Refit time at Rhode Island

Location: 41 35.48 N 71 16.93 W

At New England Boatworks (NEB), Ananda is hoisted out of the water and onto dry land for the first time in two years.

This is not the sort of boatyard that would be familiar to English seafarers.  How many boatyards back home boast a restaurant, swimming pool and barbeque area complete with gas appliances?  But that's exactly what's on offer here.  After a heavy morning's labour, we retire to the picnic tables for lunch before returning to the polish and paint roller.

There's a lot of work to get through.  Our days start early, about 6.45am, to escape the heat of the day, and before the yard workers arrive at 7.30am.

Hurry up and take that photo - I'm hungry

Ananda is quite deep draught at 81/2 feet, giving a working height for polishing the topsides of around 15 feet.  Normally we use a scaffolding tower and power tools for the job, but the yard won't lend us any access equipment because they are worried about legal indemnity.  So there's no choice but to work off ladders, meaning no power tools.  We sand, paint and polish the entire boat by hand.  With exercise like this, who needs to go to a gym?

There's work for the yard too, refurbishing the propeller, shaft, bearings and joints.

We live onboard the boat ashore, high and dry and comfortable enough.  The yard's splendid washing facilities and laundrette come in handy.  With no sea water to cool the compressors we can't use electric refrigeration.  So we pack food in ice to keep it fresh.  It's a long way to the supermarket, but our friend from Marion, Barry Steinberg, kindly gives Stellie a lift. 

Boatyards are sociable places, and we enjoy meeting friends old and new.  Kevin and Jean from Stockport have much to do on their yacht Amokura, and the yard is justly popular with other Oyster owners such as Alan and Sue Brook, past manager of Oyster Yachts.

Our friends from Nauschon Island, Jeff and Cindy, are at NEB too, taking delivery of their new Oyster 53 yacht Wischbone.  It's an exciting time for them, and we are privileged to be able to share it too.  They kindly treat us to a very special dinner at the New York Yacht Club.

Jeff and Cindy Wisch outside the prestigious New York Yacht Club at Newport

Looking across the patio of the NY Yacht Club.  The trophy room has to be seen to be believed.

Finally, all comes together and a gleaming Ananda (minus prop shaft and propeller) is tidied up and secured while her owners drive off to Boston to catch a flight home to Blighty. 

Places to go, people to meet…

*      *      *      *

Boston is hot hot hot...

Location: 42 21.53 N 71 02.73 W

"Dad – are you in Boston?"

Peter sounded puzzled on the phone, not expecting us to be in this part of the world.  But I was even more puzzled.  It was only a couple of hours earlier that we had dropped anchor off Boston's historic waterfront.  How had he known we were here?

Boston no 2 bouy

The voyage down from Maine had been a pleasant one.   A calm Atlantic Ocean was most welcome, even if we had to motor through much of the night with only fickle breezes to assist us.  But the night was warm, with the moon arising in a magnificent clear starlit sky at 10pm as a bonus.  We motored up the long entrance into Boston in daylight, watching the planes come in low beneath the building line to land at Logan airport in the heart of the city.

The US Coastguard's tall ship, the USS Eagle, is escorted into Boston

It was when we were safely installed at the anchorage and busy with the inevitable tidying and sorting that comes after any sea passage that we were surprised by Peter's call.  So how had he known?

It turns out that he had just installed a new 'app' in his mobile phone for a website that tracks ships using AIS (an automatic position reporting system using VHF radio).

And, unbeknown to us, someone on a passing vessel had taken two photos of us as we motored into Boston that day and posted them on the website!

Ananda entering Boston Harbour: photo courtesy of M Buckley, marinetraffic.com

Boston is an impressive city.  Young and vibrant, it has some splendid public buildings that, being anchored so centrally, we were able to visit on foot.  The Public Library was particularly grand.  Built in 1895 to a classical design, it has fine architecture with sweeping marble staircases, statues and fine oil paintings depicting art, science, the legend of King Arthur and statesmanship.

In the McKim Building of Boston Public Library, the reading room seems to stretch on and on...

Whilst walking through the bustling streets we came across a moving memorial to the Holocaust, with quotations and the names of victims engraved on the glass towers.

Our anchorage close to the waterfront, with regular tour boats squeezing past only a few feet away, was too good to last.  After a couple of days, the police boat came and moved us on to a big ship anchorage across the river.  Being stuck so far out into the river, with ships passing by on either side, felt most precarious - rather like being anchored in the middle of the M6 motorway.  Even though we lit the boat brightly and used extra torches at night, we still did not sleep soundly.

