Sometimes You Want to Stay

A calm anchorage, great beaches, places for trash and easy access to water was a no brainer. Although we felt a pressure to move on, to see other sites and develop an itinerary, we also realized that we didn’t have to do any of that. We found a place that we liked, and it was okay to stay a little longer.

As night fell across the anchorage, the sea of stars that hung about Caprica was slowly enveloped by thick cloud cover dotting our hatches with speckles of rain. By midnight, our weather window north blew the window in with thunderstorms, wind and torrential rain. Caprica tugged at her snubber and anchor chain, and I felt the stress of the lee shore just a few hundred feet from our stern. Using our high definition radar, I dialed in the surroundings locating the rocky beach and our neighbors as pulsing red blobs. Tuning the gain, I filtered out the thousands of green and blue dots that filled the radar screen with interference until we had a perfect picture of our surroundings. From the warmth of my dry cabin, I was able to stand anchor watch through the night watching the radar and making sure that other boats weren’t dragging down on us.

Passage to Block Island

Alison reluctantly disappeared below with the promise of returning in the pre-dawn hours, but we both knew that sleep now meant energy for when Eleanor was awake later. I comfortably settled in for a long night as conditions freshened and the wind picked up. The nearly full moon rose in a low arc across the sky, and a fishing vessel appeared off our starboard bow. The AIS CPA proximity alarm chimed, letting me know that a boat was within an exclusion zone that I set. The boat was 3 miles out and would pass dangerously close to Caprica. We were sailing close to the wind, and only able to vector to port by 10 degrees. I scrolled through the AIS data and called the fishing vessel expecting no response.

There is a Reason Why They Call it Beating to Windward

In Rockland before departure, we watched heavy fog hang across the harbor. Visibility was just under a mile with the occasional encroachment to a few hundred feet. We hauled in 160 feet of chain and our number 1 anchor, hoisted sail and cruised out of the harbor. The fog enveloped us, and we watched pensively as a large cursing catamaran a few boat lengths off of our bow then the land to starboard vanished.