The Stupid Storm
Where: Massachusetts Bay
When: 6/16/00-6/18/00
With: Seth & Chip
When: 6/16/00-6/18/00
With: Seth & Chip
The time had come for another Stupid camping trip. The previous five years we had gathered in Collinsville, CT for a couple of days of kayaking down the Farmington River, with an overnight stay in the woods along the river. Very pleasant, very relaxing, and we'd had an incredible streak of good luck with the weather each year. It was the same trip each year though, and the last year we'd been hassled a bit about our admittedly illegal camping spot on someone's private property, so we were thinking about trying something new.
As luck would have it, Seth hit it big with some of his animation and offered to fund something a bit more ambitious. His suggestion was to rent a sailboat and go for an ocean cruise. He & Chip had enjoyed a good amount of sailing in their youth, and it seemed like a good step up from the kayaks. Chip, a skilled and experienced sailor, was thrilled with the idea. I had very limited, near-shore sailing experience but was willing to go along as ballast. Dave was initially on-board as well, but had to bow out due to prior commitments.
So the planning began. Chip was put in charge of most of the arrangements...boat procurement and route selection. He had a line on a boat he could've borrowed for free, but the Tall Ships were in town the weekend we'd selected and the owner decided he needed the boat himself. Chip checked around and managed to find some other boats to charter. The final selection was an O'Day, maybe 24-foot. Chip had wanted a bigger boat with more amenities, but the cost would've been prohibitive.
That left the question of where to go. The choices were narrowed to two possibilities: a run up to the Isle of Shoals off Maine or a trip to Provincetown. A little Internet research on the Isle of Shoals eliminated them from contention. They were small, mostly private, and difficult to get moorings. So Chip suggested a route that would take us from Marblehead to Provincetown on the first day, down to Scituate the second day, and then back to Marblehead on the third day. The plan won approval from all involved and we were good to go.
It was a three-day trip, so we all took Friday off for our run to P-town. To get an early start we decided to gather at the boat in Marblehead Thursday night and sleep at the dock. I headed directly to Marblehead after work, fighting traffic all the way, and arrived to find Chip there with the boat. She was the Emma Rose and she was beautiful. An older boat with lots of well-cared for woodwork. I looked her over and commented that she seemed larger than 24 feet. Chip smiled. She was actually more like 32 feet long. Chip had discussed it with Seth and they'd decided to go for the bigger boat after all.
I stowed my gear on board and checked out the boat. It had one primary sail with a rolling Genoa sail up front and a spinnaker available if needed. A diesel engine below provided thrust for the harbors and power for the batteries. Steering was by tiller (Chip had wanted a wheel) and there was a good array of navigational aids and electronics (GPS, radio, compass, depth gauge, speed indicator). The stern third of the boat was an open cockpit with benches all around and the front two thirds was the cabin. The main part of the cabin contained the galley, storage lockers, a radio/tape deck, and bunks for three. A small passage containing the head led to the forward cabin, with sleeping space for 2 more people. As captain, Skipper Chipper had claimed the forward cabin for himself (and rightly so), leaving the main cabin for his scurvy crew.
Seth was driving up from NYC and wasn't expected until later, so Chip & I headed to a bar for dinner and then picked up some supplies (vodka, beer, etc.) before heading back to the dock. It was a warm, calm night and very pleasant down at the water. While we waited, the boat owner and his wife arrived for a final checkout. The owner gave us a brief tutorial on the ship's equipment, especially the motor, and Chip demonstrated his sailing skills to the owner's apparent satisfaction. They wished us a good journey and left us to ourselves.
It was starting to get late and we began to get worried about Seth, but he called to say he'd gotten a late start and was still on the road in Connecticut, stuck in traffic. No problem. We pulled out the guitars and played on the boat. I'd brought along the lyrics to a Beach Boys song, The Sloop John B, and resolved to have us all playing guitar and signing it while sailing. Seth finally arrived around 11:00, and we greeted him, introduced him to the Emma Rose, and then played some more guitar until 2AM. A group of fishermen catching squid from the dock kept us company for a time, but eventually they departed and we headed to sleep.
