The great thing about travelling by boat is that you have the opportunity to literally go where the wind blows you, well anywhere that is fringed by the sea that is. Over the past few days, with the view that we’ve had on board Ruffian, we have mused that we could be anywhere in the world; as thick fog looks the same the world over. Thunder and lightening then shakes the boat and lights up the sky while the wind whistles through the rigging. Suddenly we realise that there is only one place in the world we can be. It’s America.

After we recovered from the high of New York our push north and east continued. We left Port Washington into what looked and felt like the Solent on a super sunny Sunday. There were boats everywhere taking advantage of the wind and the sun, it was after all the most perfect day to be out on the water. As we trucked along Long Island Sound it reminded us more and more of the Solent. As the afternoon wore on, just like the Solent, the water emptied as everyone clearly had to get their boats back to dock and then themselves home ready for work on Monday. We felt so lucky that we are able to sail without time constraints.

Port Jefferson gave us an insight to American culture that we never expected. We landed Thug onto a little beach in this perfect small town and felt the hot sand between our toes. Port Jeff is everything you’d expect of small town America, ice cream parlours, antique shops, a single dingy bar and a high school. The high school is where the insight was gained; it was senior prom night. Everyone was dressed up and ready for a big big night, saying goodbye to school and hello to adult life. The frocks and heels on show wouldn’t have been out of place on a catwalk and the limo’s transporting the heels and frocks wouldn’t be out of place at film premiers. It all looked like “High School Musical 3”, but this was real life. Quite enlightening.

We’d heard that it was race week at Block Island which was about 60 miles along the shore and so we made a resolution to ‘do’ the northern Long Island Shore on our return in the fall. Race week at Block Island is a true international affair, attracting over 200 high spec race boats and we thought it maybe fun to get some racing in. En route we saw the detritus from the senior prom nights that must have happened all along the coast. There were 100’s of sad looking helium balloons slowly deflating in the dawn light.

Block Island was all ramped up for race week and there was conspicuous consumption on show. It became obvious that the way to ‘attend this regatta’ was to anchor your 80ft cruising boat, which you’d use as your home and then tie up your 40ft race boat next door. There is then the problem of how to get ashore and to resolve this you tie up a 20ft rib next to your race boat.

All the top spec boats were on show, TP52’s, Farr400’s, Swan42’s, Melges 32’s and a flock of J’s. We had high hopes that we’d ‘pontoon bounce’ and get a ride, unfortunately Mother Nature had other things on her mind. The day dawned and we were imprisoned in 360 degrees of fog. Thick, thick sea fog giving no visibility and no racing. It was so thick you could practically eat it and it stopped all activity away from Ruffian and most of the activity on board. For days the primary activities were reading, boat bimbling and wondering just how warm and sunny it is in La Corunna.

Thug was really unhappy about this dull state of affairs and while Iain & Fiona sheltered downstairs he slipped his lines and made a bid for freedom. His disappearance went completely unnoticed until we heard the stained tones of anther dinghy in the anchorage. We noted how one tiny dinghy was towing another and we felt sorry for the poor boat that had lost their dinghy. It was then that we realised that Thug had made a bid for freedom, had been recaptured and was being bought back home. Thug was duly chastised and new friends Bob & Judy duly rewarded with beer and rum. We dread to think what would have happened if they’d not been quite so switched on. Bob & Judy, you’re stars.

With race week now over, having lost a couple of days of racing to the fog, we now have a forecast where we maybe able to actually see the shoreline tomorrow. With any luck this will enable us to reengage with society and see some of the apparently stunning Block Island.

Now that’s innovative advertising. Hire 5 planes and write a massive message in the sky. The only problem is we have no idea what it says.


Lovely lovely sailing.


Ruffian romps through Long Island sound.


Uh oh. That’ll be another night of thunder storms then.


Port Jeff. The home of shipbuilding in Long Island Sound.


Could you imagine finding something like this embossed in the middle of your local village hall floor?


We land on a proper sandy beach for the first time since the Caribbean.


There is some properly big debris floating around in the sound.


And a lot of remnants from the senior proms.


We had all our rags out en route to Fishers Island. Wait a minute; they’re not rags they’re our best clothes.


Very Long Island. Sunsets and sailboats.


Goodbye ‘Why Knot’. We hope to see you again soon.


The Block Island race fleet heads out in fog for yet another day of milling around waiting for no racing.


Thug gets a makeover and it’s time to try and find his pesky leak.


Thick think fog means tea, biscuits, reading, scrabble and no sailing or runs ashore.


Proper pea souper. Apparently here a J24 comes into the finish line.