Crew: Andrew, Ben, Lena, Lena
The wind was blowing from the north-east. We arrived at the dock at 9AM—we were going to be sailing on the Osprey, a fairly recent Benneteau 323 that was built in 2006. A big warning sign on the whiteboard at the gate—“one reef on the mainsail”—told us that this was going to be a day for heavy wind. We had planned to sail to Scituate and spend the night there. The waves were supposed to get increasingly higher throughout the day so one option was to get to Scituate early and explore our surroundings. In spite of the promise of a potentially violent sail, I had waited for this trip all week long—I felt optimistic that everything would turn out alright.
Ben steered us out of the inner harbor. The northern winds were chilly but strong. We all wore our winter gear—in spite of it being July, we were all wise enough to know that warm layers are a must in the Boston Harbor. Given the northern wind, there were several options for us—we could go down the Narrows or Nubble Channel or go “under the bridge” that used to connect Long Island to the mainland. We decided to go “under the bridge”—which in practical terms meant going between the remaining pillars of the bridge that used to be there.
We decided to have our lunch at Hull Bay since we would likely be protected from the northern wind and waves. There were a few underwater obstacles south of the “Long Island Bridge”, which meant that we needed to sail within the channel. The tide would reach its maximum height of 9.76 ft within minutes—at 10.25AM—which, on the one hand, made it hard to see obstacles such as the “sunken ledge” but on the other hand gave us the freedom to sail in areas that are normally too shallow for us. It’s inspiring to think that we probably never sailed in this exact same spot before: because of the high tide, we were sailing a few feet above all the other times sailing in these waters.
We followed the channel into West Gut around Peddocks and into Hull Bay. Although Hull Bay was fairly well protected from the waves, the wind there was pretty strong. We anchored and enjoyed our sandwiches in the salon as it was too cold to eat in the cockpit. We didn’t linger for too long—Scituate was calling.
We left Hull Bay through Hull Gut—a narrow channel where the current can be quite strong and tacking is not encouraged. We entered Nantasket Roads and turned East in order to clear Hull and turn southward toward Scituate. We were about to clear Boston Light when the waves started feeling dangerously high—the forecast had mentioned 3-5 feet waves but it was the short period of those waves that scared me the most. Our boat, heeling pretty hard because of the north east winds, was taking waves from the side. It’s disturbing to see a 4 foot wall of water coming right at you.
Even though I knew, rationally, that there was no way that 4ft waves could flip our boat, it was hard to convince myself emotionally. Also, I started feeling queasy—I was not looking forward to Provincetown 2.0—a trip that we took back in May which caused some unhappiness and where lessons were learned. When we started seeing some fog in the horizon and stopped being able to see land, I asked Andrew if we could turn back instead. He agreed. Scituate was going to have to wait—Boreas, the god of the North wind, was not going to let us through this time. In spite of my earlier optimism, we were not going to become the fools who, “for a drop of pleasure, drink a sea of wrath” (Thomas Watson). The sea and the weather must be respected—always! As we turned our boat around, a wave hit the starboard side of our boat and got me and Ben drenched. Perhaps Boreas’ way of saying “good riddance”.
Much to my relief, the waves started slowing down as we approached Boston Light. However, Andrew had noticed that one of our bow lines was stuck under the boat. Not good. It likely had gotten caught in the propeller, which meant that we should not turn on the engine. As we approached George’s Island, we attempted to moor under sail to check out what was going on with the line but the area was too crowded and our approach was either too fast or not fast enough. Also, we were all still kind of queasy from the waves and disappointed about having had to abort the mission. We made a couple of attempts but gave up when we nearly ran aground and decided to try to heave-to instead.
In our attempt to moor, we had dropped the mainsail and were now sailing with the jib alone. We back-winded the jib, which made our boat rotate until it came to a full stop when the wind was behind us. Ben tried to turn on the engine in neutral and put it in reverse for just a second in order to free the bow line. That worked like a charm! The line came loose and we were back to normal. We raised the mainsail and headed back into the inner harbor the same way we left: through the pillars of the long gone Long Island Bridge.
