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Crew: Andrew, Lena, Sergey
A few weeks ago, a fellow sailor expressed his feelings about sailing as “the closest you’ll ever get to Aladdin's magic carpet ride”, and that sentiment stuck with me. It feels so right that I decided to name this blog entry after that quote.
As August rolled by, the excitement was palpable. I pulled my camping backpack from the closet early in the hopes that that would help time move faster. And then, a few days before the 22nd, when we were scheduled to cast off, the weather forecast issued a warning for a hurricane that completely changed the course of our vacation: Henri was headed straight toward the coast of Rhode Island. The 20th and the 21st were tense as I obsessively watched the weather forecasts to understand where and when the hurricane would hit the coast. Andrew found and shared a quote about Henri: “This is the most serious hurricane risk in New England in 30 years, since Hurricane Bob in 1991”. Bob the hurricane rang a bell—its effects had been described in a book that I read recently—Coast of Summer by Anthony Bailey—where the author describes an eerie and desolate landscape and seascape during and after it. Anthony had been sailing a course that I was hoping we could partially replicate. Bob had made landfall in Block Island and Newport on August 19th, 1991. Henri was downgraded to a tropical storm and made landfall in Westerly, Rhode Island on August 22nd, 2021.
The charter company first told us to not show up at the dock in Barrington until late Monday as they would need to assess the damage. Monday morning we heard the bad news from Andrew: the Zeitgeist had been damaged, it would take at least two weeks to repair. All sorts of feelings went through my head as I read those words—denial, anger, depression and acceptance—the only one I skipped from the "five stages of depression" was bargaining because… what would be the point?
Andrew went through the stages apparently faster than I did because while I was still processing, he asked the crew if we would like to do a shorter 3-day cruise using one of the boats from the Boston Sailing Center. We did and that’s how we ended up in a shorter cruise with a smaller crew on the Aeolus taking off from Boston and sailing to Gloucester instead of our original plan of taking off from Barrington and sailing to Long Island or Martha’s Vineyard.
We motored the Aeolus over to Middle Brewster Island, where we anchored, swam a bit and enjoyed a nice late lunch. We arrived around 2PM and took off around 3.30PM. We figured that the night might need to be spent at Nahant, if we were unable to make enough progress, or even in Boston Harbor if the wind was really disappointing.
We arrived at Marblehead Channel around sunset. I was at the helm and aiming toward Children’s Island on a course that would allow us to fall off once we got close enough to the island. To the starboard I heard what appeared to be a tune played with bells. This turned out to be the red/green “FR” buoy which seemed to have been fitted with 3 or even 4 different tones creating a very enjoyable sound as it bobbed in the waves, almost like improvised music—“Sea-Jazz”. I regret not having recorded the sound but Andrew did capture it in a video.
A cat boat in front of us dropped her sail just before reaching Children’s Island, and we soon understood why—as we approached the area, the wind died on us as well, and it definitely felt safer to motor. We resisted turning on the engine a little longer and managed to cross between Marblehead Rock and the mainland under sail, which was an important milestone. We eventually did turn the engine on in order to arrive at Salem Harbor before it got too dark. To my surprise, the light green two-mast boat owned by Frank—whom I blogged about before—was still there! (It’s possible that it was there again, but from our previous conversation with him, his boat needed to be fixed in order to be sailed!) Later we learned that Frank was there too as we saw him in the distance at the stern of his boat—he waved, we waved, and that was the end of the interaction with Frank. What an interesting life he must have!
The anchorage in Salem Harbor is in the vicinity of the quick green buoy marking part of the channel. We anchored not too far from Frank, and Sergey grilled the swordfish that he had brought from home. Andrew opened the bottle of Pessimist wine that he had brought. I saw a shooting star and some fireworks before falling asleep in the cockpit, under the stars, without a care in the world.
In the middle of the night I woke up and decided to check if our anchor was holding. Surprised, I noticed a mooring ball hitting the Aeolus on the starboard side and wondered if we had hit it while swinging. But then I saw the lines connecting us to the ball and decided that the guys must have done it and went back to bed.
I woke up again as the day was breaking and noticed some crawling things next to my “bed” in the cockpit. I didn’t know it then, but these were vestiges of the overnight adventure with the mooring ball. While we were drinking coffee and tea, we noticed a fishing boat circling our Aeolus. Unsure what they were up to, we waited and watched. They asked us what’s for breakfast and then asked if we had a storm anchor in the channel. We said we did though our intent had not been to anchor in the channel. Soon after that, they dropped their net in the water. They were apparently following a school of fish that they planned to circumscribe with their net. As they closed the gap in the net, a guy in a small motor boat that had been attached to the main boat started driving it in circles next to the gap, probably to scare the fish in the school to stay trapped inside the net instead of trying to escape through the opening.
