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NEWPORT TO WESTPORT, MA We were up at 7:00. Thankfully the winds seem to die down in the morning. We wanted to get out of the docks before they picked up. We had some 20 knot winds at the dock yesterday and a front was coming in. We were packed in here, almost like sardines, and to get our will have to back out past all theses expensive bows that were sticking out into the channel well beyond the length of the docks. We had talked a few times yesterday how we were going to back out. Larry was telling me how I should make the turn and then back it down and past the bows sticking out in the channel. I was going over it and over it in my mind as I was going to sleep and listening to the wind howl. Larry was up bright and early and brought me my coffee. Coffee in hand, along with the leash and a poop bag and off Zig and I went while Larry got things bottoned up. As I walked Zig, there was no wind to speak of but the sky was a little dark off to the SW. The seas were supposed to be 4 foot swells probably on our beam the short trip to Westport. I wanted to get going before
any wind came up. If the wind came up, I wasn’t going to take her out. I had
already decided that. I kept thinking about a large power boat that was two
docks down from us. As he left the other day, dock master got the boat yard
dinghy to help him out by riding along side, pushing him over if he got too
close to those expensive bows sticking out. When he left in a cloud of diesel
smoke, the crew on the boat next store said something to me about “we’re all
glad to see him leave”. I said “excuse me?” and he said “the last time he came
in he took 3 bows out. Guess one of his engines went out.” After hearing that
story, we walked the docks and saw the damage he had done. He must have scraped
them going out. Imagine the insurance claims on those mega yachts? Yesterday
afternoon, that same boat came back and he had a terrible time getting back in
his slip. It took him about 5 tries. The boat yard dinghy was there again to
keep him off the bows of the boats and several times drove the dinghy into him
to punch him away. It was embarrassing for him, I would think. We watched in
amazement and wondered, if again, did he have “engine problems” or was he just
timid about getting the boat in. The more we watched though, the more we
thought, sadly he just didn’t know what he was doing. He had bow thrusters that
he finally used but that was only after he was inside the slip space.
Everything he did was a fiasco. Of course, he had some strong wind blowing him
into the direction of the bows of the boats but that mega power boat should have
had enough power to keep him off. Anyway, I kept worrying about that scenario
and hoping I could get the boat out without any mishaps. Larry was very
trusting. He wanted me to get the experience so if he has the confidence then I
should. With all those images in mind I started the engines and got ready to go. Thankfully, our headsets were working and I would have the direction of Larry to get out of here. We were bow in and portside tie. I have a large yacht on my starboard side with nothing in between us except a few feet and behind me was a 120 foot sailing yacht docked so I would be backing right into his beam. His beam was sticking out 20 feet off the dock, taking more space out of my channel than I’d like. It was almost the width of two smaller boats rafted together, right in the channel and behind me. I had to partially back out, and start to make the turn about mid-way out because that mega 120foot yacht was directionly behind me. I didn’t have enough room to come all the way out to make the turn. I had to be careful not to turn too quickly either which would point the bow into the boat on my starboard. Larry told me when to start moving the bow to the starboard to make the turn and told me to slowly keep backing her down. I was pretty much working blindly as I could only see the front and starboard side. Larry was directing me from the back. As I turned the bow slightly and kept backing down he then said I could make the full turn using the stern thruster. At one point he said to pull forward ad I knew we must be backing down too close to that mega yacht right behind, so I thrust the gear into forward and then back to neutral. Larry said “good, now start backing her down and out the channel”. I was going on total trust of his directions, once starting down the channel backwards, I glanced at that mega yacht to my starboard and had a quick panic attack as I couldn’t believe we were so close to it. I nervously asked for confirmation from Larry that we weren’t too close. He very calmly said I was doing just fine and to continue to backing down. I didn’t dare look off to my portside as we passed all those expensive pointed bows with those sharp polished anchors all overhanging out in into the channel. Once past the mega yacht on my starboard it was the plan to turn backwards behind her stern and back into a semi-open area to allow me to get the boat turned around and then head out in a forward direction. I had to be careful though, backing into that area. There, we had to avoid the mega yacht docked just around the corner and also watch out for a huge a mooring ball that an even bigger yacht beyond was using to keep itself from rubbing its polished finish off from the friction between its fenders and the dock. So I backed her into this small space and then began to make the full turn to go out. All was looking good. Now I just had to make the turn and make sure I missed the huge bow of the fabulous Visione sticking about 20’ past the end of the dock and into the channel. No problem. We just slowly glided her out, all with the superb direction of Larry. It was thrilling. Larry, had me take her all the way out the Newport Harbor as he put the lines and fenders away. I slowly took her out and still was even more overwhelmed with more huge yachts moored out in the mooring field. This place is just filled with magnificent yachts. It was still quiet in the harbor and we were the only ones out and about. We had a picture perfect view of the town and its spires and off the bow were some huge mansions and with large green lawns. Some had huge tents out preparing for parties. It’s an exciting place and very traditional. No big loud power boats here monopolizing the harbor with wakes and noise.