Giving up on going to Scituate did not mean we had to give up on sleeping in the boat. Upon looking at the chart, none of the mooring fields or anchoring areas in the Boston Harbor seemed particularly sleep-worthy in northern wind conditions. Still, we decided to check out Spectacle Island. We set a course to return to the inner harbor through the pillars of the missing Long Island Bridge and once we were close enough to the Spectacle Island dock, we furled the jib and dropped the mainsail. As we attempted to dock, the wind pushed our boat away from the dock, which made for a particularly clumsy attempt to attach the starboard side of the boat to the dock—at some point we had Ben on shore, holding our boat by a bow line as the boat rotated itself and became perpendicular with the dock—we awkwardly accepted some help from some people at the dock, who took our spring and stern lines and helped us turn our boat parallel to the dock.
The rangers that work at Spectacle Island are always extremely friendly. They came over to our boat to welcome us (they were wearing face masks—a reminder that in spite of a few places starting to open up, Massachusetts continues to observe the covid lockdown). They weren’t sure if we could spend the night docked or moored and we did not try to figure it out. We were all exhausted from our fight against the northern wind and sleeping in our own beds started to feel like an appealing option.
We hiked up the South Drumlin of Spectacle Island this time. Twice the rangers approached us to remind us that the last ferry departed at 5PM (it was 4.50PM), and we had to explain that we had come on our own boat. Since we were not allowed to camp at Spectacle Island, the rangers needed to make sure that everybody leaves the island before they do.
The best part of visiting Spectacle Island were the views of both Boston and several islands in Boston Harbor which are indeed spectacular. At the top of the south drumlin we had both within reach of our cameras.
Safely back at the dock, we sat in the salon eating grapes and drinking wine when Andrew reminded me that, if I wanted, I could still spend the night in the boat. I had mentally prepared myself to do that anyway (even though I thought I would be doing it while anchored in Scituate). It didn’t take much convincing for me to say yes. Perhaps I missed the nights on the Pura Vida or maybe a night away from home would help me forget for one night that we’ve all been in lockdown and unable to escape to a distant hotel in a sunny place for nearly 4 months.
After the guys left, I wrote about the adventures of the day in my little notepad and soon was falling asleep in the aft cabin. I woke up to a loud bang in the middle of the night—I looked through the little window above my head and saw that the city of Boston had decided to celebrate the 4th of July with early fireworks.
I woke up to cloudy skies and the gentle rocking of a boat safely in the dock. It’s always a memorable experience to wake up and see water all around me. Unable to turn on the stove I could not heat water but that didn’t matter—I knew there was a Starbucks around the corner. My morning routine usually consists of 20 minutes of guided meditation followed by some reading, both of which I could do on the boat since I was able to charge my phone and access the internet (all hail to the comforts of the 21st century). It was quite an interesting experience. In the guided meditation app that I use, one of the things that the guide asks me to do is to be aware of my surroundings—including any sounds and sensations. Normally, I am sitting on my couch and the only sound I can hear is the refrigerator and the occasional car. This time it was quite different: I actually had the pleasant sounds of the water splashing on the boat to focus on, together with the gentle rocking of the boat. It felt quite extraordinary!
As we approached the non-existent Long Island Bridge, we tried to unfurl the jib again to see if she would sail. She would—albeit slowly. Behind us, we saw the first glimpses of a blue sky as the dark grey clouds disappeared. I always feel happier when I see the blue sky—not sure whether it’s universal or just me. As the clouds over us disappeared, the wind returned and soon enough we were gliding over the water and on our way to Perry Cove at Peddocks Island.
We arrived at Peddocks around noon and were able to moor under sail (something that the crew had been yearning for since the day before when we had failed to do so next to George’s Island). I tested the water temperature—it was swimmable but not warm. That didn’t bother Andrew, who jumped into the water without thinking twice. We all enjoyed the fish and wine that Lena and Andrew had brought. The bread and hummus were delicious too!
After lunch, it was time to inflate the dinghy and explore the island. Rowing toward the island was quite a challenge—the current kept pushing us left. We finally made it and decided to visit the Portuguese village located to the right of us. The last time I’ve been to Peddocks Island with Andrew we had visited the fort—Andrew wrote a blog post about it which describes the history of the island including how it was used to host prisoners of war during WWII.
The Portuguese village is VERY different from the fort. The village came about when Portuguese settlers—fishermen that probably sailed to these shores looking for cod fish—were forced to relocate after the city of Boston took control of their original settlement in Long Island in 1887. Instead of rebuilding their cottages in Peddocks, they simply floated them across the harbor. As a native Portuguese, it always amuses me to think of this story because it’s a testament to Portuguese ingenuity and the art of “desenrascanço”, i.e. to hack or improvise a solution to a problem*. The Boston Magazine called it an “impressive feat”—I suspect that when the fishermen decided to float their cottages and move them up the Drumlin at Peddocks, they underestimated how hard it would be to do so. To their merit, they succeeded!
