We hope you’re all enjoying the holiday season despite the encumbrances bestowed/inflicted upon us. We do what we can.
Jingle… booms?
@mariebarrue decked out and rocking the deck of her Laser. This is a screen-grab from a clip we re-posted on our Insta). We’ve said it before, and will keep saying it: there’s nothing like a Laser, one of our top favorite designs of all time.
“There’s nothing you can’t do on a Laser!”
Captain Stephen Glenn Card
What makes them so special? Versatility, impeccable sailing characteristics, highly transferable skills, and just sheer fun. Everyone who can ought to spend some time on one. And, it’s not as difficult as some pics and clips portray it. Just like skiing and riding, one doesn’t need to do icy double-diamonds to have fun on the surface.
A Festivus for the rest of us!..
Who hasn’t seen this facade? Okay; but who’s seen it with an actual freakin’ Festivus pole?! Your correspondent did, last winter… and cleared people away for this shot.
Still don’t get it? It’s Tom’s Restaurant near Columbia U, the facade made famous by the Seinfeld series. Festivus is an alternative holiday created by character Frank Costanza (George’s father). It includes the pole, of course, plus airing of grievances, followed by feats of strength. Example: the man who schlepped this pole down from Washington Heights to pose it properly.
Kilroy sighting!
“Have your boots and your rifle? Good – you can walk into combat!”
Clint Eastwood’s Marine drill sergeant cum battle commander in “Heartbreak Ridge”
The Burton Kilroy snowboard. Note the face doodle at the letter ‘N.’ This iconic image dates back to WWII, where it spread wherever the US Armed Forces went. A similar graphic adorns the transom of our Pearson 10M, Kilroy Was Here. There are two basic variations on the them. We chose the one that was chosen for the World War II Memorial in Washington, D.C. There’s a narrative of the doodle’s history, to the extent it’s fully known, and visitors are invited to find the Kilroy tags at the monument.
Christmas ain’t complete without a wreath…
The socially-distant, mask-compliant pig outside the lodge at Windham Mountain Resort, the ‘other’ mountain in the Catskills! (Well, there’s also Belleayre, but who’s counting…) Hunter is better known; Windham isn’t exactly a secret however. They seem to go toe-to-toe. Windham had more acreage until Hunter leapfrogged it with a 5-trail and 1-lift area expansion. That lift is a high speed 6-pack, so one can seriously lap that area. However, it gets little to no direct sun so stays icy/scratchy longer. (Personally, I like to see where I ski. Or board, which is what I actually do, but more often than not I board with skiers.)
One foot or two; always woo-HOOOO!
Vrinda Hamal (@vrinhamal) one-footing almost on the beach at Los Roques, Venezuela. Note the beach umbrellas! She’s on a kiteboard, and she’s quite extraordinary on one.
Kiteboarding is on our backburner list of things to try. We almost pulled the trigger on one of our Virgin Islands trips (BVI) not long ago, but the next season saw it all wiped out with the hurricanes. It’s coming back; one outfit on Anegada was doing it this past winter but we discovered it too late to try it out. Another time, perhaps…
Whatever you’re doing during this holiday season, stay safe – and have fun. Cheers!
Women just steer better, but 3rd time’s the charm for Joe Biden.
…where are we going with this? Well, the obvious announcement as called by all news outlets on Saturday is, well – obvious. Assuming no legal challenges affect anything (and so far, they appear to be non-starters), Biden will be the next President and Harris the next VP – and first woman in the role.
This post came about initially as I searched for a ‘skipper’ reference. “Hey, Skip!” “You got it, Skip.” Whatever. But nothing like that came up. Instead, when searching on Biden & ‘Skipper,’ I found this:
Magdalena Skipper, the Editor at Nature, did that post. Guess what? She’s the first woman to head up the journal! Took the helm in 2018. So, there’s that.
All this reminded me of a time-proven fact: women learn to steer better. They just do. I’ve been teaching sailing since 1981, and observed it before then. Women take naturally to learning to steer a boat than men do. Not every woman, but the overwhelming majority. Why ? Probably because…
They listen.
They don’t try to force things when they should be finessed.
Here’s a clip from our Instagram of a woman solo-tacking. She’d never tried it before…
Look through our Insta for more pics and clips of women steering and sailing in general.
One of the world’s premier watch manufactures, Ulysse Nardin, has an artist’s series that are largely on the provocative side (shown in a previous Blog Rant of ours about timepieces and the history of determining longitude at sea). Here’s one apropos to the topic at hand…
To any women who wonder whether they can learn to sail, and might be feeling any apprehension about it – DON’T! You got this. And when you come to us, we got you. You’ll be a skipper in a few days, and we’ll prove it to you by letting you out to solo on your own.
It’s that time of year; weather is warming up, and thunderstorm activity is heating up as sailing club, school and rental activity opens up. We revisit this topic every year as a public service. One reason: people still don’t seem to ‘get it.’
In that pic: screen capture of radar images on Wednesday, June 3, in the late AM. We had a private lesson booked that day with an experienced sailor. The forecast was for thunderstorms – not a chance, or a likelihood, but just… thunderstorms. And, they warned of potentially damaging winds and hail. Not a garden variety summer forecast, which is “chance of showers and thunderstorms” or similar language.
Oh, no… it’s ON!!!!
Below, I’ll share how the day of June 3 unfolded forecast wise, and also stories about two needless tragedies in the past that happened when people didn’t pay attention to the forecast.
The first step of the day is to check the forecast. That should be done several times as the day progresses to look for updates. The next step is to check the radar. Easier than you might think; just look at the pic above. Pretty clear that something is brewing. And, even if the forecast winds up being off, the radar doesn’t lie. It doesn’t take a meteorological degree to read a radar app. It just takes a little time and experience.
On two occasions since I’ve been operating New York Sailing Center, which I founded in the fall of 1997, there were particularly violent thunderstorm systems that passed through the region and resulted in a fatality at some other school/club. NOT AT MY SCHOOL/CLUB. At others.
The first was in 1998, before we all had smart phones and radar apps at our disposal. It was old school; check the forecast, check the sky, and listen to the VHF radio weather band for updates. The forecast was doom n gloom: thunderstorms, some of which could be severe, and which had a large outer perimeter of strong wind (meaning no way to see it coming). And, the storms had already started upstate and killed a few people.
