June 14, 1984 - A Sail Toward SolitudeJune 14, 1984
The Suffolk Times
A Sail Toward Solitude
By PAUL STOUTENBURGH
There comes a time when you just have
to do something to get away from it all. I
don't know why it is we get ourselves
involved in so many things that, when
looked at from a distance, aren't all that
important. For this reason Barbara and I
convinced ourselves we needed a break
and the one we always look to is our boat,
the Sea Wind. I guess the straw that
broke the camel's back was when she
went out grocery shopping on Friday —
lines at the checkout, hot and humid
weather and traffic that made you wait
what seemed like hours at highway
intersections. All this on top of an
afternoon spent picking up 100 bales of
hay on the hottest day of the year really
convinced us we had made the right
choice.
What with this or that we never got out
to the boat till 7 that evening.
Nevertheless, we were away from it all
and on the water, and now another world
we'd been looking for became a reality.
The boat was just recently put in and we
hadn't even had time for a shakedown
cruise. We had used the motor to get her
to the mooring once she was put in. Now
the sails had to be put on, supplies
brought aboard, and the checklist of jobs
that had to be taken care of finished
before we shoved off.
Still, the wind was brisk from the
southwest and our spirits were high as
we dropped the mooring line and felt the
boat move slowly ahead as the sails filled
and the rush of water along her sides put
life into her once again. Needless to say,
we were not too shipshape and as I coiled
lines, tied down miscellaneous gear to
the deck, and generally squared the boat
away, Barbara took the tiller and we
headed east.
We had a special rendezvous on a
special island some distance to the east,
and with this brisk southwest wind
behind us, our sails were set wing -on-
wing as we started to relax. Because of
the heat of the day there was a haze on
the water. Only one other sailboat could
be seen and that kept before us about a
mile or so like a ghost in the distance. We
pursued it.
Remembering Other Seasons
As darkness approached, the lights of
civilization popped on along the
shoreline. Our new whisker pole and
fitting performed perfectly, holding the
big genny out to its limits to catch every
bit of energy the wind had. Now we again
became a part of the world we
remembered from seasons gone by.
Off Jessups we passed through a few
determined fishermen trolling for blues.
Usually I would have joined them but the
joy of the evening and the set of the sails
couldn't lure me to get out my tackle.
We passed through the south race of
Shelter Island where the busy little ferry
shuttled back and forth between the
mainland and the island. In the darkness,
with our red and green running lights, we
seemed to be the only sign of motion in a
misty world that shrouded all but the
brightest light. We dropped anchor for
the evening in Smith's Cove, which with
the southwest wind gave us protection
and quiet. Yet there was still a breeze
that kept away the pesty no-see -ums that
the rains of the week before had rallied.
We sat in the cockpit and relaxed in the
quiet world of stars and moonlight.
Someone yawned and we both knew it
was time for bed. We had eaten on the
way down, so it wasn't long before our
tired bodies stretched out on newly made
bunks below. The weekend had gotten off
to a perfect start.
Early the next morning, with the boat
clothed in dew, we hoisted sails and
headed eastward again. We were to help
with a breeding bird census on Gardiners
Island and wanted to be there early
enough to do some good. The wind picked
up and again we charged through the
water with the sails billowing out.
Acting as cook, for a change, I
scrambled some eggs and ham, made
coffee and toast on the galley stove, and
whiffed the fragrance from the sizzling
pan as it filled the cabin. Up on deck
Barbara received my offerings and soon
we were both indulging in breakfast on a
sparkling sea. What more could we ask?
Wet and Weary Travelers
We finally reached our destination
about 10 that morning and immediately
set to work on our task of surveying
Boswick woods. Record heat did its best
to discourage us as we trudged through
the woods, recording redstarts, crested
flycatchers, red and white vireos; the list
went on and on. By noon the heat was
taking its toll on us. Wet from sweat, our
long pants and long - sleeved shirts for
walking through briers clung to our
perspiring bodies. I'm sure we both
thought secretly, "This isn't the day for
this kind of work," but then every once in
a while we'd forget our fatigue and find a
special interest to build our enthusiasm
up again.
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Page 21
Photo by Paul Stoutenburgh
RED -EYED VIREO - -Often heard but seldom seen, the red -eyed vireo is
a low nester that is found throughout Long Island's hardwood forests.
On one occasion a woodcock flew up
before me in a most unusual way.
Woodcock are game birds and leery of
man; when disturbed they usually fly off
like bullets. But this one deliberately
fluttered in the air, its feathers puffed out
making it appear twice its normal size. I
wanted to make sure I saw where she
flew from, as it was necessary to verify if
she had young for the breeding bird
census. I knew this was part of her act of
luring intruders away.
A short distance away she dropped to
the forest floor, dragging her wing and
making a commotion that would
normally draw Mr. Fox or any other
intruder away from the nest. This was
the famous broken wing act and so I
knew there had to be eggs or young
nearby. Searching diligently I finally
found them. Four perfectly camouflaged
tiny young. They were just about a day or
so old and I am sure they could all easily
have fit into my hand. Needless to say, I
didn't touch them and left them where
they were, frozen to the leafy ground.
Barbara and I looked over them in
amazement.
About 2:30 the heat in the woods,
without benefit of any breeze, was just
too much so we headed for the water. In
we walked, shoes, pants and all, and
stood there in the cool water and breeze
letting the temperature of our bodies cool
down. That it did. We decided right then
and there the day's work had ended. We
headed back to where the boat was tied
up, walking all the way in the water.
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Putting Food on the Table
Later in the afternoon, as the sun
lowered and the temperature cooled
down, I hopped into the dinghy and with
my light fishing pole headed out to see if I
could get some fish for dinner. I noticed
some gill nets offshore which meant
there had to be fish about, and sure
enough, after about 20 minutes of
trolling, I hooked into a nice -size
bluefish. That's all I wanted, so I headed
back. At the dock I filleted it and we had
bluefish for dinner along with a fresh
salad, and to top it all off, a bottle of
sparkling wine our kids had given us for
just such an occasion.
We sat there under an almost full moon
as night herons flew by and a cool breeze
off the water made us think how well off
we were and how we should appreciate
every day such as this. No one was
around. We were by ourselves. Count our
blessings we did that night for the good
life that makes each day such as this
something special.
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