1998 Sail From East Hampton To Nantucket & New Bedford

Left 12:30 the night was mosquito and we left. Past the harbor opening at 11:23. North winds hurt us but the stars! Shooting stars. Then a beam reach to 1G1 We looked back to our arbor Morse code a .- with a green and then red light on the right. Over to the left is a tall tower with. Making 4 knots. Paul brought out his gps. 1:56 Position 41:05.5 71:11.6 Risk going over to the Ruins. Its 4 miles away. Arrived at Block Island 8:39am. North Northeast winds 10 kts. Sparing clouds to clearing. Irene noticed that we were passing Block and mentioned that George wanted to stop and have breakfast at the airport. $20 minimum and we left Paul & Irene at the boat. The planes launched themselves in succession as we eat breakfast at the airports little restaurant. After making the rounds at the ships chandlery and the liquor store we installed the new digital compass. Off to Nantucket at 1:30pm. Irene was trying to get some sleep as Paul snoozed in the v berth. Finally just East of Block Island, We had gone around the Southern side, Paul got up and came alive. Now it was 3:02 and we were on a direct course to Nantucket. No Man's Island on the West South corner of Martha's Vineyard. It was 35 miles to Musketgut Cut. 5:36pm sunset of 8:15pm, Just past quarter, Moon coming out of Libra going in to Scorpio. Irene is resting comfortably in the sling bed. So named because the open side has a canvas sling that ties up above. When the boat healed over on the other gunnels you are kept from sudden disaster by the canvas. After my first stab at scrimshaw I immediately put the ivory in salt water to soften it and went to sleep only to be waken by the cry of, "Whale." Well it was big and taking the tiller looped around to circle it many times. It was very large almost circular. Huge fins seemed to come out of its top and bottom with the rear fin almost seeming to be horizontal. It was five feet circular vertically if you could call it vertical. The fish always seemed to be laying on its side. Only a little piece of its top fin would stick out of the water making all that saw it yell, "whale." I am sure I saw several of these fish called sunfishes instead of any whales. You could it was ugly looking with gray skin and pieces of pink showing where a condition exited. Its mouth was huge to go with its almost six hundred pound weight. Round and looking like a coral eater. Heretofore I had seen the mysterious fin of the sunfish sticking out of the water at least three times since East Hampton. The fish likes 68 degree water and probably eats seaweed which we saw much over. The weed looked appetizing enough with its bright yellow green color. Many time little fish and turtles live in the bobbing grass so I imagine the sunfish ate then to. Sort of a complete meal just flowing along. The only thing disturbing about the sunfish is its name. With a grotest ugliness that defies description how could it be called a sunfish, a name that conjures up bathing beauty and sleek appealing looks. This fish had one hideous eye and a puffy mouth like a big sucker. Pinkish streaks lined its back the effect of sunburn where the skin had been damaged, maybe by boats, and then the raw flesh was burned. 4:27 Nantucket after a peaceful glide in to town. The crew made me go below for an extended sleep so I could get up at 2:30 and take over. Paul was still up navigating us masterfully through the calm straits of Musketgut Cut. We were well into Nantucket Sound when I learned our position. It seems as though the crew was hell bent on getting me below for sleep just when things were getting exciting. I heard music and laughter as I dosed but the dosing was superb. We found no slips by the gas dock so we juried rigged the boat to the dock and I slipped off to discover a real slip. I found one by the handicapped rest room and we moored over to it arriving at 5:40am. Paul went for a walk and I dried some of Irene's clothes. The day was quite wonderful. Paul and I moved the boat over to a better slip near the handicap bathroom. The dock master strolled on by around 6am.I nodded from the cockpit and he saw me and nodded back. We were in a permanent slip around noon moored across from a 150ft ship called the Silver Shalish. The folks were nice but when a couple walked by took a look at the floating palace then glanced over to our craft and said now that's a boat it make us wonder what was really important. In many ways it was like living in the cottage apartment above the garage next to about twenty roaming mansions. We were all piled on top of one another, servant and master, tourist