The 41st Parallel
17 September 2011 | The Thimble Islands
Dede
In theory, we are continuing our slow sail south towards Naples. But in reality, for the better part of these last two weeks, we haven't moved south at all. Instead we are enjoying this rare long stretch of spectacular weather and are hovering along the 41st parallel, heading west towards Long Island Sound to David's hometown area (more on that next post). We hope you enjoy our photos from weeks 8 and 9.
MARTHA'S VINEYARD: Of Martha's Vineyard's four ports, we visit the two purported to be less touristy and commercial. Edgartown is quaint, colonial and peppered with unique shops, but having just left idyllic Nantucket and a bit saturated in quaint some seven week into my New England travels, I am left underwhelmed. On to the tiny fishing village of Menemsha which is the access to Aquinnah - the impressive cliffs on the island's western coast - formerly known as Gay Head (due the "gaily" colored cliffs). We take in an exhilarating cycle up to the cliffs and then fly back downhill to town for, what else, but a fish lunch enjoyed basking in the sun at our makeshift lobster trap table and driftwood bench. Both towns are showing signs of slowing down, but we are happy to see the original Menemsha Blues store is still open and we support the local economy with the purchase of a tee-shirt for the Captain who is running out of hole-free and stain-free options.
CUTTYHUNK: Delightful as Menemsha is, it proves a poor anchorage in the swells so we opt for a short sail over to reliable, protected Cuttyhunk for the night. Not only are we lucky enough to sail over on a perfect reach in the brilliant glistening afternoon sunlight, but we find the harbor quiet with only a handful of boats, a marked contrast to the packed-house we last found here in early August. This rock-solid peaceful anchorage on this cool crisp night brings a much needed deep sleep erasing our deficient from the rockin'-and-rollin' the night before.
NEWPORT: Our next stop, Newport, famous for its mansions, mega-yachts and world class races, is chosen for none of these reasons. Rather, this harbor affords protection from the approaching cold front which is forecast to be bringing strong northerly winds gusting to 30 knots. Nearing the harbor, we note that Newport, always a hub, seems particularly busy for late season only to discover that we have happened upon not only TWO cruise ships in port but also the annual Newport Boat Show! What timing! Relieved to secure a scarce free mooring, and no fan of crowds, we take the tender ashore and walk away from downtown leaving the bustle behind us as we run some errands on foot. We do slip into the boat show for a few minutes to seek out the Leopard Catamaran section and board their newest 44' boat which features a rare cushy forward cockpit area in addition to the rear. To supplant our brewing boat envy, we begin to enumerate all the things that make our little Andiamo a better boat for us. Once back on board as a further distraction, we decide it is a good afternoon to do my roots again - god knows I need it - luckily I travel with my personal colorist, Captain Dave. Like the hair formulation that the Captain, a former chemist, precisely mixes, I am one part nonchalant, one part mortified and one part in-your-face hysterical to be draped and gooped in this, the ritziest of New England ports. Beyond invention, while cruising, necessity is the mother of humility. Get 'er done!
The front passes through dry and uneventfully over night and, in order to play the winds and ride the tides, we depart Newport at dawn on a frigid 40-something degree morning, our coldest yet. Out in the stiff breeze and biting air, David is in full winter regalia - gloves, wool hat, boots, and fleece under foul-weather gear. Eleven hours total in the elements, the Captain deems the helm more ski lift than navigation station. His face raw, his ears burning, and his fingers numb (he is once again wearing his finger sock on "stubby"), he repeats to me his latest mantra: "Honey, I have two words for you: Tropical Island". Brat-mate that I am, I stay indoors most of the day curled up like a cat in the cabin toasty from the passive heating of the sunny skies. No reason for us both to freeze, right? To my very small credit, I did bring him hot chocolate - even topped with whipped cream.
THIMBLE ISLANDS: The day never warms up for the Captain outdoors, but he does heat up a bit reeling in his prize bluefish and cleaning it (yuck, blood and guts) in the cockpit. Tonight we reach the Thimble Islands - a tiny cluster of islands in Long Island Sound very reminiscent of the rocky, evergreen speckled atolls of Casco Bay up the coast in Maine. We marvel in the architectural diversity of the homes, many stilted, cantilevered or precariously perched on these minuscule islands. In the crystal clear light of this early fall evening each home takes on a faceted, sculptural quality. Adding to the special feel of this moment, we find ourselves anchored alone, in this jewel of a spot; it seems as though the show has been uniquely designed for us, right here, right now. Another long sail, another cold day, but these unsurpassed views - unlike the oily blue fish dinner - are worth it.
Under such favorable early-Fall conditions, we are finding the 41st parallel, well, unparalleled.