Our boat speed began to tick upwards as we slid between the colossal corps of engineered breakwaters. The water swirled and hard-boiled around us. Caprica’s bow lifted and dashed through standing waves that had suddenly appeared. I clutched the wheel as the rudder was yanked hard over by an eddy then looked at the breakwater to judge course.
Cuttyhunk exists at the southern end of the Elizabethan Islands and has a small community perched on a gradual hill that overlooks two harbors. From the former WWII outpost, the exquisite view includes old fishing cottages, white sand beaches or conversely boulder-strewn barrier beaches. Most days, Martha’s Vineyard fills the eastern expanse of the horizon. To the north, one can see steep cliffs and crashing waves and the north Atlantic stretches on forever to the southeast.
“6 knots.” He repeated. “Your speed was ridiculous!”
“I’ve been told that cruising is just working on your boat in other places.”