I am concerned that there may’ve been an oversight on the part of several TV shows such as “That’s Really Damn Incredible” and “You Really Expect Me To Believe That” hosted by memorable celebrities with credibility bonded by their faithful years of service upon fictitious space craft. I hear about “The Bermuda Triangle” this, and “the mysterious disappearances” that, and “The Sargasso Sea ate my homework” and such.
These people have totally overlooked the “Long Island Sound Semi-Blob” area. This area covers several thousand square miles and extends from Newport RI, to Iceland, then straight back to Race Rock then to the Azores, then smartly back to Hell’s Gate then directly to Buoy 6 in the Thames River, on to Stonington Harbor then back to Newport. Many strange and unexplained happenings have taken place here too. Thunder storms that were not predicted and wind conditions differing from those called for by the local marine forecast! It sounds like even the channel “W1” forecaster may not be human either. Alien? Two summers ago we experienced what we called the “Day from Hell” sailing experience and it has taken this long for me to share this as it is so unsettling. I will try to get the facts out before it upsets me so much that I have to go take a nap. Too late.
I’m back.
Two summers ago, on a beautiful August afternoon, we started out from the Submarine Base with our daughter and two of our friends for a day long sail. We set out to circumnavigate Fisher’s Island. Lord knows you wouldn’t want to stop there. They don’t appear to like “outsiders”. Maybe THEY are aliens? Could Fisher’s Island really be like a vacation or rest area for aliens? Day in, day out, crop circles, abductions, boring surgery, swallow up some airplanes, scare the bejesus out of an airliner here and there, and on and on the alien routine must go. For many years the only place a tired alien could stop was Area 51. I don’t think I saw a Stuckey’s anywhere near Roswell on the History Channel. How uncivilized. Yup, there’s something different about Fisher’s Island. This may very well tie into my Lobster Pot theories!
We dodged lobster pots and ferries and fought our way out to the mouth of the Thames River. It was getting hotter and hotter as the morning wore on. We headed straight for the “Race”. Now, for the people that have not sailed in this area I will venture off topic AGAIN to explain.
“The Race.”
Long Island Sound would be the “5th Beatle” of the Great Lakes if it were not for two places where the tide from the Atlantic, can surge in and out of this expansive body of water. Basically, “The Race” is one place, and “Hell’s Gate” is the other place connecting Long Island Sound with the Atlantic. Inspired by aliens? Ask Leonard. It is my understanding that one of NASA’s environmental spy satellites can actually detect the difference in “Tidy Bowl” content of the ocean and can detect 70 mile plumes of it out into the Atlantic from “Hell’s Gate” and “The Race” during low tide. I have never been to “Hell’s Gate” but it just sounds so inviting that it’s on my list of “places to see before I die”. The name “The Race” does not outwardly advertise that it, too, could be a “place of death”. The Race has many faces. Flat calm, rotating, breaking surf, you name it.
Where transiting The Race at slack water can be anti-climactic and going through with the tide can provide “take a picture of the GPS!” record speed, going through against the tide can be an entirely different story. Worry about the tide? That’s what our whooping 16 horsepower worth of diesel is for! I generally do not pay too much attention to the tide as this will have little effect on our plans. Engine down, sails up and we’re headed right for The Race, against the tide. Three to four foot breakers form and disappear without moving but we still push forward. All kinds of power boats are zinging around in this tidal torrent trying to fish. Now why is that? Anyway, our guests are wide-eyed at this spectacle as we push through. I am actually enjoying this and I am not sure how we keep moving forward but we inch our way over the ground. The fact that I am enjoying this adds to the concern our guests are showing. Race Rock goes by to starboard (yup, we did go through the narrow part) as we shoot out into the blue and head east down the coast of mysterious Fisher’s Island. How did we get through the Race, against the tide, by sail power only? Was this pre-ordained by the vacationing aliens looking for a show? “head east down the coast” is also unnatural. How did New England get twisted like that? It just gets spookier and spookier. Hotter and more humid. Corkscrewing down the coast with the wind coming over my shoulder. How did THEY know I hate to sail like that? Were they watching from their pristine little island? By now our daughter is below having a boredom attack below and everyone is getting ornery and uncomfortable in the cockpit. We drag from morning to afternoon and it is HOT. As we round the eastern tip of Fisher’s Island we go “wing-and-wing” for all we’re worth. I am now about to enter the little known Fisher’s Island Sound through Lord’s Pass. A biblical reference? A warning? Ishmael Lord lost a boat here in 1803? The tide has also mysteriously reversed so that we have fight our way into the sound with little speed and no breeze coming through the cockpit. Maybe if we jumped into the water the instantaneous hypothermia would offset our broiling. Just like fried marbles. This seemed like a great time to……. shoot some video! Was