and dock workers all living together in harmony of Nantucket. By noon we were at Paul's and by 12:30 we were taking a nap. I had been up since 2:30 and it was showing. Irene always enjoys a little siesta after noon so we both sleep till 2:30. Paul has a wonderful saltbox mansion with three floors and a full basement. One apartment and one guests room where we were. Paul is a most excellent traditional artist and could have taught me all I know about art. His companion Jim is really the boss and he enjoys Pauls career as an artist always ready with a new idea or better way of doing business. That night we caught up and went to early sleep. Waking up at ten was very nice and after a simple breakfast and survey of the repair work I wanted to do around the house we went to see Irma Anapol. A wonderful lively talk we had as she offered her North Dartmouth home to us while we were in New Bedford. She suggested we see the movie "Down to the Sea," with Richard Whitmark it was made there in the sixties. Irene and I spent most of the day looking around for Scrimshaw kits and scrimshaw material. We found some at the Hospital Thrift Store. Several pieces of cutlery with white simulated bone handles. Later we were at the Whaling museum admiring the scrimshaw collection which seems to be unbounded. They are all displayed in a walk-up little glassed in room that is climate controlled. Many portraits of sea captains adorn the walls where the display cases are. They even have a set of tools. The big event though was stopping by the Scrimshaw Shop. There Mr. Viennene, a local Nantucketer, worked and displayed his wears. Huge jawbones were covered with scrawl. The young man with a complexion like a sun worn seaman was quite when he spoke about my questions. As I was leaving I poke around the front desk and saw the little alcove where he worked. The clean as a pin gallery was transformed in the turn of a step into a tool controlling command center. In front of the well wore stool was the two shot bags and leather pad that held the work. Aside from it were any number of small tools. A special hand made one was several needles splayed out of a clear green rubber. The tool was used for stippling several dots at a time. One reoccurring theme about creating scrimshaw was to work the tool with two hands. One hand to move the tool and the other to steady the tool. The work needed to be held with sticky paper. Once the tooth is polished it will not accept ink so it is easy to have the minute lines of the scrimshawing so up easily. Today the fine scrimshaw is easily advanced engraving on the highest order. Maybe the easy going primitive nature of the original scrimshaw would be welcomed. The scenes described would have to very personal. Tuesday slipped by with Irene napping and going to the beach while I did some repair work for Paul and wondering around the town talking art with the players. While in Kathleen Knight's Gallery a another dealer came in at the started into a typical dealer banter. She had a Tarbell on display, a highly desirable collectors piece, and he say he had two in his attic that were his father's. But the woman who wrote the book on Tarbell was right there and inquired about there names. Well he said that they were double figured painting, highly desirable, and he could never sell them for they belonged to his grandfather. He added that he only had to sell one in the collection to finance his college. The girls debated whether the education was worth the painting today. Another lady with a huge poodle came up the stairs and the local expert pardoned herself from out conversation to talk to her by saying," Excuse me I must speak with the important client." The talk, blond, tanned woman with poodle could only talk about her dear dogs bout with dead after she ate some rat poison. It seems the gardener placed some poison around after seeing rat along the waterfront. "That's where rats live." the fine woman patron said, as though any dummy would know that and not do a thing about it. Well after two days the dog recovered and now they will not have to move off Nantucket. Inside Kathleen's gallery after having walked upstairs you see real a museum. All the paintings are documented and displayed in the finest manner. A large bin hold the work of Robert Perrin longtime old Nantucket painter who Kathleen has taken under her wing. He cries a lot now not being able to do anything that he thinks of. Confined to at least his home with fond visits from Kathleen every morning and night sometimes including noon. In the old days he was a common fixture on the streets. His manner was completely unique. Now