Swimming in the Harbor

Crew: Andrew, Lena, Sergey

For most of the year, the water in Boston Harbor is too cold to swim—but for a few short weeks every summer it is just warm enough (that is, warm enough to avoid hypothermia!!). Having tested the waters a few days before, Andrew was confident that he could do it again—so for this sail we had a mission: to find a nice anchoring spot and go for a swim! 

We arrived at the dock around 9AM. Our boat was Amorina, a Sabre 30—probably one of the oldest boats owned by the Boston Sailing Center,—but a sturdy lady nevertheless. The GPS/chartplotter was broken, which made it the perfect boat for this chart-obsessed crew! The boat laid waiting for us at the end of the dock quietly, ready to take part in an adventure.

Knowing that we had to be back at around 3PM, there was no time to waste! Sergey and I raised the mainsail and unfurled the jib as Andrew pointed us into the wind. As we unfurled the jib, we noticed something terribly wrong—there was a flap at the foot of the jib that should not be there. After a bit of investigation, we concluded that the jib halyard was unlocked and therefore not all the way up. Amorina used a clutch system that we were not familiar with: instead of locking when the clutch was down, it locked when it was up. Sounded odd since anyone can accidentally sit or walk over the clutch (like I did at some point!) and the sails would come tumbling down. It was not until later that we discovered that there was a way to lock the line even when the clutch was down. Live and learn!

The wind was weak and blowing from the South East (SE). That meant that we were going to have to slowly and patiently zigzag our way out of the inner harbor since SE was our heading. A smaller boat on our port side was also struggling to catch enough wind in her sails. It was a shared struggle and we empathized with them. However, we had a motor and they didn’t. Noticing a few sailboats further south in the channel that seemed to be happily sailing with plenty of wind, we concluded that we needed to turn on the motor and get out of the shade of the Boston buildings. Which we did. We looked at our friends in the smaller boat, they looked at us as they heard our engine roar. I felt a little guilty—but later we found out that they managed to get out of the no-wind zone by themselves—which made me feel less guilty!

The wind was indeed better out of the shade of the Boston skyline and soon enough we were happily flying our sails toward the outer harbor. We had several options once we cleared Castle Island. We could go find a public mooring—Spectacle, Peddocks, Georges, and Gallops Islands all have public moorings—or we could anchor somewhere. As Andrew would say, “We have a perfectly good anchor and we know how to use it!”. In order to moor, we would have to go through either Nubble or the Narrows channels and—because of the SE wind—they would both require us to zigzag our way across, which would be annoying since those channels are narrow and we were short on time. So we decided not to do that and instead anchored just by the North East side of Spectacle Island. We approached the shore and when the depth sounder showed 10 feet of water under us, we furled the jib half-way and turned the boat into the wind. 

Andrew had a special treat reserved for us: we were going to be anchoring without a motor! Sergey and I waited for the boat to stop and once it did, we dropped the anchor. It went down vertically as expected and soon enough we felt it hit the bottom. The main was still up and some combination of wind and current turned our boat around such that in a few seconds the anchor line was under the boat and at risk of being caught by the keel! During our trip to Provincetown we had managed to catch the anchor line on the keel and it had taken us a while to figure out a way out of that mess.

We trimmed the main in order to drop it, which seemed to help with reversing the rotation likely caused by the current rather than the wind (a boat will naturally turn into the wind… unless the force exerted on the boat by the current is stronger). Since we did not have plans to go anywhere (other than swimming, of course), we didn’t care too much. We decided we would deal with that later. For the time being, we were all eager to jump in the water! After all, that was our mission for the day. 

The water was not unpleasant—there were pockets of warmer water and pockets of colder water but we all enjoyed the freedom of being able to swim around the Amorina. We did not see any jellyfish this time in spite of several warnings of giant jellyfish having been seen in Boston Harbor. After the swim, it was time for lunch. Andrew had brought a bottle of Rosé with hints of grapefruit which was a very pleasant addition to the sandwiches we made. It felt nice to hang out in the cockpit after a swim. Nowhere to go, nothing to do, but be present and enjoy each other’s company.

Since we had to be back by 3PM, we didn’t linger there for very long. The anchor line was still resting on the keel so we would have to be careful bringing the anchor back up onto the boat. We tried unfurling the jib half way but there was no easy way to rotate the boat without wind. Sergey and Andrew ended up pulling on the anchor line in the hope that it would rotate us enough to force the bow to rotate toward the anchor. What happened instead was that the anchor came loose and they just pulled it back at the stern. Which was awkward... but it worked! Sergey carried the heavy anchor to the bow and we secured it. Then we were ready to sail again! With jib unfurled and mainsail raised, we were on our way back home. 

