I wrote this as a Christmas tale for my kids in 2010, at the time my son Shane was 5 and my daughter Cate was 2, I read it to them before bed on Christmas Eve.
While they were still young enough to endure (possibly enjoy) my bullshit storytelling I wrote a couple of additional tales. There is a possibility that will share those tales during the next couple holiday seasons.
~
Kitty and the Snowman
At five Shane was a bit tall and scrawny, a healthy kid who could run all day and sleep hard all night. He referred to himself as Shirtless Shane. Even if there was a chill in the air, the first thing he would do as he was running out of Miss Sweeney’s kindergarten class into the waiting arms of one (or both) of his parents is take off his shirt and declaring “I’m Shirtless Shane”.
It did not matter who was meeting him after school his 2 year old sister Caitlin with her blond hair and big blue eyes was always there. She loved her big brother, her smile and the way she yelled his name “Ayne” never failed to delight Shane. Shane loved to call her Kitty, she would often run around meowing. At night when she slept, she almost sounded like a tiny kitten purring.
The last day of school before Christmas break was an especially blustery day. It was snowing lightly, but the cold wind was howling. The weather forecast was for an all out blizzard to start later that night and not stop until Christmas day. Three feet of snow was predicted.
That day Shane’s mommy did her usual bundling up of her and Kitty to walk to Shane’s school. Three jackets (at least one of them with a hood), long johns, two pair of gloves, two pair of socks, winter boots and big hats. It was a short walk, but with that howling wind, Shane’s mommy wanted to stay warm. Even with all of their preparations it was a very chilly walk. The bell rings at 2:15, they arrived just on time, which was great, they would not have to wait too long in the cold.
Miss Sweeney, standing at the door to the classroom would let the children leave as soon as she saw that their mommy or daddy was there to meet them. When Miss Sweeney noticed Shane’s mommy she pointed her out to Shane. Shane went running, like he always does, he tore of his winter coat, then his long sleeve shirt and finally he took off his tee shirt and started to say “I’m Shirtless Shane” but all of the words didn’t come out, he only got to “I’m Shirtless…” before stopping mid-sentence and mid-step.
At that moment Shane was turned into a SNOWMAN!
His mommy was freaking out. The wind was picking up and the snow was getting worse. Kitty was shivering and starting to cry. It was so cold and no one seemed to notice that Shane was now a popsicle. Miss Sweeney’s classroom door was shut, the lights were out. With the cold and snow all of the other parents were scattering off and disappearing into the haze of the snow.
Panicked now, Shane’s mommy was trying everything she could think of to save Shane. She tried picking him up, in an effort to move him to a warmer spot so that he could thaw out. However, he was just too heavy and with the accumulating snow he was getting heavier by the minute. She tried hugging him figuring that her body heat would melt him. That didn’t work, it only made Shane’s mommy even colder than she already was.
Kitty, still in her mothers arms, was kicking and screaming. Her mommy had no intention of letting her down, she feared that she would end up with two snow children. Kitty kept screaming the same thing over and over. It sounded like ERT, ERT, in a very high pitch. Her mommy had no idea what she was trying to say. She didn’t really even think about it, she just figured that Kitty was also freaking out.
She had to do something. Fortunately she had her cell phone with her, she called Shane’s daddy at his work, Shane’s daddy is usually very calm in stressful situations like this. Not this time, he too was freaking out, which only made things worse. He said he would get there as quick as he could and suggested to pour hot water over Shane in hopes that it would melt enough of the snow so that Shane’s mommy could carry him home and thaw him out in their cozy warm house. This plan backfired, by the time Shane’s mommy went home, with Kitty in her arms all the while screaming ERT, ERT, ERT. She fetched a bucket full of hot water and high-tailed it back to the school. By the time Shane’s mommy and sister got back to the school not only did Shane the Snowman almost double in size because of the now blizzard conditions, the bucket of hot water, with the freezing outdoor temperatures, had turned into a giant bucket of slush. Shane’s mom was out of ideas so she figured she would give it a shot anyway. She dumped this big bucket of slushy water over Shane’s head instantly turning Shane into an Icicleman, he was one big snowman shaped ice cube.
