a blow in port washington

Posted on September 29, 2012 by Jenny

September 18, 2012

The wind howled and the wind howled, and the wind howled some more. First thing in the morning you could already hear the wind blowing through the rigging. By evening, we could barely walk on deck without almost being blown off balance. This was a southerly blow not to be reckoned with. This was our reason for getting to Port Washington a day early. We hunkered down and waited out the weather.

The weather was forecasted for the wind to be out of the southwest at 20 to 25 knots with gusts up to 35 knots. The wind would remain this way until a low pressure moved through with a strong line of thunderstorms and potentially stronger winds.

During the morning hours, the wind was blowing up to 20 knots, so it wasn’t anything we weren’t used to. Wil and a friend from another boat braved the elements and dinghied ashore to do some shopping. The women stayed with the boats and schooled the children.

While Wil was gone, and as the wind began to increase, I started thinking more about the mooring ball we were shackled to. Our estimated 40,000 pounds of boat is a lot of weight pulling on lines when the wind is dragging her backwards. In case we broke free, I began developing an emergency plan. Step one, get the engines running and into forward gear. Steps two and three, get Justine to the helm, and myself to the bow. Step four, drop the anchor. Step five, hope the anchor digs in and holds before we hit any other boats.

As the day progressed, the wind grew stronger. Even our steady catamaran was rocking as though we were underway on a choppy bay. All day long we bounced around on the mooring ball. Many of the monohulls looked like they were bouncing around in the ocean! We, as well as many other cruisers, would periodically go out on deck to check bow and mooring lines for chafe. Sometimes adjustments were necessary.

By the afternoon, we were on edge and our ears were tired of hearing the ever persistent wind. There was a constant worry whether our lines to the mooring ball would hold. We tried to brainstorm a way to double our bridle lines, but with the force of the wind, there was no easy way. Quick action and dropping the anchor in the event of a breakage was our only choice.

Click here to see & hear the wind blow!

lots of white caps

several head sails were destroyed

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

just how strong is the wind?

Our wind anemometer display has been broken, so ever since we’ve owned the boat, we’ve been guessing at wind speed. However on this day, we finally remembered a small handheld anemometer that was tucked away in the nav table. Our anemometer read 30 to 35 miles per hour. Later, we had confirmation that the wind blew 30 to 35 knots, with a top wind gust of 47 knots (that’s 54 mph!). According to the Beaufort Scale we were experiencing gale force winds and stronger.

As night approached, we were under a severe thunderstorm warning and tornado watch until 11:00 p.m. We nervously watched the radar as the severe weather approached. Even though it was already dark, the sky grew darker and the wind gave us one last tremendous blast. As suddenly as the thunder, lightning and rain came, the wind disappeared. And then, all was quiet. Our nerves settled and we slept like babies.

Read Anything Goes account of the blow on their site. Wendy does a great job of describing the sights and sounds of the day!

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mixing things up & lessons learned

Posted on September 27, 2012 by Jenny

September 17, 2012

It was a peaceful morning when we hoisted the sail and pulled up the anchor from Westbrook Harbor. However, there was a major difference to the day. Wil and I had decided to do a role reversal. It was time to mix things up a bit.

Over the past few months, we had fallen into specific roles that are comfortable or easy for us. When we anchor, I’m usually at the helm, and Wil usually drops the anchor. We have our routine and hand signals down to perfection ( . . . or so we thought, but that comes later in this story!)

When we hoist and drop sails, I’m usually at the helm with Wil working the sails. With the size of our boat, it’s tough to reach the boom for unzipping and zipping the sailbag. Since Wil is taller, he has taken on that job. If I have to get the sail out or zip it up, it involves cranking the boom out to a point where I can better reach it, but then I still have to climb to reach the zipper. Also with such a tall mast, Wil is stronger and able to raise the mainsail faster than I can. It’s just simpler if he does it.

