Back in Baltimore

The Statue of Liberty from the stern 

Staten Island ferries crossing in New York Harbor

On Monday, Oct. 29, we waited for the wind to shift to the northwest and then, around 2:30 in the afternoon, we hauled up anchor and bid goodbye to the Manhattan skyline and the lovely Statue of Liberty, welcoming people to America.  Thirty hours later, we dropped the anchor in the placid waters at the mouth of the Sassafras River.  We started out with two reefs in the main sail in New York Harbor; within an hour, we were sailing on a beam reach, going nine and a half knots, aided by two knots of current.  The wind was steady at 16 knots, and we shook out a reef an hour later and sailed smoothly in calm ocean waters off the coast of New Jersey for six hours.  Then the wind picked up to 20-25 knots and shifted to the west, so we put in three reefs to shorten the sail and lower the stress on the rigging as we sailed on a close reach.

At 11 p.m., after Peter, who utterly enjoys it, had done most of the sailing for hours (with the help of the autopilot, of course, he decided to get some sleep and I went on watch.  Stars littered the sky and a waning gibbous moon reflected off the rolling surface of the water.  Peter is really not very good at resting when we are sailing, and after an hour and a half, although I was willing and able to keep watch longer, he was back in the cockpit.  We had to roll in the jib part way with increased wind.

While I was asleep down below, Peter decided in the middle of the night to furl the jib and use the engine, hugging the shore more closely to avoid the chop. A couple of hours later, all on his own, he cut the engine, put the jib back up and Mantra was sailing again.  I took over watch around 4 a.m.  I don't mind night watch so much when there are other vessels around; it is interesting to identify the boats by their lights and figure out which direction they are going.  On passages, sometimes hours and hours pass--sometimes the whole night--without a glimpse of another vessel, and the world seems like a lonely place.

One advantage of doing night watch is seeing the gradual lightening of the eastern horizon as dawn approaches.  The edge of the sea and the sky slowly changes from black to indigo and then to warm hues, and the light intensifies until the orangish-yellow sun peeks up and then reveals itself, first a small arc of brightness, rising and expanding until the entire orb is visible.  Having pulled itself up from behind the sea, our star seems to rest momentarily on the thin line between sky and ocean before daylight suffuses the full firmament.  

The sky brightening before sunrise

The sun splattering yellow light around itself

We had planned to stop in Cape May, New Jersey, for a rest, but the weather forecast seemed favorable so we continued up Delaware Bay.  The flood tide and current were fighting against the westerly wind.  We had expected the wind to shift to the southwest, but it didn't, so we were forced to beat into it with the engine.  After a couple of hours (the bay is big and boring), the waves died down and it was more pleasant, though traveling with the engine is never as pleasant as being under sail.

It was 5 p.m. yesterday before we entered the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal.  No sailing is allowed (although the wind was finally favorable for sail), so we motored along at good speed with the current.  A Coast Guard broadcast on the VHF radio announced that the Conowingo Dam on the Susquehanna River at the top of the Chesapeake Bay had opened nine gates the previous night, releasing over 60,000 CFS, bringing debris to the bay.  Given this knowledge, we chose to anchor after passing through the canal since we would be unable to see floating logs and branches even with the moonlight.

We anchored at the mouth of the lovely Sassafras River on the northeastern shore of the Chesapeake. This morning, we pulled up anchor at 9 a.m. and headed for Baltimore, to return to Anchorage Marina.  The southwest wind was only 10 knots, the lightest we have experienced in a couple of weeks, and we were able to shake out all the reefs and sail along at five and half knots over calm water (avoiding a few pieces of wood here and there) on a close reach.  Unfortunately, the wind became a light breeze in the early afternoon, and we were forced to furl the jib and use the engine.

The dockmaster, Wayne, was waiting for us at the same slip, B26, where Mantra had spent the summer.  Wayne is such a friendly and competent dockmaster, and in the few weeks we spent here in August and September, we had grown comfortable with the marina and the Canton neighborhood.  It almost felt like coming home.

