Ocotber 08, 1981 - 'Holed Up' at Fishers IslandSecond Section
October 8, 1981
Holed Up' at Fishers Island
I've never been shipwreaked on an
island but last weekend during that strong
northwest wind my wife and I, along with
friends in another sailboat, were "holed
up" in Eel Harbor, Fishers Island. Our
plan had been to head home before a big
cold front that was predicted moved in. We
knew that would bring high winds and cold
temperatures to the area and we wanted to
get back through the treacherous rips that
run between Block Island Sound and our
own Long Island Sound before it arrived.
For days we had enjoyed mild weather
and fair wind. We had visited the char-
ming seaport town of Stonington, Conn.,
and were anchored outside of legendary
Mystic Seaport when we decided to make
our run before the high winds arrived. We
had waited too long, for as our two boats
headed out of the harbor a wind started to
ripple across the bay. By the time we were
opposite North Dumpling Island off
Fishers we knew we had better seek
shelter somewhere. The wind had now
picked up to 35 to 40 mph and the predic-
tion was to last all day and all night. We all
love sailing but it's no fun out there under
those conditions.
A year ago we visited Fishers Island, the
most easterly part of Southold Town, for a
leisurely and enjoyable weekend. It's a
beautiful place, but one not too suited to
tourism. We had traveled by bikes and
stayed over at the only hotel on the island,
the Pequot. We had friends there and so
when our "any port in a storm" situation
came along we headed into the narrow
passage that separated the wind blown sea
from the quiet waters of the inner Eel
Harbor. It surely was a snug and quiet
place to hole up.
Winds Continue to Blow
The Coast Guard that had been stationed
there during the summer had left. So
under the circumstances we tied up at
their dock. After all, we figured it would
only be over night. All through the night
the wind howled in the rigging and our
boats tugged at their dock lines. The sky
was clear and the stars sparkled
brilliantly when I checked the groaning
lines at 3 a.m. We had asked if the Coast
Guard would be using the dock and were
told they were pretty well closed up for the
season. But at 7 the next morning the
roar of powerful engines woke us up and
before we could get out there were foot-
steps along the bulkhead as the men tied
up their boat. What to do? We were in their
spot. So bleary -eyed I stepped out and told
them our situation. Hardly acknowledging
it they said it was okay, they were only in
to pick up some old boats with radar
reflectors for a training mission. Wind and
high seas didn't slow them down and soon
they were off through bursts of spray and
h
spume r Block Island Sound.
pu headed fo
Since we were up we decided we might
as well all eat breakfast and talk over our
plans for the day. Surely we couldn't go out
through the Race with this howling
weather. We'd spend the day here. So it
went, first one day, then the next, until the
third day came and we decided we had to
leave. Our friends had to be back to work
no matter what.
We really hadn't minded staying over.
We looked up an old friend, who invited us
all in for a scumptious meal, warm
showers and plenty of relaxation. During
the days we walked the lonely beaches in
SECOND SECTION Tbe
6tiffolh. Tunes OCTOBER 8, 1981
oled Up' at Fishers Island
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the lee of the island watching a superb
migration of hawks caused by the nor-
thwest wind.
N.W. Wind Spurs Hawk Migration
Whenever our wind blows in that quarter
for a few days in the fall we are sure to
have hawks moving out of the north. The
sleek hunters would mill around the
western end of the island until some in-
stinct told them to go and then half flying,
half soaring they would disappear across
the water headed for Long Island. Often
we'd see five or six hawks at a time milling
about, hunting and soaring on the strong
winds. The hawking was particularly good
opposite Race Light. There, the hawks had
to funnel down to a narrow point before
heading out over the water. The most
common was the small long - pointed wing
kestrel or sparrow hawk. Its charac-
teristic hovering, almost standing still in
the air, was its hallmark.
I've never seen so many sharp - tailed
hawks. Usually we see this small hawk
with short rounded wings and long tail
darting in and out of the woods, but seldom
in the open as they were here. We had
wonderful looks at them as they sailed by,
sometimes right low over our heads. Now
and then we'd see a marsh hawk swooping
down low over the open areas, his white
rump showing above his long tail. We even
saw ospreys flying through as they sailed
effortlessly westward. We couldn't get
enough of all the hawks that passed
through.
We walked the lonely beaches in the lee
of the wind. All along on the high tide mark
the seaside goldenrod bloomed in all its
glory and it was here that the Monarch
butterflies were congregated. Each
blossom had two or three orange and black
Monarchs feeding and resting. They, too,
were waiting for the wind to subside.
Monarchs Also Wait
Once it dropped off they would be off and
on their long journey south, traveling
along our shores, winding up who knows
where. I often wonder how such a frail
little creature, weighing less than a
feather, could get up enough courage to
make that awesome trip. I stopped to
photograph them as they fed on the
drooping heads of yellow.
As we walked along the south shore,
small flocks of shorebirds feeding and
resting waited
for the winds to
die down.
Then the sight of sights -- a lone golden
plover -- that legendary bird that was
almost wiped out during the early gunning
era before conservation measures were
enacted. How handsome! It typified all the
shorebirds as it stood at the edge of the
beach.
Probably most of the golden plovers that
started from the far north had swung way
over the ocean and were already halfway
down our coast on their migration to South
America. Something had happened and
this bird became separated. We pondered
its fate. We sat on the beach with
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and is seen occasionally. Photo by Paul Stoutenburgh
binoculars and could pick out the beautiful
mottled pattern and golden sheen on its
back. How stately it stood there!
Later, as we returned to the boat, we
passed nearby the school where we saw a
group of students with their science
teacher, Ed Horning, on a field trip. It was
a pleasant surprise to meet an old friend.
Later in the day he picked us up and took
us on a tour of the island with his young
Audubon group. How fortunate they are to
have someone as interested as he.
By now we had overstayed our time and
would leave in the morning. It was still
blowing hard when we got up but we
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wanted to catch the tide at slack water in
the Race around 7 and we were off early.
It was a rough crossing, one which we'll
all remember. Six days we had spent on
our little craft. It gave us an insight into a
newer world that few have the pleasure of
enjoying.
Life again had shown us that it's all out
there if you merely make the effort. At
home, secure at our anchorage, we talked
about our trip. The decision was let's do it
again next year. Ali, yes, but perhaps with
a little less wind.
PAUL STOUTENBURGII
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