I cast off the mooring at 0900 hours, heading for Cuttyhunk, the westernmost island of the Elizabeth Chain. The prevailing southwest wind at 15-plus knots didn’t disappoint. Set to a broad reach and pulling on all sails, That Good Night moved along at a steady eight knots. The sea conditions were a bit choppy but that only added to the joy of feeling this yacht perform at its best. We sailors call it having a bone in our teeth.
I made Cuttyhunk Island before noon. I could have kept going, but Cuttyhunk has always been close to my heart and I’d be damned if I would pass it by. I anchored outside the harbor to avoid another crowded mooring field, using my dinghy to visit the island for lunch and a good walk around. When I returned to the boat, there was another boat anchored nearby. A young woman was sitting on the foredeck busily talking on a cell phone. I caught her saying, “I did it. I did it all by myself. My first solo voyage. Anchoring and everything.”
I returned the dinghy to its davits and sat back in the cockpit with one of the books I had purchased in Annapolis, Robert Olmsted’s A Coal Black Horse. I started reading it back in Henlopen Harbor and was more than halfway through. It was a remarkable novel set in the time of the Civil War. I looked up to see the young woman looking over my way. I waved. She waved back.
She answered, “It is, quite remarkable.”
“What makes it remarkable?” I asked, wanting the conversation to grow.
“Oh,” she said, “it just is. I solo sailed all the way from the Sakonnet River.”
“Congratulations,” I replied.
“My husband encouraged me to go off on my own,” She said proudly.
“Good man,” I said, giving thumbs up.
“Yes, he is,” she said. A slight wind shift caused our boats to drift apart. “Have a good one,” she said. I waved a goodbye.
A sailor’s vignette. Actually, I had hoped to invite her over for dinner and some conversation, but decided that her solo sailing deserved a solo celebration.