Aug 2 - Stonington

The weather voice says, "fog was reported."

We look outside, it's foggy.

The weather voice is the automated weather reader now used by the National Weather Service to broadcast weather information and marine forecasts over the VHF radio. It is a text-to-speach computer program which replaced human tape loop recordings a few years ago to save cost. There were many complaints about this change initially, as the voice was a bit jarring and difficult to understand. When severe weather threatens, they substitute a human voice for part of the broadcast.

Actually, the computer voice is a bit easier to understand than some of the people who read the weather. I don't know if it is just having gotten used to it, or whether they have improved the voice over the past years -- probably a bit of each. In any case, the voice has now become a familiar part of being on vacation. There is an odd inflection to the voice, often a touch of sadness, especially when reporting the news, "cloudy." The weather is more up-to-date, and the weather voice knows what time it is, so broadcasts are, in fact, improving. It also seems harder to get mad at the weather voice who, after all, can't just look outside to see what the weather is. The voice says, "a little bit of sunshine possible." This, indeed, is good news.

Of course, it rained last night. Marion had rigged the rain fly, a piece of canvas over the hatch to allow it to remain open in the rain. I didn't think it would rain; what could I have been thinking?

Although the weather doesn't sound bad for today, we've decided to stick around and go into Mystic (a short cab ride away) to visit the Seaport Museum and shop in town for some batteries to feed the camera and GPS.

Before heading into town, we're on our way to pick up a mooring which has become available. Skipper's Dock was a good find, but the rolling from being so close to the mouth of the breakwater, and the lights from the dock are both something we'd rather skip. Of course, there is no guarantee on the rolling; Stonington is well known for this whether dockside, moored or anchored.

Summer is back! As we head into Mystic, the sky continues to brighten and by the time we arrive, it is warm, with hazy sunshine. We begin downtown, at the far end of town -- right near Mystic Pizza. We can't resist, and after checking a couple of nearby stores, we stop for lunch. A couple of years ago they upgraded this now famous place from an authentic hole-in-the-wall pizza parlor to a glitzy lunch place. The pizza is still both different, and good.

As we walk up the street, we see that a number of shops have gone, to be replaced by the kind of tourist shops which are taking over the shore. There was a large fire here this winter (Marion told me about it, but I don't recall it). It turns out that one of our favorite print galleries was one of those burned out. They reopened down the street, and Marion celebrated by buying not one, but two framed trout prints. I have no idea why she is so drawn to trout.

We purchase enough batteries to keep the camera happy, and proceed on to the Seaport. By now, it is clearly a typical August day in Mystic -- humid, warm and still. We'll certainly take it. Walking around the Seaport is wonderful, as ever. The grass is greener than usual, of course, and they have several new exhibits. We managed to see Voyages, which is something of a mixed bag of exhibits about America and the sea, past and present. The exhibit is, however, one of the better new ones we've seen. The hour we spent there is nowhere enough to do it justice.

Before leaving, we go through the Museum shop, leaving little behind.

Back at the boatyard, we discuss dinner and Marion excuses herself to go to the restroom. While waiting, a commotion develops. Someone, it seems, has become locked into the ladies room! As it turns out, it wasn't Marion. She had fought with the lock earlier and won, but passed over this door this time because it was already occupied. We postpone dinner to watch the show. Everyone has a try at the lock while the woman inside continues to be reassured by her husband and everyone else. This is the only door to the room, in a cinderblock building, with a steel door and frame.

After half the county is called, the fire department arrives; also the police. All attempts to work the lock or remove the door from its hinges fail. The firemen have large axes and crowbars ready to go to work. In the end, a boatyard worker with a portable saber saw cuts through the bolt in the crack in the frame, releasing the much relieved woman to the cheers of what are by now a couple of dozen onlookers. All she kept repeating was, "I hope we're getting a free mooring tonight." We slip into the restaurant before finding out, and have a pleasant dinner before returning to the boat for the night.

The night is just cool enough, though a bit humid. That white dot in the picture is this thing they call the sun. We'd almost forgotten what it looked like. Perhaps it will make a repeat appearance tomorrow.