Shane’s mommy was now way beyond panic could do nothing but sob. Kitty was still screaming ERT, ERT, ERT. What happened next is still somewhat of mystery. Kitty with all of her kicking and screaming somehow escaped her mothers grasp and hit the ground running, immediately disappearing into the blizzard.
Her mommy, now gone wacko thinking she not only had an icicle for a son, she would not find her daughter before she suffered the same fate. She looked for her as much as she could but he snow drifts were now taller than Kitty. All she could do is stand next to her… uhm icicle Shane and hope that when his daddy got there he would be able to find Kitty save Shane. Every so often she thought she could here Kitty ERT, ERT, ERT, keeping her hope alive. Time passed, it seemed like an eternity ERT, ERT, ERT…
After what seemed like way too much time Kitty came into mommy’s view carrying something and still screaming ERT, ERT, ERT, mommy’s eyes full of tears took a few moments to figure out what Kitty was carrying. Finally she realized that Kitty was carrying Shane’s coat, long sleeve and shirt. Now she understood in Kitty’s two year old pronunciation ERT meant shirt. She was trying to tell her mommy to put Shane’s shirts on him to thaw him out.
Kitty’s mommy was doubtful that this would work but figured she had tried everything else, so why not. Fortunately, Shane liked his shirts very large, with his newfound snow and ice girth the shirts and coat would not have fit otherwise. Shane’s mommy slid his tee shirt over what was once his head. Nothing happened. She pulled his long sleeve on next. She thought she saw a little bit of thawing, like when you take lick of a popsicle and it gets shiny. She grabbed his coat, slid his icicle arms into the sleeves. That’s when she noticed a few drops ice melting. She tried to get the coat zipped up, but Shane was still to big. Kitty ran over and with all of her little might held the bottom of the coat together while her mommy held the top. Hoping that they could hold it together long enough, Shane the Icicle would become Shane the boy again. He was melting, it was working. Just a few minutes later mommy was able to get the zipper started. It was a slow process, but every little bit that mommy was able to zip up Shane would melt even faster. As they finally got the coat zipped all the way up Shane rapidly thawed the rest of the way.
When Shane and Kitty’s daddy finally arrived he was a bit confused, mommy was crying, Kitty was mumbling something about an ert and except looking a bit like an ice-cream cone in the August sun, Shane appeared fine.
After Shane thawed out he seemed to be the same happy kid he always, with one big exception, he no longer had any interest in being shirtless. From that day on he was never again seen with out a shirt on. If he had to change his shirt he would put one on over the one he had on and somehow slip the one he had on under it off, like how you sometimes see girls do it. He would wear a shirt on the beach, in pools and even in the shower.
Christmas was only a few days after Shane’s thawing out, the only Christmas presents that Shane wanted was shirts and lots of them.
The End
Kitty and a Snowman circa 2015
The tales of an urban snowman may be another tale to tell.
In January of 2024, I was skiing at Cannon Mountain in New Hampshire with my son Shane when I took this photo. It was kind of a crappy ski day, below the clouds it was raining, in the clouds you couldn’t see 20 feet in front of you and above the clouds it it was quite cold.
We spent as much time above the clouds as possible. Fortunately Cannon has a lift, the Cannonball Quad, that operates on the top 30% of the mountain, we looped on this lift most of the day.
On the summit there is a lookout tower. We decided to doff our skis and trek to and up the tower. Once on top we were rewarded with an outstanding view.
This photo is of the Lafayette Range, which is directly across from Cannon with Franconia Notch laying between the two mountains. When I saw the view I new that I had to take advantage of the photo opportunity.
I love this photo, In particular I appreciate the desolate coldness of it. It appears as though I used I black and white filter for it, I did not, the colors show true to the day. Of course, the best thing about this photo is when I look at it I remember the day that I got to spend with my son.
