Hard To Leave Block Island

So there I was... at 10pm weaving between anchored boats on a pitch black night in my dingy with the 15hp Yamaha outboard churning away.  I was making my way to Paynes Dock with the anchor lights on top of the masts of the hundreds of sailboats looking like stars in the sky, though there were no stars that night.  I came up alongside a quiet side of the dock and Kim and I climbed a ladder to gain access to a place called Mahogany Shoals.  This "best kept secret" pub that we entered is located near the end of the dock, has barely enough room for me to stand, is quite small and you dare not let go of your drink because the floor is so crooked it's hard to find a level table.  Walter, a beloved Irish musician/singer/storyteller was about to start his set.  Kim and I had seen him a few years ago in this same venue.  At that time there was this little Benji looking dog that would just sit and stare at him as he played.  At first he denied knowing the dog.  Then maybe he knew him and eventually he admitted to owning him.  He told the story of how he was playing at a Scottish wedding in Florida and was taking a break when a large drunk Scotsman came outside and vomitted over the rail right onto this poor little stray dog.  The Scotsman looked bewildered and said, "I don't remember eating that"  Well, Walter cleaned him up and adopted him.  Back in Mahogany Shoals Walter mentioned that the dog did take tips and a guy there offered him a 5 dollar bill.  The dog walked over, took the 5, looked at Walter and walked out the door.  All Walter could say is, "It's that darn poodle down the dock".   Another memorable night at Mahogany Shoals and at midnight we head through the darkness hoping we can find the boat for a good nights sleep.  At 7:30am we hear the familiar cry of "andiamo andiamo" (which, in Italian, means something like come on let's have breakfast, though I've heard several definitions.)   The cry comes from the Aldo's Bakery boat that comes through daily to tempt you with hot coffee, pasteries of all kinds, Italian breads, etc brought right to your anchored boat before you're awake enough to resist.  Then it's another day at a beautiful beach accessible using the dingy.  This is indeed a boaters paradise.  It will be hard to leave.

This is a Sub-Blog

Though I'll be adding another blog in a couple days I thought it prudent to fill you in on a few facts.  For those of you who don't know,  my name is Wayne and I live on a 34 ft boat that is called Eventide.  I have sailed the New England waters for many years but have come to this wonderful place called "Early Retirement" which has allowed me to do this full time.  In the years that I have been boating I have had the pleasure/curse to fall into bizaar and sometimes entertaining or even heart wrenching  situations while on the water.  I created this blog to share these adventures with you.  The picture in the profile is a replica of a Wilson ball from the movie Castaway in which Tom Hanks, after creating the face with a cut and bloodied hand,  begins to talk to the ball and calls it Wilson.  My very good friend, Jasmine, gave me this to keep me company knowing I was going to be living alone on a boat.  Sadly, I do talk to Wilson...daily.   Now giving that I obviously need more human contact you can email me at crosswinds@hotmail.com if you have any questions or comments.  The sea is an amazing and demanding place to live and stories abound when you're out here.  Thanks for joining me. 
Wayne

But I Won't Tell You About That

So there I was...anchored in Great Salt Pond on Block Island.  I could tell you about watching the guy pull in over 100 good sized fish in one cast of net in Hamburg Cove, but I won't.  Or running into old friends Ralph and Ellen walking the beach on Napatree Point in Watch Hill, but I won't.   Or getting to see Rick and Mary in Block Island, a couple I've known for many years that sailed their 37 foot sailboat around the world in five years.  There are many stories there but I won't tell you about that.  There were camels and kangaroos that I ran into by accident while hiking around the island, and nature trails that took you to the edge of cliffs overlooking an endless ocean but I really don't want to tell you about that.  There were sunsets that would take your breath away and seemed to never want to end.  Or walks on the beach with Kim in the evening where the sand, the surf and breeze conspired together to produce the perfect moment, but that's not what I want to tell you about.  I want to tell you about two twelve year old boys that I watched from the cockpit of my boat yesterday afternoon.  They were in this old beat-up little boat that was barely staying afloat with the weight of the two of them in it.  They paddled it out to where my boat was anchored with two old boards that they probably picked up off the beach.  When they got out far enough they lowered a big rock tied to a line over the side as an anchor.  Then two sticks with line and bait were used as fishing poles.  I watched these two for quite some time as they talked and laughed and maneuvered to keep themselves on top of the water and not under it.  As far as I could tell they never caught a thing but I couldn't help but wonder when they reach my age if they won't look back at this moment as one of the best.  No matter where these two friends end up in life they will always have this very simple, very special memory.

It Still Hurts

So there I was...walking down a street in Mystic CT in search of a good cup of coffee when I noticed a hanging sign on the side of a building advertising an accounting firm with the last name that sent chills up and down my spine.  I had to know, so I walked into this establishment and was met by a lady ready to help.  I said "This may seem like an odd question to you but did a man with the same last name of your business and who was an accountant die a couple years ago in a boating incident?"  She said, "Yes, that was my brother."  And I replied, "I was the one who pulled him from the water and on to my boat that day and was with him when he died."  A pained sob came from inside her and she threw her arms around me and cried and cried. Not a gentle cry but a fermented suffering that had been needing to come out.   When she was able to listen I told her of how my wife and I had heard Matthew calling for help as we motored down the channel after leaving Watch Hill on that 4th of July weekend.  When we got to him he said he was having trouble breathing.  Kim threw him a throw ring with line attached and pulled him to the swim platform ladder.  He looked up and said an exhausted, "Thank you." He grabbed for the ladder and died.  As he floated away Kim swam to him and brought him back to the boat where we attempted to get him aboard.  Boaters will tell you that this is not easy.  The Coast Guard was at least 15 minutes out but with the help of people we flagged down and a tow boat operator who was an EMT we got him in the dingy and started CPR.  It was too late.  
The poor lady would burst into tears several times as I was relaying the story and she kept thanking me for being there for her brother.  They worked together for many years and she misses him every day.  There was a picture of him on the table.  She was so glad I stopped and told me to thank my wife as well.  We hugged, she cried, I left.  God bless this woman.  Give her peace.

And So It Begins

     So there I was driving up to the dock at the boatyard where my boat/home was floating offshore at its mooring in the Connecticut River.  I had just retired an hour earlier from my job of 22 years with a hearty farewell from all my coworkers and friends.  There at the end of the dock was John Chapin one of my closest friends and he looked tired.  Almost one month earlier he started paddling his single man canoe with another close friend, Rich, from the headwaters of the Connecticut River in Canada on a quest to reach the mouth of the river in Long Island Sound.  Camping on the banks of the river each night and paddling all day for that long would wear anybody out.  He had two days of paddling left to reach his goal and my boat was a tempting stopover for the night.  How serendipitous that he came to this point on the very day I retired.  I had stopped on the way to the boatyard and picked up the first of the Sam Adams Octoberfest to hit the stores for the season to celebrate.  I think I may have seen a tear form in John's eye when I pulled it from the car.  Many toasts and a pizza later we sat in the cockpit feeling blessed for the ability to adventure the way we do and for the amazing wives that love us through it all.  John went on to finish what he started and I slipped the mooring a few days later to see what stories I might find out there.  I'll do my best to fill you in on the adventure.