A Voyage Through Massachusetts, mid-August, 2011. Leg 1: Newport, RI to Cuttyhunk.

Leg 1-  Newport, Rhode Island to Cuttyhunk, Massachusetts.

A Late Departure from Newport Harbor.

I'm definitely out of sync with most of humanity.  This probably manifests itself most blatently in the fact that I don't own a car.  It also manifests itself in the appearance that I move much slower than most.  Things and people often fly by in an apparent blur.  Or, frantic lunacy meets the slow turtle.

Yes, the setting became frantic lunacy meets the slow turtle. 

_____

With near infinitesmal ways to tell the tale, to begin the tale, I may as well start the story of the journey with a dinghy row to the water dock.  The sun had been up for a little while, above the horizon I don't remember.  It probably was.

In the morning before the wind picks up I've found to usualy be my favorite time to row across the harbor to the floating water dock.  Rowing over mirror smooth water is easy.  The water dock lies maybe a half mile from where my sailboat is anchored, my floating home, the mothership. 

Onboard the mothership I carry 4 blue 7 gallon cube shaped water jugs for a total of 28 gallons.  If I remember correctly, one of the jugs was still full of water on that particular morning when I rowed over to the water dock.  That meant I 'needed' to place the three empty jugs in the dinghy (fresh water is a need).

A bit of care must be taken in the placement of the water jugs in the dinghy to avoid scraping my knuckles on them when rowing.  It's the backstroke of the rowing when the oars are out of the water, and my hands on the oar handles swing a few inches into the dinghy and then back (bang! scrape! hopefully not) as I position the oars for another bite into the water.  Thats "bang! scrape! onto the jugs, ouch.  Shorter strokes alleviates the problem but makes for a slower ride, a ride already relatively slower anyway. 

I don't know how long it take to make the roundtrip row over to the water dock, maybe a half hour? 

Last minute food and fuel were also an the agenda.  That means rowing and walking and rowing, rowing and walking and rowing. 

It was nearly 11am when I finally got around to pulling the anchors out of the mud.  For some reason they actually were not too covered in mud thereby not covering the entire boat in black oozing goo as I made about as grand a departure as I possibly can.  I motored out of the harbor and northwest of Fort Adams I raised the sails and then shut off the engine. 

Amazingly the boat still sails, it sailed well as I tacked out of Narragansett Bays East Passage.  Yes, it sailed well, even though a fleet of old 12 meter Americas Cup Yachts blew past me like I wasn't even moving.  Ah, but what would Newport be without 12 meter Americas Cup Yachts?

_____

12 Meter AC Yacht "Heritage" blasting past me and making way out of Narragansett Bays East Passage.
Beavertal Lighthouse lies just to the left of the flag.
Photo by Captain Bill Podzon, copyright 2011.

Looking back into Narragansett Bays East Passage, we have to the right, "Castle Hill Light".
Castle Hill Light marks the westernmost point of Aquidneck Island and Newport.
To the left of the sailboat lies Rose Island Lighthouse with the
Newport Bridges' long eastern approach spans in the background.
Photo by Captain Bill Podzon, copyright 2011.

_____

I kept tacking close hauled, beating into about 10 knots of breeze, heading south, heading south until I got as far as the R-2 buoy south of Brenton Reef.  They I turned left and began making way towards the home state-- Massachusetts. 

_____

Making Way Towards My Home State of Massachusetts.

After I made the left turn at the Brenton Reef R-2 I don't think I could see it at first, Massachusetts.  The closest glimpse was probably on the other side of (east of) Sakonnet Point.  My intended destination for the day, Cuttyhunk, lie about 20 miles east of R-2.  Visibility, clear as it was, didn't offer a glimpse of Cuttyhunk from R-2 due to the curvature of the earth I'd reckon.

Those gosh darned low lying islands, a perpetual menace to mariners because they're below the horizon until you're right on top of them.  Don't even get me started with ultra flat Florida.

_____

Making way eastward along the south coast of Newport
while a fishing vessel heads in the opposite direction.
Photo by Captain Bill Podzon, copyright 2011.

The Vineyard Fast Ferry makes way south of Newport.
The Vineyard Fast Ferry provides service from Quonset Point
to Marthas Vineyard.  The Vineyard Fast Ferry is one way
you can experience part of this trip yourself.
Photo by Captain Bill Podzon, copyright 2011.

Looking down the pipe that is the Sakonnet River or the Sakonnet Passage.
The Sakonnet is the easternmost and least used of the three inlets leading into Narragansett Bay.
The land to the left is the southeast corner of Aquidneck Island.
The land to the right is comprised of
Little Compton in the foreground and
Tiverton in the distance.
Photo by Captain Bill Podzon, copyright 2011.

_____


Cuttyhunk Comes into View.

Barely visible on the horizon to the right is Cuttyhunk.
Photo by Captain Bill Podzon, copyright 2011.

