“Let’s go home…” October 2022 – Buying a new (used) sailboat and heading for home waters.

“I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship, and a star to steer her by;”
-Maesfield

It’s October. It’s New England. The days are short, the temperatures are anywhere from scorching to spits of snow, and the ocean has developed the sulky deep blue grey that promises storms liable to toss objects through the ultra wealthy’s summer homes on my stretch of the Maine coast.

Naturally, I’m buying a boat.

The harbors of Massachusetts have long been home to sailing ships. From whalers to tea clippers, fishers to schooners, the coast towns down here know the ropes, as it were. So it comes as no surprise to find myself heading down the cape, and beyond, to meet my new sailboat. I found her through an online service: a 1979 Pearson 10M, 33 and-a-bit feet long, and listed for $15 thousand. She’s right in the size range I had worked out for myself – big enough that one or two people can live aboard her for extended periods of time, big enough to entertain a few friends, big enough to handle the swells of the Atlantic coast… and small enough to single handle. I figured that meant 32-38 feet long, give or take. She’s a monohull (single body instead of a catamaran or a trimaran) which I wanted – because I irrationally just dislike the look of catamarans – and she has a hull shape that balances a lot of the things I want: sailing ability, stability, and living space.

The survey is done, the sea trials complete. I’ve already been down this way a few weeks ago and met the previous owner, the broker, and the surveyor for a full going over. The surveyor found nothing I hadn’t already spotted, and our conversation went along the lines of “are you handy? can you do things yourself? Yeah, then she’s fine. Enjoy.” (Because she needs various bits or work done, and hiring it out means more money than I have… and if I had that money, I should buy new.)

Spoiler: yes. Yes, I am handy

Her previous owner, when asked what his next projects would be, blithely said to me “None, doesn’t need any.” And smiled. When, after a skeptical look at each other, the yacht broker and I both said “No, I mean… just… imagine you were keeping her and you had 20 grand… what would you do?” after a few minutes of careful deliberation he again announced “Nothing! The boat’s perfect!”

Beautiful, Selkie was. Perfect, she was not… but no matter. We’re nearly the same age, Selkie and I, and the years are no more kind to a boat than to a human. There will be things to do, and things to accept. As the broker said when the previous owner had left and I raised a skeptical eyebrow at him “I mean… a new dodger and new electronics would be on MY list.”

Negotiations have taken place and money has changed hands, and for the moment Selkie (tho that is not yet her name) lies at dock at Pope’s Island Marina in New Bedford MA. It’s my first time in New Bedford, taking delivery of Selkie. Once Wampanoag territory on the Massachusets south coast, New Bedford is divided from it’s neighbors by the Acushnet river flowing from the mill pond, through the 17th century Quaker town, down into the bay, and helping form the deep, protected anchorage that welcomes transient and long term boaters today. It’s a cute town of mixed upscale houses, retail space, light industry… and BOATS.

A whaling town of fame, and the setting for Herman Melville’s “Moby Dick,” New Bedford harbor today boasts an impressive breakwater at the harbor mouth, which we can see from the pier as we arrive in a rental car collected in Boston.

The month: October, the weather: grey, my mood: elated.

It’s October the 24th. I’ve brought with me my friend Lessa, a fellow narrator in from Seattle WA, to begin the delivery journey to bring Selkie from New Bedford to her new home port of South Portland Maine. The plan is to set out from New Bedford first thing in the morning, sail north and make the mouth of the Cape Cod Canal by 15:00 to catch the tide so that we have relatively slack water most of the way through the canal. The Cape Cod Canal stretches across the base of the peninsula, from Bourne at the Nor’east corner of Buzzards Bay, to Sandwich at the Sou’west corner of Cape Cod bay. I’ve left plenty of time in my plan for transiting the route: the distance from Bew Bedford to the mouth of the canal is just shy of 20 nautical miles, our top speed is 7.5 knots, average sailing speed is more like 5.5, and on engine we can cruise at 5 knots. Leaving early, around 8am, will give us time to take it easy, sail at less than top speed, and enjoy the scenery. As long as we’re at the canal entrance by around 15:30, no later than 16:00, we should be good. The current through the canal can be vicious, ripping along at 6 or more knots, and with Selkie’s top speed at 7.5 knots, we need not to be trying to head “upstream” the whole way. On the other hand, running “down” the current, with no way to slow down if need be is also extremely dicey. Ideally, we hit it right in the middle.