As they brought the net out of the water, I felt sorry for the fish for having been entrapped and their lives lost like that. I felt angry with the fisherman for not caring at all about removing hundreds if not thousands of fish from the sea with one fell swoop, way more than their small crew can eat. And yet I know that fishing like that is necessary in order for me to be able to go to the grocery store and buy dinner.
But the morning adventures with fishing were not over. As I was carrying on with cleaning the grill from the previous night, I saw another boat approach us as they were trolling for fish. At some point the guy shouted - “do you guys have an anchor out in the channel”. We did. Turned out his $50 lure had gotten caught in our anchor. He asked if we could help him get his lure back. As Sergey and I started raising the anchor, we realized that our anchor was not where we dropped it. Our anchor had dragged overnight and so the mooring ball coming within reach in the middle of the night—and Sergey and Andrew having the foresight to use it—was quite fortuitous.
Since we had already pulled half of the anchor line on board, we decided that we might as well pull the rest. The only thing left to do was to put away the grill and we could be on our way.
We decided that swimming in that water would not feel very nice and decided to inflate the dinghy instead to go visit the island. However, when Sergey and Andrew attempted to connect the foot pump to the dinghy valve, they noticed something was not right: they had brought the wrong pump! And it was the only one we had... The dinghy valve had a pushpin inside that needed to be pressed down in order to allow air to be pumped in. Our pump connector was a simple cylinder with no way to push the pushpin down while inflating. This required a little MacGyvering to fix—the spring from a clothespin did the trick: Sergey simply secured the spring inside the cylinder, which pushed the pin while inflating. It worked like a charm and soon we had our dinghy fully inflated and ready for adventure.
As we finished securing the dinghy on shore, Sergey reported to have seen a deer. There were a few ruins and an outhouse with an interesting architecture but what drew me the most were the mooring balls and beach on the other side of the island, which—judging by the transparency of the water in the beach—were not as crowded with the mysterious eggs as the place where we had moored. On the other hand, it was crowded.
After the island exploration, we went back to the Aeolus and as we were getting ready to cast off in order to motor to the other side of the island, a goose swam over and floated around our boat, clearly hoping we would throw some food into the water. As we motored away without complying with the goose tax, we saw him swim to another boat moored nearby and do the same thing.
Once in the north of Great Misery Island, we had a very nice swim off the mooring field and Sergey even snorkeled some. After lunch, which was accompanied by the grapefruit rosé that Andrew had brought, it was time to decide where to spend the night. We wanted to go further north but were unsure whether there would be enough wind the following day to return to Boston. We decided to head North anyway and depending on progress, decide on the way whether to proceed to Gloucester or spend the night in Salem again.
Nevertheless, we persisted! by switching to diesel power. Pretty soon, Gloucester Harbor was in sight. As we approached, one of the most visible features of the harbor was the Eastern Point Lighthouse and the associated breakwater nearby called “Dog Bar Breakwater”. The breakwater was finished in 1905 as an aid to navigation since numerous ships had run aground in the reef that it now protects them from—Dog Bar reef [1]. The end of the breakwater is marked by the Dog Bar Breakwater Lighthouse, which, in spite of its important navigation aid role (preventing ships from crashing into the breakwater), it in fact looks like a tiny adorable house with a tower on stilts!
As the Aeolus approached the anchorage site in Gloucester Harbor, she started needing to compete for space with a lot of other recreational boaters. It didn’t help that her crew got slightly distracted taking photos of 3 gorgeous tall ships sailing in the harbor. As there was no room to anchor, Andrew called the harbormaster, who sent us to a mooring ball in Stage Head, an area much less protected than the inner harbor (I did feel some rocking from the waves later that night) but the only place where he had mooring balls available. Stage Head was otherwise gorgeous, quiet, next to a small cute beach and a great place to experience the sunset and the sunrise the following morning.
Fortunately, the harbormaster office provided a free launch service—on the ride over to the Gloucester inner harbor we met a local woman who gave us some advice on where to grab dinner (and to not be tempted to grab dinner in one of the restaurants by the water). As soon as we arrived, we quickly made our way to a small Italian gourmet shop that closed at 7PM for reprovisioning. Finding the restaurants that the woman on the launch had suggested was easier than I thought as they were all in Main Street. We ended up eating at Oliver’s which had a table for us (indoors) and where we were able to recharge our phones—unlike other boats at BSC, the Aeolus was not fitted with a 12v charging socket, which meant that, after two days of taking pictures with my phone, it was quickly running out of juice.