Make no mistake; winter is coming…
Sky getting gray as we return to the mooring on Wednesday, June 3. Radar? Showed rain passing to north and east, and squalls approaching in the distance from the west and south. Might miss; might not. So, we cut the lesson short and played it safe.
So, I kept everything on a super tight leash that day in 1998. We had one class with a veteran instructor. We talked about it and decided to confine the boat to the anchorage. No further than the outskirts of the anchorage. The anchorage is small. More maneuvering, then! Marina customers were warned of the storms if they showed up. A few did and just turned around and went home. One woman chose to sit on her boat at the mooring for awhile and then go home.
Eventually, after frequently checking the sky to the north and west, I didn’t like the look and feel. I started radioing the instructor to come in, and saw he was already approaching the mooring. They took one shot, and fell short… and then it hit. BAM. Nothing to be seen in advance. Just wind laying the boat over and flogging the sails. They didn’t have a chance to sail back to the mooring; no way. The boat was basically blown down onto the next pier, and the instructor wisely off-loaded the students and left the boat. I went out with a few experienced people and two solid motor boats, and towed the sailboat off and moored it. It took two boats just to pull it off and suspend it into the winds, which were at least 60 knots and possibly as much as 70. When it subsided a bit, we moored the boat.
It was over quickly. It always is. But it takes little time to cause mayhem. We got away with a torn sail and a fright. Down in New York Harbor, they weren’t so lucky. One large club/school had allowed at least one member to go out with his family. The boat took a complete knockdown, and the man was in the water and separated from his family. He wasn’t wearing a PFD. His body was found a few days later in Gravesend Bay, Brooklyn.
Fast forward to August, 2010. Morning forecast: about the same as the 1998 incident. Thunderstorms. Severe. Moving fast. Clear band of strong winds. This time, however, we had smart phones and radar.
I kept the one class we had that day pretty close for our morning sail. I intended to do a short n sweet lesson, get off the water way early, and watch it all blow through during lunch and some extra classroom. While on the water, I got a call from a recent graduate hoping to come out for one of his practice sails that afternoon. Sorry; no. Bad forecast. He pushed; I explained the severity of the forecast. He tried some more.
“No fucking way! I’m not going to let you come out here just to die in some violent thunderstorm! You’ll come out another time – live to sail another day!” The first sentence is an exact quote; the second is approximate. The message is clear.
What happened then? We sailed back to be safe. Sky still looked fine. Checked the update radar while waiting for our launch ride. Whoah…. it was the largest Darth Vadar Death-Star-looking doom ‘n gloom ball of red, orange and yellow I’d ever seen – before or since – on a radar screen. It was moving south and clearly going to hit all of Western New Jersey, Westchester, NYC, and Nassau, Long Island. All of it; all at once.
Updated Radar imagery from Wednesday, June 3. Note the wall of band of red/orange just south of our area. That’s violent weather. The yellow with orange/red above? Not to be taken lightly either. Only takes a splash of red to dash your head on the rocks.
So, I shut down the operation until further notice. Told my launch operator to go somewhere inside for lunch on the avenue and stay there until I told him to return. I took my class to do the same, with some classroom props.
It did hit. We were basically done with lunch and b.s.-ing about other stuff. Suddenly, it was very dark. Stuff was flying around like that scene from the Wizard of Oz. Darker; windier. Eerily, we couldn’t really hear it as the place was well sound insulated and we were in the back looking down the hall at the front door. And, almost as soon as it started, it was over.
We paid up and walked back to the marina. None of us had ever seen so much random debris blown around by a squall. The waterfront was worse; the waterway itself was a shit show of stuff blown offshore by the storm. There was zero wind. Sun was back out. Surreal.
And then, I got a text from one of my instructors. He let me know that another school (again, not ours) had a class out during the storm. They lost one person. Literally. The body was found a day or two later. This was disturbingly close to home, in lower Westchester, within sight of my school on a clear day. it was day one of a learn to sail course (compared to day 3 for mine that day). They went out in the afternoon (as opposed to my coming in at around mid-day). No one aboard was wearing a life jacket, or PFD. (We spend extra money on comfortable automatic inflatables with manual overrides, and make people wear them.) The boat had no lifelines, which are wires or ropes that are elevated above the deck going around the boat. (Not all boat designs have them, but it’s riskier when they don’t – especially for beginners.) Everyone on that boat wound up in the water; all but one made it back to the boat.
All but one.
I knew several sailors who got caught out in that same storm. They all fared well, but got quite a fright. I heard of others who got caught as well (also survived). The common denominator? And, what was reported in the news regarding the fatality in Westchester?
“It happened so fast.” “You couldn’t see it coming.”
But, you could. On the bloody radar! And, you KNEW it was coming. Why wait to see it? Does that sound simplistic? Well, it really is that simple.
In that pic: all gone – out to sea, but I pity the fool who got caught out in that. It intensified as it neared shore and got over the water. Wednesday, June 3.
Remember the DUCK boat incident a few years ago? We did a blog rant about that. Same shit; different details. Only that time, many people died. I’ll link back to that blog post below.
The lesson: people don’t seem to learn the lesson. Here’s how I suggest you manage the risk of getting caught in a squall or thunderstorm on the water during the summer, which is when most of them happen, and also when most of you would likely do most of your boating.
start the day with the forecast online, cross referencing at least two sources.
If there’s some risk of thunderstorms, consider skipping boating that day.
If you go anyway, check the update forecast upon arrival at the marina.
Start checking the radar at that time as well. If it looks dicey, don’t go!
If it looks like it’s far off, or just not developed, stay close and check frequently – at least every 20′.
As soon as it’s looking worse, assume the worst. Head back. If you have an engine, turn it back on (yes, you should have checked it before). Stow sails.
Moor or dock the boat. Double check the radar and forecast.
If still no good go home! If the risk went away, it’s your call.
I’m not a meteorologist. I’m not a weather forecaster. I’m not a climate scientist (although I know one who’s a PhD candidate at Columbia). But, I am an expert and well-seasoned mariner. And, I have to make decisions all season that affect other people: whether they get to play or not that day. it comes down to whether they’re safe or at risk of death. And so, I check the weather and radar pretty obsessively.
“What do we say to the God of Death?”
“Not today.”