It was a calm night, so we sleep well, but we were up early anyway. Someone went out and fetched coffee and then we were off. We fired up the engine and puttered our way out of the quiet harbor and into the open ocean. A good steady breeze came up, the sail came out, the engine went off and we were sailing. Chip made some quick adjustments and soon had us cruising along at a nice pace (7 knots?). We were on a straight run across Massachusetts Bay, aiming for the fishing/whaling areas of Stillwagon Bank, just off the tip of Cape Cod. From there we expected to turn south, round the tip and head into P-town harbor in time for dinner.
We all took turns at the tiller, and my lack of experience showed. I tended to over-compensate on my steering corrections and the boat weaved its way along its course when I was at the helm. After a few turns I wound up leaving the steering to the other guys. Part of it was my lack of skill, but I also wasn't feeling all that hot. Not real seasick, but just a bit queasy, and I wound up huddling under some blanket on the stern. I found I did best when I just lay still and let the others sail. Chip gave a running lesson on sailing and tried to draw me in, but I just wasn't all that interested. I did manage to note however the masterful job he did of trimming the sails so the boat almost steered itself.
As the day wore on, my condition worsened. I couldn't bring myself to eat or drink and kept going to the head to pee. Every trip below deck was an opportunity for the seasickness to increase, and I'd dash back topside for the air as fast as I could. I was wearing wristbands, but they didn't seem to help much. Chip & Seth, on the other hand, were doing just fine, really enjoying themselves.
Other than my reaction to sailing, it was a nice trip. We had sunny skies (though it was cool on the water) and we could see the Provincetown tower almost all day (which made steering easy). We also watched as the towers of Boston and a drilling rig in the Bay (for the sewage outflow tunnel) slid past as we made our steady progress. The winds stayed pretty constant and we stayed on the same tack all the way out to Stillwagon.
At last we made it to Stillwagon, after about 8 hours of sailing. We started to see seaweed at the surface and other boats made their appearances. We made the first of many tacks and headed south. I managed to rouse myself enough to go up forward and guide the Genoa around the forward stays as we swung around. As we turned to our new course we spotted a whale in the distance and Chip laid in a course to intercept. Other boats also saw them and tried to get to them as well, but the whales disappeared as we grew close. We got quite near however and snapped a few pictures. Then other whales appeared and we headed toward them. This went on for quite a while, with Chip barking out orders while Seth steered us toward the great beasts. Some we got near, others stayed out of range.
After a good bit of this we decided it was time to head in to port so we tried to turn the boat toward land. Unfortunately, the wind was blowing directly out from P-town and despite our best efforts we were unable to make much headway. We tacked back and forth several times, but seemed to just be running parallel to the land, never approaching nearer. At last we decided to admit defeat, fire up the engine and motor our way in, as a number of surrounding boats were doing. Alas, when we tried to start the engine it just coughed and sputtered. We tried and tried again...no luck. We could hear the blower going (to clear fumes), but the engine just wouldn't turn over. It had worked fine in the morning...what was up? A check of the battery found it was dead. Were we supposed to have run the engine occasionally all day to keep the batteries charged? That didn't seem to make sense, but the fact was we had no batteries any longer. At that point, all of the electronics on board went dead. We now had no engine, an unfavorable wind, and were steering by compass and line-of sight.
Chip steered us on long tacks across the ocean, trying to move closer to land, but we continued to make little headway. I watched as huge sightseeing boats powered smoothly by and wished we could ask for a tow. It was pretty frustrating being able to see our destination but unable to get there.
Throughout all this I was basically useless. Physically I was somewhat queasy, and mentally I was on shaky ground as well. I had no deep water sailing experience and no experience with a voyage of this length, so I really couldn't gauge our situation. Was this normal or were we in huge trouble? I tried to get clues from Chip and Seth, and they seemed concerned as well but not overly anxious. Though I trusted them to keep us well, I was acutely aware of the small size of my zone of safety, i.e., the boat. I was feeling very vulnerable and the idea of spending two more days in this situation was not terribly appealing. Having the boat on a deep heel much of the time in increasingly rough water didn't help much either.
By this time we'd been on the water for something like 12 hours. The sun was beginning to set and we were running out of light. As it turned out, that was a good thing. Once the sun went down, taking its energy with it, the wind shifted significantly and we were finally able to make our way to land. In short time we found ourselves sailing parallel to Race Point beach, just offshore. Chip called the P-town harbormaster on his cell phone, explained our situation and arranged for some repairs to be made once we made it in to port, but assured him we could make it in under our own power. The harbormaster told us to come right up to the main dock once we arrived.