A couple of weeks ago, a good friend of ours on a buddy boat, fell through a hatch opening and into their service bay, breaking several ribs in several places. They were still in Seal Bay on the remote island of Vinalhaven in Maine. Fortunately, a first responder was able to get to her, and there were no other significant injuries. However, their departure from Seal Bay was delayed while she needed to heal enough before they could move the boat. It is a huge relief to all that they were in a location to receive relatively immediate medical care.

It is this incident that brought Wil and I to think about the “what if?” What if one of us is injured and unable to tend to our regular duties? Therefore, we are mixing things up a bit. Yes, it might take me longer to put up the sail, or drop it and put it away, but I need to become proficient at it. I need to do the anchor and get used to giving the signals, which means it’s time to train one of the kids to handle the boat while anchoring. All of us need to be able to do all jobs onboard, that way if one of us is injured, the others can take over.

Now back to the story of the day.

When we departed Westbrook Harbor, Wil was at the helm, and I gave the hand signals from the bow and brought the anchor up, scrubbing the chain clean of any mud. No wonder Wil looks like he’s had a workout by the time we’ve left an anchorage!

As we got underway, we reassessed our weather situation for the upcoming days. There was a strong southerly blow on its way for the next day, and it was looking like something we wouldn’t want to be traveling in. Since we were on the move in the early morning, it was possible to pass Port Jefferson and make it to Port Washington. There we could hunker down for a day while the wind blew.

just starting to see NYC

many monarchs flew along with us

Arriving in Port Washington, we knew there was a possibility of picking up one of their free mooring balls, if there was one available. Since this would only be the second mooring of our lifetime, I wasn’t ready to walk in Wil’s shoes at the bow.
We arrived in the anchorage to discover that the free mooring balls didn’t even have a pendant to grab. You had to place your own shackle and line on the ball, a difficult task from 6+ feet above the ball.

To add to the uncertainty of the moment, Wil’s normal hand signals disappeared, and he began telling me which engine to use for turning the boat. He was telling me to use the starboard engine which would bring the bow to port. Even though I knew I needed to have the bow turning to starboard, and needed to use the port engine, I chose to follow Wil’s orders. Maybe he knew something I didn’t. As I engaged the starboard engine, of course the boat turned the “wrong” direction from the mooring ball. By this time, Wil was repeatedly yelling “STARBOARD ENGINE!” and about to leave the bow to come do it himself. I yelled back, “I AM using starboard, but this doesn’t make any sense!” Suddenly, Wil stopped in his tracks. He realized that as he was looking backwards to the stern, he had his port and starboards mixed up. Not surprising when we commonly joke about his right and left mix ups.

As we quickly got back on track to where the boat needed to be, a neighboring guy on his boat, jumped in his dinghy to help us shackle to the mooring. After he assisted us, we discovered that he was someone from the Magellan Net whom we had not met yet. He happened to be moored right next to us and saw our most ungraceful approach to the ball. Oh, well!

We’ll do better next time. In fact, after this incident, we agreed that from now on, the person on the bow is only to direct where to put the boat, and the person at the helm is responsible for putting it there. Another lesson learned.

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block island to westbrook harbor

Posted on September 25, 2012 by Jenny

September 16, 2012

The next leg of our journey down Long Island Sound required a little bit of pre-planning with respect to tides. We would be going through The Race, an area where the Atlantic Ocean bottlenecks into Long Island Sound. When the tide is flowing or ebbing, the current can flow as fast as 3-4 knots through this passage. It is beneficial for sailboats to time their entrance to Long Island Sound with the current in their favor

When we went to bed the night before, we had decided to sleep in the next morning and then do a shorter sail from Block Island to Shelter Island. There we would anchor for the night, and early the following morning, sail through Plum Gut, another narrow opening into Long Island Sound.

Upon waking up the next morning, we saw that many sailboats were exiting Great Salt Pond and making the mad dash for The Race. At that moment, we decided to do the same. Putting breakfast on hold, we hoisted the mainsail, raised the anchor, and sailed out from Block Island. (Yes, in that order!)

Sailing for The Race was like being in a race. Every direction you look, countless sailboats were all heading towards a common single point. It almost seemed as though we would all converge together at the same time. Big boats. Small boats. Fast boats. Slow boats. We all had the same plan in mind. Pass through The Race before the current turned against us.