Arya was bad-ass enough to slay the Night King. But even she knew the universal truth:
“Don’t f*%! with Mother Nature!”
RESOURCES:
The Radar web site (not an app per se) that I like to use for the northeast…
Most of us have had cabin fever during the COVID pandemic; some of us have weathered it better than others. And, the weather is better – and warmer – on average. So, more boats are out. Some of ours are too!
We’ve been sailing since April, albeit very sparingly for obvious reasons. Things are opening up gradually with select low-risk on water activities. We’ve managed some private classes and lessons for individuals or family who’ve quarantined together, and some of our Sailing Club members have gotten out.
In this pic: our Pearson 10M, Kilroy, with the ‘Gold Coast’ of Long Island in the background – and closer than you think (just as City Island is)!
Memorial Day Weekend is a benchmark of the beginning of the summer season. We usually ramp up for it. This weekend was quite slow, due both to weather and pandemic precautions. But, we got some folks out.
In that pic:teens enjoying a sail with the folks on the Sound recently. Memorial Day, in fact! Note the greenery surrounding the Sound. Plenty of bird sanctuary.
And, we got to simply observe. And we were reminded of one of the things that make City Island special as a sailing location and destination: wildlife. Fish and birds abound.
The sailing in Long Island Sound is arguably the best in the New York Tri-State region: gentle currents, abundant room, little commercial traffic, clean water one can swim in, scenery everywhere, tree lined shores, etc. It’s excellent for beginner and expert alike, with yacht clubs and sailing associations lining both coasts, and any number of one-design racing classes well represented. Junior programs; race weeks. Pick-up and JAM sails (Jib & Main). Coastal and the occasional National Championship. Cruising destination par excellence. Breeding ground of Olympians. And, perhaps the best place for people to just learn how to sail.
Plus, we have the plumage…
In that pic: a family, flock, or whatever one calls a gathering of snowy egrets. Eastchester Bay, on the west side of City Island, Memorial Day. S. Card, photo.
No, it’s not important to see birds to learn how to sail or enjoy quality Club sailing. But it is important to see them as a sign of a healthy ecosystem that’s clean and fun to play in. Plus, all other things being equal (and they’re not), why wouldn’t you want to see them? They’re one of the attractions of the Sound in general as well as City Island.
In that pic: Geese and goslings. Rodman’s Neck, off City Island, Memorial Day. Shot taken by our DP, Captain Card, while taking a quick fishing break. He did hook one weakfish and lost it. Signs of life…
Here are birds we see routinely or occasionally here…
Amazon parrots (no shit!)
Black capped night herons
Canada geese
Cormorants
Ducks
Egrets
Great herons
Gulls
Hawks
Osprey
Swans
Terns
In that pic: family returning from a sail aboard one of our boats on Saturday, May 30. Parents: grads of our program and now cruisers. Kids: taking a shine to the daysailing and cruising, and who knows… maybe future wave shredders on the race course!
Osprey attempt to nest each spring on the frame over our pier. The gulls always outsmart them and dash those dreams on the ramp and rocks. Amazon parrots are fairly well distributed around the region, surprisingly; City Island had a large population that appeared to have disappeared, but we’ve been seeing them again the last two seasons. They hang out right in our marina and are a hoot (ouch) to watch and listen to.
In that pic: a lone osprey captured doing a fly-by against the tall radio tower next to City Island – the single best beacon, or navigation aid, in Western Long Island Sound.
All the others? Seen along the shore, off our docks, from our boats, etc, etc.
So, if you want to mix some bird watching with your boating, or you just appreciate a calmer, healthier environment in which to enjoy top tier sailing….
Birds of a feather know what’s better.
In that pic: an egret or heron (who knows? who cares…). Picturesque, yet pedestrian… this kind of scenery is an everyday thing on the waters around City Island and Long Island Sound. Come capture your own scenes!
We got back from the trip on Saturday and loved it. All a bit of a blur and a blend, and we detoured slightly from the plan. But, for what it’s worth, here’s the answer to the challenge we put to you: identify the “default itinerary” for our BVI trips.
Here’s that same DMA chart of the Virgins, with our default ITIN spots marked with my grandfather’s chess pawns (cuz, why not).
Same chart as in last post- this time, labeled with the spots. Go ahead; zoom it up! See some detail. In the meantime, here’s the list:
Virgin Gorda: Spanish Town.
Anegada. There’s just the one anchorage.
Marina Cay. Again, the one spot.
Jost Van Dyke: east end, between Jost and Little Jost.
Norman Island: the Bight
Cooper Island: just the one – Manchioneel Bay.
We deviated on this trip. Not by fucking up our compass, no. We just stayed two nights at Norman and skipped Cooper this time around. We adjust based on what the people who paid to play had to say. And, sometimes the weather. Here’s a synopsis of this trip!
Spanish Town, Virgin Gorda. We anchored there after a snorkel and lunch stop at Great Dog. Then, we dingied into the marina and called a taxi to the Baths. Always breathtaking; never disappointing (except when super crowded. Several in our group were first timers and blown away by it. We grilled aboard that night.
Ah, The Baths… this is the largest of the natural pools amongst the famous boulders randomly arranged aeons ago along the south shore of Virgin Gorda. It’s a delightful spot when it’s not crowded.
Not even done with the first day, and we have happy campers! Enjoying drinks at the bar atop the Baths National Park. That’s our Director up front with a Bush Slide (Bushwhacker with drizzels of choc syrup). Mmmmmm….
Anegada. Our personal favorite, where we often spend two nights. One did the trick on this trip as all were eager to see as much of the BVI as possible. We anchored, lunched, and went ashore to explore the north side beaches (mostly by bicycle; one sailor opted for a taxi). The bikers did a beach crawl. Dinner: Anegada Reef Hotel on the beach. Various dishes were accompanied by a nice NZ bottle of Sauv Blanc. Chess match: competitive game with Gregor, but Captain Card managed to find a way to win despite a kibitzing (but entertaining) audience.
Steering… nailing it… and loving it! Kalindi taking a turn at the helm en route to Anegada. The stunning north side of Anegada. Shallow lagoon area behind the outer reef; plenty of little bommies to explore before that. Choose solitude or manageable shared areas where drinks and food (and some shade) are available. Excellent swimming and snorkeling; diving possible; care to kiteboard? They have that and SUP too!
