Old Harbor

Sometime around Labor Day the light begins to noticeably change. It's subtle at first; only recognizable in the hours surrounding dawn and dusk. By the middle of September, however, it becomes obvious even to those not paying attention. Gone is the haze, the glare, the short shadows, and the long summer days.



Block Island in the summer sometimes feels like a spring break inspired theme park for the middle-aged. Old Harbor, with its ferry-terminal, and tipsy balance of Victorian architecture, bars and moped rentals grows too crowded, expensive, and commercialized. The views can be spectacular here, but they often go unnoticed as you weave your way between the taxicabs and foot traffic along Water Street.



In September, the tempo around Old Harbor begins to change. The ferries still run regularly, but the traffic, while steady, is no longer overwhelming. The carnival atmosphere gives way to a working waterfront which reappears from the shadows of waffle cones and Bacardi umbrellas.



Old Harbor once had a sizable commercial fleet, but the Great Depression, combined with the Hurricane of '38 provided a knockout blow. Now, the logistics of an island fishing industry are no longer economically feasible on a large scale. Seafood not sold to local restaurants and inns, needs to be transported again to distribution centers on the mainland. Today the fleet is more modest and specialized.



As the crowds thin however, the island's past image as an outpost in the Atlantic comes back into view. Commercial boats chased away by the limited summer space, will once again use the docks as a convenient layover port. Transoms which read Point Judith, Montauk, and Stonington lie berthed alongside the native fleet.



The light is different this time of year, the boats in the harbor are different too.

Boating Local: Destination Block Island

Providence Journal: Saving Block Island

Boating Local: Old Harbor Bulkhead Repair

Providence Library: Old Harbor Fleet 1930's

Soundbounder: Block Island North Light

Map

Dead Calm

When Long Island Sound is jokingly referred to as the Dead Sea, it is not because of its high salt content or lack of marine life. The Dead Sea remark pokes fun at the lack of wind here during the peak of summer. Hot, windless days with nearly a ripple on the water's surface.

Like all good jokes, there is an element of truth to this, but it sometimes become overstated. The winds most certainly die in late July and August, but on most days, the prevailing southwesterlies  pick up by mid-afternoon.

There are exceptions of course, and they can be lasting. The heatwave this past week brought a 24-hour hazy stillness to the Sound for several days. No afternoon breeze, no puff of wind in the jib, no sunset sails.



The Mystic Whaler , a 1967 reproduction of a 19th-century schooner, was rebuilt in Providence, Rhode Island in 1993. Based in New London during the summer months, she offers everything from sunset sails to 3-day cruises.

Keeping a busy schedule, Carina and I have crossed paths with her in Greenport, Stonington, and several other ports. She is a beautiful sight to see under-sail.

On this hazy evening however, she wasn't going anywhere fast. Just south of Morgan Point, I spotted her practicing that old 21st-century tradition of trimming the iron genoa.



Mystic Whaler Cruises

Cruising Guide To The New England Coast: General Conditions

Iron Genoa - a sailboat's engine

Any Day Now

Sagamore Yacht Club, Oyster Bay

Sagamore Yacht Club: website

Map

Extremes IV

Just three months separate these photos of an unnamed millpond located on the backside of Orchard Beach in the Bronx. With a late fall foliage this year, there were many shoreline areas of  the Sound holding onto their summer green well into October. Much like the tides, change came gradually at first, but then very fast. In a matter of weeks, we went from summer-like days to the starkness of winter: barren trees, dying grass, then snow, then ice. In this same short span, I went from living aboard a boat to trudging through fields of snow. So long deck shoes; hello duck boots.

NYC Parks: Orchard Beach

10,000 Birds: Dipping On Owls At Pelham Bay Park

photos: (top to bottom)

mid October

late November

late December

early January

November

"November always seemed to me the Norway of the year."

EMILY DICKINSON

Hauling a boat is a ritual that I often try to postpone. When the calendar reaches November, a strain of denial seems to overtake me. I become convinced that there will be plenty of warm days ahead. I try to remind myself of the years when I sailed on Thanksgiving weekend. A few peppers still growing in the garden reinforce this delusion. Unfortunately, the calendar and the thermometer do not lie. Sailors, like aging starlets and men with bad combovers, need to acknowledge the passing of time.



The sail from Noank to the Connecticut River boatyard is an easy one. It is the preparations that are most consuming. I needed to make sure the yard had a dock space available. I also had to make arrangements for getting back to Noank to retrieve my car. Finally I had to dig through my bedroom closet for gloves, a wool hat, and the rest of my winter wardrobe. A gentle autumn day on land can sometimes feel like January just a few miles from the shoreline.