Race Rock Lighthouse near The Race

We made it painlessly through The Race. Although, once we were into Long Island Sound, we weren’t sure exactly where to go. The wind was in our favor to take a southwest course towards the northern coast of Long Island. However, the nearest anchorage was not reachable by sunset, and we weren’t prepared for an overnight. Also, sailing overnight meant risking a lobster pot or long line snag. (Not nearly as many pots as in Maine, though!)

We chose a northwest course towards the southern coast of Connecticut. This meant sailing into the wind, and eventually the current, but at least we would have some place to anchor for the night. At one point, our speed reduced to less than 4 knots SOG (speed over ground). No where near the 8 knots we’d had earlier.

Our personal anchorage for the night ended up being next to a tiny island with a breakwater wall in Westbrook Harbor about 5 miles to the west of the Connecticut River. We were protected from the light northwest breeze, and it was an easy in and out for a quick overnight rest. We would sail out early the next morning for Port Jefferson . . . or as usual, so we thought.

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not from pocasset to newport

Posted on September 18, 2012 by Jenny

September 15, 2012

While cruising, one must get used to the fact that when you make a plan, most of the time, you’re going to change that plan. That seems to be the case with almost every day hop we’ve made since we started cruising. When we left Pocasset, we were aiming for Sachuest Bay, just east of Newport, RI. (Second Beach is supposedly the place to surf up here!)

When we picked up anchor from Red Brook Harbor in Pocasset, we had said our final good-byes to Wil’s dad the night before, knowing it will be a long time before we see him again. He will be missed and our time with him was truly special.

As we headed out into Buzzard’s Bay, the wind was blowing from our long-awaited, northwesterly direction, and we could see small white caps across the water. With the wind anemometer still not functioning, we immediately guessed 15-20 knots, and put a reef in the main with a full jib out. (Since catamarans aren’t meant to heel, they must reduce sail sooner than monohulls. Otherwise, it’s tough on the equipment and creates potential danger) It wasn’t long before we were cruising along at 8-9 knots under sails alone. A wonderful feeling!

sailing to Block Island

very happy to be sailing!

While we were completely enjoying the day’s sailing, we also knew we were closing in our westward turn towards the Newport area. Once we made that turn, we would be close-hulled to the wind again, and our fun would have to end. We weren’t ready to cut the great sailing short, so we looked at the chart. As luck would have it, Block Island was located on our current course and reachable by the day’s end. Not only could we get there by sunset, but going to Block Island also meant getting us a bit further west and closer to New York City. A new plan it was!
With the new plan in motion, Wil decided it was a good time to put out the fishing lines. We have always been able to catch fish when we sail, but for some reason, our hooks had not seen a fish’s mouth since our journey north to Cape Cod in July. Even with local advice in Maine, we still couldn’t catch any fish. There were also too many lobster pots for safe trolling. We have been starved for fresh fish!
It wasn’t long after dropping the fishing lines into Rhode Island Sound, when I happened to glance back and see a fish on one line. Wil had not even managed to get to the first line when I noticed the planer was up with a fish on that line too. We began whooping, hollering, and dancing with joy!
Fishing action was back to normal for us. We had all hands on deck. Wil and Colin pulling in the lines, and Justine and I taking turns at the helm while helping the boys. I don’t even remember the order of fish on, fish off, or when we achieved the final count. But in the end, after having a total of five hits, throwing back two false alabacore, we ended up with a nice Atlantic Bonita and a blue fish. There was plenty of fish to last us for a few days. Grilled fish tacos with the bonita and pan-fried fish bites with the blue. Yummy!

freighter anchored by Block Island

on the approach to Block Island

the harbor entrance caught fire!

As the day drew to a close, we approached and entered Great Salt Pond in Block Island. We were circling the anchorage, looking for a spot among the other boats, when someone hailed Full Monty on the VHF. It was another boat from the daily Magellan Net. We had passed right by their stern, so they couldn’t help but notice our name and wonder if we were from the morning radio net. After we dropped the hook, and ate our tasty fish tacos, we went over to meet the couple from Seattle who are also cruising towards Panama and the Pacific. We had a very nice visit, and also discovered that we know some of the same people. The cruising world gets smaller by the day!