The highlight came the following day.  It was hot, sunny and sultry.  Boston had just recorded its hottest day for 60 years – 103 degrees - yet suddenly it appeared to have started to rain heavily.  Water poured everywhere - off the cabin roof, off the cockpit coamings and in through the open portlights in the heads.  But where was it from?

A hoot of a horn came from astern, and there stood the answer - a coastguard fire tugboat with fire cannon pumps going full blast!  It was heralding the arrival in port of the oldest coastguard sailing vessel in the country, the USS Eagle.  A picture of this event even made the Boston Globe, complete with beautiful rainbow arising from the pumped spray.

Given their history -the English were rather less welcome in Boston a couple of hundred years ago - I'm sure the Yanks would have been delighted with a small secondary effect of this coastguard visit: dousing some Brits with a good dose of dirty seawater and salt!

Shower time for the Brits, courtesy of the US Coastguard

A short Metro ride from Boston takes you to Harvard University.  It gets its name from an English cleric, a graduate of Emmanuel College, Cambridge in 1632, who emigrated to America and left half of his considerable estate to Massachussetts Bay Colony's fledgeling New College.  The university buildings, although quite old, are less impressive than those at Oxford and Cambridge.  But they are genuine, styled in the fashion of the age when they were built rather than reproductions suggesting another era.  The Harry Elkins Widener Memorial Library is pretty impressive.  Sadly Harry was lost in the Titanic disaster.

John Harvard - the first benefactor of the university.  The statue is not a true likeness, as no-one knows what he actually looked like.  Students rub his shoe before exams for good luck...

Other high points included a visit to the Science Museum and the grand Museum of Fine Art housed in an amazing building.  There was even a French Film Festival in the gallery.  I watched a modern version of the Sleeping Beauty, complete with an introduction by a French Professor, whilst Stellie wondered around the galleries feasting on the Monet's, Picasso's and Sargent's.  

The Boston Museum of Fine Art

... and a lovely exhibition of beautiful glass art by the American artist Dale Chihuly.

Soon it's time to leave, as we have a date to keep at New England Boatworks – time to slip the boat and catch up with maintenance work.  So it's an early start as we head south, timing our departure to arrive at the entrance to the Cape Cod Canal at slack water in time for an evening transit.  All is peaceful and, with only light winds, we avoid the big seas that can arise with wind blowing against tide at the entrance to Buzzard's Bay.

After a night anchored in Mattapoissett harbour we continue the next day down Buzzard's Bay towards Ram's Head and on up to Newport, now so familiar to us that it feels like a second home.  Good to be back….

A trip down memorable Maine

Location: 44 21.31 N 68 18.70 W

"Keith – come quickly…"

Stellie's voice sounds urgent enough and I quickly climb the companionway into the cockpit.

Not again.  Less than 100 yards away, a fishing boat is heading straight for us at full power.  We alter course, but in our much slower vessel, we cannot escape and can only watch helplessly as he rapidly approaches us broadside on.

The voyage from Cape Cod had started peacefully enough, with fair winds and calm seas for the 140 miles trip to the north east.  We were now approaching Rockport, Maine, a busy fishing port hidden behind a maze of islands and reefs.  Predictably enough, fog had descended, but helped by an early dawn, we were able to see enough to weave our way through the minefield of lobster pots.  And plenty there were, too.  Maine is the lobster capital of the world, and though this means great seafood restaurants with reasonable prices, it does make for tricky navigation.

Soon the boat was almost upon us.  Had they seen us?  Surely there must be someone at the helm?  They had altered course towards us, after all.  Then, at the very last moment, the boat veered away to pass a few yards behind our stern, the fishermen on deck giving a sullen half-wave of acknowledgement.  With our heart rates well into 3 figures, we reflected on the situation.

The action of the boat had been deliberate and designed to frighten us.  Not a great welcome to this state, but what to do about it?  Find the fisherman and discuss the matter?  Inform the coastguard?  Not a great idea to fall out with the locals, particularly in a country where guns are openly for sale.

Later, as we enjoyed a delicious seafood meal ashore, the waiter told us that the lobster industry was pretty important to Maine's economy. Interfere with that at your own risk - and don't expect too much justice.  In 2009, a local fisherman accused another of cutting the lines to his traps.  Guns were drawn and shots fired.  One man was shot in the neck.  The jury was sympathetic – a grave provocation indeed - and the fisherman was acquitted and released.  Apparently, feelings are now running pretty high on their remote island, Matinicus.