We rounded the point and made the turn into the harbor, passing a large sunset boat heading out. Chip did a masterful job of getting the boat into the harbor under sail power alone, making several turns to avoid traffic, winding his way through the moored boats to the harbormaster's pier, making a U-turn within the pier area and finally bringing the boat up for a perfect landing at a private yacht club's dock. We tied up and got off, then Chip went up to talk to the harbormaster. I got on my cellphone and called Jane, but got the answering machine. She said later that I sounded horrible. By that point I'd pretty much resolved that I'd had enough and would be heading home the next day.
Chip returned and announced that we'd be getting a tow to our mooring. A compact man with a huge moustache came out, got into a small motor launch and towed us away from the pier. We figured he was just a worker, but found out later that he was the harbormaster. Once we'd tied up to our mooring, he climbed aboard and checked out the batteries. It turns out that the posts were heavily coated with corrosion, explaining our on-water power loss. He cleaned them off, gave us a jump-start and the engine turned right over. We bid him goodbye, opened some beers and tried to decompress from our journey as the battery recharged. We discussed the trip and it turns out that Chip & Seth were both pretty stressed by the challenges we'd faced. They assured me that it wasn't just me...it had been bad. Still, we'd made it in okay and were drinking beer in Provincetown harbor.
The harbormaster returned about an hour later and we rode the launch into town. We'd been looking forward to a wild summer Friday evening in P-town, but were so wiped out that we just aimed for dinner. We wandered down Commercial Street, stopping at a couple of shops before finding a seafood restaurant that seemed okay. I still didn't have much of an appetite, but did manage to eat some. We briefly debated checking out the scene, but finally just headed back to the docks, went out to the boat and crashed.
Unlike the previous night, the winds had picked up and the seas were pretty choppy. The boat rocked all night long and no one got much sleep. Chip mentioned that the forward cabin had been especially bad as the boat was buffeted by the waves. He wound up spending part of the night up on deck just for some relief. We all awoke quite early to find ourselves under stormy skies in rough seas, and we all wanted off the boat. Unfortunately the launch service wouldn't start for two hours, so we decided to motor our way to the dock. About this time I announced that I'd be heading home. On the way to the dock we managed to ground the boat. We tried to rock it off, waking everyone around us with our engine, but were unsuccessful. Finally we called the harbormaster and asked for help, but before he could arrive we managed to free ourselves. We motored back to the dock and went ashore to check in.
I began to reconsider my decision to bail, thinking I could continue if we were just heading back to Marblehead, but Chip came back from the harbormaster and announced he was bailing as well. The weather forecast was not good and the harbormaster had advised against sailing. The next day didn't look much better, so staying over a day wouldn't have helped. In hindsight I wonder if the harbormaster decided it was in our best interests to stay off the water. We'd run into trouble the day before and needed his help, then grounded ourselves this morning...to protect himself from a liability lawsuit he may have just used his judgement to tell us to stay on dry land.
In any case, we all decided to leave the boat in the harbor for the owner to retrieve (after all, he'd given us a boat with a bad battery) and take the bus back. I grabbed most of my gear (left my guitar) and managed to catch an early bus out. Chip & Seth stayed for breakfast and took a later bus. They later told me they spent a good bit of the ride wondering if I'd been permanently scarred by the experience.
Safe at last on the bus, I enjoyed the ride to Hyannis, though I was a bit concerned about my aroma. There was some weirdness when one of the passengers asked the driver to stop and wait while he ran in to a motel for his gear (she wound up leaving him), but otherwise it was a nice ride. In Hyannis I missed my connecting bus because I had to get cash for the fare and the nearest ATM was a 1/2-mile away, but I got the next bus and arrived in Boston's South Station. The place was packed with folks going to the Tall Ships, but I made my way to the subway and took the T to Riverside, where Jane & Andy picked me up and took me to my car in Marblehead. They stayed and toured the town while I drove home, happy to be on land again.
