I breakfasted in time for an eight o'clock departure on Friday morning. The weather report promised gusty winds; I decided to sail under main and mizzen--and a good thing, since winds were light and gusts never materialized. While the coffee was brewing, I took some last photos of the anchored boats around me.
Sarah Abbot is a trim little schooner. (Not "little" by my standards, but
schooner rigs are usually restricted to much larger--and historic--craft.)
Restive is a real wooden boat that has come a long way.
I've never seen such an out-sized wheel.
Leaving Sippican Harbor.
Rounding Converse Point.
Aucoot Cove is just south of Sippican Harbor. Backed by wetlands, there are few homes around it.
Even smaller--and rocky--Hiller Cove.
With my rig, sailing " wing on wing" is the best way to deal with wind astern.
“Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing - absolutely nothing - half so much worth doing
as simply messing about in boats.” ―
Traditional gaff catboat with its wide beam, short mast, and "barndoor rudder."
Peases Point and Connett Point spread over a stretch of coastline before Mattapoisett Harbor opens on the right.
These homes may be safe for quite awhile, but the commute will be a bear.
I'd like to see some of these houses on the inside.
An osprey guarded the daymark that warned of Angelica Rocks.
Entering Mattapoisett Harbor.
Coming around the point into the harbor, I was joined by a few "houseflies" that buzzed about
my ankles. I mostly ignored them until it became clear I was being bitten. My friends
at iNaturalist later identified them as stable flies. That pointy mouth can inflict a bothersome bite.
Ned Point Light.
I'd wanted to visit Mattapoisett Harbor and perhaps go ashore briefly, but the wind died, leaving me and other motorless sailors in the lurch. I unshipped one oar and rowed awhile, but finally gave up and turned around. Of course, once away from the harbor the wind began to return.
The black-backed gull is the largest of our seagull species, dwarfing the familiar herring gull.
Reflection and Compass Rose are double-enders.
They are meant to ride better in following seas.
Ebb Tide is a schooner. She looks a solid, serious, workmanlike boat.
Abigail is another wooden beauty.
Friends sailing a gaff-rigged beetle cat.
Another sailboat not acting like one.
Leaving Mattapoisett Harbor, the wind is back up.
A wishbone cat is "self tacking": with no jib, tacking is as easy as putting the rudder over.
Lines strung beneath the sail from one side of the wishbone to the other form a "hammock"
the sail is simply dropped into to furl. My boat is also a cat, but has two sails with the sprits
only on one side. I can usually tack without putting my coffee cup down.
Coming into Nasketucket Bay, I was being careful to stay away from the rocks and submerged parts of West Island, and not get tangled up in fish pens that could tear my rudder off. I got so turned around that I got lost in the tiny bay--sure I was headed for the ramp when I was actually among the rocks behind West Island. (Use your compass, Luke!) Eventually I got back on track, and hit the ramp in mid-afternoon, ending a nice sailing adventure.
House on West Island. Hoi palloi need not apply.