Monday, 15 September

“Wow! It really smells like diesel in there.”

The mate’s observation is not nearly the sort one longs to hear on first making port in the self-proclaimed “Sailing Capital of America.” But diesel fuel is aromatic and that pungent aroma did permeate the engine room yesterday. Let’s not jump to conclusions, especially after such a pleasant morning.

It was a quiet night tied alongside Discovery (as solid a yacht as the Fleming is, it felt more like being anchored).  She and Steadfast were underway by 0830, Discovery out of Selby Bay in short order. Steadfast stopped first to re-fuel, at which point there was no untoward odor of diesel or other sign of a problem.

Seen this time from west of the rocks, Thomas Point Light marks the mouth of the South River.

A favorite on the Bay marking Annapolis Harbor.

Once round Thomas Point Light, the helm turned to port, sails unfurled and Steadfast skipped lightly over the Bay ripples at a blistering 3.5 knots toward Tolly Point. Then she headed up the Severn River ‘til the wind tapered to the point where that Little Red’s assistance was deemed more than desirable.

A slip awaited at Annapolis Yacht Club’s Sailing Center, just to port past its main docks and in the shadow of the Spa Creek Bridge. Ian and Nate helped get her tied off on the floating pier and, after a whopping 9.8 nautical miles asea, she was “home” for the night. Or maybe more, as would be learned.

It’s while stowing lines in the cockpit locker that the reference to diesel odor first was made. It wouldn’t be the last of this visit for, even through the fumes, it was clear on closer examination that red-dyed diesel fuel had soaked the oil absorbent pad beneath the Racor. Lovely. The filter itself was fine. The leak was at the top of the aluminum housing under the head of a large bronze bolt to which the filter mounts.

The AYC Annex is a great location, just east of the Spa Creek Bridge.

A quick call to Zimmerman’s in Deltaville and Adam and Chad confirms the presence of an inner o-ring under the bolt head. That could be the problem. West Marine’s on-line catalog has no re-build parts for Racors. The parts desk at Fawcett’s Marine reports “It’s not in my system. I don’t even know the part number.” The parts guy, Kevin, then tells me, “Here’s the phone number for Racor. Get me a part number and I’ll see if I can get it by Thursday.” An odd assignment for a customer, it would seem, but being desperate, Racor is called. It’s the wrong number, “You need Tech Support,” and the beat goes on.

There’s a conversation with Javier at Tech Support wherein it is learned, “Sir, that unit is obsolete. We stopped making it years ago ‘cause there was a problem with the bolt leaking.”

Yes, Javier, this a problem. Javy then explains the new model has no bolt. Mmmmm. Smart.

If it’s out there someplace, Javy says a replacement bolt with o-ring would be part #RK10006. This number is relayed on another call to Fawcett’s. Kevin says he’ll see if he can find it and get back to me.

This back and forth continues all afternoon and on through Tuesday. Meantime, the Racor is wiped clean—several times—and the bolt snugged slightly each time in hopes of stemming the leak. It slows to a weep, then just a tear now and then, but alas, continues nonetheless, a sad case.

Kevin’s working on it, though, right?  Right?

At last, the long awaited call from Kevin comes at 1730 Tuesday evening.  Yes it took him all day to track down the part but, there’s good news, says he.

“Bill, I got the part number on that bowl you wanted.”  He reads the number adding, “I’ve already checked and my distributor can have it here Thursday.”

Kevin receives a response that is less disbelief than exasperation.  Bowl?  BOWL?!

“What bowl?  Kevin, it’s a bronze BOLT not a bowl.”  At this point, surrender seems the only option.  “Just forget it.  Just give me a complete new unit.  You have one of those in the store, I saw it yesterday!”

There are indications that some level of understanding has been reached.  There’ll be another phone call in the morning, first thing, to confirm the order and arrange delivery of a new unit.

We think.

To be continued…

Steadfast out.

Sunday, 14 September

Sandy Point Light is near the mouth of the Magothy River, just north of the Bay Bridge.

