8-20-2010 Friday 1800thereabouts, Nashawena, Gosnold county, MA. Notes on the quality of life at anchor. We're a few feet off the pebble beach, one of several scooped out of the edges of Nashawena, facing NW towards Penikese. They're formed between linear piles of larger Erratics (the name for large boulders distributed by the melting of glaciers, and form a place that collects smaller pebbles and sand, if there is any being moved around. Humans collect those piles into jettys and wharfs, with the intent of collecting even more sand, which is nice for bathing. But here on the Elizabeth islands, its mostly still as the glaciers left it. Some beaches have sand, some are pebbles. The little dinghy, dating from my fathers purchase over 40 years ago, scrapes against the beach, and Fuji leaps out, eager for anything that might be waiting. Her head is held high, her ears fully upright, her gait a little stiff and very bouncy. Like a boxer coming out of her corner, adrenaline running, ready to get it on. Her unfailing and memorable attitude towards life, at age almost 2 years. She barks first, asks questions later. But her initial reconoitre is silent, except for the faint tinkling noise made by her name tag against her rabies tag. Otherwise, shes a silent little predator, ferocious among the chipmunks and the young rabbits, yearning for squirrels. On the beach, she chases the sandpipers into flight. The few gulls laconically push off into the few knots of wind as well. So she chases waves, barking now.
I look at the sunset. Its happening over the end of Cuttyhunk, with a cloudbank reflecting a whole range of colors from purple to bright crimson. Coyote time, so I also keep an eye on the little dog, to be sure she doesnt head off inland. This Northwestern side of the island is gently sloping sandy ground covered by patches of catbriar and poison ivy springing in little spinnys and patches from the rough brown grass that the Highland cattle who graze this island keep healthy. I guess they must also eat back the bigger stuff, or is this the natural balance? Maybe tomorrow we'll explore in the early hours. But generally I keep to the water and the tideline, in keeping with the Forbes tolerance of visitors only on specific beaches.
There's a very faint onshore wind out of the North that keeps Susie P headed off the beach, riding well on two Danforth anchors. The sun continues down. Of course, further to the West, its just noon. And in the antipodes, its just going down. Hmmm. Sticking with the here and now, colors are almost audibly blazing, cascading reds and oranges, and where do those purples come from? Do I believe in the Green Flash? Well, i've had the sensation, but do I think its out there, or in here? Oh my goodness, I could even look it up on the web. But the iphone charger isnt working with my weakened battery. Not even enough power to run the riding lights, that all boats with masts are supposed to display when riding at anchor. So knowledge will have to wait.
A time for reflection. Literally the reflection of the color on the wrinkling twinkling water. Figurative, the emotional colorations of the day. What a good little dog! Finished running for now, checking out piles of seaweed. Hope I spot any rotton rish or dead birds before she rolls in it. Sailing, the little dog sprawls around on the benches in the cockpit, or under one, if the weather is not so pleasant. Or goes forward in the cabin and makes a nest out of the sleeping bag put there for that purpose. Loosen the sheet. Always ready for affection. Always pleasantly willing to engage in what I propose. And if we disagree, hey, she weighs 11 pounds 4 oz and I can pick her up.
And what about me, am I a good little person? Feels that way just now. Could still use a few pounds off the middle, and I wish I was further along in my family practice recertification process. Feel the stiff pain in my right hip area when I try to stretch, and wish my hands weren't starting to swell up and get painful with arthralgias. Definitely would prefer my left knee meniscus was not getting tweaked when I try to run, and havent been able to run since last years trip to Maine. But all things considered, everything is working pretty well. And mentally? Well, there again, I can perceive that changes. Senior moments of not being able to rememember a specific word come more frequently. I don't remember consciously things I want to write about, and am not sure I will recall them in the flow of thought when I start to write. I sometimes feel, without any apparent drug effect, that everything makes sense and that I understand it, which I assume is a brain failure rather than a mini satori experience. I get angry, I swear when I encounter adversity, I blame others for my predicaments, I don't accept criticism well, or at least not without blaming who says it, usually of course Sala. In fact, more reflection on our relationship is always a good way use time. But just now, its time to go back to the Susie P with the little dog and make dinner, get ready for bed.
Remember:
Take off the sail ties. Pull out the choke. Start the motor. Throttle down. Start creeping ahead into the wind. Pull in the anchor. Stow it behind the mast. Rush back before the boat heads too far off the wind, and crack the throttle, steer the boat out into open water. Lower the centerboard. Head up into the wind. Pull on the purple throat halyard to raise the gaff where it sits crotched on the mast, and the white peak halyard to raise the sail. Make sure the sail is on the right side of the uphaul. Keep the boat pointing into the wind and raise the sail all the way up, and out of the boom crotch, piling the halyard ropes in the cockpit. Cleat the halyards. Head off the wind. Pull in the sheet until it catches the wind and set a course that will work with the wind and with your desired direction.
And:
Hoist up the centerboard. Start the outboard, engage the forward gear, throttle up, head up into the wind, tighten up on the sheet.Place the boomcrotch, loosen the purple throat halyard and the white peak halyard, and, as the boom swings in over the crotch, slack off the halyards to let the boom drop into the crotch, sheet in the jam cleat to hold the boom in place, keep the boat into the wind. Let both purple and white halyards fly to release the sail and the gaff, to form a compact bundle of sail that can be rapidly furled in order to preserve visibility. Fasten it all up with sail ties, tightening up the halyards and the sheet, and you're finished. Sail down.
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