* According to wiktionary.org, "Some Portuguese people regard desenrascanço as a key Portuguese virtue and a living part of their culture."
The trail that led to the Portuguese village had a beautiful green canopy sprinkled by sunlight. Once on top, the view was gorgeous and the houses were incredibly cute! They all had some sort of decoration on their porch or in the area around the house. A couple of them had tiny lighthouse decorations—I wondered if these were a sign of love and respect for the lighthouses that probably guided their ancestors' back home and prevented them from getting lost at sea. I kept looking for a Portuguese flag but none could be found. I suspect that, the day being 4th of July, the Portuguese flags might have all been replaced by American flags. We should return on a Portuguese holiday.
The trail ended on a beach on the other side of the island. To our right a stretch of sand led to Prince’s Head—a piece of land that extended toward the sea and deserved our full attention the day before as we tried to avoid it while making our way to Hull Bay. An interesting phenomena happened in the water at the tip of Prince’s Head: waves from two different directions merged at this point, creating a little triangular beach.
The mooring field where we had left the Osprey was getting quite crowded which is usually a sign that it’s time for us to go. We were able to depart from the mooring using only our sails and with the wind behind us, we headed toward Nubble Channel on a broad reach. After passing Nubble Channel and falling off toward Boston, we noticed that a couple of sailboats behind us had their sails on a wing on wing configuration. We decided to do the same. Ben used the boat hook to keep the jib in position (desenrascanço!) and we glided through the water and into the inner harbor without changing our tack. It was another perfect day on the water.
Lunch at Hull
The wind was blowing from the north-east. We arrived at the dock at 9AM—we were going to be sailing on the Osprey, a fairly recent Benneteau 323 that was built in 2006. A big warning sign on the whiteboard at the gate—“one reef on the mainsail”—told us that this was going to be a day for heavy wind. We had planned to sail to Scituate and spend the night there. The waves were supposed to get increasingly higher throughout the day so one option was to get to Scituate early and explore our surroundings. In spite of the promise of a potentially violent sail, I had waited for this trip all week long—I felt optimistic that everything would turn out alright.
Ben steered us out of the inner harbor. The northern winds were chilly but strong. We all wore our winter gear—in spite of it being July, we were all wise enough to know that warm layers are a must in the Boston Harbor. Given the northern wind, there were several options for us—we could go down the Narrows or Nubble Channel or go “under the bridge” that used to connect Long Island to the mainland. We decided to go “under the bridge”—which in practical terms meant going between the remaining pillars of the bridge that used to be there.
 |
| There used to be a bridge connecting Long Island (left) to the mainland (right). The bridge is gone but the pillars remain |
We decided to have our lunch at Hull Bay since we would likely be protected from the northern wind and waves. There were a few underwater obstacles south of the “Long Island Bridge”, which meant that we needed to sail within the channel. The tide would reach its maximum height of 9.76 ft within minutes—at 10.25AM—which, on the one hand, made it hard to see obstacles such as the “sunken ledge” but on the other hand gave us the freedom to sail in areas that are normally too shallow for us. It’s inspiring to think that we probably never sailed in this exact same spot before: because of the high tide, we were sailing a few feet above all the other times sailing in these waters.
We followed the channel into West Gut around Peddocks and into Hull Bay. Although Hull Bay was fairly well protected from the waves, the wind there was pretty strong. We anchored and enjoyed our sandwiches in the salon as it was too cold to eat in the cockpit. We didn’t linger for too long—Scituate was calling.
 |
| We anchored next to Spinnaker Island in Hull Bay |
Mission Abort!
We left Hull Bay through Hull Gut—a narrow channel where the current can be quite strong and tacking is not encouraged. We entered Nantasket Roads and turned East in order to clear Hull and turn southward toward Scituate. We were about to clear Boston Light when the waves started feeling dangerously high—the forecast had mentioned 3-5 feet waves but it was the short period of those waves that scared me the most. Our boat, heeling pretty hard because of the north east winds, was taking waves from the side. It’s disturbing to see a 4 foot wall of water coming right at you.