The food at Oliver’s was amazing and by mistake they brought me a free glass of wine, which is always nice! Around 9PM we headed over to the launch dock so that it could take us back to our boat. Before heading to Stage Head, where the Aeolus was moored, the launch first dropped off people all over the inner harbor and watching all those people board their 40 footer gorgeous, fairly recent sailboats made me wonder about what I’m doing with my life and why I don’t have one of those myself!
Once back at the Aeolus I promptly fell asleep, once more in the cockpit under the stars. On nights like that, I’m always grateful to live on a planet with a transparent atmosphere and thus able to get a glimpse of the Universe just by looking up! If our species had evolved on a cloud-covered planet, we probably would not have developed space travel. We might even not have discovered the physics of lift that we rely on to sail the Aeolus upwind.
As we cleared the Estern Point Lighthouse we heard someone on another boat scream “F****” very loudly. Looking around, we saw a lobster boat nearby… At first, I thought that he was talking with someone else in the cabin of the boat or over the radio, but upon closer inspection with binoculars he seemed to be alone and screaming a stream of obscenities while preparing his lobster traps. Sergey and I decided that this was probably some sort of scream therapy for anger management. We could still hear him 30 minutes later when we were well on our way offshore heading South.
The intent of steering offshore was to get enough distance (3 nautical miles) between the Aeolus and the shore so that we could open the holding tank and release its contents into the open ocean (the harbormaster at Gloucester had told Andrew that this was OK to do). When we approached the 3 mile mark, however, the wind died; lost in my rumination, I didn’t notice that at this point, where we had no wind and thus no forward motion, a wave turned us around such that the wind was behind me when it returned. Andrew, upon noticing this, shouted something and quickly snapped me out of my meditation. I corrected the course, and we were off again with enough speed to tack toward the southwest heading that would take us back to Boston (Unfortunately we could not figure out how to open the holding tank so the offshore excursion was fun but useless!)
I came back to the cockpit where Sergey was relying on what he calls the “Iron Man”. This consists of locking the wheel and thus the rudder so that the ship stays on course instead of moving with the waves. He asked me to keep a lookout for lobster traps but I either didn’t hear it or was too lost in my ruminations. He in fact had closed his eyes and was falling asleep and thus not paying attention at all. As a result, nobody but the “Iron Man” was steering… Until I saw a lobster trap float by really close to our propeller on the port side and finally realized that nobody was paying attention to the avoidance of lobster traps (we had caught a lobster trap in our propeller before... twice !) This episode for me was a great example of the trust equation: Sergey needed a break from steering and asked me to be on the lookout but being lost in my thoughts (my agenda), I did not listen.
In spite of the slow wind forecast (which was wrong) and the excursion offshore, it was only 2PM when we caught a glimpse of Boston! The wind had been kind to us in more ways than one—not only was it blowing at a reasonable speed but it was doing so from a direction that allowed us to arrive to Boston Harbor on a single tack. It felt like the best possible conditions we could have asked for.
Sergey, who was steering, went to the galley and asked me to steer so there I was at the wheel again relying on the “Iron man”. And then, for the second time on this leg of the journey, the wind died on me and a wave rotated my bow such that we were no longer pointing at The Graves Lighthouse, which had been our heading up to that point. Since the wheel was still stuck due to 'Iron Man' I had to first unlock the wheel before I could recover my bearings—-as a result of this delay, we accidentally jibed (not violently), which sent the boom flying over to the other side of the boat. This for me was again was a lesson in trust: while the wind blowed steady, I trusted the 'Iron Man' to keep the Aeolus on course. When the wind died, however, my trust that the 'Iron Man' would prevent a rotation--since the wheel was locked and thus the rudder, which I would use to rotate the move, was not moving--was eroded. I decided that the 'Iron Man' was not to be trusted in low-wind situations.
As the Aeolus approached the North Channel, we started to see airplanes, a sign that Boston Logan was near! Behind us, we saw a tugboat bringing a large barge into the harbor. We assumed that they would go around us since we had the right-of-way according to the US navigation rules, but they disagreed—with a loud honk she told us that we were in her way (or maybe she was just alerting us of her presence). We got out of here way, jibing in the process. Thirty-foot sailboats get out of the way of large ~200ft barges. That's the pragmatic navigation rule!
As the Aeolus approached Boston, it was hard to get used to having to pay attention to other boats again after so many hours of blue sailing. Since it was still early (and hot), the crew decided to make a swimming stop near Spectacle Island and finish the rum. The water was warm and we could hear the blasts from the barges that were dredging the channel, making it deeper for modern container ships. While drying off in the cockpit, I noticed the head of a seal popping up above the water. The blasts from the channel dredging barges that started operating this year must've bothered her, poor thing... Or maybe she was just enjoying the sun!