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long island sound, here we come

Posted on September 15, 2012 by Jenny

This morning, we are picking up the anchor and beginning our journey down Long Island Sound towards New York City. We plan to make 4 day hops, stopping each night. If we are able to pick up Internet over the next few days, there will be new blog posts. Otherwise, keep checking our location via SPOT and Winlink, and once we’re online again, the posts will resume.

Here’s to hoping for favorable winds!

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big seas gear

Posted on September 14, 2012 by Jenny

Remember the parachute anchor chain plates that we installed on the bows? After finishing the chain plates for the bow, we had the stern chain plates made for a series drogue attachment, but we didn’t get them installed before we started cruising. Our series drogue had been ordered, but it needed to be custom made and then shipped from England. Therefore, we weren’t in a rush to complete what would be a tricky installation.

Last week, our series drogue, along with the bow and stern anchor bridles, arrived in Cape Cod, so this week we installed the stern chain plates. This involved disconnecting the steering quadrants on both sides, the autopilot, and air vent hoses. Since we are in the water now, holding the new stainless steel plates in place while taking measurements, drilling holes, and placing nuts had to be done with extra care, so as not to drop anything in the water. At lot of time and money were involved in their creation. To lose the plates now would not be a good thing.

drilling holes for chain plate installation

port plate for the series drogue

starboard backing plate

Wil's chest size

will he fit?

he fits!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After installation of the stern plates, Wil opened the series drogue packages. The line, with 167 tiny parachutes, needed to be properly laid out in the deployment bag.

There was a time when I was considering sewing and attaching all 167 parachutes myself, but now I’m glad I didn’t. Maybe one day I’ll have time for such a project, but for the time being, it was worth paying someone else for it.

one of 167 tiny parachutes

placing the series drogue in its deployment bag

nice job!

series drogue & attachment bridle

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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it works, it doesn’t work

Posted on September 13, 2012 by Jenny

It works, it doesn’t work, it works . . . The systems on our boat can be just like pulling petals from a flower and doing the loves me, loves me not. I guess you could say, we have that type of love/love not relationship with our boat systems!

The generator and the refrigerator have been our biggest troubles. After spending 2 weeks in Plymouth getting our electrical sorted out and the generator repaired, the generator worked for approximately an hour and a half before it started blowing fuses again. An extremely frustrating thought after having paid an experienced professional to give us a hand! Troubleshooting the generator again, brought Wil to following his nose. He noticed a hint of an electrical burn smell coming from the preheat solenoid. My nose concurred with his discovery. However, having arrived in a remote part of Maine with lack of phone service and internet, we had to put the generator repair on hold. All ordering of parts would have to wait until we returned to civilization. In the meantime, we relied solely on our solar panels for recharging the batteries. Anytime we had a rainy day or two, we powered down and lived on bare minimum energy consumption. We were quite impressed with just how little we needed to go about our daily living.

Once we returned to Cape Cod, Wil ordered a new preheat solenoid for the generator and it arrived within 24 hours. Within a day, Wil had the new solenoid in place and the generator running. It was like music to our ears! Now, our fingers are crossed that it will continue to run for more than an hour and a half.

fridge turned into junk food storage

Since we started cruising, we have been without our refrigerator. We have been using the freezer at refrigerator temperature, so we have refrigeration, but no freezer capabilities. After contacting Frigoboat, they put us in touch with a refrigeration service person in Portland who could check our system. Hence, the reason for our brief Portland stop. The refrigeration was undercharged to the point of being empty. The serviceman added refrigerant (didn’t check for leaks), and ran the system until it seemed to be on its way to properly cooling. We also received the new temperature control board to install at our convenience. As soon as we left Portland, we got busy with cruising and enjoying Maine’s beauty, so we didn’t install the new control board until we were in Camden. We had gone that long without use of the refrigerator, another week or two wasn’t going to make a difference.