Approaching Baltimore

And it was warm, almost 70 degrees F.  I changed into capris, a three-quarter length sleeve shirt and flip-flops.  After a wonderful, hot shower, I gathered up laundry and got to work while Peter puttered around on the boat.

This evening, we went to one of our favorite restaurants here, Nacho Mamma's.  I had my usual portabello and spinach quesadilla and Peter, who always has something different and has never been disappointed, tried the cajun chicken pot pie.

Since we will be leaving the States in a couple of weeks, and provisioning will be more challenging in the Bahamas and parts of the Caribbean, I must make a Costco run and do some other errands while we spend the next couple of days here.  

New York Harbor

Yesterday, we stayed below deck, reading, playing games, trying to stay warm and eating meals.  This is a photo of me dressed for staying in the saloon.  I add more layers for being up on deck.

Sherri bundled up for the weather, which is pretty much the same inside as outside

This morning, the rain had passed and the wind had settled down to a gentle breeze.  Even though it was still cold, Peter took the opportunity of relatively calm conditions for me to haul him up the mast so he could re-route the staysail halyard.  It had been improperly done so we have not been able to use the staysail, which is needed when the wind is high.  We have managed without it, but as we set out to sea tomorrow, it is prudent to have it available.

Around 1 p.m., we pulled up anchor and motored out of Manhasset Bay, heading from the western end of Long Island Sound, through Hell's Gate and down the East River to the anchorage behind the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor.  We timed our trip for the current, which was 3-5 knots in our favor, making for a fast trip.  It was overcast and dreary, but some sunshine sneaked through the lower layers of the clouds just as we dropped anchor, allowing me to take some nice photographs.  The anchorage is rocky, but the views are fantastic.

Liberty Island from Mantra 

Ellis Island highlighted against the Manhattan skyline 

Manhattan at twilight

We will only stay here tonight and then continue south tomorrow in our quest for warmer weather and sunshine.  

Sitting out the Storm

Early yesterday afternoon, we arrived at Manhasset Bay on the west end of Long Island Sound after about 24 hours of sailing and motoring, seeking shelter from the upcoming storm, which is now upon us.  This protected bay is a froth of foam, the boat is rocking, and the continuous wind is about 20 knots with gusts up to 35.  The sky, the water--everything is gray, gray, gray.  Strangely, although the wind is a necessary natural element for our sailing lifestyle, I do not like it when it is 20 knots or above.  Some might find it exhilarating, but it evokes a deep sense of anxiety in me, even at anchor.  I certainly wouldn't want to encounter this kind of weather, or worse, while doing a passage.  (Which is just one reason I don't like passages.)

I'd like to take this opportunity to comment on the nomenclature in the Beaufort scale, an empirical measure of wind speed based on conditions.  The term "breeze," with accompanying adjectives, is used for a range of wind speeds from 4 knots to 27 knots.  I find this ridiculous.  For me, "breeze" connotes a wind that is refreshing and benign.  By the time the wind is howling at 27 knots, it does not seem like a nice, friendly atmospheric phenomenon.  A light breeze is 4-6 knots and a gentle breeze is 7-10 knots.  I take no exception to this. "Moderate" seems a bit tame as a modifier for 11-16 knot winds, and "breeze" is not a term I would personally use when the wind is blowing 17-21 knots (a fresh breeze on the Beaufort scale) or 22-27 knots (a strong breeze on the scale). The next level is "near gale."  There just should be some other term between "breeze" and varying levels of "gale."  And you are not really in a storm until the sustained winds hit 48 knots, according to the Beaufort scale.  I don't think so.  But, I digress.

