A lot of sailors love racing. I love racing. And there is lots to love: tight competition, teamwork, clean boat-handling, making a good tactical call, surfing waves downwind. What I hate, though, is NOT racing. No wind. Too much wind. RC is drunk. Whatever. A cancelled race is the worst kind of race. And that seems to have been happening a lot this season. Last Wednesday, for example, was the second Wednesday Night Race in a row that was abandoned for lack of wind, and both those cancellations came right after the cancellation of the Block Island Race for too much wind. Cancel culture run amok.
If I only raced, this would have been hard to take. It takes a lot of hours to get to Annapolis, set up the boat and get to the start line. Yes, you are on the water with friends, and, sure, you may just hang out at the dock for a while after the cancellation drinking more than you should, and laughing it up. But you still spent time and effort to race a sailboat which didn’t actually race. And if you want to hang out and relax, simply going to a favorite bar would be a lot easier. Last week, however, I didn’t really care. I had a Plan B that I was pretty excited about: no matter what happened with Wednesday Night Racing I was going to go cruising.
This was a great Plan B for two reasons. First, I hadn’t yet spent a single night on Moondust in 2021. All my effort, energy and attention had been directed at racing. Most years I would have logged many happy nights aboard by late June. I was way, way, overdue. Second, a perfect weather window was descending over the region, bringing clear skies and cool temps from Wednesday through Friday. The wind forecast was a little light. But I didn’t care. I was cruising! Going slow or even motoring a bit is not a problem when you are cruising.
So I spent Wednesday night on the boat back at the dock in Whitehall Marina. It was beautiful sleeping weather, and I had the marina more or less to myself. I love nothing more than waking up on a boat, with no distractions, and firing up that first big cup of coffee. After I lazed around a bit, achieving the correct level of personal caffeination while reading the news, I motored down to Back Creek to take on 15 gallons of diesel. After that, I was off.
I had two options in mind: head north to the Magothy River, or head south to South River. Since there was almost no wind as I motored out the Severn just before noon, I decided to head south. A sea breeze seemed like my only real hope for a sailing wind, and if a sea breeze did kick in it would fill first from the south. Sure enough, cats’ paws of wind allowed me to start sailing before I reached Horn Point. And by the time I managed to get around Horn Point, a 6 knot southeasterly turned on and settled in, bang on schedule.
The rest of the cruise went like that. I had an easy, chill, mostly port tack down to Thomas Point, with just a single short tack to get around. And then I was off the wind and meandering up the South River, on the start of the flood. The apparent wind fell right off, and we were deep enough that the genoa wouldn’t fill, so I rolled it up. Boat speed settled in at about 2-3 knots. You would never accept this if you were racing. You would pole the genoa out wing and wing or try a spinnaker. You would stress. You would look around to see if other boats had more wind or were going better. But I didn’t care: I was cruising! The destination is the journey, as they say. In fact, my sedate pace was perfectly conducive to making a very tasty late lunch, and downing it with a cold beer. I could not have been happier.
Since it was a Thursday, I pretty much had the South River to myself (powerboat wake on the weekend turns it into washing machine hell). I passed an old Hinkley, also out enjoying the fine weather. I passed an osprey surveying his peaceful watery domain. Harness Creek was almost empty (again, never the case on a weekend). I dropped the hook and took a swim. I made a pasta dinner and listened to the Nats game. I drank red wine. I read some more. A stunning Strawberry Supermoon finally rose over the trees. I slept well, and when I awoke early, the Strawberry Moon was still with me, hovering over the western horizon before the sun chased it away. More coffee. Some music. And on the way home, a couple of dolphins exploring the South River came by for a chat.
I didn’t really need reminding, but it was at least a reaffirmation. When you can’t race, you can always cruise. Something worth remembering…
Things That Caught My Attention
Beware, there be orcas! The pod of killer whales off Gibraltar continues to mess with sailboats and their rudders. Why? No one really knows. But judging from this account and video, it is a pretty unnerving experience.
Beluga Bonanza: No need to beware. Just be awed…
The World’s Winds In One Window: Hard to say five times fast, but a super-cool way to see all the planet’s weather systems at the same time. Click here for the animated version.
That’s all for now. Go cruising. Soon…
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Beautifully written Tim! I felt I was there too, part of the journey. Particularly loved the internal tension between competition and letting go, and what that felt like. The strawberry moon showed up as a reward for that. I also find the names of rivers on the Chesapeake to be so poetic, lending themselves to punctuate good writing. Very nice!