And where did we experience the aggressive actions of the fishing boat driving right at us?  Just a few miles west of Matinicus…

*    *    *    *    *

Before leaving for Maine, we explored the Elizabethan Islands.  Situated to the north of Martha's Vineyard, they are beautiful, unspoilt and mostly privately owned.

Offshore, we are hailed by a motorboat.

'Is that the Oyster 53 or 56?'

Onboard are Jeff and Cindy Wisch, who, as it turns out, are negotiating to buy an Oyster!  They kindly invite us to use their mooring in beautiful Hadley Harbour, Naushon Island, where they are holidaying.

Ananda off the boatyard, Naushon Island

Although landing is not normally permitted, we are privileged to be given a guided tour of this private island, owned by the Forbes family and where Cindy spent her teenage years.  It's like travelling back in time.  There's a working farm, stables, and a family boatyard with slip.  Beautiful homes nestle near lagoons in the rolling countryside, and all is tranquil with no cars allowed on the island.

Ashore, Naushon Island

Next stop is Marion, a pretty village and the home port of Barry and Meg Steinberg, a charming couple who we met on the isle of Cuttyhunk.  We visit their lovely yacht Gloria – traditional lines but a hi-tech build with beautiful wood laminates – and we will hopefully meet up again at New England Boatyard where Barry works.

Osprey aloft!  You need your umbrella for this one...

At this convenient stepping off point, we await fair tides for the passage through the Cape Cod Canal.

Fellow travellers on the Cape Cod Canal

Only 10 miles long, this shortcut saves a passage of 150 miles outside the Cape and avoids the possibility of big seas and fog.  During the war, packs of German U-boats lurking off the Cape provided an added incentive for shipping to take this inland route.  But now it's a peaceful haven for anglers and cyclists.

Onwards across the bay and we anchor at dusk at Provincetown, a colourful and vibrant town with a large gay population.  It's artistic with lots of galleries and has a wonderful 'edgy' feel to it, both culturally and physically with its situation at the edge of the Cape Cod peninsula.  It's a cyclist's haven, too, and we cycle for miles on properly surfaced tracks through woodland, dunes and along lakes.

Cycling in Cape Cod.  That's sand in the background, not snow!

We meet Alison and Richard, new owners of Vulcan spirit, a boat that Keith helped to sail back from Sweden when she was built 17 years ago!  The boat is still in great condition.

The overnight sail to Maine was pleasant with fair winds.  We sail past Stellwagen Bank, a favourite haunt of the protected Northern Right whale (sadly none seen) and continue well offshore past Plymouth and later Boston.  But visibility dropped to less than a mile, and, faced with an array of echoes on the radar that I assumed were fishing boats, I awoke Stella to help navigate through them.  Surprisingly, despite what the radar showed, we could see only one 'lit' fishing vessel.  We carefully weaved our way through the echoes but saw no more boats.  Then the echoes disappeared.  So what were these 'phantom' boats – these spurious echoes?  We believe they were whales - we must have sailed through a pod of whales resting on the surface under cover of darkness.

Typical Maine anchorage - Buckle Island

Notwithstanding the incident at the start of this account, the people of Maine are warm, friendly and most resourceful.  They need to be – winters are long and hard, the summer season with its welcome influx of visitors is short and travel between the remote communities can be difficult in bad weather.  The economy is not just about fishing; Maine is also the largest blueberry producer in the world.  And timber features too in this heavily wooded state.  They claim to produce 2 million toothpicks per day – no doubt needed to cope with the dental effects the lobsters

Rockland is arty with an Arts Cinema, where we enjoy 'The Trip', a film made for the BBC with Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon.   We cycle to the Owl's Head Transportation Museum, where there's a meet of old cars and aeroplanes, all working.  Children enjoy riding on vintage pedal cars and free rides in a model 'T' ford.  Vintage aircraft are pulled out of the museum to take off from a grass runway and old biplanes with rotary engines take people for rides.

Vic Macomber - still flying aged 81 yrs.  In his earlier days, he flew jet fighters in Vietnam

On the lawns are classic and vintage cars in pristine condition, their owners keen to chat about their pet projects.