The plan is to rendezvous this night in Selby Bay—some 30 miles south—to raft up with good friends Kathy and Bob aboard their Fleming 55, Discovery. This’ll be the first time to see folks from home since we left. It’ll be really fun.

First, though, some “fun” in the engine room, that little left over fuel issue from last night.

The so-called primary filter, a Racor model 120R water separator, is on a bulkhead behind Red. When it clogs with junk filtered from the fuel, Red won’t run. After nearly 300 hours motoring this summer, it’s overdue for a change. So the old one’s off—and it is filthy—and a nice clean new one installed with relative dispatch.

The culprit: gunk in the fuel filter.

Red, however, is not impressed. She still cranks like a champ but balks at starting. Okay, message received. She wants a new secondary filter, too, which then means bleeding the fuel lines. (That additional step, by the way, is why the secondary seldom gets changed; it’s a pain.)

The secondary is in a cup the size of a Texas shot, mounted in easy reach on Red’s right shoulder. It’s off in no time and with what’s inside, it’s a wonder Red ran at all! Gross. Lesson learned: from now on, the filters get changed every 200 hours. Period.

Discovery moored in Selby Bay off the South River.

New one installed, lines bled and—gee—Red fires on the first crank! Waddya know? By now it’s nearly noon but Steadfast is soon underway through that skinny channel out of Fairlee Creek and on her way down the Bay, past Sandy Point, under the Lane Bridge and round Thomas Point Light. From there, it’s a short three miles or so to Selby Bay.

Being with Kathy and Bob is, as anticipated, lots of fun. Stories are swapped along with suggestions for stops along the way as they head up to “The Islands,” i.e, Block, Nantucket and others in Southern New England.

The “plan” works.

So does Red!

Steadfast out.

Saturday, 13 September

Despite a rainy forecast, the morning sun shone briefly on the Sassafras, promising more than the day would deliver.

The sky over the Eastern Shore showed promise this morning but the thick dark clouds to the west, over Baltimore, promised rain before long. So it was anchor aweigh at 0800 with Steadfast motoring down the Sassafras in plenty of time to make Fairlee Creek ahead of the rains.

Fairlee gets high marks in the cruising guide, both for shelter and beauty, and it’s one of the many anchorages on this part of the Bay that Steadfast had yet to visit. It had the added enticement of being only about a three-hour run from the Sassafras. The wind would be of no help, though, so it was all up to Little Red, plugging into a foul current that kept speeds below five knots most of the 14 miles.

The entrance to Fairlee Creek has beach on one side, sand spit on the other and barely 7′ depth between.

As the cruising guide warns, the channel into Fairlee is short, shallow and narrow. That is to say it’s barely a boat length across so once a boat heads in, she’s pretty much committed to going through. Meeting another vessel could be embarrassing, at best, and there is a good chance another boat will be met. There’s a good-sized marina just inside the creek and Fairlee is a popular weekend anchorage. An inflatable zips from the anchorage to the beach. A go-fast boat idles out, a flybridge eases in and Steadfast follows astern.

Several boats lay at anchor just inside the sandspit at the entrance. But that’s right across from the marina with lots going on so it’s a quick decision to motor—slowly—up the creek to a more secluded spot. It’s close to low tide and the depth sounder shows almost six feet so s’all good. There’s barely a breath of wind.

That changes, though, as dark clouds crawl eastward and sprinkle the creek. Boats swing to face west briefly then, as the front moves through, it’s a northerly that nabs them. It builds to 15, then 20 knots sustained, gusting near 30. What had been ripples on the creek surface grow to wavelets and, in awhile, whitecaps. Steadfast might ride more comfortably, it is thought, were she to move down the creek where the trees lining the beach would break the wind a bit.

What certainly is one of the most singular homes seen sits on Fairlee Creek.

So at 1800, the ignition key turned, the starter button was pushed and Red cranked for all she was worth. She would not fire, however. Bummer. Lifting the hatch, a quick visual revealed naught. Whatever ailed her, Red keeps to herself. Another try, same result.