We felt like celebrating when we could finally move all of our refrigerated foods over to the actual refrigerator. Life would be so much easier! We wouldn’t have to dig into the freezer for our everyday foods and beverages, and we would finally have use of a freezer. Unfortunately, the luxury of a refrigerator was enjoyed for just over 24 hours. After a late evening of drinks on a neighboring boat, we returned to discover that the refrigerator temperature had climbed to 46 degrees F. All relaxation and good spirits went out the galley hatch when we ended up transferring food back to the freezer that night!

So, the generator works (thanks to Wil), and the fridge does not work (a manufacturer issue). The moral of this story is that not all marine service personnel are created equal, and an attentive boat owner usually knows as much as (or more than) the experienced, paid professional.

How do we stand with other onboard systems?

The autopilot is currently working . . . sort of. We installed the new rudder reference unit. For the most part, the autopilot works, but then it will suddenly alarm drive stop. There is still some tweaking to do with the settings, and then the autopilot should be good.

The port engine alternator went haywire. We discovered that it was cranking out 16.6 volts and had cooked the wet cell starting battery. Needless to say, we had to buy a new battery. Fortunately, we had a spare alternator onboard. The newly installed alternator is working properly and putting out just over 14 volts.

Our variable speed water pump works . . . sometimes. When our water tanks are full, the water pump works. When the water tanks get down to any level below half, the water pump will run continually in low speed before turning itself off. We’ll be doing dishes, getting a drink of water, brushing our teeth, or taking a shower when the pump turns off. The person in the middle of their task has to yell “water switch!”, and anyone who’s available will turn the main switch off and then back on in order to get the water running again. We have searched for water leaks or air suction in the system, but cannot find anything. We believe the problem is in the long distance from the starboard water tank to the pump. The water has to be pulled from forward in the starboard hull, aft to the starboard engine room, over the bridgedeck, and to the port engine room where the pump is located. When we pull water from the port water tank only, the problem seems to stop. We are not sure how to handle our water system yet, so in the meantime, we continue to the holler for water.

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provincetown & a shark

Posted on September 12, 2012 by Jenny

September 6, 2012

As much as we would have liked to explore Provincetown, we only had one day of light southerly winds before they would become stronger again. We needed to travel SW across Cape Cod Bay, and back through Cape Cod Canal to Pocasset, so we had to take advantage of only light winds against us. Therefore, our Provincetown tour was only from the water.

light house at Provincetown

Provincetown waterfront

Pilgrim Monument Tower ~ Provincetown

 

While motor sailing across Cape Cod Bay, Wil got glimpse of a shark swimming near a lobster float. He called “shark!” and circled around for all of us to see. The shark swam to within 10 feet of the boat before finally diving out of sight. Later, we identified it as a blue shark.

a blue shark came to check us out

Transiting the Cape Cod Canal was pretty straight forward. We had the green light, the current was with us, and the railroad bridge was up. After passing through the canal, we arrived in Pocasset and found our same spot to anchor in Red Brook Harbor. It was almost like being home in the familiar territory.

 

 

 

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quick decisions & things that go bump

Posted on September 11, 2012 by Jenny

September 3 – 4, 2012

fog bank closing in on Camden as we depart

more of Maine's beauty & charm

 

can't get enough of the rocky shores & lighthouses

another submerged lobster pot float

lobster pot float dead center on the photo ~ can you see it?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Early Labor Day morning, we hoisted the anchor and motored out of Camden Harbor. We had planned for an all-day trip to the Booth Bay area, a journey of about 45 miles to the south and west. When our day began, we had no idea that we would end up on Cape Cod a day and half later!

We had been motoring along on our planned route when we decided to listen to the weather forecast. It was important to determine the wind direction for when we arrived at our next anchorage. When the weather report was finished, Wil and I both had the same thought in mind. Make an offshore, overnight dash south to Cape Cod. The weather forecast had indicated that our gentle ESE winds would gradually change back to strong SW winds with SE swells and building seas. It was now, or wait a week. We chose the “now”.