We are fortunate to meet Tricia, originally from Devon, who invites us to an Independence Day celebration at her boat club in Rockport, just a few miles up the coast.  It's a barbeque – 'Brits cook for the Yanks' – and we are enlisted to bolster up the empire.   So we sail on up to nearby Camden, where, according to our travel guide, a 'vibrant community consists year-round of writers, retired intelligence officers and plain old wealthy people'.  We climb Mount Battie for the harbour view and are 'buzzed' by 2 pairs of golden eagles.  There's a free open-air concert that evening with Junior Walker's All Stars Band, who play all the Mo-Town greats.  Great atmosphere, though the fireworks are postponed as fog and rain roll in later.

A cycle ride over the headland takes us to the barbeque at Rockport Boat Club, overlooking picturesque Rockport harbour.  It's a sociable affair with delicious food.  Thanks to the hospitable members for making us so welcome!

Ready to go - Brits cook for the Yanks

And a really big thank you to Tricia, who took us home and kindly showed us all around this beautiful part of the country, and to Jay and Meredith and Tom and Carol who delightfully entertained a couple of wandering Brits!

Jay and Meredith at the splendid Camden Yacht Club

After such wonderful hospitality, we continue our cruise through rock strewn passages between beautiful islands and enjoy deserted anchorages with only ospreys and seals for company.  At Orcutt Harbour, near Castine, a bald eagle roosts in the trees at the edge of the bay.

Seals gathered on a rock about to be submerged by the tide

Sometimes we anchor just for lunch and then move on. 

At Wooden Boat, home of the famous magazine of the same name, even the sheds are built like boats.

The door to nowhere: from reality to etheria on Buckle Island

Down Eggemoggin Reach, we nervously sail under a bridge only one meter higher than our mast, but wait until low water just to be sure.

A large part of Mount Desert Island is a nature reserve, the land donated by wealthy individuals who built their summer 'cottages' there.  The island is spectacular, with a fiord running up through the middle flanked by mountains either side.  There's a network of 'carriageways' past lakes, around mountains, over rivers on attractive stone bridges and through forest; all purpose built by Rockefeller and for use only by horse-and carriage, cyclists and hikers.  A free bus service connects all towns and places of interest, including a bus just for cycles.

Anchored in Somes Sound, the only fiord on the E Coast of USA, we are pleased to meet up again with Richard and Alison on Vulcan Spirit.  An evening dinghy ride and walk across fields takes us to Acadia Repertory Theatre where we enjoy The Mystery of Irma Vep. Back onboard, we listen to the melancholy wail of the loon, an attractive large waterbird, and watch for seals.

But now its time to head south again.  There will be a favourable windshift on Tuesday so we visit some more islands to the west in preparation for the voyage.  After a night in another deserted anchorage we pull up the anchor to set off, and switch on the VHF… and we hear Cristata!  Hard to believe!  We last saw Canadians Terry and Janine in Graciosa, Canary Islands.   Janine ran the 'Rum Runners' HF radio net, and so we kept in touch when crossing oceans - always reassuring to hear those Canadian tones!   They are heading north to Canada – good luck!  Hope we meet up again sometime…

Terry and Janine on Cristata

A cheerful wave and we're off.  Next stop – Boston…

A skirmish at Battleship Cove

Location: 41 27.69 N 70 35.66 W

The wind and rain howled around us and we were soon soaked to the skin.  As it blew stronger, the anchor chain became horizontal and Ananda's bow sheared wildly from side to side, straining harder on the chain.  Fearful of the anchor dragging, I started the engine and motored into the gale to take off some of the tension.

We were anchored at Fall River and had just enjoyed a day spent exploring the warships at Battleship Cove, the world's largest naval ship exhibition.  For the last 20 minutes we had watched a large black cloud approaching, but all remained uncannily still.  It was as we climbed into our dinghy that a local man on a nearby yacht called over to us with the worrying news.

"50 to 60 knot winds, arriving in the next 10 minutes.  Best to get somewhere safe, maybe on land.  And you'd better move real fast!"

 What?  60 knots?  We could scarcely believe what we were hearing.

The outboard sprang into life and we sped over to 'Ananda' and winched the dinghy out of the water as quickly as we could.  Within a minute the storm was upon us.

Above the noise of the storm, we could hear the wail of sirens from police and ambulance vehicles in the nearby town as they responded to the emergency ashore.  Stellie took over the helm as I went forward to release more scope.  But the winch motor was overpowered by the wind, and I could not stop the chain paying out. Now we overlapped a yacht on a mooring behind us, and we fought to stop the two boats colliding as they careered about in the still mounting wind.  Though it was hard to remain standing on deck in the gusts, Stellie managed to place some fenders alongside, which helped enormously.