After all that motoring of the past week—up, over and through quartering seas— faulty fuel filters seem a likely cause. But at this hour, Steadfast rocking with a whistling wind, diving into the engine room does not entice. More rode is released and the crew settles in for a secure but noisy, roly-poly night.

The fuel line gets a good going over in the morning.

Steadfast out.

Friday, 12 September

What became today’s C&D opened in 1829 at a cost of $2.5-million.

The current in the Chesapeake & Delaware (C&D) Canal didn’t turn ‘til shortly after 1300 hours. Normally aboard Steadfast, that’d create a measure of angst, foot tapping, finger drumming, at least. But after “Doing the Del” the day before, a morning off was just fine.

That meant ample time to plot the day’s course over coffee, to breakfast at “Bohemia Café,” explore the tow path along the south side of the C&D (Kate’s run took her from Maryland all the way into Delaware! Sheeeesh.). There was time even for hair cuts, for cryin’ out loud.

So at 1330, Steadfast motored—carefully, given the shoaling at the entrance—out of the basin at Chesapeake City and into the canal’s two-knot current. There’s a “No Sailing” regulation in the canal but a nifty northerly blew into the basin all morning so, as soon as Steadfast passed by the west end of the canal, sails filled and Little Red took a well-deserved break.

Trigor all but fills the width of the canal by herself.

To describe this as delightful would be understatement. As much as her crew, Steadfast seemed to recognize she was back in “home waters”—the Chesapeake Bay—and she celebrated by heeling slightly and skipping southward on the rippled surface. The wind did it’s usual Chesapeake-thing, i.e., fluked around from north to west and back, and then somewhere in between. But that was just fine. There was the Bay’s beauty to behold, long green lawns that lean down to the water’s edge, red clay banks that rise like revetments against the storm. Sweet.

Thanks to a two-and-a-half knot assist, the miles clicked by at a reasonable rate for awhile. The time came, though, when the current was confirmed, i.e., wind died and drifting was the sole source of progress. That circumstance arose around the mouth of the Sassafras River which made it easy to decide that Steadfast should call this “home” for the night.

This gorgeous property is at the mouth of the Elk River, one of many on the Upper Bay.

So there she lies to anchor, on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. With a late start and light wind, mileage was minimal—16.5 nautical—but that was just fine.

It’s good to be back in The Bay.  Our Bay.

Steadfast out.

A stunning sunrise or warning to be heeded: early morning sky over Cape May.

Thursday, 11 September

“Heroic Leader. Heroic Leader. This is Full Tilt. Do you copy?”

The call goes out again, with a bit more urgency, this time. “Heroic Leader. Heroic Leader. This is Full Tilt. Do you copy?” A third call is made, tension audible in the voice of Full Tilt’s captain, before the response is heard.

“Are you the catamaran or the other one?” The skipper of the car carrier Heroic Leader is all business. Full Tilt thus identified, he dismisses any concern.

“Don’t worry cap’n. You won’t catch me.”

Kate keeps in mind that “Objects Astern May Be Closer They Appear,” as is the case with NYK’s Heroic Leader.

So ends another brief encounter, cargo ship and recreational vessel, on Delaware Bay. The Bay’s busy this day, far more traffic of all types than seen the last week while transiting the Jersey shore.

Conditions this day, not ideal for Steadfast but the best foreseen for the next several days: south-so’west 15-20, gusts to 25, a good bit of wind, again on the port quarter. But seas would stay in the two-to-three-foot range, NOAA assured, all deemed doable by those aboard. Thus, after so-o-o-o-o much study of forecast and chart, she eased out of the slip at Utsch’s Marina at 0645, turned into the Cape May Canal and caught the first of the flood current to carry her up Delaware Bay.

Miah Maull Light is the first landmark when heading up Delaware Bay from Cape May.