Marina Cay. Got a mooring early; had to move when crowded by anchoring cats. No problem. Then, off to snorkel the Coral Gardens which didn’t disappoint beyond slightly silty water column. The fish didn’t seem to care. No one on board had been to the relatively new and, post-Irma, refurbished Scrub Island Resort. A friend on another charter supplied intel on the merits, so we hopped in the dinghy. No one on board had been to the relatively new and, post-Irma, refurbished Scrub Island Resort. A friend on another charter supplied intel on the merits, so we hopped in the dinghy. Nice spot; very expensive drinks that were disappointing to decent, but, hey – it’s a brand new fancy joint so we should have expected it. Dined aboard once more. Gregor whupped Captain Card’s ass at chess, straight up. So it goes. (nb: the fuel/water dock was supposed to be open, despite the rest of the island not offering anything anymore. The hurricanes totally trashed MC. However, it was closed all afternoon, and again in the morning. Two yachts had parked on the pier overnight after seemingly waiting all afternoon.)
Kalindi and Gregor plotting as we begin the sail back from Anegada to Marina Cay.
Transoms 🙂 Our home for the week moored at Marina Cay. We had just returned from snorkeling the Coral Gardens. Note the change in water color toward the shore of Great Camanoe in the background, and also the starboard of our twin rudders. This boat was BALANCED heeling over in a breeze! Very light helm. Just like our Beneteau 21 sloops back home.
The swim-up at Scrub Island. Worth a shot at least once to see how they’re pourin’ em on any given day. Nice spot!
Jost Van Dyke. We did a quick snack/snorkel stop at Monkey Point on Guana Island first; surf wasn’t up too much, but water clarity sucked. Nothing special in the fish life department, but it was fun to see them regardless and the cave had a school of likeminded fin fish on display as well.
On to Jost/Little Jost, which gave us a downwind sail in swells and a few jibes for good measure and balance. We moored at the back of the bay, close to the shallows and flats and also the dinghy dock at Foxy’s Taboo (yes, offshoot of the famous Foxy’s around the corner x 2 at Great Harbor). We usually anchor here, but there was a prime mooring spot so we took it.
My college fencing coach tried hard to get me to put my back hand on my hip when swinging sabre. He gave up. Here? It just works. Chie sailing us part of the way with wind and some swells to Jost Van Dyke by way of Guana Island.
After some lunch we dinghied in to shore and made dinner reservations before trekking to the Bubbly Pool, a must-see spot that’s a light walk/hike from the dinghy dock. BVI Tourism aptly calls it “the East End’s natural sea-formed Jacuzzi.” I agree! As usual, we had it to ourselves briefly upon arrival before the hordes arrived. Just the way the luck rolls for us here.
The Bubbly Pool, about to be replenished! Still frame from a clip we shot upon arrival. For the full effect, see our Instagram with a video last year (and possible another to come from this trip!).A wave crashes into the “hot gate” leading to the Bubbly Pool, which is behind the fotog, and sends a geyser up at him.
Gregor and Chie heading back toward the dinghy dock and anchorage. Our yacht is the monohull to the right of two cats (3rd out from the point that’s roughly center pic).
Dinner was only for us. They’d let us know when we reserved that we were the only boat/table thus far, and to be sure to advise if we changed our plans. We negotiated a time of arrival, and we showed up. This is rare for this spot; it’s usually somewhere between happening and hopping. Easy night and early closing for them. But they took great care of us. Food was exceptional for BVI; we’ve eaten there before and enjoyed it, but everything was top notch including my baby backs, which were some of the best I’ve ever had.
Rough group selfie while riding the dink after drinks at Scrub Island. You get the picture… happy campers. Kate and Chie having hammock antics and shenanigans before dinner at Foxy’s Taboo.
Norman Island. Before stormin Norman, we stopped at Sandy Cay right off Jost. We had it to ourselves briefly as usual being the first to arrive. We did a hot drop with the dinghy, and Sir Gregor volunteered to drop it off at the yacht and swim in. nb: it’s seldom calm enough to safely beach the dink here; don’t risk it. Swim or snorkel in from the day moorings. The attractions here are to beach comb and hike the path up through the woods to several elevated plateaus with stunning vistas. It’s way higher up than it looks from shore or afar. Pro tip: hit it early in the AM before heading to your next destination. The alternative, late afternoon, is often too late for securin’ your berthin.’ (This works at many popular BVI day stops before the crowds arrive.)
Sandy Cay, almost in its entirety, as seen from under our Bimini on the boat. Some beach at each end is cut off but this is the whole island. Flat, right? It’s higher than it looks. Check it… Open water as far as the eye can see… right after that little Island to the left! View from most of the way up Sandy Cay. Looking down at the moored yachts, and out toward the western Virgin Islands, from part way up Sandy Cay. Our yacht is one of the last two on the right.
We enjoyed Norman itself enough to stay two nights! That’s a first on our trips. Anegada and Virgin Gorda are other spots where we’ve lingered an extra day & night sometimes. We anchored at the Bight in a spot we can usually get away with that strikes a nice balance of serenity and equal opportunity to get to where we want to play here. We snorkeled, chilled, etc and then BBQ’d for din din.
Captain Caffeine, or just a true Coffee Achiever? Either way… totally works. En route to Norman Island, which was an upwind leg with plenty of tacking practice through Thatch Cut and then Sir Frances Drake Channel, and eventually right up to the entrance to the Bight. Boom.
The next day, we chose to do the moderate hike up the ridge for amazing vistas, and then day sail around Norman before grabbing a mooring at Benures Bay for the day. Yup; both Benures and Soldiers now have some moorings; this wasn’t the case when we were last here a year ago.
Sir Gregor at the helm as we circumnavigate Norman Island for a fun sail. We’re on the south side, looking south here, with some swells. This is a still frame from a video clip we’ll probably post on our Instagram (links to all social media are on all pages and posts).
We enjoyed the day here; Gregor did a second hike to another location. Then, back to our anchor spot and drinks and Danger Jenga ashore at Pirate’s Bight before a last supper aboard.
The next morning was both gloomy and beautiful as we motored back to the base and prepared to head home. We got lucky; as soon as the boat was docked and the engine off, it rained. But, as is usual, it was brief and we didn’t get soaked before we departed, and we wished we could have stayed just a little longer.