I can't remember exactly how far away Cuttyhunk stood when my eyes first laid upon it.  10 nautical miles? 
I'd never been to Cuttyhunk before and so was reminded of the feel of entering an unknown harbor.  Yeah, I had the charts and the weather was good, but that feeling uf uncertainty I'd nearly forgotton until Cuttyhunk.  Where would I drop the hook?  How good was the anchor holding ground?  I'd been told by a friend that "Cuttyhunk Harbor" was the place to anchor and not "Cuttyhunk Pond".  "You'll see" a friend told me.

Arriving at unknown Cuttyhunk reminded me of my empathy for the ancient mariners.  For example, how much information did the crew of the Mayflower really have?  How much information did Verrazano have?  Compare what they knew and what info I possess-- charts, GPS, a friend telling me about the place. 
Then again, I remember the late great physicist Richard Feynman saying that sometimes knowledge can be detrimental. 


_____

Looking back (west-north-west) at the Sakonnet Light. 
The Sakonnet Light stands south-east of the Sakonnet Passage.
Photo by Captain Bill Podzon, copyright 2011.

The Rhode Island/Massachusetts state line could be over
there somewhere, possibly just to the left of the
big puffy white cloud.
Photo by Captain Bill Podzon, copyright 2011.

Entering Massachusetts..

This geographical area comprised of 6 semi autonomous states often goes by the unofficial title of "New England".  Many people from afar may often clump this "New England" into one convienient blob of a place comprising maybe some subtle differences.  For those of us however who hail from this "New England", those subtle are not subtle.  I also admit that personally the whole idea screams a lack of objectivity silenced by an infants stocking stuffed in the mouth of this jilted observer, an infants stocking known as living in California for eight years, five of those years living on a boat in Oakland and sailing San Francisco Bay.  Yes for a while I saw Narragansett Bay with "San Francisco Bay Eyes".  However that perspective through the ravages of time, experience and whatever has been nearly crushed into a pile of rubble as the roots that existed previous to the whole California dream thing came alive like a long dormant volcano exploding or like a periodic infestation of locusts or gypsy moths but probably with a longer life span.  The old subjectivity of being a native of Massachusetts swallows everything.  I thought the beast lie long dead.  Wrong!  Twenty years ago was yesterday. 

The subtle veil lie somewhere east of the Sakonnet Light, the Sakonnet "Rhode Island" Light.  A subtle veil draped over a brides face-- thats not the best metaphor but then again I thought I knew the woman beforehand-- Massachusetts.  What do I really know though?  Do I know this woman Massachusetts?  Till death do us part?  These New England states are so small.  I opened the Pandoras Box a long time ago.  It's difficult to find a woman who hasn't bit the apple.  The weather was good though and wind kept blowing moving the boat along oblivious to all this and Cuttyhunk, Massachusetts whoever she was or is came into clearer view.

Welcome to Massachusetts!
The Buzzards Bay Tower, lying to starboard, marks
the southwest point of the Buzzards Bay shipping channel.
Photo by Captain Bill Podzon, copyright 2011.

Cuttyhunk from about 5 nautical miles.
At this distance the island appears as 2 islands,
with a high points north and south.
Photo by Captain Bill Podzon, copyright 2011.

Closer to Cuttyhunk details become more pronounced.
Photo by Captain Bill Podzon, copyright 2011.

Looking aft towards Rhode Island.
The Newport Bridge roadway appears to point towards
Cuttyhunk as the bridges 2 towers nearly appear as 1 tower.
Photo by Captain Bill Podzon, copyright 2011.

Tugboats making way southwestward through the
Buzzards Bay shipping channel with Cuttyhunk Island
in the background. 
Photo by Captain Bill Podzon, copyright 2011.

Approaching Buzzards Bay G-1, marking the left side of the
Buzzards Bay shipping channel when returning from sea.
Photo by Captain Bill Podzon, copyright 2011.

Buzzards Bay G-1 buoy. 
In this photo I'm about to cross
the shipping channel.
Photo by Captain Bill Podzon, copyright 2011.

Preparing to enter Cuttyhunk Harbor.
Just to the right of the mast lies Penikese Island.
To the far right is Cuttyhunk Island.
The marked channel leading into Cuttyhunk Harbor is somewhat
between the two islands.
Photo by Captain Bill Podzon, copyright 2011.

Looking north, a fellow sailboat heads westward possibly for Newport, RI.
My guess is that Westport, Massachusetts is the land in the distance.
Photo by Captain Bill Podzon, copyright 2011.

View looking south-east-south across Buzzards Bay and Vineyard South,
The land to the left is the southwest tip of Cuttyhunk.
In the center (across Vineyard Sound) are the Gay Head Cliffs of Martha's Vineyard.
Photo by Captain Bill Podzon, copyright 2011.