We cast off from Spectacle Island under sail—the last cast-off of our 3-day adventure—and pointed the bow toward the Boston Inner Harbor. We left the “red right return” buoys marking the main channel to our port but did not stray too far from the channel: we trusted that if we stayed close to them, we would not run aground ;-) And we did not. We arrived at the BSC marina after dark… the adventure was over. Sergey drove us all home to resume our “normal” lives.
Zeitgeist and Henri
Way back at the beginning of 2021, Andrew reached out to the crew asking about our appetite to schedule a weeklong cruise in the New England area. The appetite was there and after researching different charter companies—and realizing that everything available seemed to be already booked—the crew converged on booking the Zeitgeist—a Jeanneau 410 owned by the Narragansett Sailing Charters company—for the last week of August. Little did we know how meaningful our chosen date would become to many New Englanders, ourselves included. As August rolled by, the excitement was palpable. I pulled my camping backpack from the closet early in the hopes that that would help time move faster. And then, a few days before the 22nd, when we were scheduled to cast off, the weather forecast issued a warning for a hurricane that completely changed the course of our vacation: Henri was headed straight toward the coast of Rhode Island. The 20th and the 21st were tense as I obsessively watched the weather forecasts to understand where and when the hurricane would hit the coast. Andrew found and shared a quote about Henri: “This is the most serious hurricane risk in New England in 30 years, since Hurricane Bob in 1991”. Bob the hurricane rang a bell—its effects had been described in a book that I read recently—Coast of Summer by Anthony Bailey—where the author describes an eerie and desolate landscape and seascape during and after it. Anthony had been sailing a course that I was hoping we could partially replicate. Bob had made landfall in Block Island and Newport on August 19th, 1991. Henri was downgraded to a tropical storm and made landfall in Westerly, Rhode Island on August 22nd, 2021.
The forecast did not bode well for our adventure. |
The charter company first told us to not show up at the dock in Barrington until late Monday as they would need to assess the damage. Monday morning we heard the bad news from Andrew: the Zeitgeist had been damaged, it would take at least two weeks to repair. All sorts of feelings went through my head as I read those words—denial, anger, depression and acceptance—the only one I skipped from the "five stages of depression" was bargaining because… what would be the point?
Andrew went through the stages apparently faster than I did because while I was still processing, he asked the crew if we would like to do a shorter 3-day cruise using one of the boats from the Boston Sailing Center. We did and that’s how we ended up in a shorter cruise with a smaller crew on the Aeolus taking off from Boston and sailing to Gloucester instead of our original plan of taking off from Barrington and sailing to Long Island or Martha’s Vineyard.
Aeolus
It was drizzly in Boston when I woke up on Tuesday the 24th. Sergey picked me up and we drove to the BSC with all our gear. Andrew was already on the boat when we arrived and reported having checked for the dinghy, the stove and a few other things we would need.
Sergey motored the Aeolus away from the dock and with the wind in my face, the disappointment slowly started to melt away. There was not a lot of wind in Boston Inner Harbor, and whatever wind there was was East / South East, thus requiring a few tacks on the way out. We made slow progress toward Castle Island and then toward Deer Island but as the big ships were numerous and in need to use the waters where we were trying to maneuver with whatever little wind we had, Andrew decided to turn the engine on.
Departure from Boston |
Salem and fisherman
With less wind than I hoped for, but still enough for a steady progress of 2-3 knots, we continued on past Nahant, and I set my hopes on reaching Marblehead or Salem. I would have been fine with Nahant, but we carried on past it and continued on towards Marblehead. My mind was still processing the stolen opportunity to sail to Nantucket and back to Martha’s Vineyard, so spending the night anywhere that was not my bed in my apartment was fine by me. Although I have to admit that a harbor further away from Boston than Nahant would have been a nicer choice.We arrived at Marblehead Channel around sunset. I was at the helm and aiming toward Children’s Island on a course that would allow us to fall off once we got close enough to the island. To the starboard I heard what appeared to be a tune played with bells. This turned out to be the red/green “FR” buoy which seemed to have been fitted with 3 or even 4 different tones creating a very enjoyable sound as it bobbed in the waves, almost like improvised music—“Sea-Jazz”. I regret not having recorded the sound but Andrew did capture it in a video.
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Our lively discussion about how many tones we can hear. |
We saw the last rays on sunlight for the day as we approached Marblehead |
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Sergey's note: It was a very enjoyable evening, the conversation flowed, and we covered a lot of topics, ending up on a pretty in-depth discussion of various sci-fi authors, and while I was extolling the virtues of Peter Watts' "Blindsight", I heard a noise I didn't immediately recognize - after a quick investigation, we realized that Lena had fallen asleep in the middle of it all.