After what seemed an eternity but was probably less than an hour, the wind subsided as quickly as it had come.  Much relieved, we motored over to the other side of the river and re-anchored. Fortunately our neighbour's boat was unharmed, though Ananda's topsides sustained a blow from her anchor.

After that, we paid more attention to the 'hazardous conditions' part of the weather forecasts.

But all in all, the east coast of the USA is an amazing cruising ground.  Rhode Island was interesting; historic Newport calls itself the yachting capital of the world.  For many years, the America's Cup was based here, giving the claim considerable merit.  It's certainly a hive of yachting activity despite harsh winters and a short sailing season.  There's a real buzz ashore as the J-Class yachts Ranger and Valsheda prepare for a regatta, each with around 20 uniformed crew.  The grey-haired owners look preoccupied on their mobiles; fashionable WAGS parade on the quayside.

Croissant American style - about twice the size of its French cousin.

As a summer retreat for the exceptionally wealthy, the island was populated with wonderful 'cottages', enormous mansions not unlike English stately homes, now preserved and open to Joe public.  Here an elderly lady sporting a ring with the biggest diamond Stellie has ever seen professed to be a major benefactor of the Preservation Society of Newport.

Stellie at home in The Breakers, a 70 room summer mansion built for shipping and railroad magnate Cornelius Vanderbilt II.  The Great Gatsby was filmed here.

We enjoyed cycling everywhere and our British 'fold-up' bikes attracted much attention.

The sheltered waters around Rhode Island extend over 40 miles inland, a sailor's paradise.  At Melville, we made arrangements to have our boat slipped later this summer at an attractive rural boatyard.  An ancient railway diner shuttles between here and Newport.

"No Stella, the brake's on the other side..."

Further north in a lovely anchorage off Bristol, we were astonished by a new arrival – a seaplane landed next to Ananda.  The pilot then motored slowly around the bay, visiting a couple of marinas until he found one with piles low enough for him to tie alongside without clipping his wings.  Curiously, no-one seemed to pay him much attention or indeed offered to run him ashore!

As a breakfast treat, we went for the much recommended Hope Diner.  It was traditional diner, just like those that you see in every road movie.  A cast of old boys argued about a player in their local baseball team, the Red Sox.

'They oughta ask for the money back – ya know, lemon law…..'

'Aw, cummon… '

We sat patiently listening to the banter until, prompted by the old boys, the waitress who was busying herself behind the bar grudgingly appeared to serve the newcomers.

'How d'ya like your eggs?'

I wracked my brain for the answer.  It's in those old movies – what was the line? Of course!

'Sunny side up.'

She seemed satisfied with my answer and the meal duly appeared.  The home-baked strawberry muffins were just splendid!

Bristol was also the home of the lendary America's cup designer Nat Herreschoff; his shipyard is now a museum.

Hanging from the ceiling at the Herreschoff museam, this modern-looking catamaran complete with circular cockpit was designed and built over 100 years ago.

Further north still, we anchored in Battleship Cove, Fall River, under the bows of USS Massachusetts.  This WW2 battleship was part of an amazing naval collection that included the destroyer Kennedy , the submarine Lionfish and an East German missile corvette Hiddensee.  Visitors are free to wonder through every nook and cranny of these impressive vessels.

Big Mamie, the 681 foot WW2 battleship Massachusetts, complete with nine 16 inch guns protected by 18 inch thick armour plating.  With a crew of 2,230 men, she saw action in both the Mediterranean and Pacific.

Shell shocked

At Block Island, we were lucky enough to arrive while a 3 day music festival was being held.  Acts, some from quite far afield, performed outdoors for the early evening and then later onstage indoors.  And it was all free, including fresh popcorn!

A stitch in time - patching our ancient mainsail in Block Island

Martha's Vineyard is a charming island, both tasteful and timeless.  No wonder it's the playground of presidents.  The Kennedy's came over regularly from nearby Hyannis on the south of Cape Cod.  It's where Edward Kennedy took a wrong turn at a bridge at Chappaquiddick with disastrous consequences for both Mary Jo Kopechne and his subsequent career.  The Clintons and Obamas are regular visitors.  Carly Simon is a resident; James Taylor has since moved though his family are still here.  His brother, Livingstone, does a concert in a Church in Edgartown every summer.

At Oak Bluffs in the mid 19th Century, religious revivalists and travelling preachers would gather and set up camp in the seaside wilderness.  Their tents were gradually replaced by wooden cottages, gaily painted and highly decorated, the so called gingerbread cottages.  They built a huge tented tabernacle, now a permanent open structure.  Though the religious fervour may have mostly departed, some towns on the island still remain 'dry' - people eating in some restaurants must bring their own wine.

