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.