Andrew and I sat around and spoke for another 10 minutes, and then started winding down for the night as well. As Andrew was inspecting the boat, he called to me in a stage whisper, sounding alarmed. The combination of wind and current had been rotating the boat in weird ways, and apparently we got very close to an empty mooring ball which we had deemed far enough. Figuring that the anchor may have been dragging, we decided to tie the boat to the mooring ball - after all, it was very unlikely that someone would need it.
Andrew started pulling the mooring lines and told me, sounding even more alarmed, that I should bring my sailing gloves. As we continued pulling out the line together, I saw why: the mooring line was nasty. And not the usual "there is some gunk here" nasty, no. The line was thick and crawling with creatures, some looking like slugs and some writhing little legs and perhaps tentacles. I said - "Dude, it's alive," to which Andrew responded "...and it's looking at me!". Nevertheless, determined to keep the boat securely moored, we put a docking line through the loops and cleated it on the bow. Thinking that perhaps the spawn of Cthulhu could gnaw through the mooring lines in the middle of the night, I also took an extra line and attached it to the ball directly. Better safe than sorry.
Afterwards, before going off to sleep, we went back to the cockpit and poured some rum - it had to be done.
Andrew and I sat around and spoke for another 10 minutes, and then started winding down for the night as well. As Andrew was inspecting the boat, he called to me in a stage whisper, sounding alarmed. The combination of wind and current had been rotating the boat in weird ways, and apparently we got very close to an empty mooring ball which we had deemed far enough. Figuring that the anchor may have been dragging, we decided to tie the boat to the mooring ball - after all, it was very unlikely that someone would need it.
Andrew started pulling the mooring lines and told me, sounding even more alarmed, that I should bring my sailing gloves. As we continued pulling out the line together, I saw why: the mooring line was nasty. And not the usual "there is some gunk here" nasty, no. The line was thick and crawling with creatures, some looking like slugs and some writhing little legs and perhaps tentacles. I said - "Dude, it's alive," to which Andrew responded "...and it's looking at me!". Nevertheless, determined to keep the boat securely moored, we put a docking line through the loops and cleated it on the bow. Thinking that perhaps the spawn of Cthulhu could gnaw through the mooring lines in the middle of the night, I also took an extra line and attached it to the ball directly. Better safe than sorry.
Afterwards, before going off to sleep, we went back to the cockpit and poured some rum - it had to be done.
In the middle of the night I woke up and decided to check if our anchor was holding. Surprised, I noticed a mooring ball hitting the Aeolus on the starboard side and wondered if we had hit it while swinging. But then I saw the lines connecting us to the ball and decided that the guys must have done it and went back to bed.
I woke up again as the day was breaking and noticed some crawling things next to my “bed” in the cockpit. I didn’t know it then, but these were vestiges of the overnight adventure with the mooring ball. While we were drinking coffee and tea, we noticed a fishing boat circling our Aeolus. Unsure what they were up to, we waited and watched. They asked us what’s for breakfast and then asked if we had a storm anchor in the channel. We said we did though our intent had not been to anchor in the channel. Soon after that, they dropped their net in the water. They were apparently following a school of fish that they planned to circumscribe with their net. As they closed the gap in the net, a guy in a small motor boat that had been attached to the main boat started driving it in circles next to the gap, probably to scare the fish in the school to stay trapped inside the net instead of trying to escape through the opening.
My little fishing rod is no match to fishing with a net. |
As they brought the net out of the water, I felt sorry for the fish for having been entrapped and their lives lost like that. I felt angry with the fisherman for not caring at all about removing hundreds if not thousands of fish from the sea with one fell swoop, way more than their small crew can eat. And yet I know that fishing like that is necessary in order for me to be able to go to the grocery store and buy dinner.
But the morning adventures with fishing were not over. As I was carrying on with cleaning the grill from the previous night, I saw another boat approach us as they were trolling for fish. At some point the guy shouted - “do you guys have an anchor out in the channel”. We did. Turned out his $50 lure had gotten caught in our anchor. He asked if we could help him get his lure back. As Sergey and I started raising the anchor, we realized that our anchor was not where we dropped it. Our anchor had dragged overnight and so the mooring ball coming within reach in the middle of the night—and Sergey and Andrew having the foresight to use it—was quite fortuitous.
Since we had already pulled half of the anchor line on board, we decided that we might as well pull the rest. The only thing left to do was to put away the grill and we could be on our way.