Gingerbread cottages at Oak Bluffs

Hard to leave Martha's Vineyard, but its time to head north.  Next stop, Naushon island…

Washed up in America

Location: 41 28.81 N 71 19.99 W

It's 10pm local time and the USA coastline is closing fast.

A little too fast, actually, because we don't really want to arrive too soon.  With no moon at the moment, the nights are pretty black and we would prefer an early morning arrival with good light for anchoring.  So we're flying less canvas to slow the boat down, and things are pretty peaceful.  There's a fishing boat in the distance, its working afterdeck lit brightly for safety.  And a coaster overhauls us as it chugs slowly eastwards towards Fall River.  We had called him up earlier as our courses were converging.  'What are your intentions, Sir?'  The captain sounded surprised – had he actually seen us? - but altered course to pass safely behind our stern.

After nearly 5 days at sea, it feels strange to be so close to land.  Looking at the charts, the names of the surrounding places read like an American social history.  To our left is Long Island, with New York just beyond.  To our right there's Martha's Vineyard and Chappaquiddick, then Nantucket with Cape Cod just to its north.  And ahead lies our destination, Newport, Rhode Island.

It's hard to believe we're only a few hours from any of them.  Hopefully we'll visit them all in time, though our cruising itinerary for the next few months is still in its infancy, sort of nascent, err… well, not actually conceived yet.  But that's cruising for you – kind of flexible, you see.  As fickle as the wind, our plans can (and do) change, moulded by weather, the books that we read so avidly on passage, the music we listen to and the friends that we make along the way.  For the cruising fraternity is a sort of floating village, a mobile community of largely like-minded adventurers that is always generous with help and advice.

We're excited to be arriving in America, though not quite sure what to expect.  The navigational charts themselves, furnished as they are with a wealth of detail, offer a hint of what's to come.  Marked on the chart , and all within 10 miles of us, are 'unexploded bomb 1968', 'unexploded depth charge Nov 1960', 'unexploded torpedo 1985',  'unexploded ordinance 1987 and 1992' , 'unexploded bombs Dec 1958' and 'Danger, sulphuric acid'.  Why do we never hear of this sort of thing in the UK?  Do our bombs and torpedoes never fail to explode?  Or is it just that we never get to hear about it?  So it looks like the country we're about to visit is an open society.  Or perhaps just a society prone to litigation?  Anyway, the water is fairly shallow here, about 30 metres, so I hope none of it goes off!

The passage from Bermuda has been pleasant with light conditions.  We left at short notice on hearing that a 'weather window' had just opened, with the promise of fair winds.  This was important for us, as part of the voyage included crossing the Gulf Stream, a tidal stream that runs along the American coastline at over 4 knots.  When the wind blows against the flow, the seas quickly build up to mountainous proportions.  We were lucky, and all was calm.

But as I write, a mist has descended.  Fog!  There's an eerie loom reflected around our navigation lights by the moist air.  Everything is becoming damp to the touch, and I put on a pullover. The fishing boat 'disappears' at a distance of about 2 miles, but soon visibility is only 100 yards, and we watch the radar and AIS closely as we approach this busy port.  We count off the buoys one by one - Narangassett B, Brenton Reef, Butter Ball, each passing close enough to appear out of the mist, sounding a mournful bell or whistle… for whom the bell tolls…

The day brightens, and with the rumble of the anchor chain in the safety of Brenton Bay next to an invisible Fort Adams, we reflect on our journey to the 'New World'.  The visit by a school of Spinner dolphin a few days ago had been spectacular.  After playing in our bow wave for a while some had performed amazing acrobatic leaps and somersaults high into the air, so typical of this breed.

We slowly prepare to go ashore to clear customs.  Once the fog has lifted enough to be able to find our way back to the boat, that is…

Newport scene - once the fog lifted

New York Yacht Club's Newport base - previously the home of John Nicholas Brown of Brown University fame

Bermuda - another world

Location: 32 22.73 N 64 40.28 W

Today is Bermuda Day.  Originally Queen Victoria's birthday, this public holiday is big here and marks the start of the summer.  Yes – Bermuda is still an overseas territory of the UK!  A referendum in 1995 supported this status, although the islands have been self-governing since 1968.  So things carry on much as they always have done.  No self-respecting Bermudian goes into the sea before Bermuda Day –'it's too cold, baaiii!' – although we found the temperature perfectly pleasant (23 degrees) yesterday when diving to replace an anode on our propeller.

