Stranger things have happened

May 2023

By Marilyn Pond Brigham

Last year’s sailing season, on the heels of two very odd ones during the height of the pandemic, started out as every other – with great anticipation and promise. In the off-season my co-captain/spouse Paul had new Raymarine equipment installed on Selkie, our Catalina 445, including a new wind indicator and wiring running up Selkie’s mast. The appointed launch date came in May, and Selkie was all prepped by the yard and ready for splashdown with the day’s high tide. Selkie had been loaded onto the large hauler and the hauler’s engine was humming.

PWe picked up a hitchhiking sparrow during a passage between Provincetown and Gloucester. hoto by Marilyn Pond Brigham

When our mast came off the yard’s stand, high above the ground, it was discovered that squirrels had built a nest inside it. Mother and father squirrel had chewed their way through the plastic covering the mast’s opening, which had been stuffed with rags and secured with plastic, tape and rope. Apparently, they’d found it warm, cozy and dry inside the mast, and set up house. They’d also found the plastic coating on all those new, expensive wires to be quite appealing. They’d chewed them all back several inches, exposing the wires. The guys in the yard, undaunted, worked feverously to make things right. Lots of cutting and splicing and taping ensued, and we launched that day with plenty of water. But what a nuisance! Luckily, the squirrels didn’t bite the guys on their quick departure out of the mast.

The wind indicator worked for the season’s initial cruise to Nantucket, but only sporadically. Despite several on-board visits by electronics experts, the wires proved to be too damaged to function properly and couldn’t be repaired without unstepping the mast. Throughout the sailing season, on the days the wind indicator did inexplicably work, we’d yelp with glee and convince ourselves it was fixed. But the next sail it wouldn’t work at all. We gave up. We were left to our own devices to figure out wind direction and velocity.

Many Points East readers are familiar with Chris Birch, who has a column in this magazine. Chris brought the first of two surprising happenstances to us. Chris, in his prior life as proprietor extraordinaire of Birch Marine at Boston Waterboat Marina, had done repair and installations on our previous boat, Toujours. He and his wife set out early last summer on their grand adventure of living full-time on their boat. One of their first points of call was Cuttyhunk Island.

Chris sent me a cheery June email entitled “Familiar Boat in Cuttyhunk.” It contained a photo of Toujours moored in Cuttyhunk Harbor, a crew of handsome sailors in her cockpit, presumably consuming wine and oysters on the half shell. Small world, eh?

We had traded Toujours for Selkie in 2016, and the broker led us to believe her new owners were female and lived in southern Connecticut. As I scrutinized his photo, why did there appear to be an all-male crew?

Well, unbelievably, we saw Toujours ourselves. We cruised by her in the West Passage of Narragansett Bay in August. It was bittersweet to see her again. We had put a lot of ourselves into making the boat a lovely cruising vessel, and we were happy to see her out and about. She was looking good and sailing along smartly. Hey, new owner of Toujours – if you are reading this and want to know why things are the way they are on the boat give me a shout!

We did have several great cruises last season, and Selkie took us on some wonderful adventures. One passage was from Provincetown to Gloucester. It was an adventure, all right. The day was overcast in Provincetown when we left bright and early. But by mid-Massachusetts Bay things got a little ugly. Rain, wind, fog and high waves.

As Eastern Point (Gloucester) became the next waypoint, we picked up a hitchhiker. By the time we reached the North Shore, the rain and fog had cleared. From miles out until we rounded the breakwater to our guest mooring at Eastern Point Yacht Club, a little sparrow clung to our dodger. The poor thing must have been very tired, as once it landed on Selkie, it appeared to take a nap. And I had to shoo it away when I went forward to grab the mooring. Hopefully, the little bird was happy to be ashore. Only one other time has that happened to us – a windblown goldfinch hitched a ride from Chappaquiddick Island almost all the way to Nantucket.

