the Block Island "cruise"

[Figment]

Ah, Block Island!

Through most of my childhood, this was the "Holy Grail" cruise destination, much as Maine or Bermuda is to me now. A family of 5 on a 25' boat just wasn't EVER going to make it to Block, particularly not with a workaholic father who rarely took a 2-day weekend, let alone the 4day break necessary for such a trip. Then one fine day (I think I was 15 or so), he splurged on the 34' Luhrs and got the itch to really RUN it. Block Island was the key to the plan.

I distinctly remember our first arrival at the Great Salt Pond. We'd only owned the boat for about 6 weeks, so we were still in that rather edgy stage whereby one is acutely alert for anything out of the ordinary, any little smudge of grime, anything that might put a little scratch in the finish. We were backing into a transient berth, I'm standing at the quarter, docklines in hand, and I happened to look down. I think I came about as near as a 15yr old can come to cardiac arrest when I SAW ROCKS!!! At the top of my lungs I scream to the helm "STOP!! NO WATER!! NO WATER!! GET OUT OF HERE!!". Dad didn't wait for an explanation, gears went forward, throttles jumped up. All in all we made quite a scene. You see, as a child of Long Island Sound in the 1980's, I'd never known seawater clean enough to see bottom through 10' of water. This place was just UNREAL!!!

We returned about once a year thereafter. As a college student in Rhode Island, daytrips via ferry were not uncommon. The place became a part of me. When I was lucky enough to find a girl who was similarly enamored with the island, we got married there.

The thing about Block is that it has a serious Jekyll-and-Hyde problem. October through May, the island's residents number less than a thousand. It's peaceful, beautiful, mostly unspoiled, and wonderfully laid-back. June through September, the population booms to something like 10,000, and you can't swing a dead cat without striking five or six boozed-up obnoxious buffoons with too much Wall Street to throw around. We love the place, but we're definitely the OFF-season type.

We didn't manage to make our annual pilgrimage last year, but we had loose plans to take a crack at it in Figment this fall, probably in October. The weather is a bit of a gamble at that time of year, but Julia can't get away from work in September. But then, it's amazing what the phrase "free mooring" can do. Through a convoluted string of contacts and coincidences, we were presented with the opportunity for a free mooring last week. Off we go! "High Season" be damned! (Moorings in the Salt Pond start at about $75/night. I told you.... too much Wall Street)

I'm going to post this one in stages.

[Figment]

So anyway, I spent friday morning provisioning the boat and lashing the rolled-up 10' inflatable dink (borrowed from my parents) to the deck. In 85 degree heat and 125% humidity, this sucked. By the time Julia arrived after her half-day of work, I was thoroughly dehydrated and all too eager to depart.

So, depart we did. IMMEDIATELY. And it was incredible. As soon as the boat was in motion, our mindset quickly slipped into "Vacation" mode. We hadn't a care in the world. We were so carefree, in fact, that we were oblivious to the fact that I'd neglected to grab the dinghy's inflation pump from my father's boat. We were 10 miles into the trip when I noticed that this jackass in the big sportfisherman was coming up unnervingly fast from behind. How could he not see me, and why did he insist on passing so closely? Yep, it was Dad.... He happened to be down on the dock just after we left and noticed that I'd forgotten the pump. He was in the mood to burn some dinosaurs anyway, so he cast off and chased us down at 30 knots. OK, so sometimes powerboaters are handy. That lovely red dinghy would've been annoyingly useless without that pump, that's for sure.

My other mental lapse of the day came off of Groton (yeah, by the Submarine base) when I nearly tanked us square into one of those monstrous bell-bouys by misjudging the current that was sweeping us down into it. "How much current?" you ask? well, enough that the bouy had a 15-degree list and was leaving a 12" wake, so yeah I really should have known to keep clear. The fact that the GPS declared our SOG to be 6.5 knots (in not-a-lot of wind) could've tipped me off as well, but I had my head up my ass.

The guy I've been racing with on Wednesdays "arranged" (leave early in the morning before the "dockhands" notice you're there) a free mooring for me at his club on Fisher's Island. About an hour after dark I found it and Day One was done. 30 miles down, 30 to go.

[Figment]

As Day Two dawned, the REAL fun began. Winds were from the South-southeast at 20 knots, NOAA-predicted (don't get Tim started!) to climb to 25 and gust to 35, backing around to the Southeast as the day wore on. Time to get out while the getting was good.