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WESTPORT, MAIt was a short trip from Newport, RI to Westport, MA. I think Larry said it was “an easy 16 miles”. We had just enough time for me to “spiff up” the place. I ran the dust rag over everything, made the bed and got the dishes from breakfast cleaned up. We were headed to Westport to meet up with Tom and Cindy and I wanted to make sure things looked OK when they came aboard.
RED RIGHT RETURNING As we began our approach, I had a flash back. It was just about 10 years ago when we had our first boat and we were just learning the ropes. We had taken what we called “a big trip” at the time, on our first boat. We left from Falmouth, MA on the Cape to Block Island, RI, and then as far as Essex, CT and then back. During the trip we had spent a few days at Block Island and then decided to head across Buzzard’s Bay to Westport, MA. I was nervous as usual as the day looked dark and ominous when we left. I was trying to get reassurance from Larry that the weather would be fine. “You did listen to the weather report?” He said “yeah, no problem”. As we crossed Buzzards, I was watching the dark cloud mass heading towards us. Soon the winds picked up and then the rough seas followed. Within moments we had a building sea and the green water, as they call it, was washing not just over the bow, but splashing up over the fly bridge. We were getting drenched and our paper charts, though in a plastic sleeve, were hard to see as the plastic was completely wet. On our first boat, which we now call our learning boat, had no sophisticated instruments compared to the high tech aids we have on the Knotty Dog. We had an antiquated radar screen, and Loran, which I guess can be considered high tech compared to the many boats that sailed the high seas without anything. We were not used to running the boat from inside, only on the fly bridge. Our radar screen was down below in the salon so, if we had fog, Larry would have to go down 3 stairs from the fly bridge to the cockpit, turn and open the door to the salon, down 3 more stairs, and across the salon to check the screen and then return the same way back to the fly bridge. We just never felt comfortable running the boat from inside; I guess the visibility wasn’t very good from inside? Just don't remember why. On the Knotty dog, it’s just the reverse, we never run the boat from the fly bridge, we always run from inside. Anyway, the black ominous clouds turned into a “New England squall”, which included strong winds, a solid downpour and the resulting high waves and rough seas. It was pretty horrible as I remember and I was convinced that this guy I married was really going to kill me. I wondered how he got me into this predicament and swore if I ever got out of it, I would never, ever, get into a situation like this again. Sound familiar? So we were banging away across Buzzard’s Bay, confronting each wave with gusto. We were drenched down to our underwear and I was doing my best to wipe all the water off the charts so we could see where the heck we were going. I was absolutely scared
to death. It was our first storm at sea. We finally had the RW entrance
marker. The waves were non stop and the visibility was very bad. The winds
were whipping across us with a vengeance. We made our way to the second marker,
keeping Twomile Rock and other ledges to our port. They were hard to see
because the seas were rough and would obscure them. RED RIGHT RETURNING,
RED RIGHT RETURNING, kept going through my mind. We could see ROCKS (!)
off our portside and waves crashing across them, locally known as the Knubble.
