Sailing Makes Me Hungry

I’m ashamed to say that our first overnight foray this summer on our sailboat Bolero didn’t take place until the Friday of Labor Day weekend. Every time we thought we had a window of opportunity something happened. No wind and crap weather were high on the list. No wind in the forecast and then having it blow a stink when we’d already made other plans was up there as well. Trying to avoid the weekend so I could have my Saturday morning free for my weekly walk and breakfast with the girls was another, not to mention places like Cuttyhunk and Martha’s Vineyard rarely have moorings available on the weekend unless you get there by 10 AM. And since the wind doesn’t usually pick up until after noon what would be the point of having a sailboat if all you did was motor from place to place?

Don’t get me wrong – we had a good summer, with the exception of my brother’s death of course. Our 2 weeks in Greece was fabulous, we spent some time in Vermont with Steve’s family, and I had the well-documented Girls Lost Weekend. And we had a few dinners on the boat, watched July 4^th fireworks from it and had a nice day sail in Buzzard’s Bay. But compared to years past our sailing time has been minimal, so we’re trying to make up for lost time. I even forwent my Saturday breakfast with the girls this week.

I was at the helm when we left our slip at around 10, and I had a bit of a situation with a piling. Oh well. At least the piling lost.

 

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Steve belowdecks in Bolero

Cuttyhunk Harbor

Standing on our bed with my head out the hatch!

Cuttyhunk Sunset

I was at the helm when we left our slip at around 10, and I had a bit of a situation with a piling. Oh well. At least the piling lost. Steve is now concerned the marina is going to throw us out or relegate us to an end slip. I highly doubt it, as I’ve seen boats coming in do a lot worse. Our friend John, who is in his eighties and has a small, very old tugboat that has been retrofitted into a cruiser, gave us some sage advice. “Radio the shipyard ven you are coming in and tell them you need help vith the lines,” he said in his Norwegian accent. “Tell them you are coming in HOT. They get down here real fast.” This is also the man who backs out of his slip and uses his bow thrusters to turn on a dime. He leans out of the bridge and says, “These things make me look good.”

The marine forecasters said Friday’s winds would be 5-10 knots with gust up to 20 in the morning. Wrong AGAIN. The highest the wind gusts got were 9, and there were periods less than 5. But we did have a good wind direction for our point of sail and when the winds picked up in the afternoon we made a beeline into Cuttyhunk Harbor. We had to circle to wait for a tug towing a barge coming out if the narrow channel, but he was nice enough to say thank you over his P.A.’s loudspeaker. We entered the harbor around one o’clock. As expected the place was packed, it being a holiday weekend and all. As we tried to determine if any of the open moorings were private vs. Town of Gosnold (Cuttyhunk Island’s real name) the harbormaster motored up and showed us a mooring we could take, the last one in the inner harbor. Once we tied up we watched others come in and raft up next to people they made plans to meet, and even anchor in part of the harbor that is reserved for that. The place is gonna be hoppin’ tonight.

Lunch was the first order of the day. One thing we do well on this boat is eat. I cracked a Sam Adams Light for Steve and poured a diet tonic water with lime for me. I had brought tuna salad with lite mayo, chopped garlic and chives and made a sandwich for Steve topping it with a farm stand tomato and romaine lettuce. I ate mine like lettuce wraps with chopped tomato. I’m being good because we have Champagne and steak for later tonight. And maybe chowder if the Cuttyhunk Shellfish boat comes around. I did get my walk in this morning and ate light at breakfast, knowing there was a reward at the end of the day.

Steve has an interesting relationship with our boat grill. It is a small, round hibachi-ish thing that a mini propane tank screws onto. It had probably not been cleaned since we bought the boat, so this year I brought it home, took it apart and scrubbed the bejeezus out of it. It even got a new carrying bag as neither of us wanted to touch the old one. So Steve decided he’d hook it up to the stern for me right after lunch (and a second Sam Adams). I know how he feels about the thing so I always watch carefully. I’m afraid he might drop it into the drink on purpose. It went fine, notwithstanding his calling it a pain in the ass several times. The main thing is it’s still with us.

I’ve been walking daily this week trying to get ready for Europe in October, I’m making every effort to avoid the vasculitis I got in Greece. Standing at the helm for several hours should be telling. I also went back to Weight Watchers last Sunday after a 6-week hiatus. And lo and behold Maggie was the facilitator. So she didn’t leave WW, she just left Wednesday mornings. We gabbed for a bit and she gave me the good news that I’d lost 1.9 pounds since my last weigh-in. I’ll take it!

Total weight loss – 16.6 pounds. That’s the equivalent of two Purdue Oven Stuffer Roasters. See, always a food analogy. I told you sailing makes me hungry!