At the end of our sailing season, we were to sail back to Quissett Harbor (Falmouth, Mass.), our homeport. We had planned a leisurely cruise from Winthrop to Hingham, then to Scituate, Sandwich and through the Canal to Falmouth. It was late September and the weather had been uncooperative the weekend before, so this was it. The appointed day came to leave Winthrop and we sailed to Hingham with fair winds and blue skies and had a great time at the Hingham Shipyard Marinas. The following day was not promising, and the idea of hanging out on a mooring in Scituate in foul weather was not appealing. Worse than that, the day after that was forecast to be even worse – high seas, high winds, rain. So, we made the decision to go for homeport in one day. One long day in the rain. By early evening we’d made it to Quissett. As our mooring is located at the mouth of the harbor, we thought we’d grab another mooring further in the inner harbor for a bit more protection from the blow. We took a mooring of another yachtsman we knew who had a boat like ours and had already left for the season. We felt relieved to be tied up safely in Quissett. What we hadn’t known was the mooring we snagged had recently dragged that boat into a precarious situation. And we were now on it. We got a call the next day from the harbormaster, who was on high-alert with the storm conditions. Noticing we were on that mooring, we were instructed to move our boat as soon as possible and were given another mooring further into the harbor. No rest for the weary, we were out in the rain and 30 knot winds moving Selkie to the other mooring. Not fun, but we did it. Except those mooring lines were too big to go through the chocks on our boat. The mooring line was around the cleat, but not secured. As I called out to Paul to come to the bow to help me, the mooring line jammed two of my fingers between the combing and the taut line. It was painful, but I was determined not to let go. Paul took over on the bow and I went below to try to assess the damage to my fingers. Just “lucky” they only turned black and blue.

Our last “Now what?” experience occurred at a place familiar to us. We’d kept all three of our boats at one yard in Chatham, Mass., over a period of 18 years. Selkie was to be hauled out at this yard last year in October, plans that were confirmed by the yard late in the season.

Just a few days before we’d be calling it quits for the season, Paul received a call from the yard’s owner, who cancelled our haul out, having sold his big rig to someone who planned to take it to Florida for salvage work post-Hurricane Ian. He said he was out of the “big boat” business. We were left speechless and “high and dry,” which, of course, we were not. We were astounded and shocked.

Suddenly, we had no idea where we’d go to have our 45-foot boat hauled and stored for the winter. In those following days, we called every Cape Cod boatyard from Chatham to Falmouth to Bourne. As I explained to my non-sailing friends, this was like making reservations for brunch the day before Mother’s Day for a party of 10.

Our 45-foot boat has a wide beam and a six-foot draft; ideally it is hauled by a Travelift. The yards we called couldn’t do it. The days got shorter and cooler. There was another hurricane coming our way. Some places had room in their yard but couldn’t get our boat out of the water. Others could do both but were prohibitively expensive. Most yards were full. Phone calls and messages went unanswered.

With Cape yards fully booked, we started calling out of state. Still, no one had room. Paul had called Cape Yachts in Padanaram (South Dartmouth), which initially seemed to have potential. It was now early October and the fellow who was supposed to call Paul back had not. Not being able to stand the suspense, I called Cape Yachts and spoke with a nice receptionist who put me through to another associate. I broke into tears explaining our predicament. Since I couldn’t compose myself, I handed my cellphone to Paul. We were in luck – they could accommodate us! What an incredible relief. We sailed her across Buzzards Bay on a beautiful, crisp fall day about a week or so later. Juan was there to welcome us at the slip. I’d never met Juan, but asked if I could give him a big hug of thanks.

So, here’s hoping we’ve had all the “surprises” we’ve deserved. We’re sick of nuisance, panic and shock. Here’s hoping that this season we’ll have more serendipity and “carefree” sail days. We have no reason to doubt it.

Marilyn Brigham and her co-captain/spouse Paul sail Selkie out of Quissett Harbor, Falmouth, Mass. She is a lifelong sailor and a current member of both the Quissett and Cottage Park Yacht Clubs.