked, we head back out to Martha’s
Vineyard. Our first stop is
the well protected harbor of Lake Tashmo, a salt pond, just west of Vineyard
Haven, which is linked to Vineyard Sound by a man-made breech way. It is a
narrow and challenging entrance for our deep draft boat, so our friends on
Amici have taken soundings when they arrived several days earlier. It appears
we need to enter about one hour before high tide, and calculating high tide is also
a bit of a trick. Tashmo’s tides are
over an hour different from those at Vineyard Haven which is only a mile
away. The tides and currents in this
area are definitely a challenge. Bottom line is that our calculations are
accurate, and we make it in without sanding our the bottom of our keel. Tashmo
is a tranquil place. There are a few
transient boats like ours anchored, but the majority of boats belong to locals
and bob at their permanent moorings.
 |
| The small wooden sloop, Misty, on a mooring at Lake Tashmo |
The wooded shoreline hides summer homes,
one of which belongs to Diane Sawyer, and shelters song birds active day and
night. Friendly commercial fishermen keep their boats in the harbor and chat
with us when we are at the dinghy dock. They are a wealth of gossip, the latest
being all the preparation going on for President Obama’s planned vacation in
August. The first family will be staying at the Alan Dershowitz estate nearby
and local contractors are busy installing the security and communications
infrastructure to facilitate the visit.
Additionally, the island is laying another electrical cable to the
mainland to insure there are no blackouts from the increased power needs. The locals are astounded by the cost, and all
I can say is, “Your tax dollars at work!”
But, with the ongoing heat wave it is humid and buggy – we
long for a good stiff breeze which just isn’t going to happen in this protected
location. In the relative coolness of the mornings we bike along the shoreline.
The torn whatever in my leg is beginning to heal, and sedate biking seems to
keep the swelling down. The roads along the headlands that form Vineyard Haven
provide spectacular vistas of Vineyard Sound. West Chop is more wooded while
East Chop is open and eventually leads to the town of Oak Bluffs with its lively harbor and many
Victorian homes.
 |
| Bicycling along the headlands of West Chop |
Afternoons are best
spent soaking in the unusually warm ocean waters at the beach next to the
breech way. On our last day there, a
strong west wind is blowing, although it is still calm in the anchorage. Out in the Sound a large fleet of racing
boats, participating in the annual Around the Island Race, is passing by with
spinnakers flying. In fact, several of the really hot racing boats are
literally screaming by. But something weird is happening when they approach the
headlands of West Chop. The currents
opposing the wind are kicking up big waves, and the wind accelerates as it
rounds the bluffs. The result is chaos. Virtually all the boats broach. Several masts
are almost parallel with the water for an unnerving length of time, and we
witness three spinnakers instantly torn to shreds. Later, talking to one of the
crew, we were told they saw puffs close to 40 knots. It is amazing the carnage wasn’t worse.
The next day our friends on Amici head back to their home in
Connecticut, and we move on to Edgartown,
another harbor on Martha’s Vineyard. The
outside anchorage is perfect in the southwest winds we have been experiencing,
sheltered by the curving Edgartown shoreline to the west and Chappaquiddick Island
to the east. We are joined by a number
of mega-yachts that can’t enter the inner harbor,
 |
| Ohana, anchored near us, has an awesome waterslide but we weren't invited over. Boats like this charter for anywhere between $100,000 and $300,000 per week |
and we anchor next to the
lovely Wild Horses, a newly built wooden, seventy-something foot sloop with
traditional styling and gobs of shiny varnish work.
 |
| Wild Horses at sunset outside of Edgartown |
The area is great for
biking as there are paved dedicated bike trails that take you to the beaches on
the southern shore of the island
 |
| South Beach, accessible by a lovely bike path |
or north to the six mile long crescent beach
that spans the gap between Edgartown and Oak Bluffs. Best of all, there are virtually no hills!
But, the charm of Edgartown is most apparent when you walk the neighborhoods on
foot. Many of the houses date prior to 1850 and were once the homes of
prosperous whaling captains and crews.
They have been meticulously restored and graced with beautiful
gardens.
 |
| Pretty house and gardens fronting on the inner harbor of Edgartown |
 |
| Another home on a quiet back road in Edgartown |
 |
| A historic hotel guards the entrance to the inner harbor of Edgartown |
This may be the prettiest town
we have visited on the East Coast. On our final day there the wind is predicted
to come out of the north so our idyllic anchorage will no longer be
tenable. We head into the inner harbor and
pick up a mooring. We leave the next morning with a stiff northerly blowing and
motor against the steep chop for several miles before we can round East Chop
and head west back to Newport. With only a small reef in our sails, we broad
reach back to Newport,
and with the help of a favorable current, see speeds up to 10 knots on this exhilarating
sleigh ride in drizzle and fog.
We arrive back in Newport
to find that there are no mooring balls available. Others who are trying to
find safe harbor in this freak summer nor’easter have filled the balls and
taken the more desirable anchoring spots. We settle for a safe but not very
protected anchorage and spend the night grabbing hand-holds just to walk around
inside the boat. The next morning isn’t much better. The wind is howling, and it is pouring
rain. Unfortunately, we have errands to
run and another round of laundry to do. The 15 minute dinghy ride is downright
miserable, and we spend the rest of the day somewhere between damp and
drenched. It seems a shame to take our
bags of clean and dry laundry back out on the water – they won’t be clean and
dry for long. But, wait, there’s a
clearing in the storm in an hour or so.
Thus, we have an early dinner at a nearby restaurant, leisurely eating
until the rain turns into more of a mist, then making a dash for it. The laundry is double bagged in plastic
garbage bags, and we don ankle length ponchos for the trip to the boat. Ignoring the dripping foul weather gear and
ponchos, we have made it back dry.
The next day is our future daughter-in-law, Beth’s, wedding
shower at a location about 45 minutes west of Newport.
We need a rental car to get there and pick one up early in the morning.
That gives me several hours to do some power shopping by car. Between Walmart
and Stop and Shop I spend almost $500 on groceries and supplies that should
tide us over into the fall. Shopping by
car is a real treat, but getting the groceries from the car to the boat is a
whole different story. I find one of the
few parking spots near the water and Burt pulls the dinghy up to a retaining
wall where the waves are unfortunately splashing and threatening to swamp the
boat. I lower the groceries, bag by bag,
over the wall with a long rope while Burt rescues them from the waves and
deposits them in the dinghy. It takes
two trips to the mothership to eventually empty the car, but it will be worth
the effort in the long term. The bottom
line is that cruising isn’t always like the photos in the sailing magazines –
sometimes it can be a real pain in the neck. On the plus side, the shower is
lovely, and we get to spend the remainder of the day and evening with Beth and
Bryan.
Our time in southern New England
has come to a close. The next morning we
bid farewell to Newport and begin the trip further
north to Maine.
Forty miles later, we find ourselves in Marion,
MA, an attractive sailing
community at the northern end of Buzzard’s Bay. The harbor is jammed packed
with moored boats, and the marina’s launch has to lead us to a vacant mooring
ball as we would never have found it on our own. We take a long walk through
this laid back town. This is not a
tourist town, but rather a community of year-round residents. The water front homes are lovely and well
maintained. The oldest neighborhood dates from the 1820’s to 1840’s when successful
whaling families resided there. The liveliest
spot in town is the Beverly Yacht Club (home of the biannual Marion to Bermuda Race) where a weekend
regatta is just being concluded. And,
perhaps, someday some one will explain why the yacht club in Marion,
MA is called Beverly,
but the yacht club in Beverly,
MA is called Jubilee. I’m
confused!