Yeah, I went sailing again and wrote about it. Fortunately Colleen is very patient with my sailing addiction.
Glory on her mooring in Marion, MA.
I just got back from a quick sailing trip from Marion, MA to Lewes, DE, with my friends Tom and Mary Mitri on their boat, Glory, a Mason 44. I have sailed with them on several occasions in the past, including an 8 day, 900 mile sail from Marion to Hilton Head. This was the first leg of their trip south, from Lewes they plan on day tripping up the Delaware River through the C&D Canal and down the Chesapeake Bay ending up in Norfolk, Virginia, where I hope to join them again, bringing Glory from Norfolk to Hilton Head, a 550 mile jaunt. After Hilton Head, Tom and Mary plan on sailing further south to Florida before hitting the warm water and sandy beaches of the Bahamas for a winter respite, heading back up to Massachusetts in the spring.
The Mitris are my neighbors in Arlington, they live directly across the street from us. Soon after moving into our neighborhood in 2012, while I was doing yardwork, I noticed Tom folding a sail in his front yard, that sparked a conversation about sailing, which has since become a close friendship, not just based on sailing. The four of us, the Mitris, Colleen and I, will get together for a beer, that inevitably turns into a few beers, some good conversation and laughs before it’s realized how much time has passed, time slips away when you are having fun.
Captain Tom in his glory an Glory
After many frustrating months of getting Glory prepared for her trip south, as well as waiting for a promising weather window, we set out from Marion at 4am on October 15th. The early start was in hopes of taking advantage of the tidal currents throughout our trip. The tide pushed us through Buzzards Bay, as we passed south of Fishers Island and into Long Island Sound. Overnight in the sound we had a minimally adverse current, which was as we hoped.
We arrived at the Throgs Neck Bridge at 7am, as the direction of the current changed in our favor. The current pushed us through Hell’s Gate, the East River, along Manhattan’s east coast, into the Hudson River with the Lady Liberty off to our starboard side and through The Narrows. Off the coast of Sandy Hook we were welcomed to New Jersey by a small pod of dolphins.
I hadn’t been through New York City by boat since doing it twice on my father’s boat Deep End in the early 1980’s. This time as with the times in the past was quite memorable. It’s a different perspective on how you see the city. I look forward to doing it again.
Oh, I almost forgot to mention, the sailing, not in the city, there you are required to be under auxiliary power, was amazing. We were under sail from Buzzards Bay all the way to the Throgs Neck Bridge, where we doused the sails and fired up the engine to propel us through the madness of New York Harbor.
I enjoyed a Tilted Keel IPA from Stellwagen Brewing Co. while I was on a tilted keel.
Northern New Jersey was just about at our halfway point, still ahead of us was a sail along the Jersey Coast and then across the mouth of the Delaware River to the town of Lewes. Sailing along the Jersey Coast was great, the sailing gods were with us on this trip. The autopilot on the other hand, kind of sucked. In light winds and under power it worked okay-ish, however once the conditions picked up a bit the autopilot was not up to the task of auto piloting. This forced us to do a lot of hand steering, which to put a positive spin on it, keeps you on you toes and helps keep you warm during the chilly autumn nights. The constant movement needed to maintain the boat’s preferred direction keeps the blood pumping, and not relying on the autopilot keeps you more in tuned with the needs of the sails.
The Jersey Coast was a pleasant sail, at times we had some wind gusts in the mid-20s, which for Glory, a heavy boat with a modified full keel, takes with ease. Throughout the night, with heavy-ish winds, moderate seas and a lackluster autopilot we decided to sail with only a reefed mainsail. This was a good decision. With the reduced sail plan, we had a more restful overnight, not too much banging and bouncing, while still averaging close to 6 knots.