We are harbor hopping as quickly as we can for warmer climes.  On Wednesday, we left Onset Bay at the head of Buzzards Bay with winds from the WNW at 10 knots.  As soon as we got out of the protected little bay, it picked up to 15.  Within a couple of hours, we had two reefs in as we beat into the wind.  An hour and a half later, we put the third reef in as the wind rose to 25 knots with gusts to 29. The 2-4 foot waves had only about one second intervals, and waves were crashing over the bow.  At some point, Peter revealed to me that he knew before departure that there was a small craft warning issued for that day!  I was only on deck when necessary, because the temperature was in the 40's, and the wind made it seem much worse.  We kept the companionway closed to conserve the scant but welcome heat from the little space heater, which we can only use when the engine or the generator is running (because we are operating on only two out of six batteries).  At 4 p.m., we reached our destination, Newport, Rhode Island, where there was some protection from the wind, although it was still up to 15 knots on the dock.

At least the sun was partially out, and the frosts along the coast have precipitated the change of color in the deciduous trees, so the yellow, deep red and orange leaves contrasted sharply with the cloudless crystal blue sky.  The nip in the air still required four layers, a hat, scarf and mittens, but I was cheered up to be on steady ground and exploring a historically significant place.  I strolled along Thames Street to Queen Anne Square.  This area was among the first settled in the city in the early 1600's, and the park now incorporates an art installation by Maya Lin which uses and expands upon the foundations of the first houses.  Called The Meeting Room, it is intended to provide places for conversation and community.

Queen Anne Square

Trinity Church sits inland behind Queen Anne Square.  Its white spire and golden weather vane speared the autumn sky.  Colorful pumpkins were scattered on the bright green grass of the square in front of the wall of the church, which encloses an old cemetery.  The pumpkin patch was a fund-raiser for the congregation.  They had also created a prayer labyrinth with small pumpkins, the grass worn down along the path.

Trinity Church

Pumpkin patch and church

Pumpkin Prayer Labyrinth

From the church, I walked to historic Washington Square, surrounded by public buildings and old houses.  Some of the 19th century houses in this part of town have wooden siding that is cut and painted (or rusticated) to look like ashlar stone blocks, giving them a solid, classical look.

The Colony House, the first government building in Newport

I was reading one of the signs in the square when I was approached by a woman asking if I was looking for anything in particular.  After I told her that I was just exploring the town and its history, she offered me tickets to an open house a block away of an 18th century home.  She had purchased tickets for friends who were unable to attend.  I told her I was waiting for my husband, and she told me to just come by after his arrival; she would give them my name at the door.

The Vernon House

What a delight!  This colonial era home was originally constructed as a two room house around 1700, and it was extensively enlarged in 1759.  The central hallway opens onto four relatively square rooms of near equal size both on the first and second floors, each floored with wide pine planks.  There is a partial third story with dormer windows in the hip roof.  It was open as a fund-raiser because the Newport Restoration Foundation operates with a plan to purchase and restore historic homes and then lease them to individuals and families to generate income.  The Vernon House had recently been vacated by a renter, so the foundation took the opportunity to show it to supporters.  What luck for us that I was spotted being interested in history in the square!

Unfurnished and unadorned, the bare rooms were not inspiring except for one very special front parlor.  As the foundation was working on the house, hiding behind wooden wall panelling fasionable in the 18th century they found fascinating paintings on the original plaster walls.  With black backgrounds and Oriental themes, they are stunning not so much for their artistic merit but just for their existence.  This room was part of the original construction, and it is documented that the house was owned at that time by a local artist, William Gibbs, who is not known for Eastern style artwork.  So it is a great mystery!

Chinese style painting on plaster in the Vernon House

The Vernon House is also significant because, during the American Revolutionary War, it was the headquarters of Comte de Rochambeau, the commander of the French forces stationed in Newport from 1780 to 1783, before they marched south to play a decisive role at Yorktown and in the defeat of the British army.

After admiring the house and partaking of the free wine and hors d'oeuvre, Peter and I walked east to the Cliff Walk, where we strolled as the full moon's light reflected off the water.  On the way back to the boat, we stopped at the supermarket and the liquor store (Rhode Island is another state that does not allow alcohol to be sold in grocery stores.) and replenished our provisions.  We bought so much that we had to get a Lyft back to the Newport Yachting Center and Mantra.  After we had stowed all the new supplies, we walked a short distance along the waterfront to the Black Pearl, where we enjoyed a good dinner in a cozy, warm atmosphere.