Looks like a heart, right! Well, those who came for the first time did fall in love. Those who returned, rekindled. Final ride: back to the base at dawn and sunrise, looking roughly east.
The gang! Our HBIC (Head Bozo in Charge), Captain Card, on the right. We’re at the base in Portorosa, Sicilia, the afternoon before departure.
(all photos in this post, for better or for worse, with the exception of the above by a passerby at the base under supervision, by Captain Stephen Glenn Card.)
We recently got back from our second trip to Italy! We were all sad to see it end, but all had to get back to make mo money for the next trip…
Last time ? Islands off the Gulf of Naples, Pontine Islands, Amalfi Coast. Sweet trip; years ago.
This time?
Sicilia and outlying islands, with the Isole Eolie forming a sort of Y pattern off the northeast coast (with Lipari labeled).
The Isole Eolie off Sicily, which are a UNESCO World Heritage protected area. The waters were perhaps the clearest any of us had ever seen in our travels, and super saline to the point of us feeling like we just floated higher when swimming and snorkeling. The islands are a beautiful combo of rugged, volcanic majesty and plush, verdant beauty. Nice peeps, plates and ports of call.
Zoomed in somewhat on the Eolie for general perspective. Ginostra, top right, is a tiny village on Stromboli. There are seven main, inhabited islands in the group, which spans about 30-35 nautical miles diagonally in any direction.
We all arrived the afternoon in advance of departure at Portorosa to get settled and prepped. The “Sunsail” base here is operated jointly by Sail Italia, which operates some or all of Sunsail’s operations on a day to day basis in Italy, and Turistica Il (il) Gabbiano Yacht Charter. It was confusing at first, but the folks there were consistent and very nice to deal with.
We made sure there was a boat (check), got our boat briefing out of the way early, and waited on an area brief/skippers’ meeting. This got consolidated into too many boats in one briefing late in the day, but we all dealt with it and managed. Afterward, and again the next morning, there was time to ask more questions.
As we paid plenty for a near-new boat (less than 1 year old), there was almost nothing to address about its condition. One hinge for one vanity adjusted, and done! Only unresolved question was what to name the boat. Seriously. No name! So new, that… no name. So, off to the make believe land of GoT to come up with something. Plus, one that came up organically in convo with one of the Italian staff. That one? Solo Sicilia (Only in Italy). The one that stuck and was put down on paperwork in port after being used on the VHF?
“A Girl HAS No Name.”
Our Director and Head Bozo in Charge, Captain Card, on left goin for the high 5 with Natale, our boat briefing tech. Card cracked him up on numerous occasions.
Wonderful dinner ashore at a restaurant in the complex, with excellent local wine. One of our crew is somewhere between an connoisseur and a sommelier, so we never had to worry about wine choices.
Screen shot of pics from HBIC Card’s phone. Left: on the tine of the fork is a small local shrimp from a pasta dish. On the plate? Prawns the size of lobsters. Worth zooming in on this! Then, middle and right, are our wine selections of the evening.
DAY ONE: Coffee, breakfast in stages, and get ready to RUMBLE! The first two or three days were forecast to be pretty calm, so we anticipated light and variable winds in the mornings that ought to become light but sailable midday or in the afternoon. (Nailed that.) Then, mid-week, we’d get a “storm” in their words. It was imperative to have a parking spot in one of the few sheltered marinas in the islands, and wise to not plan long legs during that time frame. Our imperative? Get to Stromboli and knock that out, so to speak, before getting mid-chain and hedging / assessing next steps.
So, to jump start things, we planned to bypass the first island, Vulcano, and stop at Lipari instead as a first step toward Stromboli for night two. We reserved a berth at Lipari and a mooring at Stromboli toward that end. Lipari is the largest of the Eolie, and has a protected port and plenty of sights to see while parked there.
Sicily in the background; Siciliana steering (actually more D’Abruzzi, but who’s counting??). En route to Lipari.
As predicted, the wind was light and variable as we left port, and for most of the way to Lipari. We motored the whole way. Some boats tried to sail but were standing up straight and stubbornly sailing for the sake of sailing … slowly. Very slowly. We wanted to get in the vicinity of Lipari and then maybe do a pleasure sail once there rather than a delayed delivery. That worked. The wind came up enough to be meaningful and, with Stromboli smoking in the background, we did a fun shakedown sail for awhile before radioing in to the marina for final instructions.
Pano shot off the boat. CLICK this one for full size/res! The dark gray arc above the water? That’s the smoke from Stromboli, stretching at least 25, maybe 30 miles toward Sicily! Where it starts on the left is a cloud over the island, which is a constantly active volcano.
Lipari’s chief parking spot is Porto Pignataro. It’s well protected from most directions, but it’s a bit tight inside and can require confident maneuvering in close quarters. The wind had picked up a bit, but it was off the dock so easy to back up and Med moor in our assigned spot – especially as the marina had a man on on hand to pass us the laid line (mooring line that makes using an anchor unnecessary).
Approaching Isole Lipari, the largest of the Eolie. Dinghies are generally stowed on deck unless it’s a relatively short passage and also calm. The engine is mounted on the stern pushpit on the yacht and only put aboard the dinghy when about to be used. (In areas with larger, heavier dinghies, such as BVI, the whole rig is just towed behind except on cats with davits to hoist it up.)Pic of chart from base briefing: Lipari, with our intel officer, Gianni, pointing to our port on Lipari: Porto Pignataro.
We wanted to explore ASAP, so after plugging into shore power and adjusting stern lines, off we went with yacht paperwork and passport to check in at the marina office before wandering into town. Once on foot we happened upon a friendly, professional looking driver with a Mercedes taxi-van, Danielle, who proposed a tour of the Island for a set fee after we asked for a ride into town. Sounded like a fair deal and a great way to explore efficiently, and we took it. Highly recommend this: it’s a large island and there are great vistas available if you roam around this way. Plus, Danielle was free flowing with factoids and perspective about the island and the area. We stopped several times, including an opportunity to just walk around the main pedestrian thoroughfare for a spell before moving on. This part was slightly rushed, but still worth it. Personally, I roamed up in between buildings and got a tour not unlike Old Town, Dubrovnik’s walled city. A few scenic stops later, we’d gone around the Island.