he has a angle taking care of him. Elsewhere around the gallery especially on the back wall are the modern artists. Each one with lots of potential the sometimes needs a little hand holding. But on the other side are the finest available realists paintings in the world. Along side of the Tarbell was a oil Audubon, amazing in its excellence. The normal sad story comes with all these public sales, a family divorcing and the painting cannot be cut up. I learned to see the qualities of all the painters of the gallery. I'm trying to formulate a theory while walking from Tom Dunlay, street painter to Paul Ausquat to William Welch, street painters. My current theory of painting: Exacting reality while depending upon the application technique to tell the loving story of a women's life, is still to be tested. My scrimshaw designs would be a good way to apply my new the 10:30 we are off. Motoring on a smooth sea. 311 our course off the Nantucket Bell. Just passing between many houses plus airport Tuckernuck Island and two house Musketgut Island. 1:08pm off Cape Poge, Martha's Vineyard. Calm, quiet waters only disturbed by our droning engine. Eye spliced and whipped the ends of a dock line. Navigating by dead reckoning, LORAN & GPS. Water not potable. Haze, cumulus & cirrus clouds almost shade us and we hid under our hats & steadying main sail. Winds light from the North North West. Irene, George & sleeping in their V berth Tom are in high spirits, even got a call from Germany. 1:48 Squash Meadow has a green and red bell. Just below East Chop. Winds light from West West North. 2:44pm just East of Woods Hole, SE 10kts, 10 NE to SW 1-3ft seas High Tide Boston Harbor 10:05pm High Tide Hyannis 10:57am 11:08pm Roade Island 6:42pm ENE winds 10-15kts, 3-5ft seas, barometer 30.0 inches, 79 degrees, Thursday fair, Showers Sunday, High Pressure through Thursday. ENE 10kts Grand Banks. 6:19pm moored at Captain Leroy's between New Bedford & Fairhaven. I think we spoke to Captain Leroy. Irene certainly spoke to his grandmother who lives upstairs of Leroy. Leroy was a well leathered man. His day fishing boat could handle up to fifty people easily with benches all around the outside and space inside to get out of the weather. Leroy was most helpful and wanted us to ask for anything if we need too. It almost seemed like we were in Portugal. His looks with his round face and compact body made him seem at one with the sea. Tied up next to the day fisher was a very large lobster boat that had the looks of a dead rise, with its low gunnels and wide spacious deck. All painted white with a covered area up front with he wheel. The young man who helped us initially was gathering and setting lines on the lobster boat. His was a body rippled with virility and tan. His ruddy face and lopsided teeth or jaw blended well with his thin demeanor and stalk of sun bleached hair growing straight up and out in directions more like a Calvin Klein ad. We saw no sign of the New Bedford Yacht Club. A traditional carved and painted side board sign proclaiming its whereabouts nearby. Actually it was posted on the eaves of the porch that came off the back of Leroy's home serving to invite the slip owners to come in and use the facilities and talk to grandma Leroy. The harbor had about spaces for sixty boats and about four fifths were taken. Just off to the side of the basin was a small park with a huge bronze statue commemorating something that looked like a character out of a Spielberg movie of Disney film. In front was a mother and her two boys. They couldn't have been much younger than 5 & 6. One caught a fish and pulled it out of the water swinging it to Mom like she knew what was the next step now that he had something on his line. We sat on the fantail of the defiant wondering where the father was and other mysteries you conjure up while watching a placid scene as this with all the world at peace. We ate at Mike's Restaurant where we had to carry out most of the huge portions of raw meat they served. Our meal was well worth the fifty minute wait. The boys took a good portion of their meat home with them. The whole meal at Mike's was half a Nantucket meal and twice as much was served. It was the best place we had been to yet although we paste up the Huddleson House & told not to go to Dorothy Cox's Candy because thin people check in and fat people check out. At 10:27pm settled in at the Anapols. Mrs. Ayce Mendes welcome us and gave a quick tour of the place. We both crashed and woke up to a wonderful home and the windmill. During the sixties the kids talked Mr. Anapol into investing into a wind mill. And what a wind mill it is