We were waiting for relatively more favorable winds and timing the current through the Race of Long Island Sound, so we stayed in Newport for the morning.  I went to the small museum of the Newport Historical Society, which had some interesting artifacts, but I didn't stay long.  It was a crisp, cool morning with great light for photographs, so I chose to wander among the streets and alleys admiring the architecture.  Hundreds of buildings are on the National Register of Historic Places, like most of these.

Newport Artillery Company, founded in 1741

A.K. Sherman House

Shops and homes on Spring Street 

Typical tall double brick chimneys on a Newport house

Anna Pell House

Houses near Trinity Church

Pumpkin colored house on the historic registry

Tobin House (1825)

We cast off at 1 p.m.  It was 45 degrees but felt freezing with the wind, which quickly increased from 13 to 22 knots after we left Newport Harbor, with gusts up to 30.  We beat into wind with three reefs for a few hours as the chop transformed to white-capped one-to-two foot waves.  Once again, Peter spent most of the time on deck.  By 4 p.m., we had to give up on sailing and use the engine.

Peter sailing on Long Island Sound

It was stressful, and around midnight Peter decided we would anchor behind the breakwater at Duck Island Roads for a rest.  Well, it was not restful!  Hopefully, even though I could feel the pitching of the boat after we anchored, I unlayered, put on my nightgown and slipped under the covers.  Immediately, I questioned the anchoring decision.  The wind was down to 6 knots, but we were sitting in the current.  The boat wasn't just rolling.  First, we pitched to port about 10 to 15 degrees, hovered there momentarily and then righted, passing through an even keel and plunging 10 to 15 degrees to starboard before heaving the other way.  This unsettlingly movement repeated itself every couple of seconds.  Added to this was the noise, noise, noise, noise.  The standing rigging clattered and a cranking squeak emanated from the gooseneck and traveled down the mast into our cabin.  As the hull shifted in the current seemingly incessantly, it would occasionally pause, at peace, and, with relief and hope, Peter and I would hold our breaths.  But then the plunging and pitching began again.  It didn't take long for us to decide that the anchorage was untenable.  Pathetically (according to Peter), I put all my layers of clothing back on and we went on deck to haul anchor and set off again.

The fortunate thing was that the wind had abated and was shifting to the south.  This meant that we couldn't sail, but the ride was more calm.  Despite the cold, I was even able to be on watch for a few hours in the night.  I find night watch more bearable when I can see the lights on shore and other boats.  Out at sea, it seems so desolate.

We anchored in Manhasset Bay in the late morning yesterday, fairly exhausted.  Expecting today's gale, we secured things on deck better than usual, took down the American courtesy flag and Ocean Cruising Club burgee (because they make a terrible racket as they slap against the shrouds), and cleaned up the dishes from the meals of the previous 24 hours.  (Yes, I did actually cook in those conditions.)  Then we collapsed into bed in the early afternoon.

We have gone to the next level (down, technologically speaking) in heating.  The little electrical space heater does an adequate job when we have the engine or the generator on, but the interior of the boat cools pretty quickly.  So, we have resorted to a hot water bottle that the previous owners left on the boat.  I do not believe I have ever used a hot water bottle before, so I was uncertain about how effective it would be.  I boiled a kettle of water and funneled it in, wrapping the flexible bottle in a kitchen towel and jumped into bed with it.  I was truly amazed at how well it worked.  I got warm quickly and was even able to take off my beanie and socks!  And it stayed warm for hours and hours!

This trip is a strange combination of luxury and decadence (in terms of the boat and having the freedom and resources to travel as we please) and the back-to-basics, primitive efforts to keep warm and use the elements to our benefit to move.

