boatingct – boater girl

September 13, 2021September 15, 2021

Not So Green(port) Anymore

I’m unlike many of the boaters I’ve met on the water. I was not born or bred into the boating lifestyle. Instead, I spent my childhood surrounded by concrete, taxis, and graffiti-festooned subway cars, which rumbled below our apartment building and lulled me to sleep as a child (the city girl’s version of crickets). In New York City, nature is carefully contained within discrete, well-manicured spaces: the public parks and few scraggly trees that occupy tiny patches of soil dotting the sidewalks. An iconic river ran less than a mile from my home, but it was more concept than reality. I usually saw it from afar, my vantage point being a crowded highway or bridge.

Don’t get me wrong— there was plenty to love about growing up in NYC— but my exposure to nature was limited, to put it mildly (at age six, I visited a relative in the suburbs, saw her backyard vegetable garden, and promptly concluded she lived on a farm).

After discovering hiking in high school and camping in college, ventured out on the water much later in life, but it was love at first sight— a nearly instant addiction to all things boat.

The skills required to be a good boater? Those did not come so easily. During my first season at the helm, let’s be honest, I was not a natural. Things that I take for granted now stymied me: keeping the boat on a straight path down the channel, handling rough waters, accounting for the effect of the wind and currents, and let’s not even talk about my docking skills (or lack thereof) . . . Some days, I wondered if it would ever click.

But I had patient and supportive teachers – the folks at Carefree Boat Club and Captain Rich Hannon, in particular, and I’m not one to give up on a challenge. So I just kept practicing, despite some rattling near misses at the dock, and feeling at times like an outlier in a guys’ world (although now I see more and more ladies at the helm).

Fast forward to 2021, and during a busy holiday weekend, I navigated crowded waters, kept us from getting swamped by an obnoxious 50 foot yacht that cut right in front of our bow at full speed, and delivered us safely across the Long Island Sound from Greenport to the Connecticut River in choppy waters with 2 foot waves at times. Now I can dock without someone to catch me from shore and have even docked solo a couple of times- all things I could not have imagined during my first season. I still have many things to learn, but I’m well underway.

So thank you to all the experienced boaters who have given me helpful advice and guidance. To those of you who are new to boating (especially the recent wave of newly minted female captains), just keep practicing, take lessons, ignore the snide “COVID Captain” digs, and don’t give up if you really want it. I’m certainly glad to have stayed the course.

October 4, 2020July 19, 2021

The (Lightly) Seasoned Boater

Just about three years ago, I got behind the helm of a sleek Chaparral Suncoast for the first time. I zig-zagged down the channel at Black Rock Harbor out onto the Long Island Sound, oversteering whenever I started to drift off course. And my early days of docking? Let’s not even talk about them. Let’s just say I (barely) managed not to damage anything (or anyone).

Today, docking no longer sends my pulse (or the dock staff’s pulse) skyrocketing. I can steer straight down a channel, even on a windy day. And I’ve learned a few lessons, some only after trials by fire, some by anecdote- see if you can guess which is which:

Do buy plenty of floats, take the kids tubing, and entertain them onboard with playdough or similarly solid and fungible toys.

Don’t give the kids crayons and coloring pages, unless you enjoy fishing soggy images of Elsa and Anna out of the water with a docking pole while scrambling over tiny rolling, half-melted cylinders. If that’s your thing, then go for it.

Do serve your guests dinner in a quiet cove as the sun paints the sky orange and purple.

Don’t serve your guests a cheese board and sushi while anchored in 2 foot waves, unless they are unwanted guests whom you never want to take boating again. (Don’t worry, friends, you were very much wanted guests.)

Do crank the volume and rock out to your favorite tunes when you pass the no wake marker and gun it.

Don’t don your favorite hat or leave your favorite magazine (book / chart / winning lottery ticket) loose on deck when you pass the no wake marker and gun it.

Don’t dawdle in front of the Bridgeport-Port Jefferson ferry when it’s trying to leave the dock. The captain will honk at you . . . multiple times . . . even if you smile and shrug your shoulders innocently as if to say “Sorry, new boater.”

Do zip through the ferry’s wake if it’s a calm day and there are no other waves to play in.

