It wasn’t supposed to be like this. August and September are prime months to be on a sailboat on the Atlantic coast, especially in New England. But I am not on Laughing Gull, and Laughing Gull is not on the water. Instead, she is laid up at Bert Jabins Yacht Yard in Annapolis, undergoing repairs, thanks to the distracted private equity dude who smashed into my bow in Nantucket, while I lay at anchor. Easier to hit a stationary target, I guess.
Ah well, best laid plans and all. So I find myself shorebound until early October as Laughing Gull is made beautiful and whole again.
On the plus side, I did manage to spend most of the summer living aboard, and it was quite transformative. I explored the towns and anchorages of Buzzards Bay, where I spent time cruising decades ago. I visited Martha’s Vineyard (and learned that I love Chilmark), Nantucket, Newport, and the Elizabeth Islands. I spent more than a few nights at Block Island. I had plenty of time to stare at a horizon and think about what matters, and what doesn’t matter. I look at the world with new eyes, and with renewed purpose.
One purpose will be to use my time aboard to write and create. But I also want to invite others (photographers, film-makers, writers, painters) to spend time on Laughing Gull. Being on a sailboat somewhere interesting can have a magical effect on the imagination and creative flow. And I expect that if you get a few creators together you might spark some wild and productive synergies. It would be fun to see. I haven’t worked out the structure or logistics yet, but I am looking forward to experimenting.
As much as I found myself at peace on Laughing Gull, I didn’t escape a few negative emotions…mostly regarding powerboaters: Blasting imperiously across the water, always impatient to get to the next place, loudly dominating the elements big, fuel-guzzling engines. General attitude toward wind-powered craft? F*ck that sailboater. He is in the way, and barely moving. What a loser. He is probably some socialist, tree-hugging, nut job who doesn’t love Trump. I’ll pass by as close as I possibly can, and I can’t wait to see his face when I hit him with my four foot wake. Perhaps a bit more throttle. Ha-ha!
Obnoxious, inconsiderate powerboaters, of which there were a discouraging number, seemed like just one one more reflection of a broader culture that is more distanced from nature, oblivious to the climate emergency, consumed by consumption, and less caring of others. My only solace is that at some point in the foreseeable future, when the transition away from carbon-based fuels gets real (and expensive for carbon-based fuels), there will be billions of dollars of stranded assets (aka powerboats), languishing at their docks and plummeting in value. Blessed are the gentle (eg…sailboaters), for they shall inherit the earth (and seas). Or at least what is left of them.
I also came to lament the relentless creep of private mooring fields, which are colonizing and eradicating anchorages everywhere. Newport and Block Island get credit for committing to maintaining well-protected and convenient anchorages. But in too many places now you have to either anchor far away or in less-protected waters. Or there is no anchorage area left at all. A sailboat promises freedom and self-reliance. DockWa, the ubiquitous booking app, promises you $90 a night for a mooring (and often none are actually available). Another bad cultural trend, I think.
Happily, there is an easy solution to both of these laments. Go further afield, to the places that are often colder and wetter, or less touched by human presence. And as I think about the winter, I find myself with no enthusiasm for the teeming waters of the British Virgin Islands and the usual Caribbean destinations. I have seen them when they were relatively uncrowded, and thousands of charter boats, and endless parade of cruise ships, have done nothing to improve the ambience and experience. Instead, I am hoping to chart a route (slightly) less traveled. The Spanish Virgins are generally overlooked. The Bahamas has many remote and isolated anchorages, like the Ragged Islands. I will go in search of the places that remain unspoiled. And whether I find them or not I will eventually turn back north, bound for Nova Scotia and Newfoundland.
I just need a boat that is back in the water. I hope it won’t be too long.
Quick Notes:
—climate change has come for the Emperor penguin, the most charismatic of charismatic fauna:
Thousands of emperor penguin chicks across four colonies in Antarctica are believed to have died because of record-low sea ice levels that caused a “catastrophic breeding failure” in late 2022, according to new research.
Analysis of satellite images showed the break-up of usually stable sea ice and the disappearance of the colonies at a time when chicks had not yet grown their waterproof feathers.
—if I don’t want to think about powerboats or disappearing penguins, this guy has can help (click image).
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