The boat rocks and the wind continues to howl at around 22-27 knots, just a strong breeze.  It sounds ominous and unsettling to me.  And I'm cold and hungry, so it's time to make a warm lunch.

Departing Onset Bay

The wind was coming precisely from the direction we want to go yesterday, and there was rain (and even hail for a short while, sounding like popcorn popping above us).  So we sat at anchor here in Onset Bay.  Peter kept himself occupied with the generator and other projects.  I mostly sat in a corner reading.  The highlights of my day were making breakfast, lunch and dinner and washing up the dishes afterwards.  Back to basics!

We have mastered how to use the little space heater most effectively by closing off doors.  It was toasty in our room last night when we went to bed, so I drifted off to sleep in comfort.  But we can only use the heater when the generator or engine is running.  We don't like to overuse the generator, and we only use the engine when there is no wind or when we are dropping or hauling up anchor or going into a dock, so heating is sporadic.

The fall colors we had planned to see have not been spectacular as we had hoped.  The first hard frost along the coast occurred just a couple of days ago, so we have started to see yellows and reds in the trees, but neither we nor the boat are well-equipped to wait for or handle the cold that is needed for a vibrant display.

We are harbor-hopping south.  There is nobody out here on the water except commercial boats and the birds, and most of them have flown south.  We need to follow.

Sea gulls and cormorants on Onset Bay

Onset Bay Again

View leaving Boston

We anchored nearly the same place we did last week at the head of Buzzards Bay, having had a smooth sail from Boston across Massachusetts Bay.  We got started a little later than planned  because Peter realized when he started the engine that he had to tighten belts on the engine and the alternator, but we set off at noon.  Rather than stopping in Plymouth, we passed it by to make more distance on our journey south.  Arriving at the eastern entrance to the Cape Cod Canal, we hove to just north of it, had dinner and rested until the current through the canal changed in our favor after an hour and a half.    The moon is approaching full, so the light was good.

There was less than one knot of wind in Onset Bay and the water was flat calm, so we sat still in the water and there was no noise in the rigging.  It was very peaceful, but still very cold.  Eventually, conjuring images of hot tubs and tropical beaches and warm granite rocks in the Sierras, I fell asleep.

The wind, although light, would be hitting us dead on the bow if we sail today, so we are sitting here in our layers of clothing waiting for favorable conditions.  Meanwhile, the generator seems to be misbehaving, so Peter is working on that.

I love adventure, but I would prefer a warmer adventure!

Boston in Photos

I slept with three blankets and and my beanie last night, so I was snug until it was time to get out of bed.  Peter had gotten up before me and turned on the little space heater, so it wasn't too bad.  Outside it is 38 degrees Fahrenheit, and it is not a lot warmer in here, so this blog post will be mostly photos.

We have had a great time in Boston.  On Saturday, Peter and I walked along the Freedom Trail, stopping at all the historic sights along the way.  There was an a capella competition in front of Faneuil Hall, and we enjoyed that also.  After we completed the trail, we stopped for a hot beverage and bakery items at Caffe Nero near Boston Common.  We were then in the pedestrian shopping area, and we needed to shop!  At T.J. Maxx's and Marshall's, we bought gloves, a beanie and warm boots for Peter and mittens, a beanie and two pair of wool socks for me.  While we managed without these accessories that day, we really needed them yesterday and this morning.

Copp's Hill Burying Ground; the British used this patriot's market for target practice in 1775

Old North Church; "One if by land, two if by sea"

St. Stephen's Church

Paul Revere's house

Oyster shucking in the Haymarket in Boston

New England Holocaust Memorial

Faneuil Hall

Portrait of Peter Faneuil

Old State House

Old South Meeting House

Old City Hall and statue of Benjamin Franklin, who was born and went to school nearby

King's Chapel, the first Anglican church in New England

Park Street Church by Boston Commons

Boston Commons and the Massachusetts State House

Rose Kennedy Gardens and the Customs House Tower

Zakim Bridge over the Charles

Our friend Lori Shoemaker flew in from Washington on Saturday, and we met her and two of her old housemates from her Harvard Law School days for dinner at a Moroccan restaurant, Tangierino, in Charlestown, only a few blocks from Constitution Marina.  The food, service and atmosphere were fantastic, and we enjoyed great conversation and the belly dancing performance.

