A springtime sail dishes up variety
Issue 72 : May/Jun 2010
It was my fault, really. I had unwittingly set the ball in motion by giving my husband, Dave, a copy of John Kretchmer’s Used Boat Notebook as a birthday present, thinking he’d have fun tormenting himself during the winter. Sure enough, he disappeared each evening into the realm of Yachtworld.com and upon hearing, “Come see this . . . ” I wound up by his side perusing the listings with him.
“What if. . . ” soon became “Let’s. . . ” We were happy with the boat we owned — a wonderfully quirky 31-foot Herreshoff cat ketch named Puffin. Had we not known someone who repeatedly said, “Let me know when you want to move up, because I love your boat,” I don’t think we would have progressed quite as quickly as we did, if at all.
Dave had his wish list: fiberglass, less than 30 years old, and speed. I had my wish list: semi-classic lines (exterior and interior), a good galley, and a head that didn’t make me feel like a tinned sardine.
Thirty-two feet became 34, then 36, and topped out at 40. We became weekend road sailors. A trip to Rochester, New York, at the end of January (no standing headroom) was followed by a two-state day trip to Rhode Island (extensive water damage to the cabin sole and no opening ports) and Connecticut (met all of Dave’s criteria and none of mine). A quick dash over to Ipswich (beautiful classic boat but some major structural issues) on a Wednesday evening was followed by a trip to Maine (a very wet roof on the cabin) the next day. Mixed in were email messages and phone calls to brokers from Maine to Annapolis and a vacation to the Abacos with friends. We went as far as to enlist our friends (also sailors) to check out a couple of the Annapolis listings for us if we couldn’t fi nd something in the greater New England area.
Happy compromise
We headed to Greenport, New York, to look at an Islander 36. On paper, the Islander seemed about as close to a happy compromise as we’d been: IOR design, fiberglass, less than 30 years old, semi-classic lines, nice galley with refrigeration, and a roomy head! We held our breath as we took our first steps on her deck, as we’d learned that pictures posted with boat listings were by no means accurate. Three weeks and an acceptable survey later, we passed over the check and were the proud new owners of a 1983 Islander 36 we renamed Red Tail.
So there we were: the middle of April, after a very long snowy New England winter, with a bad case of sailingitis. We had a boat in Long Island that we needed to move up to our mooring in Padanaram. Trucking the boat wasn’t an option; sailing it was. We set our sights on the last weekend of April as boat delivery time and started praying to Mother Nature to grant us good weather. We both heard my mother’s voice in our ears, whispering, “Aren’t you pushing the season a bit?”
Early that week, however, it looked as if our prayers would be answered. The weather guessers were predicting unusually high summer-like temperatures for the weekend. Our spirits lifted at the gift of sailing a new boat from Long Island to Massachusetts in 80-degree weather and the prevailing sou’westerly to take us home. Yes, the water temperature was just about 50 degrees, but the air temperature would be warm. Dave packed his shorts and laughed when I grabbed hats, gloves, and winter jackets.
A few obstacles
We spent Friday in Greenport getting the boat ready for her journey. Small obstacles popped up: a badly rusted propane tank that the local station refused to fill resulted in the purchase of a single-burner butane stove; a rather “fragrant” holding tank; and a time-consuming learning experience while bending on the sails and rigging the Dutchman system. But there was rum on board and the boatyard was walking distance from an Italian restaurant. After a very full day of work and an excellent dinner, we unfolded the double settee in the main cabin (did I mention the fragrant holding tank was under the V-berth?) and called it a day.
Saturday morning started off well. The 42-hp VW Pathfinder fired up, we backed out of the slip at 6:15 and were on our way. We headed out of Greenport and right into pea-soup fog. There was no mention by NOAA of the thick coastal fog that encased us, just the expected excessive heat inland. We agreed that NOAA figured no one would be crazy enough to be boating in April, so why report it? This was going to be interesting, to say the least.