Onward to Great Misery Island |
Great Misery Island Eggs
We decided to go for a swim at Great Misery Island. The breeze was back and we could sail all the way. As we approached the gap between Great Misery Island and Little Misery Island, we saw mooring balls, one of which we promptly caught and used to moor. When we looked in the water, however, we saw hundreds of some sort of creature floating around. We weren’t sure if it was safe to swim there. These creatures were semi-transparent with several pairs of white dots along a strap-like body. I tried to grab one using the boat hook but it fell apart and split in two. I tried again and this time was able to pull one of the creatures onto the boat. I carefully touched it with my finger to check if it would sting. It didn’t sting but it fell apart easily. I figured they must be eggs of some creature—presumably fish, possibly bluefish—but I still could not find the species that they belong to. I will leave the question open here for any professional or amateur marine biologist to figure out what they were.
Great Misery Island "eggs" |
As we finished securing the dinghy on shore, Sergey reported to have seen a deer. There were a few ruins and an outhouse with an interesting architecture but what drew me the most were the mooring balls and beach on the other side of the island, which—judging by the transparency of the water in the beach—were not as crowded with the mysterious eggs as the place where we had moored. On the other hand, it was crowded.
Shenanigans in the ruins and the other mooring field. |
After the island exploration, we went back to the Aeolus and as we were getting ready to cast off in order to motor to the other side of the island, a goose swam over and floated around our boat, clearly hoping we would throw some food into the water. As we motored away without complying with the goose tax, we saw him swim to another boat moored nearby and do the same thing.
Once in the north of Great Misery Island, we had a very nice swim off the mooring field and Sergey even snorkeled some. After lunch, which was accompanied by the grapefruit rosé that Andrew had brought, it was time to decide where to spend the night. We wanted to go further north but were unsure whether there would be enough wind the following day to return to Boston. We decided to head North anyway and depending on progress, decide on the way whether to proceed to Gloucester or spend the night in Salem again.
Snorkeling and the collector of the Goose tax |
Gloucester
A nice breeze carried us almost all the way to Gloucester. On the way, Andrew told us
that he had recently re-watched The Truman Show and as we were discussing the scene where Ed Harris’ character—the producer of the show—ramps up the wind toward the end of the movie to discourage Truman from going any further, our own wind stopped as if Ed Harris’ character decided that we had gone far enough. Nevertheless, we persisted! by switching to diesel power. Pretty soon, Gloucester Harbor was in sight. As we approached, one of the most visible features of the harbor was the Eastern Point Lighthouse and the associated breakwater nearby called “Dog Bar Breakwater”. The breakwater was finished in 1905 as an aid to navigation since numerous ships had run aground in the reef that it now protects them from—Dog Bar reef [1]. The end of the breakwater is marked by the Dog Bar Breakwater Lighthouse, which, in spite of its important navigation aid role (preventing ships from crashing into the breakwater), it in fact looks like a tiny adorable house with a tower on stilts!
Dog Bar Breakwater Lighthouse |
Two out of 3 tall ships and the view from Stage Head |
The food at Oliver’s was amazing and by mistake they brought me a free glass of wine, which is always nice! Around 9PM we headed over to the launch dock so that it could take us back to our boat. Before heading to Stage Head, where the Aeolus was moored, the launch first dropped off people all over the inner harbor and watching all those people board their 40 footer gorgeous, fairly recent sailboats made me wonder about what I’m doing with my life and why I don’t have one of those myself!
Once back at the Aeolus I promptly fell asleep, once more in the cockpit under the stars. On nights like that, I’m always grateful to live on a planet with a transparent atmosphere and thus able to get a glimpse of the Universe just by looking up! If our species had evolved on a cloud-covered planet, we probably would not have developed space travel. We might even not have discovered the physics of lift that we rely on to sail the Aeolus upwind.
Trust Meditation and Blue Water Sailing
I woke up shaken by waves—probably wake waves from the morning boats—and could not go back to sleep so I got up, made coffee and came back to the cockpit in time to watch the sunrise, which was spectacular. We needed to start making our way back to Boston early as we had no idea if we had enough wind for the whole journey. However, we had to wait until around 8AM, which is when a breeze started to blow around us. The weather buoy closest to us (but still a few miles offshore) indicated WSW winds of 7.8 knots. That was good sailing weather so we took off from the mooring field and began our journey back to Boston.