Sherri and Lori bundled up by Mantra on Sunday morning

Afterwards, we returned to our chilly boat with Lori.  We piled on every blanket and duvet we could find and used the little space heater, but it still seemed frigid.  We survived another night and woke up to rain, so we stayed on board until almost 10 a.m.  Then we had breakfast at a nearby cafe and got a Lyft to approximately Mile 2 of the Head of the Charles Regatta, the largest 2-day regatta in the world, with 11,000 athletes rowing in over 1,900 boats in 61 events.  Lori's son Michael, a junior at Woodrow Wilson High School in D.C., had secured a place on the men's eight, so the three of us were excited to watch the other races but most especially to watch the Youth Men's Eights, which had 85 entries.

Woodrow Wilson's boat rowing to the starting line, with Michael third from right

The course is 3 miles (4800 meters) upstream from Boston University's DeWolfe Boathouse near the Charles River Basin to the finish just after the Eliot Bridge before Northeastern University's Henderson Boathouse. We walked up the Cambridge side of the river to the Eliot Bridge, where we waited on the bank to watch Michael's boat row downstream to the starting line.  Then we went up on the bridge to watch the eights emerge from under the arches toward the finish.  Most of the boats went smoothly and gracefully upstream, but there were a couple of passing incidents near the finish in which oars of opposing boats interlocked.  The course is renowned for being difficult to navigate without incident or penalty.

Woodrow Wilson pulling for the finish line

Michael and Lori after the regatta

After finding Michael after the race, Peter and I separated from Lori, who was spending her remaining couple of hours in Boston visiting a law school friend.  We wandered over to Harvard Square and had a late lunch at the Russell House Tavern before strolling around part of the campus.  We heard part of an organ recital at the lovely (and warm) Memorial Church.

Memorial Church, Harvard

Then it was back to the boat, where I sat shivering and organizing photos while Peter puttered around, as always.  I was too cold to move, but we bundled up anyway and went out in the literally freezing temperature to have dinner at the Warren Tavern, only a few blocks away.  It was constructed in 1790 and was a favorite of Paul Revere and was also visited by George Washington when he was in town.  The exposed dark wooden beams and wide-planked floors seem to be original, and the atmosphere was cozy.  The food was really good.  (This was the third night in a row we had enjoyed a wonderful meal; on Friday, we had great food at Blackmoor Kitchen by Charlestown's City Square.)  We stayed in the warmth as long as we could, ordering dessert even though we were full. 

We are leaving Boston this morning, finally starting south.  We are a bit delayed because Friday afternoon, when Peter cut the engine after we had docked here in Charlestown, he forgot to turn off the engine room blower, so it ran until it totally drained the engine room battery.  (I am so glad it wasn't me who made this error!  I make too many as it is.)  He has tightened the belts and we are ready to try starting the engine again.  Our fingers are crossed!

I really have to put my mittens back on now.

Boston, Massachusetts

At 10 this morning, we cast off the two mooring lines from the rusted industrial sized mooring ball the Plymouth Harbormaster had let us use gratis.

Plymouth Harbor mooring ball

It continued to be chilly, feeling like 33 degrees F, and Peter and I could see our breath when we awoke today.  Cruising is in some ways like tent camping without the hassle of setting up and breaking up the campsite every time you are ready to move on.  Also, we have quite a few creature comforts such as a real shower, a washing machine and a full kitchen, so it's a bit less rustic.

After we zig-zagged our way out of Plymouth Harbor, we were able to raise the full main and the jib and sail on a beam reach on a port tack.  The wind picked up a couple of hours later, with gusts to 25 knots, and we had put two reefs in the main, but it was smooth sailing all the way to Boston Harbor.