November is lonely on the water. An occasional commercial boat is the only other vessel you may see. The shoreline in the distance seems deserted too. Gone are the crowds that flocked to these beaches just six weeks ago. Waterfront homes that overflowed with guests, look empty and silent. Their awnings and Adirondack chairs have been removed from the lawn. Only an occasional whiff from a fireplace tells you that someone is home. A lighthouse that seemed like a quaint image for artists and tourists in June, becomes a utilitarian navigation aid in November.



November is also a sad month on the water. No matter how enjoyable the time might be, you know the days are numbered. This year is no different, as my day is spent looking back in time, rather than forward. I think of my trip to the Thimble Islands, and a starry night anchored in West Harbor. Any sort of thought to suppress my approaching winter ashore. The seasons of the year have come full circle.



I arrived in Saybrook without a hitch, and made my way to the train station the next morning.

It was a spectacular fall day with sunny skies and temperatures in the 60's. As the train passed through Niantic, Long Island Sound came into full view. There were several boats in the distance, taking advantage of the lovely weather. For a brief moment, I started thinking that I should drive back to Saybrook and take one more sail. There would certainly be enough time, and it would be a shame to waste such a nice day.

Eventually I realized that this would not be possible since I had already removed the sails from the boat. My sailing season was over, and there was no way to delay its inevitable end.



But in spirit, it never ends.

 

This was originally posted in November 2008; but I had no readers then.

Cedar Point, East Hampton

There are thin slices in the year when everything seems to come together. The winds pick up, the skies are clear, the crowds disappear, and the world is yours. It's as if someone left you the keys to paradise since they won't be needing it any longer. It's a time of year I feel most comfortable in and around Long Island Sound. A moment in time when even a place like East Hampton becomes my long-lost hometown.

If I were a film director, I might very well have situated a coming of age movie in Sag Harbor and Shelter Island Sound. I spent many summers here working aboard a 53' Hatteras and calling these waters my own.  Along with Norwalk in my high school years, it is where everything, good or bad seemed to happen to me between ages 18 and 24.

But time rolls over everything, and I no longer have the attachments I once had to Sag Harbor. The docks in town are terribly expensive, and much of the atmosphere has changed too. The little bar I used to visit is now an upscale restaurant with a name I can't pronounce. The bookstore is gone; so too is the hardware store ; and few seem to remember any of the names of  people I once knew here.  

While the towns have changed, the waters never do!

Just east of Shelter Island and northeast of Sag Harbor is an anchorage I refer to as Cedar Point. Cruising guides rarely  mention it, and when they do, it is just a line or two. The charts call it Northwest Harbor, but I have yet to meet someone who uses this name. While never crowded, the anchorage can be uncomfortable in the summer months from the wash of passing mega-yachts circumventing Shelter Island.  When the late summer winds are not too strong however, from the south or west,  it becomes an ideal location for a night on the hook.

The surrounding land is part of Suffolk County's 600 acre Cedar Point Park. Much like Napatree Point, it is a narrow sand spit dividing the calmer waters on one side from the more exposed. And just like Napatree, the land here was altered by the Hurricane of 1938. Prior to that storm, the 1860 lighthouse and western half of the point had been an island.

Rowing ashore, we had the beach all to ourselves. While the south shoreline was hot and windless, the northern side had enough breeze to remind us that these warm days were numbered. We managed to walk a good portion of the peninsula, catching the view of a fishing boat passing  every now and then.. By late afternoon, with the sun already low in the sky, we were back aboard for an early dinner.

The shorter days make it seem much later aboard than it actually is. It's as if I enter a different time-zone and need to set my watch forward, the moment I cast the lines. There was no activity on the water and only a few stray lights could be seen in the distance. Surrounded by darkness and silence, along with the warmth of an extra blanket, I was asleep before 9 p.m..

Why is it that a 50 degree September morning feels colder than 30 degrees in January? It is one of the mysteries of the world to me. It was not yet dawn when I awoke, but I had no desire to climb out of my bunk to check the time. After unsuccessfully trying to sleep a bit more, I soon noticed the skies through the cabin portholes, slowly changing from black to pale. In no good humor, I abandoned my bunk and faced the chill of early day.

I lit the stove and  lingered alongside it, embracing the traces of heat while the coffee brewed. The wind was calm, with just the sound of water slapping lightly against the hull. Sliding back the companionway hatch, I was greeted by the sunrise of another spectacular day. I climbed on deck, easily reminded of why I loved it here so much. It was good to be back.