The cause of this extreme current, is the tidal difference between the north and south ends of the canal. Sandwich’s peak tides reach a plus/minus of nearly 10 feet of water… while New Bedford and the surrounding areas are more like 4. (The fact that the presence of the moon pulls the ocean into a bubble and creates tides is still, even after all these years? Mind-blowing.) The result of this is that water flows back and forth through the canal, reaching times of slack water throughout the day. Timing, as they say, is everything.

Our first hours aboard reveal that, for starters, the marine head (toilet) which pumps waste into an onboard holding tank is not pumping. Also, we can’t find the key to open the fuel fill port. Also, there are no flares, horns, whistles, and a few other US Coast Guard required safety devices on board. And we returned our rental car already.

Thankfully what we DO have is a “chandlery” (marine supply store) literally right across the street from the Marina. Time go to shopping!

Slogging back and forth across traffic, we return with flares, an electric bilge pump (Selkie only has a manual lever action) and a portable camping toilet. Nothing but the best for me and my friends!! We beg and borrow the use of a fuel key from the neighbors, and settle in for the night. Morning comes early, and we want to fill the fuel tank and be off.

New boat luck is not done with us, however. The Fuel fill cap will not open.

After nearly wrecking the neighbor’s fuel key wrench, we decide to motor over to the marina nearby who sells fuel, and see if they have a stronger one. (they do not) and then I spend 15 minutes trying to figure out how to disassemble the mounting space for the fuel fill so that we can at least top off the tank.

Lessa, realizes the simple answer staring me in the face, and asks why I don’t just use the large screw driver and hammer in one of the fuel key slots and tap the cover unscrewed. Lo, the trip is saved, and my crew for this leg of the voyage proves the perfect antidote to corroded brass, and befuddled skippers.

We are late, but there is time. Leaving New Bedford at nearly noon means no dawdling on our way to the canal, and Buzzards Bay rewards us with fog, and a calm sea. There is enough wind to sail some, at least, and we make solid time. The Canal is a wild ride with the current, hitting 8 or 9 knots total speed “downstream” and finally arriving in Sandwich MA a half hour after the marina closes. We make an educated guess as to where they wanted us, and slog off the ship looking for FOOD.

The next day was forecast to be occasional rain, decent winds out of the East, and we were ready for a sail across Cape Cod Bay, past Boston, and straight for Gloucester harbor, where we would leave the boat for a day and get Lessa back on a plane for Seattle the morning of the 27th. By morning, October 26th, the forecast was for temps in the high 40s and low 50s, steady rain and winds variable and out of the North. This would mean standing all day in the rain, motoring against the wind, with no protection (Selkie has no overhead awning) and a real risk of hypothermia, especially for my crew.

We bought a week at the Marina, and hired an Uber all the way back to Boston. (That was an expensive ride)

A few days later, and 5 variants of plans to finish the trip scrapped, I return to Selkie armed with grit, determination, and one of the more experienced sailors I have at hand.

My mom.

71, veteran of sailing in the US, Bahamas, Caribbean, owner of 5 different boats, and the woman who gave me my love of the water – we drive from South Portland to Sandwich, park my car in the marina’s back lot, and load aboard for the night. Our plan now is to head for Gloucester in the morning, then on to Kittery the next day where I will drop my mom at an Uber, and then finish the trip solo the following morning into to Portland.

Morning of October 29th arrives bright and clear, we get under way with no issues, and motor-sail our way North. Mom spied a whale, I mainly saw seagulls. Everything performed famously, and we made Gloucester harbor shortly before nightfall, docking at “Ocean Alliance” a nonprofit whale research center that rents out one of their dockside spaces. It’s after hours, and we make our way ashore and find a local bar on its last weekend of the open season, where beers are a dollar and my mom’s manhattan is served in a pint glass.

Up before sunrise again, we depart Gloucester and head for Maine waters, making sufficient time that we decide on arriving after dark and pushing through the whole last leg of things. It’s nearly 21:00 by the time we tie up at Aspasia Marina, which is to be Selkie’s home for the winter, and make our way back to my mom’s house – tired and accomplished.

Selkie is home.