Marion
says, "the dodger is a dream come true." I've never been that much
of a dodger fan, but sometimes it's pretty useful. A dodger, for those of you
who don't know, is a canvas shelter that sits just forward of the cockpit, shielding
those within from spray. With wind and tide in front of us, we're taking some
spray over the bow, so the dodger is asked to make an appearance. It provides
good shelter, but restricts the view somewhat.
We awoke this morning to see a clear sky, and hear a much better weather forecast than the night before. The low pressure area which is passing through is just to our south, and we have the benefit of a weak high which is helping to steer it away, for the moment at least. That means we will have crisp temperatures (near record lows for the high), brisk winds (10-15 kn) and clear skies. It also means we'll head out towards Newport.
As we leave the harbor, looking south the sky is overcast and dull, but to the north, it is clear blue and sunny.
Past Watch
Hill, RI and, as Bob Dylan said, "you don't need a weatherman to see which
way the wind blows." The fact is, it's not blowing to Newport. We've got
a stiff tide against us, and the wind is almost on the nose. Block Island, however,
looks like a good sail and, although it wasn't on the original schedule, we've
got the time, so, Block Island it is.
The wind is about 18 knots, with those familiar Block Island Sound swells coming in at 2-4 feet. Not bad though, its clear, cool, and more like a late summer day than a mid summer day.
OK, the
adventure had to start sooner or later. Just as we turning into the entrance
channel, I mean just as we are rounding the first marker, having brought
the jib in, KABAM, the engine shudders and stops. Restart? Not a chance. We've
hit our first lobster pot for the year.
The main's still up, and its a close reach down the channel, with only the tide making it tricky (oh yes, and the traffic). A little more jib helps, and we're fine to get into the harbor. Of course, the likelihood of a town mooring being open is small, and anchoring in a tight mooring field under sail, especially with the quirky bottom here doesn't seem like fun. Fun?
The good news is that there are several emergency moorings off the coast guard dock. After a sail down the channel to see that there are, indeed, no overnight moorings, we pick up one of the yellow balls just inside the harbor, and I set out to go over the side with diving mask on and steak knife in hand. Sitting in the propeller aperture is a smashed, but relatively whole float from a lobster trap and there are at least a dozen wraps of line around the prop, so tight that it won't budge. The wrap is, in fact, so tight that the knife does little, and it takes a hacksaw to release the prop, after close to an hour of underwater discussion.
The one problem
about being in the water, hanging onto a boat in rough water; it seems to be
the only thing that makes me seasick. Anyway, all's well that ends well. We
managed to get the prop clear, check the mooring field (no luck), and find a
nice place to anchor, just in time for the local baker to come by in his boat.
We've got desert for dinner, and fresh turnovers for breakfast. How bad could
things be?
It's clear, breezy, and a bit cool, but we had a great sail today; oh yes, and a little adventure.