We pass Dogfish Ledge on our left and continue on in. The waves were rolling
into the narrow inlet and we found ourselves riding them like an untrained
surfer, topping the crests and gliding down the front with a swift swish and not
much control. Larry was madly (in my mind) steering, trying to keep the boat
straight in the current driven channel trying not to let it have the
control. Going through the channel was as curvy as a snake’s path and probably
as scary. It turned left and right. To me it was like riding Mr. Toad’s ride
at Disneyland but with less control. We twisted and turned the sharp turns,
following the red and green cans, entering where we knew not. RED RIGHT
RETURNING…RED RIGHT RETURNING. Somehow, suddenly, once through…… it was
surprisingly calm……..We made it in without mishap. I was amazed and so
grateful.
BUFFALO BILL BUT, ALL WAS NOT OVER, as I was soon to discover…..even after we got through the treacherous inlet, with its following seas and quick turns, marked by rocks and shallow beaches, we still had to meander our way back into the inlet, keeping Lions Tongue a shallow shoal off our port, and continue to follow the markers, very carefully as it was shallow only to arrive at the slip from hell. We radioed ahead to Trip Marina and got the slip assignment. The winds were still running 20 – 30 knots, which was a lot for us in that light-weight-top-heavy-always-take-off-like-a-kite-into-unwanted-directions-when-ever-we-tried-to-docked-boat. When we finally got down to the Marina and I took a look at where we were going to have to dock, I just couldn’t believe it. It was one of those dam old wooden fixed docks with small three foot long side docks and freestanding poles to tie to. I didn’t have a clue as to how to tie to that set up, never done it before, and didn’t know how. The slip was down a narrow row in the marina. Larry would have to turn here around back down the row and back her into the slip between two other boats that hopefully we would not run into. The winds are still blowing and I really didn’t have any knowledge about what the current was doing but now know that it can be strong here, sometimes 3-4 knots. I’m thinking, NO WAY, we can’t do that! We don’t know how to and we’re not going to be able to! And if we manage to get in there, how in the heck am I going to tie the boat to this set up? There’s nothing to tie to! No way! Larry wasn’t able to tell me what to do as he was barely managing to just turn the boat and back her into the “slip”. We hadn’t much experience docking since we started this “boating thing” and now we were going to get a big dose of it. Somehow, Larry, as he always does in perilous situations, got the boat backed in beautifully. I threw some lines to the dock hand and he somehow took care of securing the stern. Larry then told me to quickly get some lines on the bow, and “lasso the lines on the poles on each side!” What? Lasso the poles? So I quickly tried to recollect from watching those old cowboy movies how to lasso. I pulled the line through the eye of the rope and then twirled the line above my head like Buffalo Bill and tossed it to the pole. I missed the pole, miserably, several times. In the time span of all these failures, the wind is howling, the rain is raging, and Larry is stoically trying to keep the boat in one place, patiently and kindly trying to tell me how to lasso. I finally lasso’d one pole, to my amazement and cleated it tight and then began the same reenactment on the other side, finally having success. We finally got the boat secured. I had no clue as to how I was going to get those poles unlasso’d when we left but that would be another day’s challenge in the world of boating and I didn’t care to think of it then. I think it may have been early afternoon but I vaguely remember celebrating our safe arrival with a bloody Mary on the back of the boat as we toasted ourselves and said “made it again”.
