(No pic for the day, but I've included a detail from yesterday's sunset photo just as eye candy.)



Sunday morning moved slowly, with time contributed to writing up yesterday's blog, a few chores on the boat, and some dedicated laziness to delay dropping my buoy and heading to Manchester to get propane and pick up the Gatz clan for an afternoon sail. The most active I got was a row around the anchorage, sliding above the seaweed clad sea bottom and chatting with a couple of young kids on the shore about their adventures with lackadaisical star fish and house-sized crabs.

Returning from my row, I headed off and quickly raised Mabrouka's sails for a nice, hour long glide northward. My intention had been to time a 2:30 arrival at Manchester for a high enough tide to moor safely at the public dock, but I hadn't anticipated the armada of small boats that the sunny day had brought out, so I ended up anchoring about 50 yards off shore. That left 50 feet of sailboat swinging only 30 feet from the end of the dock which attracted both interest and concern from the common folk. Ah, what fun!

With zero on my gauge looming close at hand, I needed to refill my propane tanks. It would have been easier to go through this evolution if I'd been able to tie up at the dock, but I overcame the logistical hurdles by row boat. Russell had pre-positioned my car in a parking lot up from the docks, so I schlepped the two tanks ashore and got them refilled and reinstalled aboard the boat before Steve and April arrived with the kids a little after 4pm.

Again shuttling by row boat, we got everyone safely onto Mabrouka and, after an inaugural beer and wine session, hauled anchor and set off for a nice sail. We sailed just about due east under main, mizzen, and genoa for a little while, but soon dropped the genny in favor of the new gennaker for a rousing reach toward Fauntleroy, then a gybe and a close reach back toward Blake Island. By the time we'd come up on the southern end of Blake, little Anastacia had had enough, so we sailed onto Yukon harbor, took in the sails, and motored back to Manchester. Seven month old Rowan took it all in stride with many more happy gurgles than whimpers.

By this time, the expiring weekend had thinned the crowd at the docks enough for us to find a spot at the pier where we had an anti-inaugural beer and wine session and I sent the Gatzes on their way.

It had been a VERY nice circumnavigation of Blake Island with a moderate, only occasionally boisterous wind and plenty of sun and pleasant company, so it was with some satisfaction that I motored back to Blake and picked up another buoy for the night.