And steer clear of the rocky bottoms, unless you’re in a kayak. Anchoring in them is an exercise in futility, and you definitely don’t want to hit them. As Lady Gaga might sing, “I’m in the deep end, watch as I drive in, I’ll never touch the ground . . . Splash ‘cross the surface, where rocks can’t hurt us, stay far from the shallows now . . .”

Although, in nearly every other facet of life, 2020 can’t draw to a close soon enough, I will miss this season on the water as I prepare to kiss my boats goodbye and hunker down for the long, dreary winter ahead.

August 23, 2020July 19, 2021

Here Fishy, Fishy

One charter eleven months ago does not a fisherwoman make.

My first solo attempt at fishing was quite underwhelming. Fish caught =0. Minutes spent trying to untangle this: more than I’d like to admit.

What was I doing wrong? Just about everything. I was feeding the fish from the human equivalent of a food truck that I was operating from a helicopter . . . hovering 20 feet above I-95. No wonder there weren’t any customers!

It was time to call in an expert. I called Captain Rich Hannon of Premier Yacht Services, my trusted Boaters Ed teacher from Carefree, and he was kind enough not to laugh when I told him about my tangled-mess-of-a-line/zero fish excursion.

We left Carefree Boat Club’s Milford dock and headed to Stratford Shoal Lighthouse, which (according to the internet) is the most haunted lighthouse in Connecticut: https://www.nelights.com/blog/the-most-haunted-lighthouse-in-connecticut-stratford-shoal/.

The lighthouse was eeire, for sure– perched high on treacherous rocks and a crumbling stone foundation, with weathered boards covering its windows and a tolling bell– but for fish, the surrounding waters are home.

This time, under Captain Rich’s guidance, my girls and I fished the right way. In the right place (the nice fishy suburbs instead of the interstate), with lines at the bottom of the ocean, not hovering above, and drifting (not anchored).

And we caught three (THREE!) black sea bass.

So maybe they weren’t keepers. Perhaps all three were teeny, tiny . . . but success nonetheless!

As we headed back to shore, images of braised black sea bass with ginger and scallion danced through my head and whetted my appetite. Undeterred, I waived my magic wand (or, perhaps I waived my credit card at the local fish market), and volia- our tiny fishies were transformed into a feast!

Apparently fishing takes years to master, as well as a healthy dose of good luck. So I’ll keep trying- worst case scenario, I’ll get to spend more time on the water while keeping the kids occupied as summer lasts longer than usual . . . and maybe by the end of the season, I’ll prevail and bring home a catch.

Black sea bass for dinner- thanks, not to my fishing acumen, but to **Number One Fish Market in Hamden**

August 1, 2020July 19, 2021

Eat Local, Shop Local, and – New for 2020 – Vacation Local

Beaches and boats- that’s what we’d planned for this summer. Granted the beach was Martha’s Vineyard and the boat was a cruise to the Greek Islands. As COVID-19 ravaged the world, summer arrived, and then case rates skyrocketed in much of the U.S. (but, thankfully, not in our sensible, science-guided, home state of Connecticut). All our carefully made plans went back to the drawing board.

Many people scrapped their summer vacations altogether. Doing that would make me (and most others) cranky and bitter—and there is more than our fair share of crankiness out there this year. Undeterred, I set out to plan a COVID-safe, family getaway with no quarantine restrictions at either end of the trip.

Sunset from the private beach at the Madison Beach Hotel

The result? A beach and boating vacation within a 25-mile radius of our house. We saved big on travel expenses—they were the cost of a daily commute to the office, back when people did that sort of thing. We used those savings to splurge on a luxurious ocean-front room with a balcony at the Madison Beach Hotel. With its private beach (no crowds getting in your face), and Connecticut’s quarantine restrictions for travelers from hot-spot states, we felt safe there, and indulged freely in some much-needed pampering.

Beachside lunches delivered to our loungers, cocktails and dinner overlooking the water at The Wharf, and jaw-dropping sunsets bathed in an oceanfront breeze. Just what I needed . . .

Another bonus? Torturing the kids with stupid parent jokes the whole ride there:

“Madison- such a quaint little seaside town- I wonder who lives here?” (A decent number of friends and work colleagues)

“The Connecticut shoreline’s so pretty- enjoy it, girls, we may not come back here again.” (for two to three days)

Lucky for the kids, the car ride was short. Lucky for mom, replacing the boating was easy.