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TODAY, as we prepare to go in, and are eyeing the entry markers, all those images of our early boating experiences flashed before me. You know, like when someone’s life passes before them before they die. Today was different though, it was calm, and though there were dark clouds in the sky, they were not the unfriendly kind and weren’t going to trouble us. This time, we were had time to notice the beautiful homes on the Acoaxet shore and the beautiful granite mound (The Knubble) jutting out into the entry of the channel which before were the dangerous ROCKS. There were a couple fishermen standing on The Knubble fishing for something in the 3-4 knot current flowing through the entry channel. As we made our way round the granite mound and into the entry channel, we were met with another picturesque scene of small beach cottages and lovely boat houses. It was the perfect New England scene, grey weathered cottages with crisp white trims, cupolas and weathervanes topping their architecturally interesting towers. The surrounding rolling hills were green and the estuary was lush and meandered its way beyond depths that we could explore. We passed one island of green grass. Its muddy sides were exposed showing that the tide was rising. There were several odd looking poles propped together like tee pees projecting up from the grass. At the pinnacle of each were flat wooden platforms topped with large, neat and tidy egret nests. The egrets were sitting comfortably in their nests, watching us as we slowly cruised by. Sailboats, small vacation house boats, and lobster boats were moored on each side of the channel that now opened widely to an expansive landscape of Nantucket style homes and soft green hillsides along the shores. It was a place that time has not touched for a long time. The settlement of houses, the village steeple and town dock looked as it may have looked for a hundred years, at least. It was beautiful and peacefully quiet. When we got to marker “29”, we hailed Tripp's Marina. They answered back and said to “Come no further but pick up a mooring where you are so you will have enough swing room for your size”. Larry and I traded places. I steer for the mooring nearest to us and Larry goes out to the bow with the boat hook. The current was running and he was having trouble getting a hook on it. He hailed some help from some locals going by in a small day fisher. They turned around, came close and pulled the line up and looped our rope through the eye of the mooring. Larry was then able to pull it up and hook our line onto cleat. We thanked them and answered the usual questions about where we came from and then wished them a good day’s fishing. While we were getting settled two other local boats came by and said hello and asked where we were from. It was a friendly place and we already felt welcome and hadn’t even stepped on shore yet.
Soon we were settled and we could see Cindy and Tom heading our way on Tripp’s Marina launch. They came aboard with a very thoughtful “Welcome Bag”, filled with maps and brochures on things to do and see in Westport, a few bottles of locally made wines, chocolates, doggy biscuits, and locally made beer. Wow! Ziggy dug his head in the bag the moment it was within reach to investigate. Cindy got out a locally made dog biscuit for Ziggy and it was instant friendship. Usually Zig takes his time sizing up the usual suspects that come aboard but they were an instant success. Zig sized up Tom as the guy that knew all the right places to scratch, like behind the ears and that special spot just at the end of the back by the tail. We gave Cindy and Tom the quick tour of the boat and soon took the launch to Trip Marina to tour the surrounding area and get a bite to eat for lunch.
MOORING IN WESTPORT BAY If only I had the words and writing ability to fully describe this bay and area. It deserves a poet but I can only in my poor way describe the pleasure of just sitting on our mooring and doing nothing else but enjoy this beautiful place. We found ourselves getting up
every day as the sun rose because the light is so crisp and the wind is softly
blowing clear and fresh. It’s the most pleasurable wake up you can imagine. We
clearly sense the soft movement of the river. It slowly twists and turns as the
ebb and flow of the tide becomes a part of you. As the tide levels change, the
scenery changes. It’s not like a still photograph but a movie changing scenes
all through the waking day. This morning we gaze up the
river from our pilot house. It is almost high tide and the green marsh pods are
just peeking above the water level soon to be flush. We can see pure white
egrets, almost virgin looking, spreading their great wings and flying low
looking for food. Others are searching for bugs or small fish on the ground.
We are amused by their high stepping manner as they lift one leg up and out and
down and then the other. It looks contrived and comical as they wade through
the mud under the tide water. We see an old man, in the distance, an early
riser like us. He’s standing out in what looks like the middle of deep water
but it is only ankle deep. He’s getting ready to go clamming, we think. We
watch him for a long time and as the water starts to recede and the life of the
mud flats becomes active he begins his age old work. He is an archetype of old
New England, and we think he must have been doing this his whole life by the way
he handles himself. He’s old but strong and can work for a long spell and not
tire. We watch him as he operates his clam rake, digging through the rich mud,
and when he finds what he’s looking for, he reaches down and tosses it in his
