On the Boat Again! (But Nothing Goes As Planned as We Ride Out a Nor'easter in Beantown)
On a rainy, gray, Sunday afternoon the 13th of September, the Admiral drove me to Belfast. We grocery shopped together and then, due to her painful, newly-replaced hip, she unceremoniously dropped me with a week's worth of grub and other supplies on a rainy, muddy lot 200 yards from the boat. Ah, but I would be on the boat and heading out!
It took me a couple hours to store away supplies and then I moved on to navigation planning, engine room checks, and the other things you do in advance of a planned, month long cruise.
Since arriving in Belfast in mid-May, I had looked forward to a fall trip to Cape Cod, Woods Hole, the Vineyard, Nantucket and other New England ports of call--many places where I have never been. Alas, at this writing on September 25, due now to what will be at least 9 or 10 days in a row of very rough weather coupled with some personal plans punctuating the first half of October, it appears much of that is not to be. But, I get ahead of myself.
The next day, Monday, dawned bright, clear and calm and I quickly readied myself for my solo run to Portland and cast off about 07:30. The calm would not last. A couple of hours in I confronted 20-25 knots of wind with 3-4 foot seas just forward of the starboard beam. I took a hosing with constant spray that often flew over the coach top. Katahdin would be a salt-encrusted mess when we reached Portland--assuming, of course, that my lobster pot slalom in spray reduced visibility was successful. But oh what fun--and gorgeous. Isleboro, Owl's Head, Port Clyde, Damariscove, Seguin, Halfway Rock and other long familiar landmarks flashed by as, spray-drenched, we carried on.
Other than the salt crust, I arrived in Portland no worse for the wear. First task, get a picture of the Roux Institute; then head to DiMillo's and a slip for the night. But, no rest for the wicked, once docked, it took me several hours to get the bulk of the salt off good old Katahdin--from the tip of the mast down to deck level including second and third scrubs of all the windows.
Tuesday proved to be much quieter as I traveled solo from Portland to Fan Pier in the Boston Seaport on a crisp, cloudless, 45 degree day. Katahdin only took two sprays above deck level and they didn't reach the coach roof. My cleaning that afternoon would be limited to the bow, the windshields, and the starboard side coach house and decks. However, Fan Pier sports an Oyster Bar at the head of its dock ramp and I first needed a lobster roll and beer to build strength for the task.
Wednesday, I did all the things a smart husband does when his wife is coming to the boat. I neatened up, cleaned, organized and got everything shipshape for her mid afternoon arrival. My new friend kept a careful eye to ensure everything was just so.
The Admiral arrived by car Wednesday afternoon and while she unpacked, I moved her vehicle to a garage a number of blocks away where she had found a (relatively) inexpensive place to park for a month. A bit later, son, Sam, arrived by water taxi (he had a trade show in Boston) and, a day late, he and I feted his mother for her birthday at a restaurant called Moo. Guess what we had for dinner?
The next morning, the Admiral and I enjoyed sunrise over Logan off the stern of Katahdin and leisurely readied ourselves for the short hop down to Plymouth. The Plymouth.
We took advantage of our new Safe Harbor membership (Katahdin's new summer berth and winter storage site are at Safe Harbor Front Street in Belfast) and arrived at Safe Harbor Plymouth where we enjoyed member pricing for diesel (still outrageous--thank you, Don) along with one free night's stay (out of three). The team there was great.
Plymouth turned out to be delightful. After lunch on board, we headed first to Plymouth Rock (aka, the Pebble) and then to the Mayflower.
Coming from the land of monstrous glacial erratics and granite outcrops, we were not impressed by Plymouth Rock and the fact that its symbolism has lasted more than 400 years some seems surprising.
On the other hand, Mayflower 2, ungainly as she appears, definitely struck a chord.
It's remarkable that with 30 to 50 officers and seamen, the small, roughly 100 foot vessel, transported 102 Pilgrims and "Strangers" from Plymouth, England, to what is now the town of Plymouth, Massachusetts. Talk about being squeezed in. Actually bound for the Hudson River area of New York, she came ashore at Cape Cod. However, sandy soils poor for farming, a lack of fresh water, and a nasty interaction with the local Nauset natives caused them to look further. Shoals and rough seas made continuing on to New York dangerous if not impossible but, exploring with their shallop, they had discovered an abandoned Pawtucket village at what is now Plymouth. The village, abandoned due to a European disease that had killed most natives the year before, offered a well-protected harbor, cleared fields, good soil, a sparkling freshwater stream, and a hill that made fortifying the new village more readily straightforward. An easy decision, they navigated the large ship through the channel into Plymouth and made anchor.
The Pilgrims, "Strangers" and crew would live on the Mayflower for a few months while they built housing to protect them ashore. Even with the advantage of the ship, however, only about 50-53 of the 102 Pilgrims and Strangers along with about half of the crew would survive the winter. As winter turned to spring, the Mayflower departed on April 5 and sailed downwind back to England where it would transport wine, bay salt and other goods for another year or so. Sadly, her Captain, Christopher Jones, died in 1622 and, without her Captain and primary Master, the neglected ship fell into further disrepair and the court declared her in ruinis in May of 1624. She was scrapped with the limited proceeds distribute among Jones' wife and the other owners.
Of course, the remaining 50 or so Pilgrims were left to continue building housing, hunt, forage, fish, plant crops and undertake the other activities of survival. The next day (September 18), we learned more about that and the Wampanoag whose lands they were assuming.