In that split second decision, we were suddenly and sadly saying good-bye to Maine. We sailed past Monhegan Island and out into the Gulf of Maine, headed for Provincetown. We watched the rocky shores disappear behind us. Our time in Maine had been an incredible experience to cherish for years to come.

We turned our focus to the immediate future. We had just decided to do an offshore passage. Things needed be stowed and harnesses and warm clothing brought out. The cockpit needed to be cleared. With our new bustle of activity and a SE swell, the kids were having a difficult time focusing on their studies, so school finished early for the day.

It was still afternoon as we were moving along at about 7 – 8 knots, close hulled and motor sailing. While I was at the helm, Wil went into the port engine room to check the oil. I was keeping a watchful eye for the long line buoys that we periodically had to dodge. Suddenly, there was a massive bump from under the port keel and rudder. Within milliseconds, the entire port side of the boat lifted up and bounced across something hard below the water’s surface. “What was that!” I yelled and worried for Wil in the engine room. Wil appeared from the engine room after having felt the boat bump and rise up. We scanned the water for signs of any objects or whales, but there was absolutely nothing. The port bilges were immediately checked, and thank goodness, we weren’t taking on water. We were confused and stunned. We were in deep water with no land in sight. Had we just hit a whale? What else could cause a boat of our size to rise up out of the water? We hoped our keel was okay. If it was a whale, we hoped the whale was okay.

[Later, we spoke to someone with a 42 foot Crowther catamaran who possibly hit a whale off of Gloucester in the Stellwagen Bank area. They were doing 22 knots when they hit something hard, breaking both of their daggerboards. Yikes!]

Excitement didn’t end there. Ahead of schedule, our gentle ESE breeze clocked around to a SW 10-15 knot wind, pushing us to a more westerly course. As darkness approached and the moon came out, we could see the shadows of the SE swell that were getting steeper and closer together. They weren’t big waves by any means (~ 1 meter), but they were choppy. For the first time since we’ve had this boat, we experienced quite a bit of the bridgedeck slamming that catamaran people talk about. It didn’t feel so bumpy on deck or at the helm, but everything inside the cabin was being rearranged. Since the weather forecast had indicated only light winds and small seas, we had only stowed certain items and not prepared for any major offshore seas.

Justine described getting into her bunk in the forward cabin. As she was climbing up to her bunk, she suddenly found herself airborne to the ceiling before landing softly on her mattress. For the rest of the night, she was unable to sleep because her body was constantly lifting off her bunk with every wave. Since Colin sleeps in an aft cabin, he was able to sleep a bit easier. Only the noise would keep waking him.

Wil and I took turns trying to sleep in the main salon, and we shortened our watches to 2 hours. While there wasn’t any weather helm, we were sailing so close to the wind, we had to work extra hard to keep the sails from luffing. We were motor sailing with a reefed main and the jib, and needed every bit of that to keep us steady in the bouncy seas. Our bodies were tired and tense by watch’s end, but getting any sleep was nearly impossible. There was the slamming, the sound of things falling or rolling around the floor. Drawers slid open and drinking glasses fell over. Anything on a table or seat, ended up on the floor. As I was trying to sleep, a heavy, decorative pot fell and missed my head by a centimeter. I hate to think what kind of bump or concussion I would have received from that one!

result from leaving our hatch covers on in rough seas

On deck, it didn’t feel as rough, but there was a large amount of green water coming over the bow. Just about every wave brought spray to the cockpit, and the water’s force at the bow tore apart one of our new PVC hatch covers. (Notice the perfect key hole punch made at the hatch handle!)

We were cold and wet, but we had to continue on our course. When we were on the starboard tack, falling off the wind and riding the seas meant getting too close to land. On the port tack, we could be further off the wind, but sailing directly into the seas. Since we weren’t desperate enough to turn around, there was no way we could win, except to tackle the seas at hand.