Sunrise from Stage Head |
Lena's Meditation: That first starboard tack offshore gave me a good opportunity to spend some time ruminating. I took the wheel and watched the telltales on the jib to help me decide if our heading was the best possible one. Having been cerebral (yes, a nerd) my entire life, I never understood why people find it enjoyable to spend hours doing work with their hands, whether that’s playing an instrument, painting, sculpting, etc. It occurred to me, a few months ago, while attending a painting class as part of a community building event at work, that the pleasure of doing manual work comes when one intentionally rests their awareness on the hands instead of the million thoughts and emotions trying to compete for her attention. I realized that steering the boat can provide a similar experience—just like the painter’s eyes act as a sensor that she uses to guide the painting, the telltales on the jib acted as my sensor to guide the steering. But that’s not all, I realized—if I were not steering toward optimal use of the wind and closed my eyes, I could hear the change in the sound the boat made while cutting through the water, I could sense the change of the wind pressure on my skin. I decided that I was not only the sensor that guided the boat, but the boat was an extension of myself.
Blue Ocean Sailing |
The intent of steering offshore was to get enough distance (3 nautical miles) between the Aeolus and the shore so that we could open the holding tank and release its contents into the open ocean (the harbormaster at Gloucester had told Andrew that this was OK to do). When we approached the 3 mile mark, however, the wind died; lost in my rumination, I didn’t notice that at this point, where we had no wind and thus no forward motion, a wave turned us around such that the wind was behind me when it returned. Andrew, upon noticing this, shouted something and quickly snapped me out of my meditation. I corrected the course, and we were off again with enough speed to tack toward the southwest heading that would take us back to Boston (Unfortunately we could not figure out how to open the holding tank so the offshore excursion was fun but useless!)
Lena's Meditation: After handing the helm over to Sergey, I went over to the bow to continue my meditation. The rumination this time was about trust. At work, I have been learning a lot about trust. I decided a little over one year ago to accept an offer to work at a consulting firm, and this past year has been filled with learning to build trust. One of the most meaningful lessons that I have learned is that trust between two people cannot exist when there is an agenda being enforced. One book that I recently read—the Trusted Advisor—even proposes an equation for trust (I told you I was a nerd 🤓): Trust = ( credibility + reliability + intimacy ) / self-orientation. In layman terms, the authors observe that no matter how credible and reliable a person is, if they are too focused on their own agenda, trust becomes incredibly hard to build. I was skeptical when I first read this, the geek inside me shouted “This can’t be right, surely merit and credibility matter a lot more in building trust”. Nevertheless, I decided to try it anyway—partially out of desperation because I needed to start being more successful at learning to build my business. At every interaction, I started noticing how I brought my own agenda to the conversation, even if it was very subtle—for example, as someone who has been invited to be a keynote at a few conferences, I like to be treated / to feel like “the expert”. As a result, when I bring that mindset to a conversation, the result in often a monologue about my research whether the other person asked for it or not! Other instances of bringing my agenda to the conversation were less subtle and I’m too embarrassed to admit them out loud. But as a result, I started repeating to myself “suspend the agenda” every time I joined a conversation. Needless to say, the authors of the book were spot on. Until I became aware of my own conscious or subconscious agenda I failed to suppress it. I’m sure I still have some subconscious agendas leftover—I’m human and as a result I have needs and fears—but at least the ones that I am aware of are no longer sabotaging the trust that I want to build in my professional and personal relationships.
I came back to the cockpit where Sergey was relying on what he calls the “Iron Man”. This consists of locking the wheel and thus the rudder so that the ship stays on course instead of moving with the waves. He asked me to keep a lookout for lobster traps but I either didn’t hear it or was too lost in my ruminations. He in fact had closed his eyes and was falling asleep and thus not paying attention at all. As a result, nobody but the “Iron Man” was steering… Until I saw a lobster trap float by really close to our propeller on the port side and finally realized that nobody was paying attention to the avoidance of lobster traps (we had caught a lobster trap in our propeller before... twice !) This episode for me was a great example of the trust equation: Sergey needed a break from steering and asked me to be on the lookout but being lost in my thoughts (my agenda), I did not listen.
Steering with the Iron Man |
Lena's Meditation: After I unlocked the wheel and got my bearings, I realized that trust is not only something that’s built between people—an archaic definition of trust, according to the Oxford dictionary, is hope or expectation. I like this definition because what I was doing at that exact moment was trusting or expecting the telltales to reliably tell me if I was optimizing for wind, trusting that the imobile rudder would keep us steering where we needed to go, trusting that I would see lobster trap floats before my propeller got tangled in them. Of course, with objects there is no agenda, they simply are what they are in spite of my temptation to give them roles and personalities. But trust is everywhere in sailing, even trust between the crew—I expect the crew to be forgiving when I make small mistakes or fail to notice something while steering, and I trust them to share the less enjoyable tasks such as cleaning the dishes and cooking the meals, etc. In a highly intimate environment like that of a 30ft boat, where personal space is limited, bringing an agenda to the boat, however unconcious--such as noticing the dirty dishes in the sink and not doing anything about it, or wanting to be “the sailing expert” or patronizing another crew member--(and there are many reasons why people do this to others) can break that trust in ways that can become, sometimes, unfixable...