But first, a quick side note on Plymouth Harbor. A winding narrow channel wends its way from Cape Cod Bay into the harbor at Plymouth. Once inside, there is a huge mooring field with as many boats moored as we've seen in one place in a long time. Despite the volume, traffic was mostly considerate and, tied to the face dock, we spent two quiet nights tho' the third we struggled a bit with noisy 1 foot waves slapping the side of our hull. In any event, the harbor offered spectacular sunrises each morning we were there. The pic below is one of dozens that I captured.
We spent our first, full day, in Plymouth visiting Plimouth Patauxet Plantation and museum. We learned a bit about the Wampanoag and enjoyed sitting in one of their sleeping houses and hearing about how they lived. The large sleeping house held an extended family of 50 people or so. Young women and children slept in the middle, couples around them, and young men at the ends by the doors. They were essentially the family's night time body guards protecting from animal or human intruders.
The Wampanoag built the houses with an inner and outer frame between which were sandwiched the largest slices of bark they could produce. The inner frame supported the bark which was secured with sinewy string. The outer frame not only helped hold the bark on but enabled folks to climb the structure to relocate or replace bark that had "slipped" for one reason or other. Tapestries woven of cattails were hung from above standing height to provide insulation and bear, deer, and other hydes provided bedding. Three stone fires along the length of the building provided added warmth though it must have been terribly smoky at times.
We also enjoyed watching two Wampanoag using fire to hollow out a tree being made into a long canoe. Sometimes as long as 50 feet, these vessels provided transportation for hunting, fishing and trading parties. Shorter canoes were built for family travel and other activities.
At the plantation, we also enjoyed touring a replica Pilgrim village aligned along a street running up from the water just as the original was about a mile away. Perhaps slightly more sophisticated (from a European point of view) than the Wampanoag structures, these homes were nonetheless rudimentary. Typically one room with dirt floors, they offered a fireplace, a couple of chairs, a table, and a bed that was undoubtedly shared by mom, dad, and the younger children. Most of the homes had a small garden out back and what may have been community corrals housed goats and sheep. Bibles were ubiquitous.
As we were visiting Plymouth, it became very clear that wind and waves were likely to deteriorate and then prevail for a significant amount of time. Looking ahead, it appeared that the 20th would be about the only day that would be acceptable to the admiral for travel. Regrettably, I had to recommend that we abandon our plans for the Cape and head back to Boston to ride out what would be at least 8-10 days of rough seas punctuated by a 2-3 day nor'easter.
That was the bad news. The good news was that it gave us an extra day in Plymouth with the opportunity to visit the old burial ground and the Plymouth Grist Mill. Here's a fun little fact for me to know and tell: I am descended from not one but two Mayflower families: William Bradford and John and Priscilla Alden. Bradford, the Governor of the Plymouth Colony, lies in the Old Burial Ground overlooking the site of the original Plymouth village. We stopped and paid our respects. John Alden, on the other had, lies in the Miles Standish Cemetery in Duxbury along with fellow Pilgrims Priscilla Alden (his wife), Myles Standish and George Soule. Along with several others, they received land grants and established farms and home roughly ten miles north of the original settlement.
The Plimouth Grist Mill at Jenney Pond was a fun surprise. We arrived an hour or so before they would be grinding corn and decided to wait for the demonstration. Though in a new building, the mill sits at the same spot as the original Plimouth mill.
Powered by a waterwheel, the mill grinds corn between two quartz stones. The bottom one lies in the foreground and the top one is hanging in the background of the photo below.
The top stone is swung horizontal, lowered onto blocks, and then picked up and swung into place on the lower stone. With each stone weighing 2500 pounds, you want to keep track of your toes and fingers!
Once the top turning stone is lowered onto the turning bar, the sluice way is opened and the stone begins to turn. Grinding takes place at between 60 and 100 revolutions per minute. In the picture below you can see the hopper into which the operators dump corn and the hoop at the bottom which directs the ground meal through the slot just left of center into a collection vat below the floor. The slots in the two stones direct the meal from the center of the stones out to the hoop. It turns out that the products of milling are cornmeal, grits, and husks. How much of each that you get depends on very fine adjustments of how close the top stone sits on the bottom one.
We concluded our visit by purchasing a bag of freshly ground cornmeal. Being northerners, we skipped the grits!
The next day (the 20th) we traveled back to Fan Pier in Boston where we are holed up for at least three and probably four weeks. In Boston, we've done some fun things--visited the aquarium, toured the Isabella Stuart Gardner Museum (boy did she have eclectic taste), gone to a Red Sox-Cubs game (they won both games of a double header), and enjoyed some meals out both with friends and by ourselves.
As I write (Saturday, September 26), we are on Katahdin riding out a nor'easter at Fan Pier. Current sustained winds at Logan Airport two miles directly across the harbor from us are 25 knots with gusts to 45. It's gray, rainy and nasty and I'm damp from tightening lines but the worst has yet to come. Tonight, we're expecting sustained winds of 30 knots with gusts to 55 with heavy, wind-driven rain. I've gotta stop writing so I can worry more!
Thanks for keeping us in the loop, Chuck. Good luck in the wind tonight!
As always, a wonderful travelogue with great nautical intrigue thrown in.
Safe travels, Captain!