Off to port, Penekesse Island becomes more vivid as we continue
approaching Cuttyhunk Harbor.  To the far right lies Nashawena Island,
which marks the eastern part of Cuttyhunk Harbor.
Photo by Captain Bill Podzon, copyright 2011.

Unfamiliar Harbor.

Growing up in Massachusetts at some point probably in the 1970's I'd become aware of Cuttyhunk Island.  My native Massachusetts lands-eye-view idea of Cuttyhunk equated to fried clams and, I don't know.

As you can see I was heading towards Cuttyhunk not by ferry or Cessna or 747 or fried clam but by a sailboat I was navigating. 

Making way into Cuttyhunk Harbor I'd become reacquainted with a feeling I'd not experienced in over a year, the feeling of arriving in an unfamiliar harbor.  The popular cliche', "familiarity breeds contempt" could possibly have a distant cousin once removed known as "unfamiliarity breeds humility" or "unfamiliarity breeds a potential sucker".

So I'm entering unfamiliar Cuttyhunk Harbor by way of the unfamiliar Cuttyhunk Harbor entrance channel (one of three).  According to the chart, the entrance channel is well marked.  Alright, so then once in my question is where to anchor.  I'm hoping other "transients" might be anchored in the "normal place to anchor", thereby hopefully making me "not the only idiot" but part of a "group of idiots".  For some reason I get the impression that Cuttyhunk Pond, that sort of square shaped basin in the midst of the island is a sardine can of boats on moorings, probably packed full of boats whose owners have owned their moorings since the Pleistocene age and where there's a 3 generations long waiting list to acquire one of these coveted spaces.  I don't know why I thought that.

I managed without too much difficulty to sail into Cuttyhunk Harbor located between Cuttyhunk, Nashawena and Penekesee Islands and saw many boats.  Most of these boats had mooring balls off their bows.  I'd heard earlier on the VHF radio vessels contacting the Cuttyhunk Harbormaster arranging the rent a mooring.  The harbormaster spoke to the mooring renter with a voice akin to someone consoling a friend who's close relative had just died, and ended the conversation always with "you can either stop by the harbormasters office to settle up or we can come out to you".

I don't belong to the mooring crowd.  I belong to the frugal drop my own anchor pay no money crowd.  Luckily, amidst all the boats on their moorings were two boats tugging upon their own anchor lines, a couple of very nice way out of my league 40+ footers, one named "Freyja" which I reckon is a variation of my own vessel, "Freya".  I think the letter "j" is one of the newest letters in the English alphabet.  I don't know how long "j's" have been in the Swedish, Norwegian, Danish, Finnish or Icelandic alphabets, but I don't believe any of the ancient Runic futharks had any symbols for what we now know of as the letter "j", but then again "i" and "j" were sort of the same.  Didn't "i" give birth to "j"?

All this cockamamie ancient Norse comparison crap is running through my mind and then thankfully it dawns on me that if it's come to pondering ancient Scandinavian letter origins I've probably found the place to anchor.  Or, if this is the wrong place to anchor I'm not alone and have often found that working class harbormaster types tend to be more intimidated by wealthier boaters than by not so wealthy boaters like myself, thereby reducing the chances of human caused harassment.  Weather or natural caused harassment seemed to be minimal according to the weather forecast so I dropped the hook. 

The crews of the two vessels already anchored, "Freyja" and the other boat whose name I've forgotten both waved, seemingly welcoming me to the neighborhood.  It appeared I was set for the night.

Cuttyhunk at about a mile and a half distant to the southeast.
About a third of the way from the left is the lower land of Cuttyhunk Pond.
Photo by Captain Bill Podzon, copyright 2011.

A zoomed in view of the hill on the north part of Cuttyhunk to the left
and sailboat masts to the right sticking out of Cuttyhunk Pond with Nashawena Island
in the distance.
Photo by Captain Bill Podzon, copyright 2011.

Moored boats in Cuttyhunk Harbor come into view. 
Nashawena Island lies to the left.  Cuttyhunk Island lies to the right.
In between the two islands is the Canapitsit Channel with
Marthas Vineyard in the distance.
Photo by Captain Bill Podzon, copyright 2011.

A zoomed in view looking south at Cuttyhunk town.
Photo by Captain Bill Podzon, copyright 2011.

Looking north at Penikese Island from nearly the
same point as the previous photo.
Photo by Captain Bill Podzon, copyright 2011.

Nashawena Island on the left, Cuttyhunk on the right,
and Martha's Vineyard's Gay Head cliffs in the distance.
Photo by Captain Bill Podzon. copyright 2011.

Nashawena Island to the left and
Martha's Vineyard's Gay Head cliffs
as viewed from Cuttyhunk Harbor.
Photo by Captain Bill Podzon, copyright 2011.

In the Cuttyhunk Harbor anchorage with the hook in the water
looking over to the sailing vessel Freyja and a near full moon rising.
Photo by Captain Bill Podzon, copyright 2011.

Fair Winds
Captain Bill