I out of my mind!!! “Sailing Videos” get me through the winter and I had already recorded our Race passage but nobody volunteered to record this. I’ll do it myself dammit. One hand on the camera, one on the wheel. Now, is the auto-focus on? Here we go. Look at their happy smiling faces. One of the faces says “Are you in auto?” “Sure I am”, auto-focus. Aliens are steering. Through the viewfinder I watch a graceful, slow motion, uncontrolled jib. Since everyone was too hot to stand up, nobody was in any danger from the boom but the main sheet rigging gently pinned my friend’s wife, in an unflattering way, to the after cockpit bulkhead. Yup, got it all on tape. Hmmm, no happy faces now. Better turn off this camera. Against the tide and against all odds we enter Fisher’s Island Sound. An uncomfortable silence has fallen over the boat. Back to the west to head home and onto a port tack. Latimer Light and Eel Grass beds coming up for your entertainment, to the right. Sails and log say ahead, LORAN says backwards. Are we going back in time? How can this be? I can see the lobster pots gathering just below the surface. . DeJa Vu? Steven King, are you there? Must… go…… forward…… must…… use….. the force……. “Click wrrrrrrrr wump wump wump…” Diesel on. We leave the other poor time travelers behind as we power, once more, into the here and now. Past the Clumps (what the hell are “Clumps”) and the wind starts to pick up. The Lord’s Pass vortex starts to release it’s deadly grip. I kill the engine and, as if by magic, we start to fly. Things start to cool down. I believe the term is “overpowered” when the trailing edge of your rudder leaves a rooster tail. We pass Flat Hammock, the Dumplings, and West Harbor. Who names this stuff? One tack all the way out of Fisher’s Island Sound. The winds are increasing as we pass through Pine Island Channel and into the area just south of the mouth of the Thames River. Fisher’s Island Sound, the approaches to the Race, Long Island Sound, and the discharge of the Thames River all converge here. I have heard the sea down there described as “confused”. “News Flash” people, the only thing confused there are the people in boats. I think the sea knows exactly what it is doing. Into the Thames River channel and now we have about 20 knots of wind. We don’t have much time or room here but we take in the jib and now someone has to go up to the mast dump the mainsail, post haste. My wife springs into action and the minute she leaves to comfort of the dodger the wind rips the hat from her head. She hesitates for a second as if she is going to go in after it. We treat hats overboard like “man-overboard” but we have to get that main down first. The Navy comes out as I gesture, point and yell at my wife to get to the mast and dump the main. Has she fallen under the spell of aliens? My friend also makes his way to the mast to help bring the mainsail down. I’m running out of channel trying to keep us into the wind and I turn to my friend’s wife and snap “Don’t let that hat out of your sight!” I think for a second and yell below for my daughter to get her butt on deck with the boat pole to help retrieve hat and keep track of it as I am not sure if my friend’s wife has entirely popped to the challenge. How fast does a bored teenage girl respond to direct orders? Not fast enough, not near fast enough. I look back to the mast and now my friend is looking back to me as if waiting for something. I guess I am NOT EXACTLY PERFECT POINT ZERO ERROR OFF INTO THE DAMN WIND!!!! Maybe they have just returned from an alien abduction! Somewhere in the next roll of dialog I told those on deck to “DUMP the *&%^$ MAIN NOOOOWWWWWWWW!” Down it came. I immediately reversed course to get my wife’s hat. I looked to my friend’s wife who had been diligently, visually, tracking the hat, and said “where is it?” Just then my somewhat annoyed teenager finally crossed the six odd feet it took to get up, grab the boat pole and appear in cockpit. My friend’s wife dutifully said those words that still echo in my mental archive of things I wished I had NEVER heard…..
“A BIG wave carried it away!”
Just as those words started to penetrate…. My offspring says “Do I have to STAY up here?” as she looks around like she has something more important to do. I motion to her to go below, she DROPS the Boat Pole and stomps back down into the cabin and I thought, just for a second I heard her say “Jerk”.
A BIG WAVE??? OH MY GAWD….. A BIG DAMN WAVE? JERK???? My blood pressure shot so high that if a mosquito had bitten me it would exploded in a cloud of pink mist. I’m getting one of those “arms crossed, toe tapping” looks from my wife and my friend is clearly not happy.
WELLLLLL PEOPLE…. NEITHER AM I !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I WILL TOSS ALL OF YOUR MUTINOUS CARCASSES OVER THE SIDE AND SPEND THE REST OF THE DAMN AFTERNOON TACKING OVER YOU UNTIL I FEEL BETTER!!!!!!
That did not come out because I could not speak.
Was I truly having feelings of hostility? However foreign to me these feelings are, I think I was succumbing to anger.
Had the aliens silenced me fearing I would expose their influence on our cruise? You be the judge.
There was silence all the way back up the river. Complete silence. We tied up without a word. We were supposed to barbecue on board and have dinner when we got back. The question of that was answered when I systematically took everyone’s stuff and carefully placed it on the pier. Telepathy ruled the day and the crew marched off. A super-nap was in order.