We made it to Cape May, the southern tip of New Jersey at sun up. We let out a bit more sail for the remaining 12 miles across the mouth of the Delaware River. We were on a beam reach with winds and seas cranking up a bit, wind gusts hitting the low to mid 30’s and 6 foot closely stacked seas. One of the waves pounded into and over the starboard gunwale creeping up and under the canvas / isinglass enclosure soaking Tom. The enclosure offers great protection most of the time, this wave was just Tom’s momentary bad luck. I was dry and happy at the helm.
The view at our anchorage in Lewes.
By 9:30am on Friday, October 17, we were anchored in 12 feet of water behind a jetty in Lewes’ outer harbor, completing our 360 mile journey in just over 53 hours, 90% of which was under sail. After some celebratory Scotch we took some well deserved naps before moving Glory to a dock in the downtown area of Lewes about 5 miles away.
Heading into downtown Lewes via the Lewes-Rehoboth Canal.
Glory sitting pretty on City Dock in Lewes, Delaware.
After settling the boat and cleaning ourselves we walked the town, had dinner, followed by a bit more Scotch on board before crashing. I had to get up early the next morning, pick up a rental car and drive back to Arlington.
Once again I am writing about my sailing adventures. The reason I do this is totally selfish, I want to capture my memories and I enjoy making the content. If some of you enjoy this content along the way, all the better.
This post quite long and doesn’t have the adventuresome feel to it that my previous “Doing the Atlantic” series of blogs provided. This trip was a completely different type of sailing adventure, sail during the day, with one exception, no more than fifty miles. Most nights were spent in a picturesque port, a couple of those nights were on a dock with easy access on and off the boat, while the rest were at anchor with a short dingy ride to port. We were not sailing through the night with the nearest port hundreds, if not more than a thousand miles away, as I have done on some previous trips. This is the type of sailing that I hope Colleen will one day enjoy with me. Being able to cook and eat while the boat is not bouncing around, dining out, hiking and shore excursions are the some things that would appeal to her.
Blue Water Sailing Club Atlantic – Canada Cruise 2024 -2025
I was once again lucky to be asked to join in on another Blue Water Sailing Club adventure, I am not a member of the club because I currently don’t own a properly sized sailboat. As soon as I convince my wife that it’s time to buy that sailboat, I plan to join. However, I have been able to take advantage of the club’s organized cruises as a crew member on John Slingerland’s Avocet on a couple of occasions. Including the 2024 – 2025 Atlantic – Canada Cruise.
On August 1st, my Brother Dennis and I arrived in St. Pierre, a French territory in the Gulf of the St. Lawrence, just south of Newfoundland, Canada. Getting to St. Pierre was no easy task. I found out yesterday afternoon, at 4pm, that our 8:45pm scheduled flight had been canceled. Unbeknownst to me the JetBlue flight to Halifax, Nova Scotia was canceled in April. Apparently no one told Expedia either. Expedia sent me an email reminding me that it was time to check into my flight. Following their advice I tried to check in, but I was unsuccessful. After way too much time and frustration, I enlisted my 17 year old daughter Cate’s help. She was also unable to check-in. She followed up with a chatbot which confirmed there was no JetBlue flight to Halifax, Nova Scotia, scheduled for that evening.
I was in complete panic mode at that point. We were expected in St. Pierre within 24 hours, we were the next crew on Avocet, a 41ft Oyster sailboat that we have sailed extensively on, including crossing the Atlantic, from Lanzarote to Guadeloupe in 2022. John, the captain and owner of Avocet, was counting on us being there as much as we were looking forward to another adventure on Avocet.
Avocet moored in Demariscove Island Harbor, ME.
It was time to figure out our options. We had a hotel reservation in Halifax and a connecting flight to St. Pierre scheduled at 12:30 the next afternoon. How to get to Halifax before then? My first thought was to find another flight. So, I hit the internet. The only one that I could find left Boston 2 hours earlier than our previously booked (canceled) flight did, which would be pushing it, but if Dennis drove straight to the airport we could make it. That effort became futile because the flight was sold out. The next thought was to do a one way car rental, at 4pm trying to find a one way car rental crossing country borders also proved to be useless. We were left with one option, drive one of our cars. That was our only real viable option. As soon as Dennis arrived at my house we piled ourselves and our gear into my car and set off on the nearly 10 hour trek. My daughter, a highschooler who recently got her driver’s license, was very helpful in figuring out what we should do. She was looking forward to the unrestricted use of my car for the next 2 weeks, however she was now out of luck.