We bookended the trip with two boat rides—the first out of Carefree Boat Club’s Steelepointe Harbor dock to our new favorite, socially-distanced swim area at Pirate’s Cove in Port Jefferson. On the last morning of our trip, we headed out of the Clinton location for the first time, checking out new waters and anchoring off Duck Island for a swim.

It wasn’t crystal clear, turquoise waters off the coast of Greece (downside), but I got to steer the boat (definite upside). I don’t think the captain of our cruise ship would have allowed me to take the wheel, no matter how much cajoling I tried (… and I would have tried, for sure).

Exploring Duck Island off the coast of Westbrook

Our summer plans—like most things—were radically altered this year, but we returned refreshed and relaxed, nonetheless. Vacationing within 30 miles from home may sound silly, but I think that everyone should to do what they can to safely seize moments of joy during the cluster f–k 2020 has become. We all can get through this, but only if we are kind enough to ourselves to allow us to be kind to others, and to halt the ongoing descent into bitterness, division, and rage.

July 8, 2020July 19, 2021

A Pirate’s Life for Me

Port Jefferson isn’t just a small seaside town with quaint little shops and seafood restaurants. Just inside Port Jefferson Harbor, you can find a wild, socially-distanced beach party at Pirate’s Cove (a/k/a Mount Misery Cove).

My pirate crew was raring to go, so on a hot sunny day over the 4th of July weekend, we set out for an afternoon of pillaging and plundering.

Luckily, we arrived early enough to snag a prime anchorage spot with a ringside view of the scene unfolding around us. The place was chock full of paddle boarders, kayaks, and people floating in inner tubes with cup holders (I’m definitely getting one of those next summer). The water was calm enough to swim in with young kids, and it is only a short distance to shore if you want to hike on the bluff or wade in the shallows. You can either paddle to shore in a kayak or inner tube, or even swim there, depending where you’re anchored.

On the other side of the cove, there’s a pristine, quiet beach that had one person on it– only one person–on a holiday weekend with perfect beach weather.

If you hike up the steep bluff, you’re rewarded with this quiet beach on the other side

The people watching was one of the best parts, from ogling fancy yachts, to buying ice cream from enterprising college kids selling it boat-to-boat from a dinghy, to these crazy daredevils:

(This makes me glad to have daughters. I understand that Stony Brook Medical Center is a good hospital, but even so . . .)

So perhaps I did a little less pillaging and plundering, and a little more floating and relaxing, but after all the craziness 2020 has wrought, I deserve a little R&R. I’ll save the pillaging and plundering for next time!

October 20, 2019July 19, 2021

Spooky Sea Stories

It’s October. New England’s hillsides have transformed from green to palettes of orange, red, and gold. The morning air is crisp and cool (though there’s no frost to scrape from my windshield yet, thank God). Our menu has shifted from lighter fare to stews and soups. And, yes, I’m still boating, trying to eke out every last second on the water before I must kiss my boats goodbye for a dreary, cold, dark five-month hiatus.

Fall on the Connecticut River near Gillette Castle

October also ushers in Halloween- the costumes, candy, and, of course, the spooky stories. It just so happens that my favorite lighthouse is the subject of one. During my first ride out of Black Rock Harbor in Bridgeport, we headed east on a cool, crisp day, just like today. Heading back, I could just make out a ghostly shape in the distance but couldn’t quite see what it was. Shrouded in haze, it looked like a massive ship—a ghost ship, perhaps.

The following spring, I set my course for the mysterious mirage-like shape and found a stately old stone lighthouse, built far from shore with no connection at all to land. The building looked old—from the eighteenth or nineteenth century, and it had a red roof and white tower, which housed the signal light.

Did a lighthouse-keeper once live there, surrounded by water on all sides. Did his family live with him? But then, how did his kids get to school? I concluded that the keeper must have toughed it out alone.

A Google search confirmed my suspicions. Penfield Reef Light was built in 1874, and the light-keeper did, in fact, live there with an assistant, while his family resided onshore. In December 1916, lighthouse-keeper, Frederick Jordan, drowned during a rowboat trip to the mainland to visit his family for Christmas. Poor Fredrick’s ghost was rumored to haunt the structure and its environs, and to appear to successor keepers on cold, lonely nights. And, per local legend, his ghost rescued two boys whose boat capsized near Penfield Light in 1942. At least Penfield Light houses a friendly ghost, not a wrathful, angry ghost, should I ever encounter him.