floating bag. He works for hours, more than we could do and he’s a lot older. There something about this river that draws the solitary soul. Yesterday I watched a kayaker meander his way in and out of the marshes for hours. What did he see that captivated him so much? I watched an unusual site, three pure white swans, flying overhead, in perfect unison, past a clammer, heading up river. What a beautiful site! Our surroundings are quiet except for the scattered screech or should I say laughter of a seagull and the putter of a motor as early morning fishermen considerately go by as quiet and slowly as they can without disturbing us. They are heading out for a days fishing, a favorite pastime in this village. The majority of them are recreational fishermen. Their boats aren’t fancy or expensive but practical and efficient, just what they need to do the job and enjoy the day. Some of the working fishermen leave precisely at the crack of dawn and don’t come back until the end of the day. During the day we watch the ballet of sailboats at their evenly spaced moorings. They pirouette in unison to match the wind and changing current. It couldn’t be choreographed better by any one except Mother Nature. The surrounding landscapes in all directions are soft low green hills punctuated here and there by small shingled cottages, each having enough land to not feel crowded. Every so often is an open green area, a hillside to break up the thickly treed hills. The marshes are a lighter shade of green and the hills are mixed with a variety of every color of green and the trees are deciduous, so there are varying textures. It’s all carefully designed by Mother Nature to look magnificent. No human landscape architect could lay claim to this. Against the deep shades of green the abundant white birds are particularly clear, flying leisurely above them. At the mouth of the inlet is a
most charming settlement. There is a cluster of boat houses on the water,
bigger cottages behind and some very big estates beyond that. All are clothed
in the same Nantucket grey weathered shingles with white trims. However, there
are the remnants of a stone mansion and its gate house, of days gone past. The
mansion has now been renovated, we’ve been told, and the interior living spaces
divided. It still has the integrity and presence of its glory days, as if one
great wealthy owner still lives there with their servants and groundskeepers.
Not so, though, as today several families have now successfully occupied the
huge space of this stone mansion. There is an enormous lawn, more than any one
person, or even 5 households need, but they have wisely not divided the open
space up to add more living units. It would have ruined the whole ambience of
the area. I’m glad to see that the people here have an eye and concern for
preserving the beauty of their surroundings and the tradition of the past. To the right of the fork in the river is Tripp Marina on one side and the small village of Westport on the other. It’s joined by a modern day bridge. The small village center has the signature New England church steeple pointed like a poker straight to heaven, higher than everything else, and a small cluster of colonial buildings nearby. It still looks as it would have been in its day of settlement. At the end of the main street is the dock with a few fishing boats tied to it. A small store, now for sale, was the popular fish market selling the fresh fish supplied by the fishermen. Across the water to the other side is a great restaurant which serves deliciously prepared fish. You can dock you boat to its dock and have a nice meal, sitting inside or out on the deck. Closer to us, down the road, is the F. L. Trip Marina a five generation old place, having established itself in 1930. It’s hasn’t changed a lick since we were here before over 10 years ago and I imagine it’s been the same much longer than that. Those same docks that seemed so impossible on our first trip here now looked quaint and inviting. They are wooden and rustic but I like the idea that the place is real New England. If it works don’t change it. It’s not slick and uninteresting. The walkways around the cluster of buildings are laden with shells. It’s a charming place with friendly people. The history of this village goes a long way back. Miles Standish is said to have purchased it from the Indians “for ten shillings and sundry commodities”. I found it very interesting that “Westport and its sister port, Eastport, Maine, were so named because they formed the early existing boundaries of the Massachusetts Bay Colony.” It has had an interesting past, as an active whaling port, and prior to the Civil War, helped many Southern slaves escape north “by land and sea”. In more recent history, smugglers and rumrunners hide here behind its concealed entrance during the Prohibition. It’s hard to imagine all this in this peaceful place.
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We enjoyed our short visit with Cindy and Tom. They were gracious hosts showing us this precious place they call home. They drove us one morning to a place in the country, just across the state line, on the Rhode Island side. The café was located in an old barn that had been converted into a cozy gathering place for locals. The food was delicious and the highlight was to see the Norwegian owner deliver the food, on a tray, on her head, to a table. Another day they gave us a tour of the shore area and I had my first lobster of the trip. It was the most delicious succulent lobster roll I’ve ever had and think the rest of Massachusetts and Maine are going to have a hard time serving up a better one. If you are looking for restaurants and cute shops to spend your time, this is not the place. The beauty is in its natural surroundings and simple pure life. We spent the first nice warm day of the summer just sitting on the top of the boat watching the world go by, enjoying the weather and the sites. We laughed as we realized we were staring at boats going by and the people on the passing boats were staring back. It’s amusing we thought that when you are on a boat, you just have this strange license to stare at each other as each go by each other. It’s always accompanied by a friendly wave even though it’s a perfect stranger who always waves back. No way on earth could you get away with staring at someone like that on the street, or waving to someone you don’t know. You’d probably be accused of being strange or rude, but on boats you can stare all you want and it’s OK. So that’s what we did all day, lazed around, talked, stared, waved, ate and drank. It was a great day...