Porto Pignataro as seen from the road en route to town, shortly after we arrived that afternoon. In the background on right is the island of Vulcano.Looking u[ a typical intersection of the pedestrian/moped area of town. At the top? The archaeological museum that’s an old fort!Entrance ot the museum, which we later walked at night after dinner.The gang with the testa di barca (head of the boat) taking the shot. Our awesome tour guide, Danielle, is sandwiched in the front row. Cacti e faraglioni di Lipari.The islands of Panarea, near right, and Stromboli, far left, matching the colors of the clouds at dusk as seen from well up on Lipari.
Dinners? To be done dockside… or more likely, a little further away. So, we took Danielle’s suggestion and went to a place up on a hill just outside town called Filipino’s. It looked like an expensive tourist trap, but it wasn’t. Everything was reasonable; fresh fish by the gram was a bit pricey but not outrageous, and it was fresh and well prepared.
Stefania pointing as she discussed fish options with the waiter. Town church as seen from a viewing/firing port in the wall of the old fort.
DAY TWO: TO STROMBOLI
With a stop along the way to snorkel, of course! We hit the smaller islands off Panarea on the way. There’s a spot where gas is escaping from the seabed to the surface, and it’s super kewl to snorkel through the streams of bubbles. We found the suggested anchoring spot (very fussy and small area; highly weather dependent to do). Then, we found the bubble area, which is not visible easily from the surface if at all.
A cruising cat gives scale to the mountain rising from the sea here. Typical scene in the Isole Eolie.Another typical scene: beauty in the eyes of the beholder, in this case the fotog who liked both the foreground and background here.
That, plus some bites, and we were off to Stromboli. We chose to motor to the snorkel spot to save time as, again, there was little wind. But we sailed all the way to Stromboli from there. How majestic and beautiful.
Celebration under sail. Good wine; good times. Approaching Stromboli; several of us were mesmerized for prolonged periods.
Stromboli is a constantly active volcano with two small toe-holds of civilization. There’s a mooring field with some room to free anchor off the northeast shore, where the larger village is (and were the ferries zoom in and out creating wakes except during the night).
More scenery under sail.
One must plan carefully and visit here only when the weather is favorable as it’s exposed from three cardinal directions. Totally worth it: stunning to see up close and personal.
At the southeast end of the island; wind picking up and shifting; cruising monohull for perspective.
Our resident Italiana spoke to the locals and scoped out a sweet spot for dinner, which took some exploring to find. It was worth it. Trattoria ai Gechi. (Think GEICO gecko with his mouth shut while folks eat.)
Doesn’t get any fresher than this: local fisherman frozen after tossing his pot. What’s gonna be in it? Whatever’s the fresh fish on the menu at the local restaurants in the village, and on the villager’s dining tables. Taken while we were moored at Stromboli.
That’s a wrap for this installment; we’ll do another one or two to share the rest of this trip with you! Ce vediamo, eh?
A veteran and highly respected sailor, John Fisher, was lost at sea on March 27 during the Volvo Ocean Race’s long, dangerous leg in the Southern Ocean. He was knocked overboard by the mainsheet during an accidental jibe. And, he was not tethered to the boat at the time.
This was the second overboard accident on the same boat, Scallywag, in this event. The other sailor also wasn’t tethered, and was not wearing a life jacket. The conditions were much calmer so they got him back aboard safely in 7 minutes.
Things often happen in twos in both the Volvo and Clipper Races. And, the deaths are starting to pile up.
So, why wasn’t he clipped in? Why couldn’t they rescue him? Why do race organizers send the sailors on a long dangerous leg in the southern Ocean, where one of our own graduates at NY Sailing Center was washed overboard but pulled back by his tether during a Clipper Race? Why do they go?
Well, we know that part. People drawn to participate in such events are always going to go wherever the challenge occurs. The other questions are all worth discussing. And, I’m not seeing or hearing discussions on what I see as the prime issues raised by these accidents.
Scallywag sending up some serious water, which when it comes over the boat and at the sailors, can easily sweep them off their feet – and the boat if they’re not tethered in. Note the rudder coming out of the water: twin rudders like this are the norm for most ocean racing classes, including the Mini 6.5 meter. Our Beneteau First 21 sloops are remarkably similar in profile, and also have twin rudders.
First: Why are people not ALWAYS wearing PFD’s (life jackets) AND secured to the boat with a tether? First one: duh. Should require no discussion. These boats are going fast, often, if not typically, over 20 knots. They’re sailing in open ocean waters with waves and swells. Even in relatively calm conditions, it takes time to turn around, and at speeds of 15-25 knots (and we’ve seen posts that they go over 30 but I’m not convinced as of yet), the boat gets away from the person in the water quickly. The waters are often cold. People should always have a PFD on.
Second: Why are people not ALWAYS secured to the boat with a tether? It’s a critical last line of defense. John Fisher wasn’t clipped in. He unclipped to go forward to do some task that he or they felt was important enough at the time to go forward for. He might have been about to clip back in to another jackline (security line or webbing that the personal tether attaches to). If that was the case, why aren’t the boats rigged to allow “make before break,” as they say with combined battery switches? Many boats have that when it’s not practical to rig a continuous jackline. Perhaps this boat was and it was user error. Wasn’t there; hasn’t been posted; don’t know.
If Mr. Fisher was tethered in, he probably would have survived. Because he was not, he had little chance of being recovered at all, and even less alive. I’m seeing arguments in different forums where one sailor will criticize decisions on board as well as the entire event as organized and ruled by race management. The flip side sees sailors calling these shameless, bitter, angry rants that show that the first sailor doesn’t know what they’re talking about, and defends the personal liberties and sense of adventure of the people on the water.
And, the person who just died.
But the basics are patently obvious so I won’t further belabor them here. I just wish that the defenders of the race and the participants – and the dead – would get their head out of this perspective and see the bloody obvious, and discuss something they’re not, and should be given their experience with this kind of extreme sailing, to wit…
THIRD: Here’s something that’s less obvious. The gear sometimes fails. That wasn’t the case here. However, in both the Volvo and Clipper races, and in other races and non-race passages, tethering systems have broken and sailors were in the water with the boat sailing away. The faster these boats go, the more shock load is put on the connections when they come taught. At 20-25 knots, I can’t even imagine what the PSI load would be based on the average weight of a sailor plus water resistance with safety and survival equipment. Occasionally, it’s not enough.