Perhaps now that haunting season is upon us, there’ll be more than fishermen frequenting Penfield Reef Light.

August 16, 2019July 19, 2021

Sound Waves

Jamming on the Lucky Shucker with John Thomas and his 1943 Gibson guitar

Music and motion go together. You might still recall that first time your dad (or mom) handed over the car keys. Perhaps it was a sultry summer evening. You rolled down the windows, cranked the stereo, and simply drove, headed nowhere, just to feel the elation of being truly free for the first time ever.

Speeding along at the wheel of a fast boat with good tunes and good company evokes that same sense of freedom. And I cannot believe that I’m alone. So many songs evoke the ocean, from the obvious candidates, like Billy Joel’s Downeaster Alexa, to the more subtle— Be Still, by The Killers, for example.

Live music on the water is a rare but special treat. Last summer, Sarah Wise entertained us with her original single, Hang Tight, which we filmed for my Facebook page. This summer, author / musician / lawyer John Thomas treated us to a jam session on his 1943 Gibson Southern Jumbo guitar. The guitar has a long, long history. The venerable old instrument made it back from the trenches in Europe after World War II. More recently, it has traveled across the globe to Greece and Mexico. David Crosby has strummed it.

And now . . . drumroll . . . the guitar has been on a sunset cruise up the Housatonic River in Connecticut. Perhaps an evening outing on The Lucky Shucker was not the guitar’s wildest adventure–it survived a world war, after all– but it was a new experience, all the same. I’m just grateful that I managed to keep our valuable cargo from jumping overboard as we tackled some decent-sized waves enroute to the mouth of the river.

Once we hit calmer waters, John regaled us with tales of meeting the women who built the WWII-era guitar. When the men went off to war, women took over at Gibson’s factory in Kalamazoo, Michigan. The women, whom he interviewed, described working on the factory floor, as well as their lives during a time of shared sacrifice and common purpose to defeat evil- a mindset that seems to have vanished entirely from our fractured society today.

John preserved the women’s stories by turning their interviews into Kalamazoo Gals: A Story of Extraordinary Women & Gibson’s ‘Banner’ Guitars of WWII. The female-built guitars are known for having superior sound and quality. The craftswomen had no formal training in woodworking or guitar-building, but their years of experience with needlepoint, sewing, and other traditionally female handicrafts made them exceptionally skilled at the delicate finishing work that makes the guitars special. As a former seamstress, their tale certainly resonates with me.

As the sun dipped low over the shoreline, we headed home, accompanied by a different kind of music: the song of the wind and the waves with the hum of the engine keeping time in the background. As folk singer Dar Williams puts it: “there will always be the light and the sea . . .”

July 7, 2019July 7, 2019

Putting the “Port” Back in Bridgeport

In recent years, I’ve travelled to Bridgeport quite often for work and for play. The city has come a long way lately, primarily due to redevelopment on the shoreline, and I’ve been pleasantly surprised by what I’ve found.

A favorite spot in Black Rock is Captain’s Cove Seaport, which serves up fish and chips that are up to par with the famous London pub fare. With a deck on the water overlooking the docks and affordable prices, it’s a great place to grab a cocktail and snacks with friends, and to catch a beautiful sunset, especially after an evening boat ride. There’s also an ice cream shop and play area to keep the kids busy while the adults kick back and relax. Of course, another fave at Captain’s Cove is Carefree Boat Club’s Black Rock dock, which has a boat for every mood and occasion—whether it’s a relaxed sunset cruise or my personal preference, an adrenaline-pumping thrill ride on something with lots of horsepower.

At the mouth of Black Rock Harbor, one can see the newly renovated Fayerweather Island Lighthouse. Farther out sits Penfield Reef Light, built in 1874. It’s been restored beautifully and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

Recently, we cruised into neighboring Bridgeport Harbor to check out the brand-new docks at Steelpointe Harbor Marina, where we treated ourselves to brunch at Boca, a sleek, modern waterfront restaurant.

Upscale dock-and-dines are hard to come by, at least in my rather limited experience, and Boca is promising. The lobster eggs Benedict and avocado toast were delicious, although the chef could have gone easier on the salt in the hash browns.

All-in-all, Boca shows promise, and I look forward to trying it again when it’s in its groove.