Dennis who had just driven 2 hours south from Maine would be driving right on by his exit going back north in another 2 hours time. Had I found out that the flight was canceled earlier I would have had other options, even if I found out just 2 hours earlier I could have picked Dennis up on the way, at his home in Saco, Maine.
We made it to our hotel in Halifax at 5am local time and placed the car in the hotel’s free long-term parking lot. We set our alarms for 9am, giving us enough time to have coffee and head to the airport, 1 mile away, for our 12:30pm departure to St. Pierre. The flight was uneventful and we arrived on the dock in St. Pierre at our planned 4pm time.
We hadn’t even stowed our gear before John said that he was thinking about leaving St. Pierre that night, within a few hours. There was to be a Captain’s Meeting, we were sailing with 4 other boats, Ed Storey’s Grayling a Sabre 38, Len Bertaux’s Walkabout another Sabre 38, Chris Callahan’s Truant a Southern Cross 31 and Jerome and Helene Rossert’s Going Merry a Halberg Rassy 42. The captains were to discuss a weather window happening that night through the next day, which looked like a good opportunity to sail the 200 miles to Sydney in Cape Bretton, Canada, or if they would wait for their original planned departure 2 days later.
The fleet in St. Pierre
During the meeting the pros and cons of each scenario were debated, with no clear answer. Leaving right away it looked as though the wind would be light overnight followed by a nice beam reach sail straight on through to Sydney. The waiting option had the possibility of some heavier wind and seas coming right at you for a good part of the trip before turning to a more favorable direction. In the end, Avocet, Truant and Walkabout would leave posthaste while Going Merry and Grayling would wait and leave in 2 days time.
I was looking forward to checking out St. Pierre, I had never had the opportunity to visit before and the likelihood of visiting again is slim. We were able to spend just a couple of hours on the Island, taking a few photos, getting some provisions and having dinner with Avocet’s previous crew, John’s wife Marcia, his son Eric and Eric’s wife Joanne. We had a really nice meal at a fine restaurant. I had met and sailed with Marcia in the past, including 2 weeks working our way up the southeast coast of Nova Scotia from Shelburne to Halifax last August. John, the proud pappa, had often talked about his 3 children, including Eric and Joanne, but I had never met them. Dennis had sailed with Eric in Boothbay last year during the Boothbay Regatta. It was nice to meet them and enjoy a meal together before we ran, well sailed, off to Sydney.
Departing from St. Pierre
This trip was a Blue Water Sailing Club (BWSC) excursion with Avocet and Truant hailing from Maine; while Grayling, Going Merry and Walkabout hail from Massachusetts. John, currently the club’s Vice Commodore, dreamed up this trip to inspire members of the club to live up to its name, blue water sailing. With John’s encouragement 4 boats set off from their homeports on what was planned to be an adventure that over several weeks worked their way up the Nova Scotia coast, meandering their way into the Bra d’Or Lake, having the boats hauled and wintered in Baddeck. Then in June they would all return to Baddeck, commission their boats and continue their trip. Heading out from the lake across the Cabot Strait exploring the southern coast of Newfoundland, before I got to join back in the fun in St. Pierre.
4 boats started in August of 2024. In June 2025, Len Bertraux, captain of Walkabout, another member of the BWSC, upon seeing all the fun the others were having, wanting to be a part of the adventure, raced up to join the fleet in Baddeck on Walkabout.
I was not part of the Newfoundland trip, though I can tell you that everyone whom I talked with about their experiences raved. Exploring fjords, anchoring and docking in seldom traveled harbors seeing beautiful vistas and extraordinary wildlife.