As we rounded the eastern tip of Fisher's Island's protection, we got our first taste of the day. A set of 6' waves came in just as we turned upwind into the escape channel known as "Lord's Passage". That was a wet 10 minutes, but as we cleared the rocks and were able to bear off onto our easterly broad-reaching course, the boat rode very well under single-reefed main and 90% jib. For the next few hours, 4-6' seas on the beam were the norm, with the occasional set of 8' to add some froth. NOAA was correct for once. The last hour of the trip saw the winds build, with the occasional set of 10' waves to keep us on our toes. Visibility was less than two miles, but the boat was well balanced so coursekeeping was fairly easy. Finally the island appeared through the mist. Four hours, channel to channel. 4th grade math says that average SOG was 7.5 knots!!! YEAH, BABY!!! The GPS occasionally reported bursts of 8.2 or 8.3, but I was dubious until the trip was over and I'd done the math. Let's hear it for the tide!

Julia had a great time trying to "capture" some of the waves with the digicam (stupid digital-delay!!). She got a couple of decent ones over the lee rail as we slid into a trough...

And we were SOOOOO lucky that we made such speed, as the winds quickly rose into the 30-35knot range over the next half hour. 20 knots was ok (sailing offwind), 35 knots would've been something else entirely, I think.

With the winds howling, I inflated the dinghy and we made our way into town for the long-anticipated fococcia sandwiches at the Beachhead restaurant. They were every bit as good as we'd remembered. We returned to the boat near sunset. The skies grew ugly and then opened. "Deluge" is really the only appropriate term, but I was so badly encrusted with salt and sunblock and sweat that it was absolutely welcome. A cockpit shower of the finest kind.

Day Two was done. We'd arrived. The boat was swinging wildly through 60-degrees on the mooring (the pennant was something like 14' long), but we slept like babies.

[Figment]

After that storm front passed, it left us in the most wonderful cool dry cloudless weather. August felt like October. Two days spent exploring the island, eating ice cream, lounging on the beach, playing in surf, etc.

I think we discovered the limit of time that can be comfortably spent aboard with no galley stove. The little Force-10 BBQ on the stern rail served us well, but one can only survive on burgers and dogs for so long before one's body just shuts down.

I finally installed the galley sink footpump just prior to this voyage. It's amazing how much easier life aboard is when you're not pouring water from a jug for the simplest things.....

(she's gonna kill me)

[Figment]

Alas, Tuesday morning dawned and it was time for our little mini-break to end. An early-morning departure would've been preferred, but I had to wait for the dockmaster's office to open so I could return the "mooring pass", deflate the dinghy, etc. I think we may have finally cleared the channel by 9:00. Miracle of Miracles, the southeast wind had shifted nearly 180 degrees overnight. We had 25 knots from the North, again a nice brisk broad reach under reefed main and jib. This was most welcome, as the prevailing southwesterlies generally make the trip home from Block a long long beat.

As we approached "The Race" (that narrowish slip of water at the end of Long Island), the winds died into the 12-18 knot range and clocked around to the East. A perfect opportunity for us to break out Big Orange, our little gem of an eBay acquisition from the spring...


We had a lot of miles to cover, so I considered rigging the spinnaker (would've been a first for us on this boat), but the Cape Dory 28 that had chased us out of Block Island was about a half mile astern with spinnaker flying, and didn't appear to be gaining, so I left well enough alone. Besides, we were getting a 2-knot push from the tide through The Race, and were well ahead of schedule.

"Ahead of schedule" is a dangerous phrase. All sorts of priorities shift when one is "ahead of schedule".

At some point over the past 24 hours, we had begun to smell gasoline fumes on the boat. Just a whiff here and there, and we were moored near a gas dock, so we didn't give it much worry at the time. But now something was happening and the whiffs were becoming more potent and frequent. Neither of us relished the thought of sleeping aboard a boat that reeked of gas fumes, so we decided to try to push on and sail all the way home to branford in one day, abandoning our plans to overnight at a convenient halfway point. We were waaaay "ahead of schedule", so it seemed reasonable. New course: 270

With this, we jinxed ourselves. Wind and boatspeed dropped. and dropped. and dropped. We were still 28 miles out when I did the mental math and determined that arriving at a decent hour was not a reasonable prospect at speeds below 3.5 knots. It was time for the Iron. All hatches and compartments open for 15 minutes to ensure that all fumes were gone, and VROOOOM, back to 6 knots.

Motorsailing sucks, I think. Maybe I need to ditch the Copper Monster in favor of a waterlift muffler or something, but I just detest motoring for any great distance. Motoring with all of the hatches and compartments open didn't make things any quieter, either. However, I couldn't really argue against the distance we were covering. ETA was just about 15 minutes before sunset. Perfect. Fetch me a drink, woman.

[Tim]

Great picture! hehe...

