When I used to sail at the CBI in the Charles River, I learned about an interesting weather phenomenon that I had never noticed before: the wind speed tends to decrease around the sunset. This happens because the surface of the earth cools down faster than the air above it when the sun goes down. As a result, the air above the surface continues to move but—because of the temperature difference—it can no longer easily mingle with the colder air at the surface, which becomes still.
On August 20th 2020, we experienced this phenomenon once again. We had had a late start—it must’ve been around 6.20 when we left the dock and ventured into the harbor. Our boat this time was the Emma—a Beneteau 343 owned by the Boston Sailing Center and a twin sister of the Anne, which we had sailed to
Martha’s Vineyard and vicinity back in July.
There were a lot of boats in the inner Boston Harbor that day - two races were going on, one on each side of the harbor. We had to zigzag our way around the racing vessels in order to find a good spot to raise our mainsail safely. The wind was good, I took the helm and the adventure started.
With the wind behind us, we quickly made our way toward Castle Island, and we were not the only ones: to our starboard, two boats ahead of us were moving fast—could we beat them, Andrew asked? One of them was only sailing with the main sail, so maybe it was our best bet—the other one was closer to shore but had both sails raised.
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As we approached the jib-less boat, we noticed that it was not just another sailboat in the harbor, it was a boat with a political message—they had a flag and a placard promoting a Senate candidate that I had never heard about. They had a bunch of young women at the bow with a few guys at the stern. A very different type of sailing for sure. My attempt to overtake them totally bombed—we sailed neck to neck for a while, with maybe 10-12 feet between us—and then they jibed away and left us. Behind us, the Adirondack III, one of the prettiest boats in the Boston harbor, was quickly making progress. Another boat—more modern and faster than ours—zoomed past us; it had a certain ”Special Sauce” about it.
The Adirondack III |
We had decided to go “under” the Long Island Bridge, but as we approached it with Koby at the helm, we heard a fast ferry behind us—we did not want to share the small space between the bridge pillars with them, so we stalled a bit to let them through. Then we saw another ferry coming our way—this time from the opposite direction. We had just enough time to move past the pillars before they reached us. Then we saw a third ferry behind us coming our way!! They honked their horns at us. Bad timing to be under the bridge!
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While all this ferry excitement was going on, the sun had begun to disappear behind the Boston skyline - it’s always amazing to me how fast it disappears entirely. Like clockwork, the cooler air at the surface of the earth came to a halt and we were suddenly without wind. This, it turned out, was a great opportunity to enjoy the gourmet dinner that Koby had graciously prepared for the crew - sushi, noodles with peanut sauce, salad and his special blueberry drink that he called “Blue Sky Over Boston”.
As dusk turned into darkness, Boston Harbor was transformed—green islands were replaced with dark shapes, the bright blue water turned dark blue, and all sorts of lights started making themselves visible all around us. I could see Boston Light in the distance, and I suddenly became much more aware of the soothing sounds of the water all around us.
The night was silent and solemn. Nobody was in a rush. The engine remained off as Andrew worked with what little wind he had. As we cleared Long Island and approached Nubble Channel—another place in Boston Harbor which looks very different at night—I felt it on my skin first and then I heard it in the water: the wind was back! We were moving!
Since the buoys that mark Nubble Channel aren't lighted, Sergey walked over to the bow to shine a flashlight on the buoys so that we could see them and safely transit through the channel. After Nubble Channel we entered Presidents Roads—another channel that looks very different at night.
Andrew asked me to navigate, and even though I had looked at the Boston Harbor chart hundreds of times, there were always new details to notice—this time, the important detail to look for were the timings between flashes for every pair of buoys between us and the inner harbor. Unlike the last time when I had sailed in Boston Harbor at night with Andrew, this time I was wide awake and able to appreciate the challenge of finding those camouflaged blinking lights against the backdrop of the Boston nocturnal skyline.
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Moving green, red and white lights in the horizon were the only hints that there were other boats navigating in the dark harbor. The wind was blowing, I was happy. Koby saw a shooting star in the sky, and Sergey noticed fireworks over south Boston. As we approached Castle Island, the pleasant sounds of water gushing past our hull were replaced with the sounds from the inner harbor - a boat being loaded at the loading dock, cranes moving, containers being dropped. On the other side of the harbor, the sound of airplane engines was another annoyance disturbing the sea soundscape which we had left behind us.
As we approached the sailing club, the jib whispered “please don’t furl me, I want to be free!”. But that was not to be; we furled her anyway. Someone in the parking lot was blasting smooth sweet music that carried over the waters and helped us relax. Maybe it was the music, maybe it was practice and skill—but we had one of our best dockings in a while.
As I reflect back on that night, it strikes me that—even though there is a sunset every day—I rarely get to see it. These special nighttime sails when we get to see the gorgeous sunset and the stars feel like travelling away to a distant world through a magic portal—a world without stress and without zoom meetings. I can’t believe how lucky I am to be able to do that once in a while.
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