On a good day, Delaware Bay’s a bear. She’s wide open to the Atlantic with nary a desirable anchorage the full length of her 50-something-miles. Once you’re into Delaware Bay, you just have to suck it up and sail on.  Options are virtually nil.  The shore is far from scenic, unless one’s idea of scenic includes nuclear power stations.

And Delaware Bay can be anything but docile. When wind and current meet, it makes for a nasty chop. Chesapeake Bay shoals from the shore, but nothing like the “Del.” From the west end of Cape May Canal, it’s 16 nautical miles due west to the Delaware shore, much of which is just 12 or 15 feet deep. Less than a third of the way up her length, she narrows and yachts and fishing boats of all kinds share the deep water channel with tugs, tankers, car carriers and container ships all bound for sea or for ports up the Delaware River, like Philly, Camden and Wilmington.

The Big Guys are deep draft and move fast. The channel’s fairly narrow so there shouldn’t be an issue. Little guys like us, just stay out of their way. Some days, it works well but others, it’s quite the show. Today’s one of the latter. Lots of conversation on marine radio. Good listening.

The nuclear plant at Salem, NJ, was downwind so no one aboard glowed at night.

No close calls for Steadfast, though. She motor sails, sails for a while, motor sails some more, making great time, 7-plus knots over the bottom. Then about 1400—approaching the east end of the Chesapeake & Delaware Canal—sails furled, Red takes over one her own and speed at first drops to near five knots. Not long thereafter, though, the current grabs her and Steadfast hurries westward near eight knots. Ninety-minutes later, she turns to port and the now shoaled entrance to the basin at Chesapeake City, MD.

On her way in, Steadfast passes that German-flagged Jeanneau and the classic cutter, both first seen at A-C. They’re bigger, faster and they’ve long since settled-in. For Steadfast and crew, it’s one of the longest days of the summer, 63.2 NM, but the combination of current and quartering wind help her cover that at an average of more than seven-knots overall. Not bad.

Best of all…dreaded Delaware Bay now lies behind.

Steadfast out.

Monday, 8 September

There must be many reasons to visit Atlantic City.  There’s the lure of a quick buck at blackjack or hitting the jackpot at the slots.  (Several casinos have gone bankrupt but enough remain open to fill the declining demand.)  Some enjoy the beach and the Boardwalk.  Many will come this weekend for the Miss America Pageant.  Or, if you’re cruising on a small boat, maybe you just need a safe harbor for the night.

The latter is the lone appeal for Steadfast, “A-C” being one of the two inlets on the Jersey Shore manageable without up-to-date local knowledge (Manasquan the other).  Sometimes there’s room at a reasonable rate on a tee-head at Gardiner’s Basin, the municipal marina.  If not, a couple of anchorages offer varying degrees of shelter.  Either way, it breaks up the seemingly endless run down the shore and gets the boat off the ocean.

Madonna leads the way out Manasquan Inlet with a full fishing party aboard.

The two-year-old $2-billion monolithic Revel is one of several casinos to close since Labor Day.

So Steadfast was off the pier at Hoffman’s as the current slacked at 0745, turned to starboard out the inlet and motor-sailing under double-reefed main.  Winds were 10-15 out of the north-nor’east so—subtracting the 6-plus-knots that Steadfast was making southward—there was just enough apparent wind to fill the double-reefed main but not nearly enough to fill the genny. Little Red worked the whole 53 nautical miles. The only damage done this day was to our appetites, a three-to-five foot quartering sea creating a motion remarkably similar to one of the rides at Seaside Heights or Wildwood. Steadfast made great time, though, and her timing was great, slipping between the A-C breakwaters by 1600 and just as the tide turned to flood.  That stretch done left just what’s considered a more manageable 38 nautical miles to Cape May.

Monday’s forecast was similar to Sunday’s but with winds building some and clocking more to the east. It wasn’t all that bad coming out of the Basin, through the inlet and into the ocean, probably ENE 12-15.

The surfing Monday was better than any ride at Seaside Heights.

A big German-flagged Jeanneau sloop left just ahead of us, a classic 40-foot cutter came out just astern, likewise headed south. Before long, both were barely visible on the horizon. And that’s pretty much it for the day; no other vessel traffic at all.