With the wind now to our port side and the tide with us, the trip back to the dock on a beam reach was easy and relaxed. We were almost at Castle Island when Sergey and Andrew felt the first drops of rain. We knew rain and thunder were on the forecast for late afternoon but were hoping that we would be back in the dock by then. Sergey quickly went to the salon to change into his bright yellow foul weather gear—Andrew and I decided that it might be a good idea to waterproof ourselves also. Other boats didn’t seem as scared by the potential of a downpour as we did. Plenty of motor boats and sailboats were buzzing past us on their way to the outer harbor. The wind seemed to be getting stronger.
It was only 2.30PM when we approached the BSC, so Sergey—who was at the helm at the time—decided that we hadn’t sailed enough. As a result, instead of dropping the mainsail at this point like we would normally do, we just kept going—past the U.S. Coast Guard docks and up toward Charlestown where we got a glimpse of the USS Constitution before coming back.

Foul weather gear

The USS Constitution in Charlestown

Once at the dock, we celebrated another successful day on (and "in") the water by drinking a bottle of red wine that Andrew had brought. In spite of our efforts to get rid of Andrew’s cases of wine, he pointed out that we still have a long way to go! Which means we need to work harder at it next time!

Night Sail

Sailors: Andrew, Ben, Lena, Sergey

The Osprey 

The Boston Sailing Center has some rules about scheduling. With the 4th of July coming up, we decided to proactively book a boat for that weekend. That meant, according to the rules, that we would not be able to make a reservation in advance for a couple of weekends. However, we were determined to find a way to sail this weekend even though every other member of the BSC would have priority over us.

Instead, Andrew called the BSC on Friday and asked them if they had anything available for our crew. They had the Osprey available for 7PM. Not the most obvious time to be sailing in the Boston Harbor, but we took it. Better to sail at night than to be grounded all weekend!

This would be my first nighttime sail. I was curious about how it would feel - and a bit concerned as well - but I knew I was in good hands. Our only constraint was that we had to return the boat by 8AM the following morning. Knowing Andrew, I knew that this exercise would entail navigating in the dark, without a chartplotter, guided only by the chart, the compass, and the light and sound patterns from the multiple buoys sprinkled around the harbor.

Coming out of the harbor at 7PM was easy. There was still plenty of light as the sunset was not until 8.25PM. Most ships were coming back, we were one of the few coming out. With a south / southwest wind filling our sails, it did not take much for us to leave the inner harbor. Andrew reversed the boat out of the slip and led us into the inner harbor, where we promptly raised the main and unfurled the jib and we were on our way to adventure.

There was plenty of light leaving the dock at 7PM

A south / southwest wind made it easy to leave the inner harbor. A very different sail from the previous Tuesday, when a northern wind forced us to tack several times before we could reach Long Island.

A gorgeous red-orange sunset over Boston waved us goodbye as we made our way to Spectacle Island and beyond. I was at the helm at the time so all I could see from the sunset (unless I turned around to look over the stern, which is not advised for very long when one is steering a boat!) were the pink and orange reflections on the cockpit! We tacked a couple of times to clear Castle Island and then fell off to find the pair of buoys that mark the entrance to Nubble Channel.

Sunset over Boston

I was still at the helm when, possibly navigating too close to Long Island, a weird phenomena happened: a motor boat passed us on our starboard which caused some waves - soon after, and even though the steering wheel was all the way to the left, the Osprey started to turn right - straight into Long Island! I shouted, “Andrew, it does not want to turn!!”. Andrew and Sergey quickly released the main sail and the jib sheet and the Osprey was responsive again - the sails had been over trimmed perhaps?

I was a bit distraught but we didn’t spend too much time confirming our hypothesis: soon after this episode, we saw something swimming in the water - a seal? Yep, it did look like a seal. As we were all distracted looking at the seal and grabbing our cameras, most of us failed to realize that the wind had died and we were helplessly drifting toward Long Island. Furthermore, we were pointing at the wrong pair of buoys marking Nubble Channel - with decisive action, Andrew turned on the engine and soon enough we were out of the shadow of the island and back in control of our ship. That was weird… and exciting!

I handed over the helm to Sergey after the crossing of Nubble as the world around us began to really get dark and mystical. To our left, streaks of light seemed to come up out of nowhere, as if a second sunset had just happened but in the wrong side of the world - a phenomena, I am told, that is called anticrepuscular rays. This turned out to be a night for weird physics phenomena.

The world started to darken around us

Sailing in the dark has the advantage, I discovered, of making one acutely aware of sounds - the water rushing past us, the roar of distant fishing boat and tugboat engines returning to the dock - and the many, many lights in the distance flashing green, red or white. 

