wow...great trip report....thanx...


On Sep 30, 8:37*am, "Skip Gundlach" wrote:
Knock yourselves out, guys :{))

Dragon Lady, Ruff Times and High Times - posted September 30

When we left you on September 7th, we were sleeping blissfully in
Mattituck Harbor, a hugely protected, tiny anchorage next to
Mattituck, Long Island. *Because we expected to be doing short
hops, we left the dinghy on the painter (the line from the front
of the dink to tie up with), but brought the engine aboard, to
minimize towed weight. *We eventually towed the dinghy all the
way to Atlantic Highlands over the course of the next few days.

Waking (early for us) in time to get to the opening of the fuel
and water dock at 8:30, we received no response to our several
hails as we approached, and then tied up at, the Matt-A-Mar
marina. *Walking up the hill, we raised someone to come unlock
and turn on the pumps and we filled with diesel, gasoline and
water. *It turned out that we were right under their VHF antenna,
and we'd created only noise on their office base station...

Backing smartly away from the dock on a favorable wind, we
promptly wrapped the painter in the prop. *Oops. *Hurry and throw
out the anchor, and hope we didn't permanently foul it. *A bit of
forward rotation bumps on the prop to unwrap it, and a bunch of
passing the free end under the tight end attached to the boat,
and we were able to feed it out successfully. *A close
inspection revealed that the line had not been damaged, and we
got under way at 10, taking advantage of the falling tide to get
a lift out to the entrance, and the currents on Long Island Sound
(it's a real nuisance to beat into a contrary current of a couple
of knots, and worth the falling-tide risks). *Where we'd
previously seen more water, as we came in at nearly high tide, we
saw less, but never got to where we'd be nervous, let alone
touch, and the trip was uneventful. *NOAA's forecast suggested
we'd have a great run down to Port Jefferson, arriving well
before dark, taking advantage of the current for a lift and the
expected winds.

As I wrote this, Kyle was on his way to Maine and northeastern
Canada, but that would have been a great hurricane hole. *The
hardpan grass, once penetrated, was extremely secure holding.
Getting the anchor up was quite an exercise, having backed down
on it aggressively before deciding we could leave the boat.
Putting out a multiple anchor system would have been very
effective in a blow, so we'll remember this spot, along with our
two prior ones off Gardiner's bay, should we return to the area.

Once out, we headed due west at 270 degrees, in very light air.
By noon we'd set the spinnaker in 5-7 knots of wind, but by
12:30, the wind died entirely, so we dropped it on deck,
expecting to reset it with the NOAA forecasted 10-15. Instead,
the wind clocked, and we struggled to beat at 30 degrees apparent
wind in the howling gale of 2-5 knots. *As we'd learned from
several sources, NOAA is notoriously inaccurate in Long Island
Sound, and the wind died entirely by 3PM. *There was no way,
José, that we would make our destination of Port Jefferson, under
any circumstances.

As it would be dark soon, we elected to motor the 12 miles to New
Haven, just for an overnight. *However, chatting up TowBoatUS for
local knowledge revealed that we'd be far better off going
slightly East, to Branford to anchor, as New Haven was heavily
commercial, without easy anchoring. *Accordingly, we diverted,
and wound up anchoring off Indian Point in Branford at 6PM in
comfortable holding in a sandy area, with exposed rocks at low
tide all around us. *We were in an area of mostly summer homes,
and thus most of them were unoccupied, as were most of the
private moorings. *However, there were several great internet
connections, so we could check our weather and look forward.

Being exposed to Long Island sound made for a somewhat rolly
night, and the weather wasn't expected to be conducive to going
onward. *That, combined with a very long dinghy ride to not get
to anywhere we could go ashore, Branford shoreline being entirely
residential, led us to decide to just hang out for a day. *We
noticed a fishing boat setting his nets before we retired, as
well as seeing the massive rocks which were hidden at high tide.
Good thing for all our charting and paper and chartplotter
references, as that would not be nearly as comfortable an
encounter as we had on the way out of Three Mile Harbor!

The next morning, we saw the fishermen pulling in their nets,
with some sizeable fish noted, and I jumped in the dinghy and
rowed over to ask what they'd caught. *Bluefish, just like we'd
caught, but they used bait and hooks - apparently the nets were
just to corral them on the current. *They tossed a couple of very
sizeable fish (both much bigger than either of the ones we'd
caught) on the bottom of the dinghy, and the master instructed
his helper to toss me a couple of his bait fish as well, since
I'd replied that we did, indeed, have hooks aboard. *All of $5
later, they towed me back to Flying Pig, and I set to fileting
them, cutting up the bait fish for later.