Ananda clears customs at St Georges, Bermuda

Bermuda rigged

There's a parade on in Hamilton, and there's going to be a special yacht race here at St Georges – the local traditional class of Bermuda Fitted Dinghies.  Their crews will certainly be hoping the water is warm enough, as they'll probably end up swimming in it.  For the rules of this historic racing class don't require the same number of crew at both the start and finish.  So if the competition is close towards the finish, the crew literally jump ship and swim home leaving a lighter and hopefully faster boat!

Some balancing act here...

Unstable, ridiculously over-canvassed and with virtually no freeboard, the yachts always appear to be at the point of sinking.  One member of crew has to bail throughout the races.

Last week we visited the tiny Royal Bermuda Yacht Club (RBYC) in Hamilton – a fascinating haven dating back to 1843 and with a collection of historic artefacts that would grace any museum in the world.  There are half models of famous sailing ships, and plaques from visiting ships, including one of only two given by the Royal Yacht Britannia – Prince Phillip had it specially made.  On the walls there are pictures of the Queen visiting shortly after her Coronation and again in 1993 for the club's 150th anniversary.

There's even an RBYC club burgee that had been taken into space in the pocket of astronaut Readdie, a keen visiting racing sailor who later became a leader of NASA. No wonder the club remains popular with the Royals – Prince Edward and Sophie visited only a month ago.  Thanks, Sheree and Bruce (ex-Commodore), for kindly showing us around!

The hospital where I worked as a newly qualified doctor is still there, in Paget.  It's undergoing a huge re-development with fine hurricane-proof windows.   All of this is being financed by a private finance initiative (PFI), sadly much the same as most new hospitals in the UK.  Build now and let your children pay the huge loan charges later.  But we found the old house where I lived, set amidst the beautiful botanical gardens next to the hospital.  Now it's the park office!

My house (is a very very very fine house...)

Shipwrecks galore

The best way to see Bermuda is on 2 wheels, and our hired scooter allowed us to find areas we had never visited before.  Bermuda is really a series of coral islands interlinked by bridges and with countless protected bays and lagoons.  To the chagrin of mariners of old (and some new), the surrounding coral reefs stretch out to sea in every direction for miles and are littered with shipwrecks.

At Spittal Pond nature reserve we found a rock carved by Portuguese sailors who were shipwrecked here in 1543 (not long after the Spanish explorer Juan de Bermudez originally discovered the islands in 1505).  They apparently built another boat and sailed off again.  It wasn't until 1609 that an English ship headed for Virginia, the Sea Venture, was wrecked here in a hurricane; this time the 150 marooned sailors set up a colony.  They then built 2 ships from scratch and went on to rescue the failing colony of Jamestown in Virginia.  It was an account of this saga that inspired Shakespeare's play The Tempest.  John Rolfe, one of the shipwrecked passengers who was a farmer, went on to marry an Indian princess, Pocahontas, and make Virginia's fortune by cultivating tobacco… but that's another story, to be continued as our travels progress! 

Since then, the islands have welcomed weary sailors over the centuries.  Luckily, our sea journey here was fine.  But Mark Twain was certainly grateful to arrive in 1867 on the Quaker City.  He commented 'Bermuda was a paradise but one had to go through hell to get there'.

Onwards to America

So, all in all, we've had a terrific week here - a real 'blast from the past'.  But now it's time to go.  We can feel the lure of the New World.  We're off to America, land of the free.

Destination (sort of) is Newport, Rhode Island, some 650 miles to the northwest.  We're expecting some calms for the first couple of days so we've taken on more fuel, though with depressions further north, there may be stronger winds to come.  Stellie has stocked up with fresh fruit and vegetables, though not too much meat, as we hear that the US Customs sometimes confiscate stuff.  You'd think they were paid enough to buy their own food, wouldn't you?

No WiFi so we'll post this episode at sea by satellite.  This means small pictures, but no worries, we'll update them when we arrive…done!

Nowhere, man

Location: 26 51.00 N 64 06.00 W

It's nearly midnight on a moonlit Saturday night and I'm writing this at the chart table of a little boat floating out there somewhere in the middle of nowhere in particular. 

