An eventful 24 hours

We've had a very interesting time recently. A Little too eventful in many ways.

Yesterday evening we left Boston Harbor and headed to the Harbor Islands. Seven miles out, these islands are a peaceful place to stay overnight and get a head start on our trip the next day. I plan to anchor behind the outermost islands. We go there, it's beautiful but the anchor won't hold. It just drags across the bottom, which is clearly flat rock with no meaningful cover of mud or stone. We bring up long strings of kelp. We try two places before falling back a couple of miles to a spot we know at an inner island, an hour's trip has turned into three hours but Gesa, and the kids, have been incredibly calm about the whole debacle. To make things easier we pick up a mooring instead of anchoring, pretending not to see the 'fee required' sign on the buoy since we are leaving early.

The kids are quickly in bed and it's a nice evening. I sit up top and fish, with a glass of red wine. Actually, I fish with bacon and drink the wine myself. We've had a huge lack of success fishing up here but after nearly three months my lightning quick mind has realised that perhaps the fish in the Caribbean can see my brightly coloured lures through the crystal clear water, whilst those up here need something smelly on the end of the hook to find their way through he gloom of the north atlantic. The bacon almost works, I get a strong bite but lose it after a fight. Hmm. Perhaps I'll tow some bacon on a hook tomorrow.

We go to bed with the alarm set for 6:30am. We're fast asleep at midnight when there is a birp-blip of a siren and a bright light shines on the boat. Gesa kicks me awake and says 'it's the police boat outside'. I blearily stagger on deck wondering what I've done wrong this time. Surely they can't be collecting fees now. In fact they are asking if we've seen anything, someone reported a red flare out this way. 'Is everything alright on board sir?'. 'Well, yes officer, I've finished the weapons drop and tested the rocket launcher so there won't be any more noise from us tonight'. Or maybe I say 'er, we were asleep, early start tomorrow'. I was still half asleep but whatever I said, he apologised for disturbing us and went on his way.

We wake to a beautiful morning and get on our way with a cup of coffee and breakfast on the move. It's a near perfect morning. The breeze builds a bit and we can sail very comfortably on the near flat sea. I rig the fishing line with a rasher of bacon. This is old, well past it's best bacon so handling it is not for the squeamish but out it goes, fifty yards behind us. It skips in the wake, happily failing to attract fish just like every other bait I've tried up here. But wait, after a couple of hours a glance back reveals more splashing than before. We haul in and there's a lovely fish on the end. Two feet long, it's a 'bluefish', probably about twelve pounds. Wow. The kids are impressed. My reputation as a fisherman is re-established, with my children at least.

Then we get our squall. You'll have read the other post, it was scary.

We motor into Plymouth, scarred by our experience and radio the harbormaster. We know there is a good anchoring spot but I ask about moorings, as a cheap mooring would be an easy option to recover from the squall. They are not cheap, a dollar a foot is a lot for us, so I confirm the anchoring space. No problem, he says, but we do ask that if you are anchored there is always someone on board in case the boat breaks loose. What??? That's why I have an oversized anchor, chain and insurance, surely it's my risk? I'll discuss that tomorrow. Sounds like a ruse to get us to use the overpriced moorings, I feel. We anchor and dig in firmly, we have no problem getting the hook to set and this is as secure as we have been all summer. But now Gesa is paranoid about us dragging and I sense a less than restful night ahead.

At anchor, Max wants to try his crab trap and lobster buoy, so out comes the trusty and smelly bacon and the trap is launched over the side. Meanwhile a tourist tour boat picks up a mooring close by and hauls up a lobster pot to show the tourists how it's done. They catch some crabs and 'race' them along the decks, with much laughter and squawking as people avoid being nipped by the unpredictable little critters. Whilst they are there, the water bubbles and flashes with a school of baitfish, being hunted from below and picked off by seagulls from above. Issie asks for the fishing rod and tries a few casts though to no effect. Or maybe not quite to no effect. As they drop the mooring, the tourist boat comes round and passes us a few feet away. He clearly wants to say something, maybe we're a little too close to his mooring? Nope, he leans out the window and shouts 'we do pirate cruises too, here's some leftover gold' and throws a bag of plastic 'gold' coins and jewelry for the kids. Much waving, cheering and exchanging of thank yous. The kids are initially disappointed it's not chocolate coins but then a happy hour of pirate play ensues.

We haul Max's lobster buoy and crab trap and sure enough, we too have three spiny, snappy crabs. Much interest from the kids and repeated drops of the trap bring up more of them. Max even ends up holding one once I have shown him how to grip it from the back between your thumb and forefinger. This crab has a body about three inches across, and legs twice that, so I reckon he'll drop it pretty quick once it scrabbles but no, he poses for photos and then calmly returns it to the sea.

A calmer afternoon follows and no the wind is easing further as night falls. We hope to have a more boring day tomorrow.

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