rising up a hundred feet and with three blades looking like a prop of spaceship earth. Irene had to take picture of me making a deal on the telephone while placidly laid out in a king size bed surround in lavish light French decor. The taxi driver Tomorrow is the whaling museum and then Union Street national 37 union seabreeze like slease breeze Whaling Museum tells the movie history of Moby Dick. In 1930 John Barrymore was Ismale in Moby Dick, courtesy of Elliot Kriegsman. Captain Ahab was just like Captain William Swain who was fastened to a whale and carried overboard on May 19th, 1844. There is also a Dell Movie Classic Comic book along with several other comic books Classics Illustrated No. 5 with three different covers and a smaller version. Also a French Comic book hardcover. Irwin Marks, 1122 Main St.; Acushnet, MA 02743 508-763-2488. http//:www.whalingmuseum.crg: would know about a available 1930 movie and Mad comic book. Also The Sea Beast with John Barrymore Dolores Costello George O'Hara Directed by Millard Webb Warner Bros. John Huston's 1956 version. Photo of Melville from Harvard? Bettmann Archive, shows him seated in a heavy arm chair, black coat almost his shoes show, he has a beard and the detail in the face is the best I have seen. Participating in a focus group about the museum. Are museums to shed their elitist stigma of old collections and experts to a family educational amusement. Sounds. smell, food, candles burning, sharp tools, living in the foushole, riding in a whaleboat were suggested. Whale Tales a Scrimshaw Shop owner tells us the "Astounding Tales of the Sea" by Edward Rowe Snow, Dad Mead was called the flying Santa Claus dropping gifts on Christmas at the light house. Captain Louis Albert Doucette was the owner of the fantastic shop. His grandfather was a fisherman and taught his father and then following his son. The son left fishing when a container ship rammed the fishing boat he was one nearly taking the port side of the stern off. The Coast Guard flew out several pumps and they were able to abate the tremendous water entering the ship. They made it back into harbor and Louis never went to sea again. They are buying back the boats now the fishing is getting so bad. In the old days they could take 100,000 of sea scallops now only 60,000 are hauled in if that. The art museum paid homage to Fredrick Douglas who lived here for several years. The rest of the museum was full of African American art depicting the struggle of slavery and slavery. A lengthy series of works by Jacob Lawrence illustrated in the crudest way the story. The refurbished library was just being moved into. Later The Beans played old sailing songs in the whale man's courtyard beside the Visitors Center. The lead sailor singer was a round faced dark haired man with mustache. He seemed the quintessential sailor in Portuguese looks. The madam with her colorful dress and bonnet played the dulcimer was the sailors wife. The other guitar player had the distinction of a real salt. A flat face crowded with his features down low as his pony tail hung down to balance the off center load. A old spiritual went "Take me in your life boat. Oh Take me in your life boat is there room in the life boat to save us from this wicked sea." Slocum from New Bedford sailed around the world alone in an oyster boat in three years, his song went, "All aboard the Spray all alone I sail all those lonely days my flags furled I will prevail I will regale myself around this world all away around this world." An old sea shanty went: "Go down you blood red roses go down, Were bound our way around the horn Go down you blood red roses go down, Oh you pigs and poises, Go down you blood red roses go down, Oh the rocking chair is the call, Go down you blood red roses go down, Just one more call and that will do, Go down you blood red roses go down, With a buck horse to get her through, Go down you blood red roses go down. The lecture happened next. Inside Mrs. Forbes told the tail of her great grandfathers involvement in the China Trade. Ships would procure opium from Turkey and sell it in Canton Harbor for silver before meeting with China Customs. Forbes would amass tens of thousands of dollars collecting $5 commission on a chest of opium. In turn the ship would buy goods for silver since the Chinese needed nothing from the ships. Mrs. Forbes Kerr alluded to the disgusting behavior of her great great grandfather. What foul business dealings are going on right now that will be considered gross abuse of humans in the future along with a collection of letters from a wife and a ruthless, self aggrandizing, unscrupulous