Afterthoughts: Deconstruction of The Stupid Storm Sail Trip
Could we have sailed back on Saturday? Yes! Should we have? Maybe. Did we make the right decision to take the bus instead? Probably. Given the warnings of the harbormaster and our deep-fried mental states, heading out into stormy seas with a motor we didn't trust was not a good idea. As Chip has opined, a working engine would have done much for us. On Friday, we would have motored in to P-town once it became evident that the wind was against us. This would have gotten us into port several hours earlier (3 hours? 4 hours?), giving us time to rest, relax, and get our wits back together. It also would have proven that we could get ourselves out of a problem situation if need be. Without an engine, we were at the mercy of the wind and the seas and though we were never in any real danger, the feeling of helplessness was draining on everyone (especially me). It planted a seed of doubt in our minds and made us all feel that we did not want to be in that situation again. With a dependable engine we'd have been able to sail out on Saturday with some confidence that we'd be able to handle the less-than-perfect weather conditions.
Why didn't we party more? In the past it would be a first-thing-in-the-morning activity, but there was none of that this trip. We enjoyed a bit on Thursday evening, but Friday morning we were all up and going and there was never any interest indicated. Perhaps everyone was more into the adventure of the sail. How would that have changed things? Perhaps I would've felt better and been more into it all. Perhaps I would've fallen asleep? Given the eventual length of the trip and our ultimately burned-out mental states, partying might've presented a problem. But even safe in port in P-town, no one was interested Friday night. Weird, and perhaps an indication of just how traumatic the day's sail had been.
What was up with my vegetative state? Was I nauseous? No, not really, though I felt I had to direct most of my energies toward staying that way. Conveniently, I had two other folks on the boat who were doing a great job of handling matters and even seemed to be enjoying doing it, so I just decided to stay out of the way. If needed, I certainly would've assisted in any way possible but it was apparent that everything was being taken care of. Perhaps if I'd been forced to be more active I would have perked up just due to the increased activity. Or maybe I would've wound up hurling over the stern. Bottom line: I had the opportunity to just curl up and observe, comfortable in the knowledge that my lack of action wasn't causing any problems, so that's what I did. It provided a personal comfort level in an increasingly uncomfortable situation. I knew I was safe on the boat, but I had an acute awareness of the very small size of my safety zone. I didn't worry about sinking or any specific disaster, but the lack of an "out" was mentally bothersome. If something goes bad while hiking, you can always walk out...not so on a boat. I attribute most of this to my near-total lack of experience with sailing. If I'd had a few previous successful trips under my belt, I'd have had more confidence in the equipment, much as I have confidence in my hiking gear and skills, confidence I've gained over some 20 years of experience. On this trip I had no frame of reference for the experience...no inkling of whether all was well or if we were in serious trouble. All I could do was trust my friends and their ability to get us safely to shore.
Despite what the pseudo-psychoanalysis above might indicate, I was not in a state of abject fear throughout the trip. Concerned resignation might be a better term. I figured we'd get there eventually. So what WAS my mind doing? Listening and observing mostly. I found the discussion of boat control by sail adjustment especially interesting. It all made sense, with wind on the mainsail pushing the boat one way and wind on the Genoa sail pushing the other way. Pretty neat.
I've finally seen a GPS receiver doing something useful. The ability of the handheld device we had to show boat speed, course, distance traveled, and direction to our destination was pretty neat. My previous experience with these devices (I have one) was somewhat uninspiring. Altitude, foot speed, and effectively meaningless longitude & latitude indications...they didn't do much for me. On a boat, a GPS is a wonderful thing.
Fantasy land (or, how I wish it had happened): Safely out of Marblehead harbor, we set course for a waypoint in Stillwagon shoal that we thoughtfully calculated and entered into the GPS unit the night before. Sails are trimmed and a nice wind speeds us along. A pipe is produced and we all celebrate the trip. From the stereo comes some invigorating music...Beethoven's 9th, the Carmina Burana, Doobie Brothers, Dixie Dregs... I'm feeling fine and enjoying the ride. Well out at sea I pull out my French horn and let loose a fine blast or two. We get to Stillwagon, see some whales, then head for shore. The wind's bad, so the engine is fired up and we motor in, arriving around 3:30 PM. We get to our mooring and enjoy a few beers before heading into town. We wander the streets, climb the tower, find some cool things in the Army/Navy store, get some food, then find a bar and enjoy the show that is P-town in the summer. Much later we make our way back to boat, where we party a bit and play music late into the night. Despite the stormy seas, we all sleep well but awaken early. A check of the weather radio tells us of the conditions and we decide to head straight back to Marblehead. We get another early start out of the harbor and set a course straight back across the bay. The sails are reefed and trimmed properly and we settle in for a fast and somewhat wild ride back. Arriving just a bit past noon, we go in to the dock. I decide to head home and Xeth & Chip go to Chip's place for the night. The next day, Chip, Xeth and the Schwartz family take the boat back out for a day trip.