A thick overcast put a gloom to the morning, made more dismal by a sprinkle every now and then. As forecast, the wind did build with more east in it so by 1100, it was work to hold to our heading of 230 magnetic. But the little ship handled it all well, as always far better than those aboard. She made excellent time, too, surfing down the back sides of the seas at speeds that topped out in double-digits! Red kept humming easily along, adding a bit of thrust to help with the helm and Cape May inlet was made just before slack water. Red bore into the remaining ebb with no problem.

The harbor anchorage was full despite the strong wind.

On the way across the harbor, the German boat and the cutter both were seen at anchor by the Coast Guard station but by then, there was deemed to be a bit more wind than would allow for a quiet night. Steadfast instead returned to Utsch’s Marina where she’s stayed several nights coming-and-going in the past.

The next big step will be the run up Delaware Bay.  The Jersey Shore now is astern. No “Snookie” sightings to report. Perhaps she stayed in, afraid the wind would mess up her hair.

There’s no complaint here. After all that surfing, it feels like we hit the jackpot just to be still for a couple of days.

Steadfast out.

One day, one boat, one marina and more tuna still to had!

Friday, 5 September

A well-practiced surgeon at the fish table.

“On the Hudson,” he said.

Wow! They catch fish like this one the Hudson River?

“No, no, no.” John responds with an amused smile and a shake of the head. “Hudson Canyon, out about 70 miles east-so’east o’ here.”

John is a laywer by profession and skipper of Seaquester, the big baby blue sportfisherman tied up a few slips down the pier from Steadfast this evening. The day’s catch—modest, says he—fills a wheelbarrow with 60-to-90 pound yellowfin and long fin tuna with which he busies now cleaning and slicing.

“Naw, I don’t freeze anything. I either eat it or give it away. Want some?”

There’s a lot going on here on a Friday afternoon. Horns blast, big boats backing out of slips; bells ring, gates closing as bridges open, upstream and downstream; sirens scream, bridges closing again; whistles blow, the NJ Transit rumbling through and, of course, boats go back and forth, up and down the Manasquan River. Oh, yes, and the current runs all the time (okay, there is a brief slack twice a day), at three-plus knots usually, ebb and flood, with a tidal range of five feet.

Commuters ride the NJ Transit train across the Manasquan River.

The latter makes it, ahem, interesting to tie-off at the tee-head at “Hoffman’s Sportfishing Marina.” At idle, the boat goes four knots with the current; turn bow into it, she’s doing three but moving astern.

The evening’s entertainment, once secured to the pier, is to watch each skipper coming home at the end of a day deftly guide a 60-or-70’ flybridge sportfisherman–a $2-3-million yacht–into a slip that’s not much wider than the boat.   And this night, at least, in a nifty cross-wind to boot. It’s an art, for sure, and one not for the faint of heart.  But these guys do it all the time without so much as a scratch on the gelcoat.

Larry explains the million-dollar dredging done in ’11.

With a brisk southerly blowing, Saturday becomes a lay day leaving time to enjoy a leisurely breakfast with the locals at “Eloise’s,” where the portions are ample and prices reasonable.  This is as recommended by Larry at Hoffman’s.  Larry and his son bought the marina three years ago, added another next door, and have turned these nine acres into a first class boaters’ haven in every way.  As in the name, it caters to sport fishermen not sailboats but Hoffman’s is one of the highlights of the trip.  It also turns out this is Brielle Day with arts, craft, games and all sorts of goings on in the center of this little town on the north shore of the Manasquan, just around the corner from “Eloise’s” and a few blocks from the marina.

Coast Guardsmen snagged “Magic” to safety as squall approached Manasquan.