Even though I knew, rationally, that there was no way that 4ft waves could flip our boat, it was hard to convince myself emotionally. Also, I started feeling queasy—I was not looking forward to Provincetown 2.0—a trip that we took back in May which caused some unhappiness and where lessons were learned. When we started seeing some fog in the horizon and stopped being able to see land, I asked Andrew if we could turn back instead. He agreed. Scituate was going to have to wait—Boreas, the god of the North wind, was not going to let us through this time. In spite of my earlier optimism, we were not going to become the fools who, “for a drop of pleasure, drink a sea of wrath” (Thomas Watson). The sea and the weather must be respected—always! As we turned our boat around, a wave hit the starboard side of our boat and got me and Ben drenched. Perhaps Boreas’ way of saying “good riddance”.
Heaving-To
Much to my relief, the waves started slowing down as we approached Boston Light. However, Andrew had noticed that one of our bow lines was stuck under the boat. Not good. It likely had gotten caught in the propeller, which meant that we should not turn on the engine. As we approached George’s Island, we attempted to moor under sail to check out what was going on with the line but the area was too crowded and our approach was either too fast or not fast enough. Also, we were all still kind of queasy from the waves and disappointed about having had to abort the mission. We made a couple of attempts but gave up when we nearly ran aground and decided to try to heave-to instead.
 |
| Winter layers in the summer |
In our attempt to moor, we had dropped the mainsail and were now sailing with the jib alone. We back-winded the jib, which made our boat rotate until it came to a full stop when the wind was behind us. Ben tried to turn on the engine in neutral and put it in reverse for just a second in order to free the bow line. That worked like a charm! The line came loose and we were back to normal. We raised the mainsail and headed back into the inner harbor the same way we left: through the pillars of the long gone Long Island Bridge.
Spectacle Island
The rangers that work at Spectacle Island are always extremely friendly. They came over to our boat to welcome us (they were wearing face masks—a reminder that in spite of a few places starting to open up, Massachusetts continues to observe the covid lockdown). They weren’t sure if we could spend the night docked or moored and we did not try to figure it out. We were all exhausted from our fight against the northern wind and sleeping in our own beds started to feel like an appealing option.
 |
| The Osprey in the dock at Spectacle Island |
We hiked up the South Drumlin of Spectacle Island this time. Twice the rangers approached us to remind us that the last ferry departed at 5PM (it was 4.50PM), and we had to explain that we had come on our own boat. Since we were not allowed to camp at Spectacle Island, the rangers needed to make sure that everybody leaves the island before they do.
 |
| The last ferry for the day |
The best part of visiting Spectacle Island were the views of both Boston and several islands in Boston Harbor which are indeed spectacular. At the top of the south drumlin we had both within reach of our cameras.
 |
| A lonely white garden chair in Spectacle Island |
A night at the dock
The decision to head back to the Boston Sailing Center was somewhat unanimous. It was still cold and since we had the Osprey for another day, we could always go out again the following morning—we could even bring another Lena this time, who had correctly predicted that a crossing to Scituate would be challenging and had therefore decided to stay ashore. As we entered the inner harbor, we had a close encounter with the green marker number 5—we were on a starboard tack and thought that we had enough speed to clear it before falling off. We didn’t take the strong current that was pushing us towards the marker into consideration. Andrew took quick and decisive action by turning the engine on and getting us out of there.Safely back at the dock, we sat in the salon eating grapes and drinking wine when Andrew reminded me that, if I wanted, I could still spend the night in the boat. I had mentally prepared myself to do that anyway (even though I thought I would be doing it while anchored in Scituate). It didn’t take much convincing for me to say yes. Perhaps I missed the nights on the Pura Vida or maybe a night away from home would help me forget for one night that we’ve all been in lockdown and unable to escape to a distant hotel in a sunny place for nearly 4 months.
After the guys left, I wrote about the adventures of the day in my little notepad and soon was falling asleep in the aft cabin. I woke up to a loud bang in the middle of the night—I looked through the little window above my head and saw that the city of Boston had decided to celebrate the 4th of July with early fireworks.