By dawn, the seas had finally subsided and we were arriving to the Stellwagen Bank area. We had planned another detour to see if we could find our fellow humpbacks again. Wil was at the helm when he saw a large humpback breach the water 4 times. The splashes were huge and he cheered for each. The kids were still sleeping, and I was in the forward cabin, so the rest of us missed the only show given that morning.

the only evidence of whales seen breaching

With the wind against us, and rain coming, we ditched the rest of the whale watching, and bee-lined it for Provincetown. When we dropped the anchor that afternoon, we all breathed a huge sigh of relief, and hunkered down for the next bought of foul weather.

The next day, we never even went ashore in Provincetown. We stayed indoors while the wind howled and the rain poured. We slept late and caught up on school. We needed a day to recoup.

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camden windjammer festival

Posted on September 10, 2012 by Jenny

August 31 – September 2, 2012

Camden’s Windjammer Festival was a full weekend of activities. The big, wooden schooners began their decent on the town midday on Friday. One or two at a time, they would sail through the harbor and find their resting place at the town docks. The harbor master had become the festival’s announcer, and introduced each ship as it came in.

Once the ships were in their places, the festivities could begin. Various exhibit booths lined the waterfront. Teams were frantically building their own wooden boats, made from the two sheets of plywood, glue and duck tape that was provided for them. They would eventually launch and attempt to race their boats, and perhaps find that they might sink. A local lobsterman gave a lobster hauling talk. There were remote control boat races, a sea dog show, and a scuba diving demo. The fire department did a rescue swimmer talk and demonstration. A Navy ship, anchored outside the harbor, was open for tours, and there was even a wedding onboard one schooner.

Camden's inner harbor and waterfront

USS Normandy ready for tours

 

old wooden schooners lined up

Pirates had set up shop in the nearby park, so they could teach kids how to be pirates. They discussed the official pirate articles, demonstrated sword duals and cannon firing, and showed how to beg for your life or walk the plank. The pirates were constantly needing volunteers!

reading the rules of piracy

begging for her life!

waiting for the lobster crate race to begin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For us, the highlight of this local festival was the Lobster Crate Race. Twenty-four wooden lobster crates were placed in the water and tied together, creating a “pathway” from one dock to another. The contestants attempt to run across as many crates as they can within the allotted two minutes, a tricky feat since the crates sink or tip the moment you step foot on them.

Colin desperately wanted to have his chance at running the crates, so we signed him up. Most of the contestants were from Maine, with a few from other parts of New England, so we were quite excited to have been able to provide a southern representative for this local tradition.

The most successful crate racers were young, lightweight, and were obviously trained and experienced. These racers were most impressive with their speed and endurance. The winner achieved 264 crates. First timers ran as few as 3 crates, or as many as 60 crates. A few adults attempted the run, but went swimming almost immediately.

Colin was introduced as Lobster Pot Lang, and his cheering section not only consisted of the Full Monty crew, but of all our new cruising friends. While we never heard Colin’s official number, he managed to run about 4 1/2 lengths (109 crates) before he splashed into the frigid water. Colin was very happy with his achievement, and we were all extremely proud of him.

Colin nervously waiting & mom ready with the video cam

part of Colin's cheering section behind him

 

floating across the crates!

fellow cruisers watching from their dinghies

the beginning of the end

[Watch the Lobster Crate Race video]

After a fun-filled day, we hosted a potluck dinner onboard Full Monty. The eats were fantastic, and the music even better. Imagine “House of the Rising Sun” played by 3 guitars, a fiddle, and a penny whistle! After Colin played along with the adults, he headed up the kids’ concert, consisting of 3 guitars, a ukele, a harmonica, and a recorder. Jusitne performed a couple of solos on her keyboard. We rocked the anchorage into the night!

Justine on the keyboard

The final day of the festival came to a close with fireworks over the harbor. We all gathered together on the other kid catamaran to watch the performance, before making our good-bye rounds to a couple of other boats. The next morning we would be leaving Camden, temporarily separating from our cruising buddies, and beginning our southern journey to warmer waters.

 

 

 

 

 

the glow of fireworks lighting the sky behind Full Monty

Full Monty amidst Camden's fireworks

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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