Ian McColgin
11-06-2006, 10:21 AM
Yesterday's Cape Cod Times (page A4) had a profile of our senior senator with an accompanying photo of him taken Thursday or Friday sitting in the Hyannis Port house. In the lovely background sailing off is a well-known local cat boat . . .
Yesterday was also a grand day to sail my friend Ray's Rhodes 39' sloop Elu - which means something nice in Hawaiian and since I can't remember it I sometimes call her HulaHula. Elu was launched in October as Ray took most of the summer trying to get repairs fitted in between a most hectic flying schedule. Ray and his sister Linda are having a rough go as their mother manages to keep not dying. Yesterday with the Mom in the hospital gave a rare chance for them both to go for a sail - probably the only one, as we'll be hauling her this week. So off we went about 1300 with Mary Ellen along.
It was truly glorious, a light breeze (Force 2 perhaps almost 8 knots) and, in the spirit of hard work, we fooled about doing victory laps around Lewis Bay while the big steamship came in, then we short tacked out the channel. As we cleared, three other boats were about: Ted Kennedy's Mya, Sam Barber's (American Impressionist) Cape Dory Typhoon Tess, and a nice little Herreshoff named Spray Hound. It was just light enough that Elu managed to be moving a good 6 knots on a reach and Mya, a wonderfully fast and powerful boat, could not really take advantage of her greater length and sail area so we actually overtook her. Once we were close enough that Ted recognized me, I told him the portrait was good but the background was better. He graciously agreed.
And about we sailed having a peaceful gas. Ray took a bunch of great shots which if I get over there today and we've time I'll maybe figure how to post. Linda had told their Mom she'd be in to visit about 1630 so we headed in to catch the mooring at 1600. And there in hangs the tale.
Low tide yesterday at minus a half a foot was at 1714. I think it was actually a bit lower because about sixty feet from the mooring we grounded gently but with the tide dropping, quite firmly. At that time, the water should have been at about the level of mean low and we've floated there, barley, in the past.
We tried getting weight into the bow and backing off. We tried rocking the boat. Eventually rocking with her ahead and hard over got her turned enough that we were near another mooring. We realized that close as the mooring was, much as Linda needed to get ashore to visit the Mom, and pineingly how Mary Ellen wanted ashore on the general principle that some maritime adventures are better heard about than experience, I'd not brought my exposure suit and no one was stupid enough to risk a swim over to the whaler in that water.
We tied a long boat hook to some line and cast a couple of times before catching the mooring, drawing the pendent close enough with the cockpit winch that we could pass a line through the eye and really crank her in. This secured us against just drifting up with the tide.
Linda called the hospital to let the staff know why she'd not be in. We estimated time off at perhaps a bit before 1900. We inventoried food, wine, beer and scotch to establish a ration schedule, and settled in to watch the fabulous sunset and full moonrise. By about 1700, we went below to huddle in the saloon on the port side settee.
The boat was staying upright and I really did not think about it much till suddenly at as we cuddled up, we went kerploph to port. The line to that mooring pulling off the port jib winch was just the right direction to keep Elu about upright with a slight starboard list while the tide ebbed, so long as we were not all four to port at the same time.
The breeze was existent but really Force 0 by 1800 when I saw that the only other boat in the water had come off the ground and was pointing into the wind. We were beam on, so I unrolled the jib and backed it. This would swing us away from the shoal and let us know when we were back afloat. Sure enough, about 1900 it all happened. We fired up the diesel, puttered to the mooring, and then repaired to Ray & Linda's for warmth and a review of the day's adventure.
Only about three hours late.
Yesterday was also a grand day to sail my friend Ray's Rhodes 39' sloop Elu - which means something nice in Hawaiian and since I can't remember it I sometimes call her HulaHula. Elu was launched in October as Ray took most of the summer trying to get repairs fitted in between a most hectic flying schedule. Ray and his sister Linda are having a rough go as their mother manages to keep not dying. Yesterday with the Mom in the hospital gave a rare chance for them both to go for a sail - probably the only one, as we'll be hauling her this week. So off we went about 1300 with Mary Ellen along.
It was truly glorious, a light breeze (Force 2 perhaps almost 8 knots) and, in the spirit of hard work, we fooled about doing victory laps around Lewis Bay while the big steamship came in, then we short tacked out the channel. As we cleared, three other boats were about: Ted Kennedy's Mya, Sam Barber's (American Impressionist) Cape Dory Typhoon Tess, and a nice little Herreshoff named Spray Hound. It was just light enough that Elu managed to be moving a good 6 knots on a reach and Mya, a wonderfully fast and powerful boat, could not really take advantage of her greater length and sail area so we actually overtook her. Once we were close enough that Ted recognized me, I told him the portrait was good but the background was better. He graciously agreed.
And about we sailed having a peaceful gas. Ray took a bunch of great shots which if I get over there today and we've time I'll maybe figure how to post. Linda had told their Mom she'd be in to visit about 1630 so we headed in to catch the mooring at 1600. And there in hangs the tale.
Low tide yesterday at minus a half a foot was at 1714. I think it was actually a bit lower because about sixty feet from the mooring we grounded gently but with the tide dropping, quite firmly. At that time, the water should have been at about the level of mean low and we've floated there, barley, in the past.
We tried getting weight into the bow and backing off. We tried rocking the boat. Eventually rocking with her ahead and hard over got her turned enough that we were near another mooring. We realized that close as the mooring was, much as Linda needed to get ashore to visit the Mom, and pineingly how Mary Ellen wanted ashore on the general principle that some maritime adventures are better heard about than experience, I'd not brought my exposure suit and no one was stupid enough to risk a swim over to the whaler in that water.
We tied a long boat hook to some line and cast a couple of times before catching the mooring, drawing the pendent close enough with the cockpit winch that we could pass a line through the eye and really crank her in. This secured us against just drifting up with the tide.
Linda called the hospital to let the staff know why she'd not be in. We estimated time off at perhaps a bit before 1900. We inventoried food, wine, beer and scotch to establish a ration schedule, and settled in to watch the fabulous sunset and full moonrise. By about 1700, we went below to huddle in the saloon on the port side settee.
The boat was staying upright and I really did not think about it much till suddenly at as we cuddled up, we went kerploph to port. The line to that mooring pulling off the port jib winch was just the right direction to keep Elu about upright with a slight starboard list while the tide ebbed, so long as we were not all four to port at the same time.
The breeze was existent but really Force 0 by 1800 when I saw that the only other boat in the water had come off the ground and was pointing into the wind. We were beam on, so I unrolled the jib and backed it. This would swing us away from the shoal and let us know when we were back afloat. Sure enough, about 1900 it all happened. We fired up the diesel, puttered to the mooring, and then repaired to Ray & Linda's for warmth and a review of the day's adventure.
Only about three hours late.