Approaching Boston

At 4 p.m., we arrived at Constitution Marina on the Charlestown side of Boston, at the mouth of the Charles River. After we settled into the slip and picked up packages at the marina office (including warm fleece blankets!!!), we set off to explore.  We followed the route of the Freedom Trail on the Charlestown side.  We were too late to tour the USS Constitution and other ships on the Charlestown Dock (part of the National Park Service) on a nearby dock, so we followed the red brick trail through a small part of the town, stopping to admire and learn about Winthrop Square, which was originally the Training Field for the town's volunteer militia.  Around it are stately Greek Revival and Italanate town houses from the 1800's.  Some of the streets and porches are still lit by gas lamps.

Winthrop Square

Old houses with gas porch lights and street lamps

From there we could see the Bunker Hill Monument, which is not actually on Bunker Hill.  The monument is commemorating a battle that was supposed to take place on nearby Bunker Hill, but the venue was changed, against orders, the day before to Breed's Hill, which is higher.  This was a pivotal battle in the early days of the American Revolution because, even though the colonial militiamen lost to the Redcoats, they inflicted much greater harm on the British military.  Before the battle of Bunker (Breed's) Hill on June 17, 1775, the British already held Boston, across the river from Charlestown, but they wanted to gain control of the strategic hills on the peninsula north of the the city to gain defend Boston Harbor.

Bunker (Breed's) Hill Monument

The night before the battle, the patriots, under the command of Colonel William Prescott, fortified the hill with fence-rail shelters and took up sniper positions at Breed's Hill, which was closer to the city than Bunker Hill.  The well-trained and well-armed British made three attacks that day.  Knowing they were short on ammunition, colonial officers ordered their men to withhold fire and only shoot when the enemy was close enough for direct, accurate hits.  Every American schoolchild is taught that someone, perhaps Col. Prescott or his superior General Israel Putnam (I don't remember.), ordered the troops:  "Don't fire until you see the whites of their eyes."

Statue of Prescott in front of the Bunker Hill Monument

Finally out of ammunition, Prescott and his men retreated north toward Cambridge, and the British entrenched themselves on Breed's Hill and burned Charlestown.  The cost of the victory was high; of the 2200 men, the British suffered 1054 casualties (226 dead and 828 wounded), with a significantly high proportion of officers losing their lives.  The casualty tally for the militiamen was about 450, with 140 killed, out of about 2000, with most of the losses occurring during the retreat.

As we walked back to the waterfront, we passed through Charlestown's City Square, located where Charlestown was founded in 1628.  Here,  colonists built a house for Governor Winthrop before he even left England to join them. There were also public buildings, houses and businesses on and around the square.  Recent excavations have revealed the foundations of several of them, including the Three Cranes Tavern and the Long Family residence.  My maternal grandmother was a Long.  Could this be part of our family history?

Plaque in City Square in Charlestown

Peter was hungry and we went to a restaurant recommended to us by the dockhand at the marina.  I enjoyed warm comfort food--macaroni and cheese--with a side of roasted vegetables while Peter had a bowl of New England clam chowder and a lamb poutine.  Since the portions were not super-sized, we indulged in a great dessert, sugared churros with dark chocolate and caramel sauces for dipping.

I am now taking advantage of marina amenities.  Clothes are in the washers and dryers, and as soon as I finish this post, I will be taking a hot shower.  It is actually supposed to be in the mid-60's tomorrow, so we plan to explore more outdoor sites, including the rest of the Freedom Trail, on foot.  There is a Whole Foods nearby, so I can gather more provisions before we leave.  We only have reservations for two nights, but we may have to wait until the middle of next week to start heading south.  Besides, Peter has a few jobs he wants to get done on the boat before we take off, such as fixing the staysail halyard and repairing some rigging.  We could go a bit further north, perhaps to Marblehead, but I think Peter is going to need the stability of the dock and possible access to a chandlery.  So we will see.