We saw Boston Light immediately - it’s such a great beacon in Boston Harbor that we rarely lose the sight of it. It was about time to start really carefully reading the chart - we were looking for the lighted buoys. Some buoys flash green or red light following certain patterns such as 2 flashes followed by another flash with repetitions on a 4 second interval. The patterns and timing are annotated in the chart and help navigators know precisely where they are. Before GPS, this was the only way for sailors to navigate at night. We also saw in the distance the Minot Light pattern of 1, then 4, then 3 flashes every 30 seconds - a sequence that has earned it the name of “lover’s light” because 1-4-3 matches the number of letters in “I Love You”. According to LightHouseDigest.com, “many a romantic couple sat on the rocks or on beaches within sight of Minot’s Ledge being inspired by its visual message”.

As Sergey steered us toward Boston Light and beyond, I was sitting in the cockpit facing the stern and saw two or three lobster trap floats in our wake which felt dangerously close to having been captured by our keel or propeller. Lobster trap floats are impossible to see at night unless we’re really close to them. Having had the experience in the past of having a lobster trap float stuck in our propeller, I really did not want to experience that again… especially at night! Fortunately, we managed to escape the lobster trap obstacle course of Boston Harbor once more.

Boston Light as a beacon of hope in the dark

It was not yet 10PM when we cleared Boston Light - the wind was good so we decided to keep going. At this point, we had two options - either we turned around and came back home through Nubble Channel - or we kept going all the way to The Graves and then left into Nantasket Road. I asked Andrew why not go between the Roaring Bulls and The Graves - there seemed to be plenty of water. That’s another thing that is different while navigating at night - although we can clearly see obstacles during the day, the only way to know where we are at night is by looking for objects that emit light - buoys and lighthouses. Without them, it’s impossible to tell exactly how far from obstacles we are navigating, therefore the probability of running aground increases significantly.

I am embarrassed to admit that soon after we cleared The Graves and turned toward Nantasket road at around 11PM - knowing that the crew had everything under control - I felt a strong urge to just lie down in the salon and take a nap. Which - I am told - meant that I missed the best part of the trip*. Oh well, I will never know. By the time I came back to the cockpit, we were already by Deer Island and making our way into the inner harbor.

Taking a nap in the salon

The return to Boston was uneventful - the crew kept a watchful eye out for unlit buoys because those are barely visible. Unlit buoys mark the entrance to the inner harbor and they must be obeyed - not to mention one should avoid hitting them at all costs. Sergey stood at the bow looking for obstacles and helped us to avoid them. I was in the cockpit, shivering due to the cold (even though Andrew had gracefully lent me his jacket) and Ben was at the wheel. As we approached the inner harbour around 1AM, fireworks over Castle Island were set off welcoming us home. It was the end of another adventure and my first night sail!

Fireworks to welcome us back home

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*The most” interesting” and the most adrenaline part of the sail was (according to Ben) the difficulty to find navigation lights on the background of Boston lights

Rain and thunder in Calf Island

Emma

One of the things to appreciate about sailing in Boston Harbor is that the weather is never boring. The weather forecast had advised us of the possibility of rain and thunderstorms in the afternoon. But looking at the clear skies and a clear weather radar, we were optimistic that the probability would drop and that we would have another lovely sunny and windy day in the water. A south / southwest wind of 10 knots with waves of 1ft or less sounded like the perfect sailing weather - too good to waste.

We cast off from the Boston Sailing Center on Emma - a Beneteau 343 - at around 9AM on Saturday. No big plans, just a few friends trying to have an adventure together. Unexpectedly (to me at least :) ), as we were preparing the mainsail and the dock lines for cast off, Andrew said "Lena, I want you to steer us out of the dock". I didn't know what to say - "thank you" didn't sound like the right expression. “Holy s***, wow, really?!” sounded more appropriate. So I said "Yes!" and mentally prepared to focus on not getting us killed.

With Andrew's guidance and mentorship, I turned on the engine, pushed the throttle lever slightly forward and we were on the move. A right turn as we came off of the slip, then onward toward the inner Boston Harbor. As soon as we were far enough away from the other boats, Andrew asked me to turn into the wind so that Sergey and he could raise the mainsail. With the main raised, the jib unfurled and 10 knots of wind, we were on our way and ready to turn off the noisy iron sail.

Leaving Boston behind for another adventure

Clearing the inner harbor was easy - the conditions were such that we were able to reach the outer harbor and President Roads on a beam reach and a starboard tack. It tooks us under one hour to get there and start planning the rest of our adventure.

Andrew had requested a dinghy so that we could venture into one of the islands. Sergey immediately proposed the Brewsters. We all agreed that would be a good idea.

Andrew takes the helm and Sergey tries to avoid a sunburn

As we passed Spectacle Island and approached Deer Island, a swarm of 10-15 fishing boats seemed to just be hanging out there, randomly distributed. Why were they all there at 10AM on a Saturday in the same spot? We had no clue, but they didn't bother us other than making our journey toward the South Channel a bit busier than usual. I asked Andrew to take over the helm as we approached the swarm of fishing boats.