I joined last year’s portion of the Atlantic-Canada Cruise in Shelburne, Nova Scotia. The 4 boats met up in Matinicaus Island, Maine for a lobster dinner before setting off across the Gulf of Maine in what turned out to be a very calm, motoring the whole way trip. Getting to Matinicaus was a different matter, 2 boats, Avocet and Grayling both got their props wrapped up with lobster buoy lines. On Avocet Jen’s, another longtime Avocet crew, had the pleasure of diving under the boat to free the line from the prop. A distinction that on another BWSC cruise in Maine, in 2022, I also got to do. Fortunately, for me anyway, I’m not sure if Jens had the same experience, Avocet is equipped with a folding prop, so all I had to do was slide the line over the folded prop, I did not have to cut the line free. For grayling it was a different story, the Sabre 38 comes with an offset shaft and prop, so you can see the prop when you lean over the port gunwale. They were able to free the prop without venturing into the frigid Maine water. All boats reported seeing some amazing wildlife during their respective crossings. Whales, seals and dolphins were all mentioned.
Avocet’s track from Shelburne to Halifax.
When I met up with the fleet in Shelburne everyone was relaxed and ready to slowly work their way up the Nova Scotia’s Atlantic Coast. Per usual for me, getting to the departure point was not an easy task. My trip to Shelburne was not without any hitches. I had to delay my arrival in Shelburne for a couple days. When I originally booked my trip it included a $20 shuttle bus that took me from the airport in Halifax to Shelburne, dropping me off a couple of blocks from the Yacht Club where the fleet was moored. Unfortunately that shuttle is not scheduled everyday. So, I found myself shelling out $400 (Canadian) for a ride in the back of a very nice, big, black Mercedes Uber.
Shelburne Yacht Club
I arrived on Avocet just in time to stow my gear and dingy over to Going Merry where Helene and Jarome were hosting that afternoon’s cocktail hour. We had some great snacks and I had a generous Gin and Tonic. Then we headed back to Avocet for final preparations for the scheduled departure early the next morning.
A welcoming Gin and Tonic on Going Merry.
I was on Avocet for 2 weeks with John and Marcia, my plan was to depart from Halifax where Jens would be coming in to relieve me as crew for most of the remaining trip to Baddeck. During those 2 weeks we stopped just about every night in a different port. The weather was perfect, upper 70s low 80s most days were sunny with very little of the fog that summers in southeastern Nova Scotia are known for. The winds were kind and we sailed at least 70% of the time with a couple of memorable passages.
John and Marcia Slingerland.
Some of the highlights were Carter’s Beach, where we all anchored, and went ashore for a nice walk along the beach. The Lahave Bakery, in Lahave, where we all, 12 of us, piled onto Truant, the smallest boat in the fleet, to be ferried from our moorings, across the bay, over to the bakery’s dock. The bakery was delightful with their homemade breads and pastries and some darn good coffee to boot.
Going Merry, departing Carters BeachMoshers Island Lighthouse, enroute from Carters Beach to LahaveLahave Bakery
Another highlight was Lunenburg, where we spent 2 nights. Lunenburg is a UNESCO World Heritage Location with a fine maritime museum, a replica of Bluenose, a famous racing and fishing schooner, the original was built in 1921 and the replica that we were able to board was built in 1963.
Bluenose II
Also on the docks in Lunenburg, the sail training barque Picton Castle, hit the link to read about the history and adventures of this impressive ship.
Picton Castle
We happened to be in Lunenburg when the International Dory Racing Championship between the U.S. and Canada was taking place. The Canadian rowers kicked ass, it was a blowout!
Dory racing in Lunenburg.
After Lunenburg we set off to Mahone Bay were met and had breakfast with Captain Cheryl Barr, the author of the definitive Cruising Guide to Canadian Maritimes, with whom John had befriended while planning the cruise. This guide was an integral part of the trip’s planning, it offers so much in-depth information for just about every port or gunkhole, the pages were well worn by all of Avocet’s crew throughout the trip.