But wait, there’s more!  Shortly before lights out Saturday night, the pier is roused by the roar of a Coast Guard 47 backing down as she approaches the fuel dock.  On her hip is a disabled 24′ sailboat taken in tow somewhere off shore near Mantoloking.  The boat has New York numbers, her port of call is in Massachusetts.  The skipper speaks only Russian but the Guardsmen somehow determine that he’s enroute to Florida and ran out of gas for his outboard.  They were still sorting it all out at 2200 when the smaller RIB moved her to another pier ’til she could take on fuel in the morning.

All this excitement is in stark contrast to the 30-miles round Sandy Hook and down the north Jersey Shore to Manasquan Inlet. Standing off a mile or two to avoid the shoals, there’s nothing but ocean to port and, to starboard, what seems to be one uninterrupted strand of beach. Little Red did her thing all day, punching into a building southerly that stirred up a two-or-three-foot chop by days end.  Somewhat tedious, for sure, but other than that not a bad trip.

This inlet’s one of the few easy ones along the Jersey Shore, deep and wide, so getting in is straightforward when timed to ride a flood current. Just swing past the breakwater and make a run for it.

And if you’re so inclined, there may be fresh tuna to be had on the pier.

Steadfast out.

Thursday, 4 September

The light at Stepping Stones can’t compete with the morning sun.

At 0648, there’s not much moving on Manhasset Bay. Mostly the flotsam bobbing on the surface; bottles, cans and cups pulled into the Bay by the receding tide. But incredibly, the only other vessel under way in these waters is a wake boat pulling a young (it is assumed) man on a board. The early hour was chosen (it is assumed) for the very reason that few if any boats would be visible in the background while a videographer captured the action in the early morning light.

Aboard Steadfast, the focus is on the action to come. The ebb began a little over an hour ago and she’s underway early, not for the light, but to catch a ride down the East River through “The City.” This marks her fourth such trip. She and Little Red have handled it well each time but each time is a thrill for those aboard.

Waters boil where the Harlem dumps into the East River.

As before, speeds pick up a bit around College Point. The big jump comes around Rikers Island (yes, that one, the NYC prison) where—while boat speed stays in the 4s, speed over the bottom bumps up to the 7s. Top speeds come as expected as she bends to port over Hell Gate, where the East is joined by the Harlem River and the surface swirls and eddies and boils all through the day. Forget holding a straight course. Manning the helm is more like shooting-the-curl than steering a boat, the current taking the stern first one way, then the other.

The Roosevelt Island tram runs alongside the 59th Street Bridge. Feeling Groovy?

Without able crew, there’d be no time for photos. The wheel demands full attention the rest of the way from here, past Roosevelt Island, past the copter and ferry docks near The Battery and across the harbor to Governor’s Island where a sense of normalcy returns to the excursion.

The Chrysler Building is framed by the glass monolith of the United Nations.

The pulse continues to beat a bit faster than usual, though, even through The Narrows until the cargo ships and tugs are astern and only the occasional runabout or center console crosses the bow. The Seastreak high speed ferry comes across Sandy Hook Bay but by then, Steadfast is nearly home. A little over six hours after casting off in Port Washington, she clears the breakwater at Atlantic Highlands.

Look to the west under the Brooklyn Bridge for a view of the Freedom Tower.

The Staten and Governor’s Island ferries keep the harbor waters stirred up around The Battery.

Ships pass at The Narrows, in and out of one of the busiest ports in the world.

Heading south, West Bank Light signals a return to a more normal pace.

Breathing gradually returns to normal. For the day, nautical miles total 36.9.

The memories, however, are immeasurable.

Steadfast out.

The light in Cockenoe Harbor could barely be seen through the morning haze.

Tuesday, 2 September

Haze. Summer haze, hanging on Long Island Sound like a cheap drop cloth on the porch furniture. Hangs ‘cause there’s not a lick of wind, the Sound surface an oil slick calm.

In the immortal words of poet-philosopher Jed Clampett, “We-e-e-e daw-gies!” It is hot here on Long Island Sound. Yesterday, the last day of the summer season, summer finally arrived in the northeast. The crack team of meteorologists at Accu-guess put the “Real Feel” temperature at 101. They don’t expect much less today.