In spite of the slow wind forecast (which was wrong) and the excursion offshore, it was only 2PM when we caught a glimpse of Boston! The wind had been kind to us in more ways than one—not only was it blowing at a reasonable speed but it was doing so from a direction that allowed us to arrive to Boston Harbor on a single tack. It felt like the best possible conditions we could have asked for.
Sergey, who was steering, went to the galley and asked me to steer so there I was at the wheel again relying on the “Iron man”. And then, for the second time on this leg of the journey, the wind died on me and a wave rotated my bow such that we were no longer pointing at The Graves Lighthouse, which had been our heading up to that point. Since the wheel was still stuck due to 'Iron Man' I had to first unlock the wheel before I could recover my bearings—-as a result of this delay, we accidentally jibed (not violently), which sent the boom flying over to the other side of the boat. This for me was again was a lesson in trust: while the wind blowed steady, I trusted the 'Iron Man' to keep the Aeolus on course. When the wind died, however, my trust that the 'Iron Man' would prevent a rotation--since the wheel was locked and thus the rudder, which I would use to rotate the move, was not moving--was eroded. I decided that the 'Iron Man' was not to be trusted in low-wind situations.
Sergey's note: I believe that this is about understanding the limits of trust. We have to rely on mechanisms in order to scale things (here, to go further on a cruise and get some rest from steering), but it’s impossible without knowing when to check in and course-correct, and making some routine. It works the same with people and delegation - while it’s possible to do everything single-handedly, one has to question the actual productivity.
As the Aeolus approached the North Channel, we started to see airplanes, a sign that Boston Logan was near! Behind us, we saw a tugboat bringing a large barge into the harbor. We assumed that they would go around us since we had the right-of-way according to the US navigation rules, but they disagreed—with a loud honk she told us that we were in her way (or maybe she was just alerting us of her presence). We got out of here way, jibing in the process. Thirty-foot sailboats get out of the way of large ~200ft barges. That's the pragmatic navigation rule!
Boston in the distance |
Lena's Meditation: As I observe the tugboat’s behavior towards us, my thoughts on trust and expectations return. What the tugboat had just shown us was assertiveness (or maybe she was just making sure we were paying attention). When I suspend my agenda, which is what we did by giving the tug boat the right-of-way, there is a chance that someone else who is more assertive will build a habit of taking advantage of me. Suspecting the agenda comes at the risk of becoming a “doormat” or being manipulated by others to meet their needs and ignore mine. This is a dilemma I often struggle with, as I tend to be on the low assertiveness side (due to cultural or personality reasons, I am not sure). An important leadership lesson I learned from observing other boats and how they compete for the same water is to be on the look out for and ask myself about the dangers of giving someone else the 'right-of-way'. If giving them the 'right-of-way' means that I will be pushed into some rocks then I will assert my needs. So far, it has helped me a lot!
As the Aeolus approached Boston, it was hard to get used to having to pay attention to other boats again after so many hours of blue sailing. Since it was still early (and hot), the crew decided to make a swimming stop near Spectacle Island and finish the rum. The water was warm and we could hear the blasts from the barges that were dredging the channel, making it deeper for modern container ships. While drying off in the cockpit, I noticed the head of a seal popping up above the water. The blasts from the channel dredging barges that started operating this year must've bothered her, poor thing... Or maybe she was just enjoying the sun!
'I'll be back' Sergey signs as he enjoys his swimming |
We cast off from Spectacle Island under sail—the last cast-off of our 3-day adventure—and pointed the bow toward the Boston Inner Harbor. We left the “red right return” buoys marking the main channel to our port but did not stray too far from the channel: we trusted that if we stayed close to them, we would not run aground ;-) And we did not. We arrived at the BSC marina after dark… the adventure was over. Sergey drove us all home to resume our “normal” lives.
Lena's Meditation Conclusion: Trust is a very delicate and volatile thing—-hard to build but very easy to lose. After nearly 10 years in Boston without experiencing anything close to a hurricane in the New England area, I trusted that our planned week-long sailing adventure toward Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket at the end of August was a done deal. And then a hurricane damaged the Zeitgeist. Fortunately the 3 days onboard the Aeolus were beautiful, sunny, warm and with just enough wind to get the crew to Gloucester and back. But the fear lingers in me—can I trust that the weather will be beneficial for a longer term sailing cruise? Or will climate change make these types of weather events more common and harder to plan these types of adventures? Only time will tell.
very cool, thanks
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