I’d be remiss not to mention the dinner on Going Merry hosted by Jarome and Helene. Helene, once again showing off her serious culinary chops, made an excellent Cassoulet. I was delighted, I love Cassoulet.
Gathering on Going Merry for the French classic Cassoulet.
After breakfast in Mahone Bay, on our way to the next port of call, Chester, we raced with and lost to Grayling. I give credit to Ed and his brother Mike for their win. However, I’ll take the hit for Avocet’s loss. We were deploying the spinnaker for a last minute blast that would have propelled us into the lead and the finish line ahead of Grayling. I pulled up the “sock” on the spinnaker even though there was a twist in it, resulting in a batched attempt. The spinnaker opened half way before becoming stuck and forcing us to take it down, untwist and try to deploy the sail again, all the while Grayling, keeping their cool, sailed to the finish line, beating us by several minutes. We did eventually get the spinny flying beautifully, but it was too little too late.
Avocet’s spinnaker, not fouled.
Chester was a nice stop, we were able to stock up on ice and food, have a couple of beers at a very small local brewery and dinner with all four boat crews at a pleasant waterfront restaurant.
Captain Ed Storey of Grayling anxiously waiting for his Guinness to settle.
Grayling at sunset in Chester.
Before arriving in Halifax we had one more stop, Rouges Roost, a gorgeous anchorage in the midst of a Nova Scotia Nature Trust. There were no houses and few other boats to be seen. We went for a hike through an almost nonexistent trail to the top of a hill and we were rewarded with a spectacular view of the surrounding area.
Rogues Roost
The sail from Rouges Roost to downtown Halifax was great. We were in no hurry, beating into the wind tacking back and forth, we were like a well oiled machine. The other boats in the fleet all decided to motor into the wind, I guess they wanted to get to the dock and its amenities quicker, we were just enjoying a great sail.
We spent a night on a dock in downtown Halifax before moving about 5 miles to the much quieter Royal Canadian Yacht Squadron from where I would be heading home, Jens was my crew replacement. I would be jumping back on Avocet in St. Pierre in a year’s time.
A year later, August 1, 2025.
In St. Pierre after our lovely crew dinner we set off across the Gulf of St. Lawrence, departing at 9pm with no wind and flat seas. John was at the helm, giving Dennis and I time to catch up on our sleep. I was over-tired and couldn’t sleep. I ended up lying back in the cockpit staring up at one the best skies that I have ever seen. There was no light pollution, the stars were jumping out at us, the Milky Way was visible, I even saw a meteor or something burning out as it dashes across the sky before I finally dosed off. The next day we were rewarded with an as predicted beam reach sail to the headlands of Cape Breton which we reached at nightfall.
Avocet’s track from St. Pierre to Halifax.
Avocet’s crew from St. Pierre to Halifax, my brother Dennis, Captain John and me.
Getting into Sydney took forever. Being in sight of land and not getting into port for another several hours was fatiguing. The port of Sydney is located about 12 miles in from the headlands, it seemed never-ending. We were all tired and anticipating a good night’s sleep. Sydney was not our choice of entry into Canada, it was chosen for us by the Canadian Customs officials. At 2am when we tied up in Sydney at The Dobson Yacht Club, John made the obligatory call to Canadian customs, John was told that couldn’t clear customs from that location. We had to enter Canada at Sydney’s Port Authority pier located 200 yards across the bay from the Dobson Yacht Club pier which we currently occupied. Off we went to dock at the designated pier so that we could make the regulatory phone call once again. After we were legally visitors to Canada we had a night cap of some truly horrible beer that we bought in St. Pierre, it was very Belgian styled, some sour-ass shit that some people like, both Dennis and I did not.