As Steadfast motored away from Cedar Point at 0900, her five knots or so westward created a cooling breeze through the cockpit, as long as one stayed in the shade of the bimini. (How does anyone sail in summer without one?)

While the season stopped on Labor Day, this day marks the start of the push back to the Chesapeake. For the next week, maybe more, the focus will be to make miles southward to Cape May. That’s a good place to wait for wind, weather and tide to team for the run up Delaware Bay.

The first leg of this stretch is just under 30 nautical across Long Island Sound to Port Washington. There are other places one could stop for a night before making the run through Hell Gate and New York City but “Port Wash” offers something the others don’t: the town has more than a dozen moorings available at no charge, first come, first served. That’s a big plus.   And besides the main pier downtown, there’s Port North Pier, a municipal pier just across the street from a mall anchored by one supermarket and a couple of blocks from a second that includes grocery, package store, hardware and Worst West Marine.

Local legend has it that Execution Rocks are named for the British practice during the Revolutionary War of chaining rebels to the rocks to drown in the rising tide.  Fact or no, it is true that the skyline of New Rochelle has changed somewhat since then.

Steadfast passes the foreboding Execution Rocks, rounds Barker Point and steams in the harbor just after 1400 for an average speed of 5.3 knots. Not bad considering the current was ebbing northeastward most of the day. Then, as a special greeting, the wind went from non-existent to a steady 15, gusting to 20-plus.

No complaints were heard aboard Steadfast. She rocked some and swung side-to-side but that breeze broke the heat.

Real Feel? Most refreshing. And free!

Steadfast out

A brick-lined cast iron tower marks the shifting sand bars and strong currents where the Housatonic River meets Long Island Sound at Stratford Point.

Friday, 29 August

This dredger looks like a re-purposed Chesapeake buy boat.

There’s not much traffic on the Sound this morning, not underway nor over-the-air on Channel 16. A couple of commercial fishermen dredging for shellfish, a motor yacht off in the distance, but other than Little Red chugging along, it’s quiet out here. With the Labor Day weekend about to begin, this is a bit of a surprise.

Red answered the call shortly before nine this morning, pushing Steadfast into Long Island Sound from Milford, out toward Stratford Point, then once again due west past Penfield Reef and up into the Saugatuck River. That’s downstream from Westport and home to Cedar Point Yacht Club,  where our sail designer / maker friend Kerry keeps his J70 and had arranged for Steadfast to tie-up while we visit him and JB in Darien. Sweet!

“Just study the chart,” was Kerry’s advice. “There’s plenty of water. Just…make sure you follow the marks.”

Cedar Point YC is tucked inside a dredged basin off the Saugatuck.

On the chart, the channel does look a tad narrow. And yeah, the water’s only a foot or two deep either side of the markers, it would appear. But it’s pretty straight-forward, right?

“Yeah…just stay in the channel.”

Which Steadfast was able to do, though not without some momentary lack of clarity on the part of her crew. Coming in from the Sound, one sees way more reds and greens than shown on the chart. It turns out several mark a side channel to starboard. And lest there be doubt, the main channel is narrow, barely wide enough for two boats to pass. Likewise the turn into the dredged basin that is home to Cedar Point YC. There’s plenty of water in there, the clubhouse porch provides panoramic views to the Sound and both members and staff all are welcoming.

The mean tidal range here is about 7′, not enough to float a skiff when low.

Ashore, JB arranged for yoga one day and a 14-mile bicycle ride the next, and of course, laundry in between. Sunday included lessons in sail trim aboard Kerry’s J70, Menace. It was great fun for a couple of cruising sailors but the fluky light wind wasn’t much of a tune-up for Kerry’s next regatta, the J70 World Championships next weekend in Newport. Labor Day became a bit of a blur with packing, provisioning and the drive back to the boat.

That drive includes a couple of miles on the Connecticut Turnpike, I-95. Unlike the Sound on Friday, there’s traffic. Quite a little. A small price to pay, though, for such a good to visit with friends.

Steadfast out.