I hear and read about different types of connections – which are stronger, which are more practical, how to balance the dual needs (including how to not flay ones knuckles on the gear aboard the boat).
What I’m not hearing about is this: shock absorption. If the tethers were rigged with something elastic to gradually absorb the shock load, the load on the components would be less severe upon ultimate impact. That could only help. Of course, it might make the tether more awkward. I suppose it could, indirectly, lead to a greater risk of fouling onboard and actually causing someone to get twisted, off balance, and go overboard in the first place. I’m not going to pretend I’ve worked this all out.
But, it needs to be done. I propose that either…
The tech be improved with a method of shock absorption if feasible;
The boats be mandated to stay below a specified top speed. The faster they’re going, the more risk, as it’s caused by increasing wind (which, in open water, is soon accompanied by larger waves). It’s easy to track; the boats are accurately tracked by satellite at all times.
The Southern Ocean is a brutal area to sail. Perhaps the race should minimize time and distance spent sailing here, or avoid it altogether. That’s been bandied about on various forums. Regardless, the obvious safety measures of always wearing PFD’s and always being clipped in must be mandated (if not already), and observed. And, as people WILL be tossed, knocked, or washed overboard anyway, the equipment must be improved or the boats slowed down. Or, both. We can have high quality racing and have much better safety as well.
But first: people are still not always wearing PFD’s or tethering themselves.
Who wouldn’t agree with the need for starting with that?
Here’s an article on the tragedy that has the most detail we’ve been able to find…
A client of ours is originally from Canada, and two buddies and he did 103 and 104 with us one season before doing their first bareboat charter in the BVI.
Adam’s uncle got involved with a latent lighthouse in Ontario, Canada. He’s on the local preservation committee, and had been trying to get it lit back up. Apparently, it was a somewhat uphill battle as there were concerns about the light shining on shoreside homes at night and being intrusive. The major’s office was involved and favored the light being back on, so that helped.
Here’s an excerpt from the original Notice to Mariners in 1917 that announced the construction of this light!..
For its return, the compromise was to aim the light across the bay at another peninsula rather than sweep across the shore or just aim 360 all around. Our mission: confirm the exact bearing, and show/explain why we came up with the magic number.
(Truth be told, Adam was more than capable of doing this himself, having successfully taken and passed 103, 104 and 105 with us and then applied it in the BVI. But this had to come from us as the outside experts.)
Anywho, Adam enlisted us to be the alleged experts to plot the angle of the light and show how we’d done it.
Dividers (nautical drafting compass) set exactly on the two points; protractor triangle was laid carefully against them to be on the correct bearing. Then, triangle was carefully moved to a meridian of longitude to read the bearing in true degrees. This was converted to magnetic so bearings could be taken from either point in real time to confirm.
1. Get the right chart. Adam took care of this: NOAA #14832, Upper Niagara River, ending in Lake Erie.
2. ID the light in question: “Light House,” on Point Abino. No characteristics shown as it’s idle.
3. ID the exact spot the new light is supposed to be aimed at: SW corner of the peninsula across the bay at the other end of Crystal Beach.
4. Measure the bearing painstakingly several times with at least two methods and get a consistent answer: 61 degrees magnetic.
There you have it. And thar she glows…
The light house at Point Abino, Ontario, with its beacon aimed back across the bay.
Our inaugural Kid/Parent trip is in the books, and it was a resounding success. We’d been planning to do this for awhile. It’s always nice when a trip exceeds your expectations, and that’s what happened. Now, we’re thinking of an annual Kid/Parent flotilla during the Presidents’ Week.
Meet the First Families… (Note: click any pic for full size/res – can click twice on lap/desktops)
The afternoon sun had us all squinting but it’s all good. Just about to depart!
Both Moms were graduates of our adult learn-to-sail program and continued sailing with us. One had already gone on to get her own 27 footer locally in the northeast. All the kids had some exposure to sailing, and were mostly the same age, so it was a good fit. We scheduled a slightly shorter week than normal for logistical reasons and at the end of it, we were hearing,.. ” I don’t want to leave.” That’s a good trip.
While it was mostly oriented at the kids, in this case aged 10-12, the difference between a kids’ itinerary and one for adults is mostly details. The allure of the watery and warm environment, swimming and snorkeling, and some hiking and sight seeing works for all.
Grins are good. Running along the north shore of Tortola en route to Jost Van Dyke.
We managed to get in a fairly typical itinerary of islands and anchorages, even including Anegada as the winds were relatively calm. Jumping in from the swim platform seemed to rank highest in customer satisfaction. Snorkeling and running around like banshees on the beach placed and showed respectably. One medium hike and one that was arguably a little too long went over surprisingly well.
Marine sightings included one dolphin, several large sea turtles, more large tarpon than usual, a spotted eagle ray that came flying out of the water like a bat out of hell chasing bait fish, a fairly curious ‘cuda (just for the Captain who was off on a snorkeling flyer), and numerous colorful and oddly shaped reef fish found by several of the kids and adults
Winds were light this time, and we didn’t have to reef once. We saw others with reduced sail plans on occasion but we didn’t see the need, even with kids. The boat just didn’t heel much. When it was ‘sailing for the sake of sailing,’ the kids were fond of pointing out when the boat speed dipped below a few knots, and when it made more sense, we occasionally motor sailed to keep it moving.
Day One: mid-afternoon departure, after receiving the boat at noon, so lucky to get to an anchorage at all and happy to punch it under power. Went to Marina Cay, a good jumping off point for other anchorages. Great shake-down snorkel for all, all of whom were brand new to it with one exception.
Captain Casual, trying to not be Captain Obvious (as in not over coaching, as she got it right away). First leg of trip, less than half an hour out.
Day Two: off to Anegada. Forecast seemed to favor it, and once we poked our nose out past the main islands, it was confirmed in real time. This was one of the best sails of the trip, never needing to motor to keep up a good cruising speed. All who wanted to steer got plenty of time. Some ocean swells, but nothing we couldn’t handle from a comfort standpoint.
Made lunch and then took an open-air taxi ride to Loblolly Bay and Beach on the north shore, one of several great spots. Across the inland pond we were able to see part of the resident pink flamingo colony of the island. Far away, but they were there. Snorkeling, scrubbing energy on the beach, tightrope and hammock games, and a little ice cream didn’t hurt.