We've been at sea for almost 5 days and nights, sailing a course almost due north from the Virgin islands.  With either very light head winds or no wind at all, we are not going to take any records for speed on this passage.  Looking out from the cockpit, there's little to see from horizon to horizon.  A heavy swell of about 2 metres rolls in towards us , rather less than yesterday, and is a remnant from bad weather further north; a deep depression that is now winging its way across the Atlantic towards Europe and burning itself out in the process.  The moon shines brightly overhead in a clear sky, with a few small clouds ahead of us.  These don't look  threatening, unlike one or two of the dark squalls we had earlier on, suddenly pushing the boat hard over so that we run about reducing sail, only for it all to go calm again 10 minutes later.

But despite having to motor for long periods, the journey so far has been a pleasant one.  The nights are a lot shorter than they were on our Atlantic crossing in January, and somehow feel friendlier when bathed in the bright light of a waxing moon.  Dawn is at about 5am and apparently comes with a fabulous range of colours; reds, oranges, yellows, turquoises and blue (information courtesy of Stella who has been doing the early morning stint, the so called 'graveyard' watch!).  At one stage we stopped the boat to look at something floating in the water.  It was an orange buoy, marked 'underground cable' that had probably been washed into the sea somewhere.  But as we stopped and looked down into 5000 feet of clear  water, we saw a shoal of about 60 silver fish, about 12 inches in length with stubby tails like those on parrot fish.  They seemed curious and stayed close to the boat.

Last night, we spotted a tell-tale water spout astern, then another nearby.  Playing on the surface was a Fin whale, with an asymmetrical white underside to its jaw and tiny dorsal fin placed well back along its narrow body.  It made 4 or 5 shallow rolls over a minute or two with a final steeper arch of its back before disappearing into the deep.  These beautiful creatures are big, second only to the blue whale, and can grow to nearly 90 feet and 76 tons.  Reaching speeds of over 20 knots they could out swim the early whaling boats,  though sadly not the diesel powered Japanese whalers of today.

Alarms galore

In keeping with the usual nautical way of things, we've had our share of technical hitches too on this leg.  Within 24 hours, both engine and generator exhaust alarms went off.

The generator sea water pump impellor had stripped its fins off, and replacing it took a couple of hours of bending over on the cabin sole whilst Stellie tended to the sails in the rolling ocean swell.  But the following day I had to do battle with the mighty main engine impellor too.  The fight was long and hard, taking most of the day, but persistence paid off.  I emerged from the hot engine room battered and bruised from the struggle but victorious!  The massive impellor was replaced, but in the event my diagnosis had been off the mark.  The overheating was in fact due to a blocked strainer in the seawater inlet, and soon sorted by Stellie and me.

As if I needed more to do, the next day the main engine alternator alarm went off. Despite this indicating alternator failure, a play with my multimeter showed this not to be the case, with much relief all round.  Than yet another alarm sounded - an unfamiliar 'chirrup' this time, and only a carbon monoxide alarm with a flat battery. All just too complicated, eh?

Moving on up

Every morning, we try and check into the rum-runners, an informal SSB radio net for cruising yachts.  But as we all stray further apart, reception has been difficult lately and I can only check in by relaying via another boat.  There's also the legendary Herb to try and contact in the afternoon, if I ever get the chance.  Operating from his home in Canada, Herb has won every prestigious award going for his daily weather information service dedicated to yachtsmen making ocean passages, and he has assisted in many emergencies too.  A retired forecaster with formidable knowledge, he continues to practice what has now become his hobby on a voluntary basis.

Yesterday, we were called up on VHF by Dulcinea, a yacht that we could just see in the distance to the west of us.   It was good to chat to the friendly owner and exchange weather information, an understandable obsession for all of us out here on the oceans.  He was on passage from Antigua to Newport via Bermuda in a custom 63 foot yacht, designed for the owner by Bill Dixon.   Dulcinea slowly overhauled us over the course of the afternoon, no doubt helped by a slippery, freshly antifouled hull.  Our own bottom paint, now 2 years old, is slowing us down.  Despite our regular forays with snorkel and scrubbing brush, the hull is becoming so encrusted with weed and molluscs that it is beginning to resemble the hanging gardens of Babylon!  Definitely time for a repaint - maybe in America?

So onwards and upwards we go.  It's less than 300 miles to Bermuda, our next port of call, which should be a sort of homecoming for me.   A long time ago I  worked for a year in King Edward V11 Memorial Hospital, so time to revisit old haunts.  Stellie knows Bermuda well too, as back in in 1979 we sailed there on our first boat Coot, along with our good friend Tim.

But as we head north away from the tropics, the nights are definitely becoming cooler.  Although this comes as a bit of a relief for now, it does mean that at some stage we'll need to start wearing real clothes...