December 03, 1987 - The Last Rough Ride Of AutumnThe Last
Rough Ride
Of Autumn
By PAUL STOUTENBURGH
We recently thought it was time to
take our boat out so we called the fel-
low who hauls it and made a date.
Years ago this would have been no
problem but today it's like going to
the doctor. You have to make an ap-
pointment not only with the hauler
but the yard as well. Should you miss
the date or time, you have to go
through the same procedure again.
As we watched the extended wea-
ther forecast things didn't look good.
A cold snap and even snow were pre-
dicted for our date of haul -out. Know-
ing the problem to get on the list,
Barbara and I thought it best to keep
the date in hopes of beating the wea-
ther. Ominous clouds started to roll
in and the wind picked up out of the
northeast but we had made the deci-
sion to move so packed up what was
needed and headed for the boat.
By the time we arrived the wind
was really blowing. Since the boat
Focus on
Nature
was offshore by a friend's house, we
asked for a lift in his inflatable boat.
This he obligingly did. The only prob-
lem was that rubber boats have a re-
latively low freeboard and we had let
Barbara in first to sit in the bow. She
took the brunt of the waves as they
came gushing over the tightly
stretched, black- rubber hull and
there was no way to change places
once under way. It didn't take long
though to see she wasn't the only one
getting wet. My friend and I soon
were sharing the waves with her. By
the time we reached the boat there
were at least two inches of icy cold
water slopping about in the bottom
of the rubber dinghy. Needless to
say, our start was slightly dampened
and chilled by our trip out.
More Fun Indoors
Once aboard the SeaWind we
could move about and feel a bit more
secure. We waved goodbye to our
hearty friend, who I'm sure was glad
to leave the cold and miserable wea-
ther and sneak back to the warmth
of his home and watch those crazy
Stoutenburghs from his window.
�� mug �� • -..,.
The Suffolk Times /December 3, 1987 /Page 9A
Photo by Paul Stoutenburgh
BOTTOM CLEANING - -One of the tasks made toms. Here you see high - pressure water blowing
easy by modern equipment is cleaning boat bot- slime and growth off a boat's bottom.
We'd given second thoughts to not
moving after the wet trip out but
knowing we'd have the wind with us
all the way and it would only be an
hour's sail, we stuck true to our
plans. The wind was so strong reef-
ing would have been called for if we
were going to use all our sail so we
decided to stick with the jenny and
save the bother of working with the
main.
We'd dressed warm but wet feet
and pants made us rather uncomfort-
able, particularly when you sat
down, so for me it was to be standing
all the way. It's always good practice
to start the auxiliary motor just to
know you have it in reserve even
though you plan on sailing. The only
problem is some diesels are anti -cold
and put up a real fuss.
To help with her cold start I'd
brought a bit of starter fluid to whiff
into the intake and this seemed to do
the trick. She coughed, knocked,
sputtered and died a few times but
finally with my breath steaming and
a few well chosen nautical terms she
slowly took off. I'm sure it resented
having to be started on such a cold
and dismal day but it did start and
as Barbara took the tiller and put the
boat in gear, we slowly moved up on
the anchor line.
We had anchored our boat in front
of our friends' house after we'd taken
our last trip and I must have had 50
feet of anchor line out just to be safe.
Now it came in, hand over hand, cold
and dripping as it coiled on deck
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below me. The long time the boat was
anchored and the strong winds had
buried the plow anchor deep into the
good - holding sandy bottom and now
was refusing to come up.
As each wave lifted us up and drop-
ped us in its valley, I took up on the
line. Slowly but surely we worked
the boat right over the deeply buried
anchor. The line was as tight as a
bow string. Waves would try to lift
the boat and her bow would be buried
in foam as I snubbed the line. Then
down it'd go and I'd gain four or five
more inches. The tension on the an-
chor line finally did the trick and out
she came. As I pulled the anchor up
and lifted it over to the bowsprit
where it was to be cradled I could see
some of the black- colored sand on its
flukes. That anchor never would
have pulled lose no matter how
strong the wind blew.
Some Dumbfounded Ducks
In no time the furling jenny ran
out and were barreling down bay.
Even with just the jenny we heeled
25 -30 degrees in the gusts that blew
out of the stormy northeast. We
traveled so fast and silently that we
came upon ducks that were
dumbfounded to see us. Oldsquaws in
their handsome black- and -white
winter plumage took off into the
wind from both sides of the boat as
we charged down bay. The little
horned grebes bounced from wave to
wave trying to get airborne. Some
did. Some didn't. Those that gave up,
dove and were lost in our wake as we
sped along.
As we approached the red buoy off
Nassau Point we scared up a dozen
or so common loons. Usually, like the
grebes, they too have difficulty get-
ting off the water but today one
bounce from atop a wave and they
were off.
We rounded the buoy and headed
on a broad reach for the shipyard. I
could see by now Barbara was freez-
ing. She sat huddled in the corner of
the cockpit out of the wind -- her feet
wiggling to restore circulation. By
now rain had started to fall and its
cold drops peppered the stormy sea
about us. I moved closer in to take
advantage of the dodger that Bar-
bara huddled under.
Outside Schoolhouse Creek we
started the motor, this time with no
hesitation because it had retained
some heat from the earlier start in
its huge cast -iron block. With the
jenny rolled in we putted into the
narrow channel. Once inside we were
told we were to be next after they
finished the boat they were hauling.
Once again we'd pushed ourselves
and made it. We got to appreciate
just a bit of how it must have been
years ago when sailing year -round
was routine. We also found out they
must have been pretty rugged people
in those early seafaring days and
perhaps we're lucky to have been
born when we were.
MBJ�
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