Cedar Point County Park

Soundbounder: Cedar Point Lighthouse

Map

Shades Of September

Have you ever looked at a recent photograph of yourself and thought "Wow, time is really piling up"? You don't notice the changes day-to-day, but then a moment arrives when it is the first thing you see. You can't quite put your finger on the details of what is different, but you know it is there.

When I look at these photos of Quiambog Cove, autumn is the first thing I see. There is no fall foliage or long shadows to suggest a later date, but I can see it nonetheless. While it may have been early August with temperatures near 90, the sun was slightly lower, the grass was a different green, and the air didn't smell the same. The landscape wasn't yet dying, but it was no longer growing. 

The past few days have brought cooler temperatures with high winds to Long Island Sound. It has been an early taste of fall without the subtleties in the pictures above. Cold mornings, northeast winds, and a stormfront lingering for 3 days,  all provide a hint of what lay ahead in the coming months.

But summer doesn't end here. Some of my best times afloat have been in the months of September and October. The humidity and fog are often gone, and so are the crowds. Places I avoid in the summer, become accesible again. The fishing is better, and the sailing is too. If given a choice between August and September, I will choose September every time.

Despite all this, there is always a part of me that hates to see August come to an end. Maybe it is some internal clock left over from my days in school. Maybe it is the Halloween items that start appearing in stores, and the advertisements warning me to gear up for winter.

But I really think it has more to do with my outlook than anything else. When September arrives, I appreciate the return of fall for what it is. Nothing more, nothing less. In the days of August however, I always waste too many hours preoccupied with the passing of time. 

Quiambog Cove: Map

Sara Elizabeth

Sarah Elizabeth departs Stonington in heavy fog. May 2010

Soundbounder: Fog Happens

Soundbounder: Stonington Fishing Fleet

CT Coastal Access Guide: Stonington Town Dock & Memorial

An Occurrence At Old Lyme Bridge

No matter what the calendar and thermometer may read, it is the Old Lyme Railroad Bridge that marks my seasons . When I sail north of this span in November, the bridge closes behind me, and my winter begins.

For the past several years, Carina has spent her winter months in a boatyard a few miles above this bridge. I still sail her occasionally in late fall and early spring, but always north of the span. Until I venture to the other side, it all seems like a preseason exhibition game. It doesn't really count. This 1907, truss-style, bascule bridge is my Checkpoint Charlie; my San Ysidro. Passing beneath her is my spring and autumnal equinox.

There is something that feels very unnatural when a boat passes under a bridge. The charts and signs all show that there is plenty of clearance, but I still find myself second guessing the dimensions. I envision the mast being too tall, hitting the bridge, and then falling down. If only Freud were aboard to diagnose and explain my  mast-envy, and dismasting anxiety.

But there are no mishaps, and the bridge operator gives me a wave as I clear the opening. I turn to wave back and immediately realize that I am south of the bridge. "See you in November" I yell to him.

Ahead of me I can see the two lighthouses at Saybrook Point, and I smell the salt water in the breeze. A small wave rolls in from the Sound and smacks the hull broadside, spraying my face lightly. It's a brisk and salty reminder that Carina has been released from her winter stall, and is now free to roam in what F. Scott Fitzgerald called "the great wet barnyard of Long Island Sound". 

Saybrook-Old Lyme Bridge

Soundbounder: November

Soundbounder: Ferry Landing Park

Hot Fun In The Springtime

It seems like everyone is taking advantage of the weather. Calling this an early spring would be an understatement. Beaches and parks along the Sound have had plenty of activity this week with visitors enjoying the lovely spring summer temperatures. Even these two mallards in Oyster Bay Cove got in on the act, with their own version of Grazing In The Sand.

Sure hope it doesn't snow next week.



YouTube: Hugh Masekela: Grazing In The Grass

YouTube: Sly & The Family Stone: Hot Fun In The Summertime

YouTube: War: Summer

SOUNDBOUNDER: That First Day (Hammonasset)

Nor'easter

It seems like many years since we have had a storm of this magnitude.While nor'easters are certainly common here between October and April, this weekend's storm appeared to carry an extra punch. Wind gusts as high as 74 MPH, combined with 5-plus inches of rain, knocked down trees and power lines across the northeast. Many low lying coastal areas are flooded, with the hardest hit regions being Fairfield and Nassau Counties.