Foghorn ready by the helm, we motor-sailed our way through Long Island Sound. There was not a ripple on the water’s surface. Not a swell of any kind. Two hundred yards of visibility diminished to 100 feet or less. The only signs of life were loons startled by our appearance. The air temperature sank into the 50s. NOAA kept insisting it was in the mid- to upper-80s. The hats, gloves, and winter jackets made their appearance, along with an “I told you so” look only a wife can give her husband. Three layers of clothes, hot beverages, fresh cookies, and a flat-calm, empty, Long Island Sound. It could have been a lot worse.
A host of flies
Then the flies arrived. By the dozens, the small black houseflies one usually sees at the end of sailing season, hitched a ride with us. Our one dishtowel became the weapon of choice. We had a fighting chance, as the cold caused the flies to move in slow motion. Within a couple of hours, the cockpit looked as if a throng of four-year-olds had ripped open boxes of raisins, scattered them on the floor, and stomped on them. Ironically, I had made raisin cookies for the trip. These we renamed. (See “Slo’ fly cookies,” page 63.)
Slo’ Fly cookies
What could be better on a boat than a raisin-spice cookie laced with rum? This recipe is easily assembled and, as the cookies barely spread while cooking, you can fit a lot of them on a sheet.
Ingredients
4 T dark-to-black rum (Gosling’s Old works extremely well or a blend of Mt. Gay and Goslings, which is pretty good in a rum-and-tonic too!)
1⁄2 cup butter at room temperature
1 cup brown sugar
2 large eggs
2 cups flour
1 t baking powder
1⁄2 t salt
1 1⁄2 t cinnamon
1⁄4 t cloves
1⁄4 t nutmeg
2 cups seedless raisinsMethod
- Coarsely chop the raisins and place in a bowl. Stir in 2 T (or more, if desired) of rum and set aside. If available, microwave on high for 20-25 seconds or heat slightly in a sauté pan over medium heat. Warming the raisins allows them to absorb the rum a little better.
- Cream together the butter, sugar, and remaining 2 T of rum.
- Add eggs and mix to combine.
- In a separate bowl, combine the fl our, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg, and whisk to combine. Add to the butter mixture and combine.
- Mix in the raisins and any rum juice.
- Drop by teaspoons onto a greased or parchment-lined baking sheet.
- Bake at 350°F for 10 minutes.
Makes 12-24 cookies, depending on how big you want your cookies.
The fog lifted slightly by late morning and the sun tried to burn its way through, not enough to de-layer but enough to break out sunglasses. The wind filled in as we neared Block Island and we shut off the engine. Red Tail soared like the hawk after which she was named and we hit 7.5 knots on a beam reach. The wind stayed with us for a couple of hours, dropping out just as we passed Narragansett Bay, and the fog socked in once more. With one freighter headed outbound from Newport, we fired up the VW, placed Securité calls to alert the big guy that we were out there, and pushed our way across the shipping lane.
As we approached the Buzzards Bay Tower and Gooseberry Neck, the prevailing southwesterly wind filled in, the infamous Buzzards Bay chop kicked up, and the fog lifted. We reveled in the sight of land for the first time since departing Long Island. We sailed by our familiar haunts of Cuttyhunk, Mishaum and Salters points, rounded Dumpling Rocks, and headed into Padanaram. We slid unceremoniously into a slip just as the sun
dipped below the horizon in a gorgeous sunset. It had taken us a smidge over 12 hours (and several hundred dead flies) to make the trip. But Red Tail was in her new home.
In the weeks that followed the delivery, we replaced the cracked holding tank and sanitation hoses, installed a new sink fixture in the head, purchased a new propane tank, and gave Red Tail a thorough cleaning from bow to stern. She is tugging on her mooring lines in anticipation of warm summer days with the usual 10 to15 knots of wind from the southwest, as are we.
Parsons Clark and her husband, Dave, sail their 1982 Islander 36, Red Tail, out of Padanaram, Massachusetts, cruising favorite haunts in and around Buzzards Bay. They are upgrading Red Tail before cruising her to Maine. When not on the water, Parsons can be found in the garden or in the kitchen cooking up “good boat food.”
Thank you to Sailrite Enterprises, Inc., for providing free access to back issues of Good Old Boat through intellectual property rights. Sailrite.com