More pictures
As luck would have it, Seth hit it big with some of his animation and offered to fund something a bit more ambitious. His suggestion was to rent a sailboat and go for an ocean cruise. He & Chip had enjoyed a good amount of sailing in their youth, and it seemed like a good step up from the kayaks. Chip, a skilled and experienced sailor, was thrilled with the idea. I had very limited, near-shore sailing experience but was willing to go along as ballast. Dave was initially on-board as well, but had to bow out due to prior commitments.
So the planning began. Chip was put in charge of most of the arrangements...boat procurement and route selection. He had a line on a boat he could've borrowed for free, but the Tall Ships were in town the weekend we'd selected and the owner decided he needed the boat himself. Chip checked around and managed to find some other boats to charter. The final selection was an O'Day, maybe 24-foot. Chip had wanted a bigger boat with more amenities, but the cost would've been prohibitive.
That left the question of where to go. The choices were narrowed to two possibilities: a run up to the Isle of Shoals off Maine or a trip to Provincetown. A little Internet research on the Isle of Shoals eliminated them from contention. They were small, mostly private, and difficult to get moorings. So Chip suggested a route that would take us from Marblehead to Provincetown on the first day, down to Scituate the second day, and then back to Marblehead on the third day. The plan won approval from all involved and we were good to go.
It was a three-day trip, so we all took Friday off for our run to P-town. To get an early start we decided to gather at the boat in Marblehead Thursday night and sleep at the dock. I headed directly to Marblehead after work, fighting traffic all the way, and arrived to find Chip there with the boat. She was the Emma Rose and she was beautiful. An older boat with lots of well-cared for woodwork. I looked her over and commented that she seemed larger than 24 feet. Chip smiled. She was actually more like 32 feet long. Chip had discussed it with Seth and they'd decided to go for the bigger boat after all.
I stowed my gear on board and checked out the boat. It had one primary sail with a rolling Genoa sail up front and a spinnaker available if needed. A diesel engine below provided thrust for the harbors and power for the batteries. Steering was by tiller (Chip had wanted a wheel) and there was a good array of navigational aids and electronics (GPS, radio, compass, depth gauge, speed indicator). The stern third of the boat was an open cockpit with benches all around and the front two thirds was the cabin. The main part of the cabin contained the galley, storage lockers, a radio/tape deck, and bunks for three. A small passage containing the head led to the forward cabin, with sleeping space for 2 more people. As captain, Skipper Chipper had claimed the forward cabin for himself (and rightly so), leaving the main cabin for his scurvy crew.
Seth was driving up from NYC and wasn't expected until later, so Chip & I headed to a bar for dinner and then picked up some supplies (vodka, beer, etc.) before heading back to the dock. It was a warm, calm night and very pleasant down at the water. While we waited, the boat owner and his wife arrived for a final checkout. The owner gave us a brief tutorial on the ship's equipment, especially the motor, and Chip demonstrated his sailing skills to the owner's apparent satisfaction. They wished us a good journey and left us to ourselves.
It was starting to get late and we began to get worried about Seth, but he called to say he'd gotten a late start and was still on the road in Connecticut, stuck in traffic. No problem. We pulled out the guitars and played on the boat. I'd brought along the lyrics to a Beach Boys song, The Sloop John B, and resolved to have us all playing guitar and signing it while sailing. Seth finally arrived around 11:00, and we greeted him, introduced him to the Emma Rose, and then played some more guitar until 2AM. A group of fishermen catching squid from the dock kept us company for a time, but eventually they departed and we headed to sleep.
It was a calm night, so we sleep well, but we were up early anyway. Someone went out and fetched coffee and then we were off. We fired up the engine and puttered our way out of the quiet harbor and into the open ocean. A good steady breeze came up, the sail came out, the engine went off and we were sailing. Chip made some quick adjustments and soon had us cruising along at a nice pace (7 knots?). We were on a straight run across Massachusetts Bay, aiming for the fishing/whaling areas of Stillwagon Bank, just off the tip of Cape Cod. From there we expected to turn south, round the tip and head into P-town harbor in time for dinner.