Apres snorkel ice cream. Loblolly Beach, Anegada.
Day Three: Virgin Gorda. not enough wind to justify trying to sail back so we motored and made the time pass with games and snacks. Moored up at Saba Rock, then the kids did what they do best: jump off the boat for awhile. The Captain organized a day trip for the group to The Baths, the famous boulder formations at the other end of Virgin Gorda. They had a blast while the Captain caught up on correspondence, scoped out a new snorkeling spot, and shot some pool with pepperoni pizza for sustenance.
Not a typical scene anywhere – except at The Baths on Virgin Gorda. This is just one of many spectacular pools amongst the boulders.
Day Four: on to Jost Van Dyke. Combo of sailing and motoring to get the miles under the keel, but it was a fun ride. Gentle ocean swells at times and otherwise flat. First, we moored off Sandy Cay and did a dinghy drop of passengers to play and explore the small island, which was donated by Rockefeller in 2008. It’s a delightful swim over a sandy bottom to get ashore, then one can take a short scenic hike to the top and back down the other side for great vistas and getting the wiggles out. Huge hermit crabs are scattered around the trail here.
Much taller than it looks, little Sandy Cay is a great day stop. Swim in from your moored or well anchored yacht; hike up the trail to the top and back around the other side.
We anchored off Little Jost Van Dyke for the evening, affording more diving maneuvers (mostly cannonballs) off the swim platform before we did a group trip to he Bubbly Pool, a moderate walk from the dinghy dock. This is a small beach almost completely enclosed with lava formations and rocks, through which the open Caribbean surf rolls in from time to time making a foamy whirlpool of things. Very fun and relaxing; well worth the walk.
The Bubbly Pool, Jost Van Dyke. Waves break through the rocks and tumble in, creating a foamy, refreshing bubble bath.
Day Five: more snorkeling and swimming before weighing anchor and setting sail for Norman Island, our last anchorage of the trip. We sailed most of the way, furling up before negotiating Thatch Cut at the west end of Tortola, and then enjoying our first real beat of the trip with several tacks thrown in as we zig-zagged along St. John.
After mooring in the Bight at Norman, we dinghied in for the long hike to Money Bay towards the other end of Norman. One kid/parent turned back after making a good show of it and played at the main beach, including a kayak rental. The rest of us trudged on and made it to Money Bay for a secluded snorkeling expedition followed by lunch and a more downhill return. Followed, of course, by ice cream and virgin daiquiris…
One of the scenic overlooks on the Norman Island hike.
Next up: snorkeling at the Caves off the headland of the Bight. Excellent visibility this time; not many schools of fish but plenty of large parrot fish, a few trumpets, and other individual and paired sightings. Followed, of course, but scores of jumps off the back of the boat once we returned.
Rinse & repeat. And repeat. This never got old for them.
What didn’t we do? The Willy T, appropriately. There’s always the March 18-25 trip (still room for two more people…).
Kids & Parents in the BVI. it was meant to be, and will be again next year. Many of you have asked about this; we’ve been preparing for it; and now it’s a reality that we’ll keep exploring with you in the BVI and elsewhere.
See some more pics and clips from this and other trips on ourInstagram!
On August 30th, a group of 10 kayakers was basically run over by a NY Waterway ferry that was backing out of its Manhattan slip into the glare of the sun in the western sky. Several were injured; two seriously. It’s all under investigation of course. Not many other facts have been reported so far and thus it’s hard to piece it all together.
The kayak company involved claims to not have had a collision before in its 20-year operating history. But the incident does beg some questions…
Was the kayak group being reckless, passing close by an active ferry dock?
Did the ferry sound a proper signal and post a proper lookout?
Are New York Harbor and the Hudson & East Rivers even suitable environments for kayaks and stand-up paddleboards?
There’s been a large increase in kayak and even paddleboard activity around Manhattan recently. It’s cheap, easy access to the water. But the water moves – fast. There are strong currents that make real sailboats stand still against the skyline while sailing full tilt. Then there’s the traffic.
“You have every single marine traffic situation that is known to man, every single day. You have high speed ferries of different sizes that have different routes, you have pleasure craft, you have ocean liners, you have commercial dredges. It all exists here. You see kayak and paddleboard people on the Hudson River with a 3- or 4-knot current at dusk — it’s insane.”
-Captain Frank Crescitelli, fishing charter captain (“Fin Chaser”) based in New York Harbor. (As quoted in the NY Times article referenced below.)
Meanwhile, back at the ranch (New York Sailing Center’s location on City Island, half the length of Manhattan away from it but light years away as far as the boating and sailing environment), we have the Touring Kayak Club near our moorings. They launch from their own ramp in City Island Harbor. Sometimes, I think they stray a bit far from their base, but the traffic conditions are far more manageable and predictable here. Plus, currents can usually be swum against, so paddling against them is a cinch.
TKC is a private membership club that no one seems to know much about. The last time I checked, they were wait-listed. At New York Sailing Center, we are planning to introduce kayaking and perhaps boardsailing (“windsurfing”) in 2017.
As for NY Harbor and the Rivers, it’s hard even for non-capsizing sailboats to manage all the logistics and stay safe on, much less enjoy, the waterways. We keep hearing of collisions and capsizes – yes, capsizes with non-capsizing sailboats! Why? They push it. They fly spinnakers without enough experience, training, or regard for weather. So, they flip ’em. And, sometimes sink ’em. Seriously? Yup, so just say no to SUP…
“It’s a super-accessible way to get exposure to the waterways, where there is a really undiscovered part of New York City; there’s a mystique to it. But if you’ve never experienced a 40-knot vessel coming at you with a kayak, that’s a problem.”
-Elias Vaisberg, who runs kayak fishing tours out of Staten Island. (As quoted in NYT article referenced below.)
The quotes above were from the NY Times article about it on August 30 titled “Recreation and Commerce Collide on New York’s Crowded Waterways” by Sarah Maslin Nir and Eli Rosenberg. The previous day, there was an article titled “10 Kayakers Rescued from Hudson River After Collision with Ferry.” We have not provided links because when we pasted them into the post, they keep trying to embed and all that appeared was a portion of the call-out photo with no actual link or text. So there.
