Cuttyhunk Island

I don’t want to throw my shoulder out patting myself on the back or anything, but I’m a noticeably better sailor as my time here in Newport goes along. This past weekend I sailed over to Cuttyhunk Island. Cuttyhunk is a tiny island about 30 miles or so from my home berth in Portsmouth. It is the western-most of the Elizabeth Islands and is not too far away from Martha’s Vineyard.

The yacht club on base (Coaster’s Harbor Navy Yacht Club) had planned a group trip down there, which meant I’d have access to a tender to get ashore, so I went. Cuttyhunk does not have much in the way of facilities, to include the total lack of a launch service so on any other weekend I’d have to swim back and forth from shore.

I left just after 6AM and drove south until Brenton Point. The wind was directly from the south and the tide was coming in so rather than take all day just to get out into the sound, I drove. The bad part about going someplace when you only have 2 days to get there and back is that you run the motor more than you want to.

Island house in Narragansett Bay. I love this thing and take about a dozen pictures of it whenever I go past.

The way to know I’m getting better at sailing is that I’m starting to get a feel for how to trim my sails reasonably well. On my way from Newport to Cuttyhunk, I had them trimmed perfectly. I didn’t even touch the wheel for about 3 hours, the boat just drove itself (not easy to do without a wind vane or auto pilot).

I try to make sure that I don’t give a false impression to Grete. I constantly talk about how hard traveling with our kids will be. How uncomfortable and scary it will be, etc. But, sometimes it will be magical. Sitting on the deck of my boat headed to the island, the only thing that could have made it better would be to have Grete and the kids with me. Well, and maybe Dolly Parton circa 1985.

Once I got near the western edge of Cuttyhunk, I landed in some thick fog with about 100 feet of visibility. The wind also died out. So, I doused sail and fired up the diesel. I drove the rest of the way into the harbor.

Cuttyhunk Island, just after breaking through the fog, who’s remnants can be seen on the right edge of the frame.

Once I got into the harbor the fog rolled back in and visibility again dropped to about 100 feet. The harbor is not incredibly well dredged and I bumped something on my way in. My boat had enough momentum to slide past whatever it was though, so no harm done.

I got on a town mooring and waited for a lift to shore from the yacht club tender so I could go walk around and explore.

Viewing platform

Cuttyhunk Harbor

The island is quite small and has a lot of private property that prevents you from being able to get to certain places, but there are a few miles of hiking trails and roads with some cool and quirky things to see.

The sassiest fire hydrant ever

End of the road, for me at least

The harbor was really lively with tons of cruising families and older couples. I think you could have a very good time here for a few days with a row boat just going around meeting people and splashing ashore.

Mooring grounds on a sunny afternoon

A bee jumped aboard my boat in Newport and decided to come along for the ride. Then, right before we pulled in to the mooring, he flew up my shirt and got stuck. In a panic, he stung me and subsequently died. He was buried at sea as a true explorer should be.

Dead bee

When I say that Cuttyhunk doesn’t have a lot of things, I mean it. Here’s a shot of downtown during the mid-day rush.

Downtown Gosnold

Sunset at the mooring yard

Full moon rising

The way home was pretty much a repeat of the way out. I motored into the wind for a couple of hours and then the wind shifted and I was able to sail in at a good clip for the last several hours.

I can say that either the references I’ve seen are all wrong, or I’m the only guy in Newport who understands the right-of-way rules for sailing because several folks tried to run into me the whole way up the Narragansett.

Made it home safe, sweaty, and tired. A bit better at sailing, a bit more understanding of the discomforts of time a-sea, and a bit more excited for adventures to come.

Just off Brenton Point

Naval War College – Almost home