ONE LAST FIX If you read the last segment,
you know about our “unwelcome guest” and how we got rid of him. We still had
one lingering problem. The pump was going off in regular repetitions and the
repetitions were becoming more regular. Well, time to go. Westport is truly a place you are sad to leave. Our visit was extra special because of the generosity and hospitality that Cindy and Tom showed us. We thank you guys! We left knowing we would hopefully see them in a couple weeks at Cuttyhunk. They were going to sail their boat over to join us for a relaxing weekend. Hope they make it.
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It was a bit rolly out here
today, but no rain, and little wind. Before I knew it, we were nearing the
entrance marker to Westport. It’s difficult to see the opening even on a
clear day so it makes sense that this was a good hideout for rumrunners during
Prohibition days and before that “a haven for smugglers and Revolutionists. Tom
had been planning to meet us outside the harbor channel in his Boston Whaler.
He was going to help lead us in and get a mooring. Just as we were within a ¼
mile of the entrance marker, we got a call from Tom. They were having a problem
getting the whaler started as they just got it out of winter storage and the
typical happened, with everything coming out of winter storage, it wouldn’t
start. They said they wouldn’t be able to lead us in. “No problem” says
Larry. He had already studied the entrance and the depths and said it would be
fine. We were entering at the right tide level and he didn’t want to delay.
BACK TO THE PRESENT
FRIENDS IN WESTPORT BAY
As the tide goes out, birds and insects become
active on the mud flats. People come clamming and investigating. As it fills
the inlet we have the short but beautiful period of slack tide. It’s like time
stops, the water glistens in pure reflection and the birds flying over head are
duplicated in perfect imagery on the water like a mirror. Kayakers taking
advantage of the still waters, come exploring, enjoying the easy paddling. Our
mooring is near the fork in the river. We can see the river as part of it flows
to the village of Westport and the other part goes another direction. It runs
in areas that become shallow as it meanders it’s way up past marsh fields and
hillsides sparsely scattered with old homes. It’s here where the river narrows
and winds its way into infinity. It’s a lush and unbelievably green environment
and only lightly settled with reasonably sized homes that have been here for a
few hundred years. They are meticulously cared for, in that colonial design, a
style that puts shame to our modern day monstrosities, as the workmanship and
care of proportion can be appreciated for all time. It is truly a place set
back in time as Tom and Cindy have said.
CINDY & TOM
John, from Ocean Link, had said that
the problem may work itself out after several hours and that we probably should
see if it settles before thinking about replacing it. It was now obvious that it
was becoming worse not better so we gave a call to John. “No problem, Larry,
I’ll be there as soon as I can!” He had quite a drive to get to us now from
Newport. We gave him directions to drive here from Newport and the cell phone
number to call when he got near enough so we could direct him to where we were
and then pick him up by dinghy to bring him to the boat. It was getting late in
the afternoon and we hadn’t heard from him and we were wondering if he was going
to make it. We were leaving in the morning and if he didn’t get here today, or
next stop would be too far for him to easily get to us to fix it. We really
didn’t want anyone else working on the system except John because he had our
total confidence. So, we were stressing a little about it, when up comes the
launch and there’s John! We gave a hoot of joy and welcomed him aboard. He
said that there was no cell coverage when he got down in the area and he just
managed to figure out where we were. He then had to find the launch to get him
out to where we were because we didn’t know he was here to go pick him up by
dinghy. He’s a resourceful reliable guy and we were happy that he was able to
figure out where we were. He really cares about doing a good thorough job for
you and he wanted to make sure the job was complete and satisfactory, so he was
determined to get to us. Well, it took him a couple hours to change out the old
pump and put a new pump in, and like I said before, he does a clean, neat job.
We think he is the greatest! We’ve had absolutely no problems since. Thanks
John!