capitalist husband. She has his love for puns does she also have the debilitating societal manners? Miss Alyce was kind enough to take us back to the boat after several stops. She is talkative blue hair lady with a Nantucket accent. Her great great grandfather was a whaler. Her mother had one thing that was a stand with a elephant's tusk on it a and her son sold it. She was raised in Nantucket but is living next to all her family in Dartmouth. Little red poodle Lucky keeps her company. She rambles on in the most amusing way avoiding hitting a car here and burning up Joel's car in the garage there. She raised two large families her and the Anapols especially being close to the youngest Hillary. The Anapol North Dartmouth home is like a converted barn with the three children's room upstairs and the master and guest downstairs with a huge great room and spacious kitchen. The decor is elegant Palm Beach with green shag carpet and white French furniture mixed with modern futuristic fixtures. Joel's factory produces suits and sport jacket sold at Gentlemen's Warehouse, In the old days when all the schools had uniform Joel made most of them. The trend to casual has diminished the need for tailored clothes. Hillary weaves in the Nantucket tradition, Jonathon sells real estate in Manhattan and Suzy lives in California creating perfume and bath salt lines. 12:30pm saw us leave New Bedford after filling the oil with half quart. Sandwiches for all round steak for the men and turkey for the lady. 62 miles to the ruins off Gardiners Bay. Ten hours at the speed of the motor. Wind ahead of us out of the Southeast. Maybe by late night the wind would be favorable. Dinner in Block Island is on the mind of all otherwise we would make East Hampton by midnight of the almost full moon. Our crew started out as five. Our navigator ran off with a Inuit Indian that was living and working as a house painter in the harbor at a mooring. She was a little thing all smiley and happy. Tan dark hair and deep dark happy eyes. She was quite beautiful and petite. We only met her briefly on the dock when Ara, Irene and I were heading back to the boat having not been there since spending the night in Paul's extra bed room off his front door. George, the captain and master was in constant contact with his girlfriend in Germany. She was to be here in eight days staying two weeks. George himself said they would be back here in ten days. 3:06 Buzzards Light. Clam some clouds from two different fronts. Southwest wind which is very rare since the wind comes always from the west. The lights noise is new too and high pitch digital sound. 4:02 under sail. Motor up. 4:46pm, 4.6kts toward our heading. High Tide :41 after Midnight in Hyannis, 11:38pm Boston Harbor, Southeast winds 10kts. Tonight E 10kts, Seas 1-3 ft. Dew Point 67 degrees, 39% humidity, 30.29 inches & steady, 81Degrees, Patchy fog & muggy tonight, Warm & humid. 5:17pm We caught a fish just like the last one a little bigger at 20 inches. Irene heard the drag of the reel and I brought it in and release it sans hook. 41:20.02 71:23.33 6:16pm Off Newport and seeing Block Island. 8:49 moored by Huges Dock Block Island. Made it to Dick's by 9:34. Had to take the launch in and carry Tom about hundred feet. Tom thinks his ribs have been bruised. 11:01 leaving Block Island. 6:19am just closing everything down for the crew to have a little nap while berthed at our home port. George took the first three hours and I took the second. Irene was a big help in spotting a buoy above Montauk. Tom sleep all the night I hope he has recovered from his bruised ribs. I put a blanket over him and as I came up we were headed straight for and within 75 feet of the light at Three Mile Harbor. 7:00am tried to get a nap. Breakfast sandwiches for everyone and then it was to the rigging hoisting George up the mast to replace a light bulb and then splicing the eye on a man over board buoy. We changed the oil in the motor & I signed the cushion I drew a girl skull with crossed smitars. Captain Hataway by Louis Silva painting in Irma Home Brownie, Paynes Dock Block Island 401-466-5572 Spencer called at 6:01. He has a check for George from the recon company. Corrections on Monday. Happy Birthday to you. Check your messages. George's Mobile 917-544-8610 Groceries: M&M's, salad, turkey, chicken, cheese, grey coupon, mayonnaise, New Bedford 508 Captain Leroy's 195E to Fairhaven Exit onto Rt240 then take rt at Mutual Gas Station, Towncab 999-0003 Titcomb's Bookshop 1-800-649-2331 Whaling City Collectables 999-3040 Old Dartmouth Historical Society; Whaling Museum 18 Johnny Cake Hill; New Bedford MA 02740