We all took turns at the tiller, and my lack of experience showed. I tended to over-compensate on my steering corrections and the boat weaved its way along its course when I was at the helm. After a few turns I wound up leaving the steering to the other guys. Part of it was my lack of skill, but I also wasn't feeling all that hot. Not real seasick, but just a bit queasy, and I wound up huddling under some blanket on the stern. I found I did best when I just lay still and let the others sail. Chip gave a running lesson on sailing and tried to draw me in, but I just wasn't all that interested. I did manage to note however the masterful job he did of trimming the sails so the boat almost steered itself.
As the day wore on, my condition worsened. I couldn't bring myself to eat or drink and kept going to the head to pee. Every trip below deck was an opportunity for the seasickness to increase, and I'd dash back topside for the air as fast as I could. I was wearing wristbands, but they didn't seem to help much. Chip & Seth, on the other hand, were doing just fine, really enjoying themselves.
Other than my reaction to sailing, it was a nice trip. We had sunny skies (though it was cool on the water) and we could see the Provincetown tower almost all day (which made steering easy). We also watched as the towers of Boston and a drilling rig in the Bay (for the sewage outflow tunnel) slid past as we made our steady progress. The winds stayed pretty constant and we stayed on the same tack all the way out to Stillwagon.
At last we made it to Stillwagon, after about 8 hours of sailing. We started to see seaweed at the surface and other boats made their appearances. We made the first of many tacks and headed south. I managed to rouse myself enough to go up forward and guide the Genoa around the forward stays as we swung around. As we turned to our new course we spotted a whale in the distance and Chip laid in a course to intercept. Other boats also saw them and tried to get to them as well, but the whales disappeared as we grew close. We got quite near however and snapped a few pictures. Then other whales appeared and we headed toward them. This went on for quite a while, with Chip barking out orders while Seth steered us toward the great beasts. Some we got near, others stayed out of range.
After a good bit of this we decided it was time to head in to port so we tried to turn the boat toward land. Unfortunately, the wind was blowing directly out from P-town and despite our best efforts we were unable to make much headway. We tacked back and forth several times, but seemed to just be running parallel to the land, never approaching nearer. At last we decided to admit defeat, fire up the engine and motor our way in, as a number of surrounding boats were doing. Alas, when we tried to start the engine it just coughed and sputtered. We tried and tried again...no luck. We could hear the blower going (to clear fumes), but the engine just wouldn't turn over. It had worked fine in the morning...what was up? A check of the battery found it was dead. Were we supposed to have run the engine occasionally all day to keep the batteries charged? That didn't seem to make sense, but the fact was we had no batteries any longer. At that point, all of the electronics on board went dead. We now had no engine, an unfavorable wind, and were steering by compass and line-of sight.
Chip steered us on long tacks across the ocean, trying to move closer to land, but we continued to make little headway. I watched as huge sightseeing boats powered smoothly by and wished we could ask for a tow. It was pretty frustrating being able to see our destination but unable to get there.
Throughout all this I was basically useless. Physically I was somewhat queasy, and mentally I was on shaky ground as well. I had no deep water sailing experience and no experience with a voyage of this length, so I really couldn't gauge our situation. Was this normal or were we in huge trouble? I tried to get clues from Chip and Seth, and they seemed concerned as well but not overly anxious. Though I trusted them to keep us well, I was acutely aware of the small size of my zone of safety, i.e., the boat. I was feeling very vulnerable and the idea of spending two more days in this situation was not terribly appealing. Having the boat on a deep heel much of the time in increasingly rough water didn't help much either.
By this time we'd been on the water for something like 12 hours. The sun was beginning to set and we were running out of light. As it turned out, that was a good thing. Once the sun went down, taking its energy with it, the wind shifted significantly and we were finally able to make our way to land. In short time we found ourselves sailing parallel to Race Point beach, just offshore. Chip called the P-town harbormaster on his cell phone, explained our situation and arranged for some repairs to be made once we made it in to port, but assured him we could make it in under our own power. The harbormaster told us to come right up to the main dock once we arrived.
