Wednesday, 6 August
Storms threatened the tiny harbor all afternoon but passed without a drop.
There’s a pleasant little breeze over the thin spit of sand between Steadfast and Rhode Island Sound. Well, really, the Atlantic Ocean. A few hundred yards away, it throws itself against the sand and rock, sending spray in the air along with a steady rumble that has yet to rest in the eight hours since Steadfast arrived. The sun nears the horizon.
Oh, and there’s fresh caught steamed lobster in the cockpit.
Yes, after a week of foiled attempts, Steadfast finally made it to Cuttyhunk. And there now is understanding as to the countless urgings of weeks, months and years past.
“Did you stop at Cuttyhunk?” or “What about Cutty, did you go there?” or “You’ve GOT to go to Cutty!” Or the ultimate, “I can’t believe you went all that way and didn’t go to Cutty!”
You get the idea. Block is beautiful. Newport’s nice. The Vineyard’s fun. But…
After the disappointing tries of the past couple of days, the 19 nautical down Vineyard Sound today seemed simple and straightforward. Fast, too. There were clouds and some haze when Steadfast slipped her mooring in Vineyard Haven at 0940. She motored slowly past the breakwater, along the outer harbor and north toward West Chop. That’s where the fun began, i.e., the ebb current that caught her and swept her westward down the Sound at up to 9 knots (over the bottom).
There’s not much room to spare when vessels meet in Quick’s Hole.
That single tack took her to Quicks Hole and the short, narrow, rocky pass through to Buzzards Bay. When she popped out on the north side, she was just a couple of miles from the little island of Cuttyhunk. Even with the slow start, her average speed for the day was close to seven knots. Nice ride.
There’s a wee bit of tension aboard coming into Cutty’s inner harbor. The channel’s thin and narrow—nine deep and maybe sixty feet across—stingy compared to other harbors up here. But once inside, there’s shelter from winds from every direction. Even on a Wednesday afternoon, the pond is packed. Boats hang on all 45 of the town moorings, a couple of dozen have slipped into the town marina and another half-dozen hulls lie to anchor in the little space left along the north edge of the mooring field. It is packed.
Cutty’s answer to the Mall of America: the town pier.
Once ashore, the reason becomes clear.
The one-room schoolhouse now serves a student body of two.
Cuttyhunk charms. Not with a fancy dress and flutter of eyelashes, wispy voice or come-hither glance. No, there’s nothing made-up about Cutty. She is the real deal, small—roughly a mile-and-a-half by two—and tough. Tough enough to be “home” to islanders for more than 400 years since Captain Gosnold camped here five years before helping settle Jamestown (VA).
Something like half the island remains undeveloped—the islanders like it that way—and the rest has room for about 150 mostly modest homes plus the Gosnold Town Hall, Post Office, Library, Historical Society, one-room schoolhouse, multi-denominational church and the marina. Nearly all is shingled in cedar shake turned gray.
Lobster’s a little sweeter when enjoyed on board.
There are a couple of places to eat—the tables at Soprano’s Pizza are in someone’s driveway, as is a twice-a-week lobster dinner near the harbor—one B-and-B and a mini-market of sorts. A row of doors on the pier open to an ice-cream-coffee-and-pastry shop and three options for take-home seafood. Door Number-3 was the choice for steamed lobster this night for Steadfast. Place your order by five; be back to get it at 6. Or go hungry.
On Cutty, the sun provides local color.
Not without a distinct charm that is simple, tough and so seductive. Like the views from the top of Tower Hill where, once you’re there, you don’t want to leave. It seems you could see forever and stay at least twice that long.
The surf roars. The sun sets. The lobster’s gone. But memories of Cuttyhunk will last forever.
Steadfast out.
At Sea with Steadfast 
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