The nor'easter I measure all others by, was one I did not witness personally. The 1992 storm combined severe wind and rain with high tides that flooded entire neighborhoods. Many harborside bars still display photos of one of their regulars rowing down the street or wading through water up to their waist. The high-water mark at the City Island Yacht Club remains visible on the clubhouse exterior. I have met numerous people who lost boats or had their homes damaged from that storm.

On Sunday during a break from the winds, I visited a boatyard in Old Saybrook. I had hoped to go out to some of the beach areas, but flooded streets and downed trees prevented me from doing so.The few boats  in the water were now tied to docks that were submerged. The hauled boats meanwhile, sat in a flooded yard. Hopefully that is the extent of the damage.  

While this weekend's storm was not as destructive as the 1992 nor'easter,  the effects of it will be visible for years. I am sure along many stretches of Long Island Sound,  there are  beaches that have been altered, homes damaged, piers destroyed,and lives lost.

Beaufort Wind Scale

USCGC Morro Bay

While visiting the USCGC Eagle in New London last September, I was able to get a close-up view of the USCGC Morro Bay, as well.  Built in 1981, she is a 140 foot tug with a beam of 37 feet. The ship made headlines in 2008 when she was involved in a collision with one of the Block Island ferries.  Her duties include enforcement and coastal patrols, but her primary function is icebreaking during the winter months.

This month, the Morro Bay is busy keeping the channels on the Hudson River open for navigation.



Below is an excellent photo gallery and video of the Morro Bay working on the Hudson. Unfortunately, to view them you need to be an Optimum Online or Newsday subscriber.



USCG: 140 Foot Bay-Class Cutters

Newsday: Photo Gallery

Newsday: Video

YouTube: Morro Bay Icebreaking

YouTube: Morro Bay Icebreaking On Kennebec River, Maine



photo credit: Newsday (bottom)

Merry Christmas

Old Field Point Lighthouse

Southport Harbor

No Volleyball Today

Lighthouse Point Park, New Haven, January, 2008

The Late Season Fishermen

Without looking at a calendar, I can sometimes determine when a photo was taken by simply noting the activities taking place. By late September, the swimmers and sunbathers give way to dog walkers and fishermen. In December, the pets and their owners are still on the beach , but the fishermen are mostly gone.



These photos were taken last month at West Beach in Westbrook. It is a small, slightly rundown, town beach that is mostly consumed by it's parking lot. With the afternoon sun low in the sky, these fishermen took advantage of one of the dwindling, late season, mild days.



CT Coastal Access: West Beach

Map

Extremes II

Old Saybrook Town Beach, April 2009 (top), and October 2009 (bottom)

Barn Island

Situated between Stonington and Watch Hill is the 1,013 acre Barn Island Wildlife Management Area. This is an off-the-beaten-path location that many of the regional brochures do not even mention. Only a small sign with an arrow on Route 1 marks the way to the entrance. The Connecticut Coastal Access Guide however, refers to this as the state's "premier coastal wildlife management area".

I visited Barn Island last week with the hopes of seeing some fall foliage, but that was not to be. With water temperatures in the upper 60's, and evening air temperatures in the lower 50's and upper 40's, it is still too early to see much change in color along the Sound. The lack of autumn reds though, did little to damper my visit. This is a beautiful spot!

Just north of the boat launch on Palmer Neck Road, I entered an eastward trail leading to an overlook that included numerous interpretive signs. From there, the trail worked it's way down a slope to a causeway that crossed a large tidal marsh. There may have not been much fall foliage, but I could smell October in the air. The decaying cordgrass and other vegetation was all too apparant to my senses. The landscape was mostly green,...but not for long.

CT Coastal Access Guide

Facebook: Fans Of Barn Island

Audubon CT: Barn Island

MysticSeaCaptain: Kayak Barn Island

Map

Defying The Calendar

Top To Bottom: Saybrook Point, Rocky Neck State Park, Mamaroneck, October 2009

I sure hope the fish don't bother those guys in the top photo.

September

SEPTEMBER
From dewy lanes at morning

The grapes' sweet odors rise
At noon the roads all flutter
With yellow butterflies

By all these lovely tokens
September days are here
With summer's best of weather
And autumn's best of cheer

But none of all this beauty
Which floods the earth and air
Is unto me the secret
Which makes September fair.

Helen Hunt Jackson (1830-1885)

SEPTEMBER: Quotations

Poem Hunter: Complete Poem

Wikipedia: Helen Hunt Jackson

photos: West Cove, Noank, September 2009

Extremes

Stony Creek in July and January, 2009