We rounded the point and made the turn into the harbor, passing a large sunset boat heading out. Chip did a masterful job of getting the boat into the harbor under sail power alone, making several turns to avoid traffic, winding his way through the moored boats to the harbormaster's pier, making a U-turn within the pier area and finally bringing the boat up for a perfect landing at a private yacht club's dock. We tied up and got off, then Chip went up to talk to the harbormaster. I got on my cellphone and called Jane, but got the answering machine. She said later that I sounded horrible. By that point I'd pretty much resolved that I'd had enough and would be heading home the next day.
Chip returned and announced that we'd be getting a tow to our mooring. A compact man with a huge moustache came out, got into a small motor launch and towed us away from the pier. We figured he was just a worker, but found out later that he was the harbormaster. Once we'd tied up to our mooring, he climbed aboard and checked out the batteries. It turns out that the posts were heavily coated with corrosion, explaining our on-water power loss. He cleaned them off, gave us a jump-start and the engine turned right over. We bid him goodbye, opened some beers and tried to decompress from our journey as the battery recharged. We discussed the trip and it turns out that Chip & Seth were both pretty stressed by the challenges we'd faced. They assured me that it wasn't just me...it had been bad. Still, we'd made it in okay and were drinking beer in Provincetown harbor.
The harbormaster returned about an hour later and we rode the launch into town. We'd been looking forward to a wild summer Friday evening in P-town, but were so wiped out that we just aimed for dinner. We wandered down Commercial Street, stopping at a couple of shops before finding a seafood restaurant that seemed okay. I still didn't have much of an appetite, but did manage to eat some. We briefly debated checking out the scene, but finally just headed back to the docks, went out to the boat and crashed.
Unlike the previous night, the winds had picked up and the seas were pretty choppy. The boat rocked all night long and no one got much sleep. Chip mentioned that the forward cabin had been especially bad as the boat was buffeted by the waves. He wound up spending part of the night up on deck just for some relief. We all awoke quite early to find ourselves under stormy skies in rough seas, and we all wanted off the boat. Unfortunately the launch service wouldn't start for two hours, so we decided to motor our way to the dock. About this time I announced that I'd be heading home. On the way to the dock we managed to ground the boat. We tried to rock it off, waking everyone around us with our engine, but were unsuccessful. Finally we called the harbormaster and asked for help, but before he could arrive we managed to free ourselves. We motored back to the dock and went ashore to check in.
I began to reconsider my decision to bail, thinking I could continue if we were just heading back to Marblehead, but Chip came back from the harbormaster and announced he was bailing as well. The weather forecast was not good and the harbormaster had advised against sailing. The next day didn't look much better, so staying over a day wouldn't have helped. In hindsight I wonder if the harbormaster decided it was in our best interests to stay off the water. We'd run into trouble the day before and needed his help, then grounded ourselves this morning...to protect himself from a liability lawsuit he may have just used his judgement to tell us to stay on dry land.
In any case, we all decided to leave the boat in the harbor for the owner to retrieve (after all, he'd given us a boat with a bad battery) and take the bus back. I grabbed most of my gear (left my guitar) and managed to catch an early bus out. Chip & Seth stayed for breakfast and took a later bus. They later told me they spent a good bit of the ride wondering if I'd been permanently scarred by the experience.
Safe at last on the bus, I enjoyed the ride to Hyannis, though I was a bit concerned about my aroma. There was some weirdness when one of the passengers asked the driver to stop and wait while he ran in to a motel for his gear (she wound up leaving him), but otherwise it was a nice ride. In Hyannis I missed my connecting bus because I had to get cash for the fare and the nearest ATM was a 1/2-mile away, but I got the next bus and arrived in Boston's South Station. The place was packed with folks going to the Tall Ships, but I made my way to the subway and took the T to Riverside, where Jane & Andy picked me up and took me to my car in Marblehead. They stayed and toured the town while I drove home, happy to be on land again.
Afterthoughts: Deconstruction of The Stupid Storm Sail Trip
Could we have sailed back on Saturday? Yes! Should we have? Maybe. Did we make the right decision to take the bus instead? Probably. Given the warnings of the harbormaster and our deep-fried mental states, heading out into stormy seas with a motor we didn't trust was not a good idea. As Chip has opined, a working engine would have done much for us. On Friday, we would have motored in to P-town once it became evident that the wind was against us. This would have gotten us into port several hours earlier (3 hours? 4 hours?), giving us time to rest, relax, and get our wits back together. It also would have proven that we could get ourselves out of a problem situation if need be. Without an engine, we were at the mercy of the wind and the seas and though we were never in any real danger, the feeling of helplessness was draining on everyone (especially me). It planted a seed of doubt in our minds and made us all feel that we did not want to be in that situation again. With a dependable engine we'd have been able to sail out on Saturday with some confidence that we'd be able to handle the less-than-perfect weather conditions.