The entrance to the South Channel in Boston Harbor is marked by a green-red buoy - one of those rare hybrids that mark the entrance to two channels simultaneously: the green serves the purpose of informing us of the port side of the South Channel to our right whereas the red serves the purpose of informing us of the starboard side of the north (preferred) channel to our left.

Once within the South Channel, we made our game plan: we wanted to cross over to the little cove formed by Calf Island and Middle Brewster via Hypocrite Channel. For that, we would need to exit the South Channel (preferably without running aground) before the green buoy number 9. All worked as planned and without requiring a change of tack.

I entertained myself taking pictures around the boat on the way to Hypocrite Channel and beyond

Calf Island

The little cove was indeed as lovely as promised - with both Boston Light and the Graves Light in our field of vision, we started anchoring while trying to avoid the many lobster traps in our vicinity.

A couple of orange-tinted jellyfishes swam happily around our boat as we attempted to anchor. Emma was equipped with a windlass - an electrical contraption that is supposed to make anchoring easier. In our case, it did the opposite: as we were clearing the line and setting up the anchor in the anchor roller, the windlass - which seemed to have a mind of its own - decided to turn itself on... twice. That made us nervous, to say the least. There seemed to be no way to take the anchor line out of the windlass without taking it apart so we did our best to pass the anchor line and chain through the windlass without mangling our fingers. Fortunately, we succeeded.

Then it was lunchtime! Andrew had brought us some treats (besides the sailing itself, which is always a treat): homemade bread, hummus, tahini spread and duck meat. Yum! Sergey had brought El Dorado rum, which was the perfect complement to the feast. After lunch, Sergey went for a swim - he seemed happy! But when I tested the waters for a few seconds, it felt like a thousand knives piercing through my skin. I guess growing up 6 degrees south of the Polar Circle gives one a certain resilience. I suspect the rum also helped. 

Sergey happily swimming in freezing water

After the swim, we inflated the dinghy and got ready for Calf Island. The current was not very strong and rowing was easy. As we approached, we saw lots of kelp floating just at the surface of the water - it was the kind with the air bubbles that keep the leaves just at the surface. We rowed right through the field of kelp without thinking twice. Then we were off exploring the island. It was clear from the get-go that the many seagulls that lived on the island did not appreciate our visit.

As with all islands in the Boston Harbor, Calf Island has its own history and charm. Originally, the island was used by Native Americans. Its first "owner" was the Elder Brewster of the Plymouth Colony. After that, it changed owners a few times until it was acquired by Benjamin Cheney in 1902. Together with his wife Julia Arthur, he built a colonial style estate with 2 big chimneys, of which only one still stands tall in 2020. Andrew has visited Calf Island before and wrote about his adventure and his research into Calf Island history in his blog.

Calf island has a lot to offer

When we got to the west side of the island, where we could get a glimpse of Deer Island, we saw dark heavy clouds in the sky robbing us of the chance to enjoy this distant dreamy view of the Boston skyline. Worried that this might be a sign of bad news coming our way, I looked at the weather radar and the storm appeared to be north of Boston. I predicted (wrongly) that it would not hit us and it would instead be pushed east. We carried on our way around the island, taking pictures and both ignoring the seagull cries of anger and the darkening skies. We saw a few nests, walked around the ruins and admired the views. As we completed our round, we felt a few drops of water. We could also hear the sound of thunder. Oooops ... My amateur meteorologist prediction had been completely wrong. The wind was blowing the storm toward us, not away from us.

The storm clouds I saw on the radar appeared to be moving East. I was wrong. They were moving South

As we reached the dinghy, we noticed with a bit of panic that as the tide receded, the kelp that we had rowed through on our way in was now resting on top of rocks, giving them the appearance of furry green, wet, slippery monsters (they reminded Sergey of The Groke from the Moomin universe). We would have to carry the dinghy over several meters of slippery, kelp covered rocks in order to get to the water - and we had to do it quickly otherwise we would be drenched as the rain was starting to fall hard.

Emma and the seagulls

Safe and Sound

We all did get a little wet but we made it back to Emma just in time to avoid the worst part of the storm. As the wind, the rain and the thunder rolled past us, we rested safely and somewhat dry on Emma's salon and allowed it to pass over us. It must've taken less than 30 minutes and soon enough the sky cleared up again and we were good to go. We lifted the anchor and were on our way back to Boston. Sergey steered us around the outer brewster and through Nubble Channel, a course that afforded an uncommon low-tide view of both the tail of Outer Brewster as well as - a few miles ahead - the zigzagging tail of Nix’s Mate which has grounded ferries more than once.

Nix's Mate and its zigzagging tail