And here I was, thinking you were going to leave us hanging for the whole weekend in mid-cruise log. Glad to see the new addition and look forward to however many more installments there might be.

[Figment]

In retrospect, I should've known better. Asking 40year old Iron to run at Ramming Speed for four solid hours was perhaps asking a bit much.
We were 8 miles out when she sputtered and lost power. DAMMIT, I can SEE our last turning mark!!! We're almost there!!!

Running rough and weak (as though on only 3 cylinders), but running nonetheless, we were still making 5.5 knots over ground, so we went with the "Pray and Wait" approach. Fallback plans rambled through my mind. Reinflate the dinghy and use it with the outboard as a pusher?
Sail (very very slowly) to the mouth of the harbor and call a towboat?
Try to sail up the river?
All of these had their drawbacks. Hassle, money, time, tide about to turn, etc.

30 minutes later, she sputters again and loses still more power. slower. slower. Ah, crap, we've been underway for 10 hours, it's been a long friggin day. We're less than an hour from our destination, but maybe it's time to surrender.

Nope. I swear, the very instant that I took a step forward to grab the dinghy's inflation pump, the engine mysteriously ROARED back to life. 6 knots plus. We don't know what its problem was, and we didn't care. Luck had smiled again.

30 minutes past sunset we secured to the dock, grabbed car keys and hit the road. We had all day tomorrow to properly "put the boat away", and we were just spent. 50 miles (11 hours) is a looong day, no matter the conditions.

Next time we'll know better.

Yeah, right.

[dasein668]

Nice report!

But what happened to the pics? I've just got question marks....

[Tim]

Pics display fine for me, FWIW.

[The Good Goose]

Great report. My wife and I spent a lovely rainy five days at Block Island last may in our Triton. It was supposed to be a buzzards bay cruise but the weather didn't cooperate. There is some anchorage there deep enough for a triton but I am sure it is unavailable in the busy season. I think you could easily anchor in october though.

We use a small back packing stove on our boat and it has really served us well. I just set it on the cockpit floor and cook from the companionway if it is rainy. The hot meals were really great with the cold rainy weather we experienced. The Pardy's book on food and cooking is great. I think it is called The Care and Feeding of The Offshore Crew. for my style of cruising I find their advice really works.

Great to hear about a cruise in our old stomping grounds
Brock Richardson

[Figment]

A buddy of ours recently had the same "trapped at Block" experience. The plan was for him to spend a week doing the usual Block-Vineyard-Nantucket thing, and for us to meet up at Block and make the return trip in tandem. We were a bit surprised to see his boat on the mooring when we arrived. Adverse weather (not horribly so, but enough to discourage a singlehander) had kept him on that mooring for the whole week. As soon as the front passed Saturday morning, he took off for home without us. He'd been bored out of his skull for days.

I was actually surprised to see a LOT of rather large boats anchored in that northeast portion of the pond. Perhaps there's more water over there than we've been lead to believe. Anchoring is certainly the plan for our next visit. In fact, we had discussed that if we were staying longer than the three nights, we would've abandoned our mooring for the achorage field.

The mooring we were on was free, but we came away feeling that we'd gotten what we'd paid for, ya know? Part of the reason we jumped at this free mooring opportunity was that people who've used this particular mooring before touted it as "the best spot on the pond!". In retrospect, we should have asked them to qualify that statement.

It's in that little clump of town-owned moorings between the BIBB and Champlain's. If your priority is to have the shortest possible dinghy ride to shore, this is a wonderful attribute. However, we saw this as a HUGE detriment, as it means you're constantly bombarded by the wake of every single launch and dinghy coming and going all day and all night.
It's about 50 yards from Champlain's. If your idea of a good time is to be subject to hip-hop blasting from the sound systems of Sea Rays all day, and the garage band playing at the end-of-the-dock bar all night, this is the place for you. It was NOT the place for us.

We must admit, however, that this location did provide a certain amount of entertainment. There seemed to be no end to the series of comically/tragically handled vessels making their way to the fuel dock. I swear, if we'd had a video camera on hand we could be striking it rich right now by publishing it as a "what not to do" boathandling tutorial. We also had ringside seats to observe the series of water toys being hoisted back aboard their 60' express-cruiser-megayacht-mothership. A boston whaler, an RIB, a PWC, two scooters, four bicycles, and all manner of floating donuts, etc. This poor schlub spent an ENTIRE day hoisting and securing all of this, bashing and slamming all the while.

Also moored in this little nook was Triton #64 MaKa (I think) of Newport. Very clean and simple, she's in much better shape than Figment, that's for sure. We dinghied over for a chat when we noticed the owners aboard. What is it with Triton owners having shortfaced dogs who can't swim? ;)