Why didn't we party more? In the past it would be a first-thing-in-the-morning activity, but there was none of that this trip. We enjoyed a bit on Thursday evening, but Friday morning we were all up and going and there was never any interest indicated. Perhaps everyone was more into the adventure of the sail. How would that have changed things? Perhaps I would've felt better and been more into it all. Perhaps I would've fallen asleep? Given the eventual length of the trip and our ultimately burned-out mental states, partying might've presented a problem. But even safe in port in P-town, no one was interested Friday night. Weird, and perhaps an indication of just how traumatic the day's sail had been.
What was up with my vegetative state? Was I nauseous? No, not really, though I felt I had to direct most of my energies toward staying that way. Conveniently, I had two other folks on the boat who were doing a great job of handling matters and even seemed to be enjoying doing it, so I just decided to stay out of the way. If needed, I certainly would've assisted in any way possible but it was apparent that everything was being taken care of. Perhaps if I'd been forced to be more active I would have perked up just due to the increased activity. Or maybe I would've wound up hurling over the stern. Bottom line: I had the opportunity to just curl up and observe, comfortable in the knowledge that my lack of action wasn't causing any problems, so that's what I did. It provided a personal comfort level in an increasingly uncomfortable situation. I knew I was safe on the boat, but I had an acute awareness of the very small size of my safety zone. I didn't worry about sinking or any specific disaster, but the lack of an "out" was mentally bothersome. If something goes bad while hiking, you can always walk out...not so on a boat. I attribute most of this to my near-total lack of experience with sailing. If I'd had a few previous successful trips under my belt, I'd have had more confidence in the equipment, much as I have confidence in my hiking gear and skills, confidence I've gained over some 20 years of experience. On this trip I had no frame of reference for the experience...no inkling of whether all was well or if we were in serious trouble. All I could do was trust my friends and their ability to get us safely to shore.
Despite what the pseudo-psychoanalysis above might indicate, I was not in a state of abject fear throughout the trip. Concerned resignation might be a better term. I figured we'd get there eventually. So what WAS my mind doing? Listening and observing mostly. I found the discussion of boat control by sail adjustment especially interesting. It all made sense, with wind on the mainsail pushing the boat one way and wind on the Genoa sail pushing the other way. Pretty neat.
I've finally seen a GPS receiver doing something useful. The ability of the handheld device we had to show boat speed, course, distance traveled, and direction to our destination was pretty neat. My previous experience with these devices (I have one) was somewhat uninspiring. Altitude, foot speed, and effectively meaningless longitude & latitude indications...they didn't do much for me. On a boat, a GPS is a wonderful thing.
Fantasy land (or, how I wish it had happened): Safely out of Marblehead harbor, we set course for a waypoint in Stillwagon shoal that we thoughtfully calculated and entered into the GPS unit the night before. Sails are trimmed and a nice wind speeds us along. A pipe is produced and we all celebrate the trip. From the stereo comes some invigorating music...Beethoven's 9th, the Carmina Burana, Doobie Brothers, Dixie Dregs... I'm feeling fine and enjoying the ride. Well out at sea I pull out my French horn and let loose a fine blast or two. We get to Stillwagon, see some whales, then head for shore. The wind's bad, so the engine is fired up and we motor in, arriving around 3:30 PM. We get to our mooring and enjoy a few beers before heading into town. We wander the streets, climb the tower, find some cool things in the Army/Navy store, get some food, then find a bar and enjoy the show that is P-town in the summer. Much later we make our way back to boat, where we party a bit and play music late into the night. Despite the stormy seas, we all sleep well but awaken early. A check of the weather radio tells us of the conditions and we decide to head straight back to Marblehead. We get another early start out of the harbor and set a course straight back across the bay. The sails are reefed and trimmed properly and we settle in for a fast and somewhat wild ride back. Arriving just a bit past noon, we go in to the dock. I decide to head home and Xeth & Chip go to Chip's place for the night. The next day, Chip, Xeth and the Schwartz family take the boat back out for a day trip.
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