No sooner did we finish, and sitting out on the aft deck enjoying
our coffee, but up paddles a guy in a kayak, who wants to know if
we anchored there every year. *Seems there's some similar boat
which does - but, as we find out in conversation, it's really
just that he's enamored of our boat, and wanted to get a closer
look. *We don't get swelled heads very easily, but we surely
could have as he went on about how he admired the boat and just
paddled out to get a closer look at it. *Of course, we invited
him aboard, to his delight.

Without bragging any more than we always do about our fantastic
home, he was thrilled to have come aboard, and we had a lovely
chat with him after the tour. *It started out with his revealing,
of course, immediately on arrival, his name, Willie Ruff (thus
the Ruff times). *He teaches at Yale, and has rented a summer
house during the off-season for many years. *More conversation
showed a common interest in music, and we heard a very little bit
about his travels which led him Yale, how he got involved in
music, and many other very interesting things. *Lydia said, "You
should write a book!", to which he replied, "Well, I have,
actually."

He offered to paddle back to his digs and bring us one, but when
he returned, he apologized for having apparently run out of them,
save the one he'd autographed for his landlady, but brought back
a book *about* him, "Willie and Dwike." *HOLY COW!! *This man is
an absolute legend in Jazz, introduced both Russia and China to
Jazz, and a noted educator to boot. *At 77, he looks younger than
I, obviously very fit, and so excited about what he does he
scarcely can stand to go to bed, for fear he'll miss something.

Like so many people we've met in the last few years, he's among
the ones we wish we'd known many years earlier. *I'm humbled and
privileged to have been in his presence, and while I'd love to
send him one of very few the pieces which were recorded of my
playing (trombone, in this case), I'm sure it's pedestrian at
best compared to all the legends he's played with. *Do a Google
on Willie Ruff and you'll get some flavor of what I mean.

The good news is that he's a sailor, which is what attracted him
to our home, and so's his lady, so we may have the pleasure of
having them aboard sometime in the future. *Nothing would please
us more than to have this sprightly, brilliant, man as our guest.

That evening, we ate some of the bluefish we'd been marinating,
freezing or refrigerating the rest, and set out some hooks of our
own. *This time, NOAA was pretty on-target as to direction, but
the fishermen were too optimistic, and our baits remained
unexplored, let alone taken. *So, taking our lumps on the fish,
we sailed off our anchor the following morning at about 9AM,
tacking and beating our way to the southwest in 15-20SSW winds.

Because we were so tightly pinched (going nearly upwind), the
growing winds had us reefed after our level of heel (how far over
the boat leaned) reached a consistent 20-30 degrees. Flying Pig,
as do all Morgan 46 boats, prefers to remain - and goes faster in
the same amount of wind, but with less sail up - more upright,
and as the wind built, we reefed a second time at 1PM, rolling in
our genoa somewhat as well. *The hard beats and strong winds made
our tacks less attractive this time, only 120-135 degrees instead
of the beautiful right angles or less we'd done before, and we
made slow progress. *As time wore on, the current changed,
slowing us further, and we reluctantly motorsailed the last bits
to Port Jefferson, getting our anchor down at 5PM.

Port Jefferson was the least cruiser-friendly location we've
visited in our entire time aboard Flying Pig. *We'll spare you
the details other than to say we remained aboard that night and
were plenty glad to get out of there on September 12, bound
either for Port Washington or Oyster Bay. *Unfortunately, again,
NOAA got it wrong, and there was no wind to carry us. *We
reluctantly motored, but the good news was that we made it all
the way to Little Neck, in a very protected anchorage. *Our first
cedar plug catch ever, a bluefish honored us with his presence as
we approached Little Neck, and I quickly fileted him in our
stable seas, cleaning the platform before we'd made it halfway
down the entrance. *We sailed onto our anchor at 5:30, letting
the tide do our setting for us, and enjoyed another bluefish
dinner with our salad, checked our internet for the weather and
our charts for planning the next day's run and retired early,
content and blessed with another day's meals from the sea.

The charts showed that we'd have a slack tide on our approach to
the infamous Hell Gate if we were to leave by 9AM, so that's what
we did. *Sure enough, we had very little current all the way
there, what current there was helping us, and instead of the
up-to 7 knots of current in Hell Gate, we were aided by about 3
knots. *We were the
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