I woke up to cloudy skies and the gentle rocking of a boat safely in the dock. It’s always a memorable experience to wake up and see water all around me. Unable to turn on the stove I could not heat water but that didn’t matter—I knew there was a Starbucks around the corner. My morning routine usually consists of 20 minutes of guided meditation followed by some reading, both of which I could do on the boat since I was able to charge my phone and access the internet (all hail to the comforts of the 21st century). It was quite an interesting experience. In the guided meditation app that I use, one of the things that the guide asks me to do is to be aware of my surroundings—including any sounds and sensations. Normally, I am sitting on my couch and the only sound I can hear is the refrigerator and the occasional car. This time it was quite different: I actually had the pleasant sounds of the water splashing on the boat to focus on, together with the gentle rocking of the boat. It felt quite extraordinary!
Day 2. Peddocks Island
The rest of the crew arrived promptly at 9AM. I was wide awake by then and studying the chart for our trip to Buzzards Bay later in July. We prepped the boat for departure and exited the slip. Once out of the mooring field, we raised the mainsail and unfurled the jib. We were not moving though. The wind had abandoned us. There were some puffs of wind here and there, but they were not coming from any particular direction. It was quite a contrast from the day before. We therefore turned on the engine and motored our way into the outer harbor. The water looked like a grey mirror—motionless, windless.
As we approached the non-existent Long Island Bridge, we tried to unfurl the jib again to see if she would sail. She would—albeit slowly. Behind us, we saw the first glimpses of a blue sky as the dark grey clouds disappeared. I always feel happier when I see the blue sky—not sure whether it’s universal or just me. As the clouds over us disappeared, the wind returned and soon enough we were gliding over the water and on our way to Perry Cove at Peddocks Island.
The sun was beaming and I could finally dry my shorts which had gotten wet by thumbling into a puddle of water in the forward cabin the day before. It’s always a funny sight to see the life lines of a boat being used as a clothesline but it’s all part of living on a boat.
 |
We arrived at Peddocks around noon and were able to moor under sail (something that the crew had been yearning for since the day before when we had failed to do so next to George’s Island). I tested the water temperature—it was swimmable but not warm. That didn’t bother Andrew, who jumped into the water without thinking twice. We all enjoyed the fish and wine that Lena and Andrew had brought. The bread and hummus were delicious too!
 |
| Mooring under sail is always a treat for our captain |
After lunch, it was time to inflate the dinghy and explore the island. Rowing toward the island was quite a challenge—the current kept pushing us left. We finally made it and decided to visit the Portuguese village located to the right of us. The last time I’ve been to Peddocks Island with Andrew we had visited the fort—Andrew wrote a blog post about it which describes the history of the island including how it was used to host prisoners of war during WWII.
The Portuguese village is VERY different from the fort. The village came about when Portuguese settlers—fishermen that probably sailed to these shores looking for cod fish—were forced to relocate after the city of Boston took control of their original settlement in Long Island in 1887. Instead of rebuilding their cottages in Peddocks, they simply floated them across the harbor. As a native Portuguese, it always amuses me to think of this story because it’s a testament to Portuguese ingenuity and the art of “desenrascanço”, i.e. to hack or improvise a solution to a problem*. The Boston Magazine called it an “impressive feat”—I suspect that when the fishermen decided to float their cottages and move them up the Drumlin at Peddocks, they underestimated how hard it would be to do so. To their merit, they succeeded!
* According to wiktionary.org, "Some Portuguese people regard desenrascanço as a key Portuguese virtue and a living part of their culture."
Portuguese village and Prince’s Head
The trail that led to the Portuguese village had a beautiful green canopy sprinkled by sunlight. Once on top, the view was gorgeous and the houses were incredibly cute! They all had some sort of decoration on their porch or in the area around the house. A couple of them had tiny lighthouse decorations—I wondered if these were a sign of love and respect for the lighthouses that probably guided their ancestors' back home and prevented them from getting lost at sea. I kept looking for a Portuguese flag but none could be found. I suspect that, the day being 4th of July, the Portuguese flags might have all been replaced by American flags. We should return on a Portuguese holiday.
 |
| The green canopy over the trail that led to the Portuguese Village in Peddocks Island |
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| Tiny lighthouse decorations could be seen in a few places around the island |
The trail ended on a beach on the other side of the island. To our right a stretch of sand led to Prince’s Head—a piece of land that extended toward the sea and deserved our full attention the day before as we tried to avoid it while making our way to Hull Bay. An interesting phenomena happened in the water at the tip of Prince’s Head: waves from two different directions merged at this point, creating a little triangular beach.
 |
| Waves from two different directions at Prince's Head in Peddocks Island |
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