If you’re thinking about visiting Sydney, don’t. There is not much there, it’s a port city and probably has some history of interest. One of the main tourist attractions is “The World’s Biggest Fiddle”, which in itself should tell you enough about Sydney to keep you away. We spent a day there, well actually most of the day. We ended up in, after a 30 minute cab ride, in Louisbourg, where there is an old fort, more like an encampment, whose occupation was traded back and forth over the centuries between France and England. I found it ironic that the white truce flag was being flown from a pole within the encampment, I guess that the English never removed it after the French’s customary waving.
The Fortress of Louisbourg, Cape Breton.
We had dinner at a local pub and crashed early. We were told that we had to abandon the dock by 9am because there was a cruise ship coming into port and that we, with our masts, would be effectively cut off from being able to depart once the ship tied to the adjacent pier. I’m not sure what several thousand people will do in Sydney for a day except look at a giant fiddle and then be bussed to the fort in Louisbourg, but that’s not for me to worry about. Before our cutoff time of 9am we made our way back over to the docks at the Dobson Yacht Club for fuel and water before taking off for our next stop, 40 miles travel, Big Harbour, in Bras d’Or lake.
Heading down the Great Bra d’Or Channel soon to pass under the Seal Island Bridge.
One of the things I quickly noticed is how unpopulated the area was. If you are like me and have visited some of New England’s beautiful lakes, you are used to seeing almost every bit of the shoreline occupied. Bras d’Or Lake is not like that at all, there are stretches of miles where there are no structures. The area is very beautiful and serene. If you ever wanted to see a place that humans have not built up, you can see it here. The 3 boats in this portion of the flotilla, Avocet, Walkabout and Truant all anchored in Big Harbour for the night. Soon after anchoring we had a very nice social hour aboard Walkabout, once again we retired early. The next day we were heading to Baddeck.
John on the foredeck just after departing Big Harbour.
Baddeck
Baddeck is a quintessential lakeside small town, very picturesque. The 4 boats that participated in the 2024 portion of the cruise all were hauled and wintered here at Baddeck Marine. This time around Avocet and Walkabout were here to get provisions and top off the tanks. Chris was leaving Truant in Baddeck once again, his plan is to return at a later date to bring Truant back home to the U.S.. We spent the afternoon and night at anchor. I went for a run, followed by Dennis and I taking a dip in the relatively warm Cape Breton water, where for the third time this year I dove into the water with my sunglasses still on my head. I make it a habit of only buying cheap sunglasses. That night we had a group dinner at Baddeck Lobster Suppers, a short walk from the marina. A charming family owned restaurant specializing in simply prepared local seafood, the fish chowder was a standout.
Passing under the Barra Straight Bridge.Walkabout entering St. Peter’s Channel.In the lock.
The next morning Avocet and Walkabout departed Baddeck early with hopes of getting through the lock at St. Peter’s, heading back into the North Atlantic and on to Glasgow, a small harbor just past Canso, about 50 miles away. The Anchorage at Glasgow was shallow, so we ended up anchoring a bit further out in the open than anticipated, fortunately that was not an issue, it was a calm night.
From Glasgow we headed solo to Weber Cove which is located in Tor Bay, a 25 mile run. Walkabout was all about making tracks back home to Beverly, MA. We on the other hand had some time before our planned crew change in Halifax 6 days henceforth.
Walkabout and windmills at sunset in Glasgow.
Since we were not in a hurry and the conditions were benign we motored through Little Dover Run, a cool narrow cut between Little Dover Island and The Madeline where we spotted an eagle soaring overhead and some deer strolling along the shore.
Little Dover Run.
Not much sailing happening on this trip so far, we experienced lots of either no wind or southwesterlies directly on the bow. Each day if the conditions afforded we’d pull out the sails, if we were making only moderate progress we would leave them out as long as feasible, unfortunately that was usually brief.
In Webber Cove we anchored a couple of hundred yards off the beach in 25 feet of water. We took the dingy ashore where Dennis grilled some chicken, potatoes and broccoli, we all had a couple of beers, and walked the beach where I scavenged different shells (lobster, crab, clam, oyster and mussel) and put together Lobo-enstien, a lobster looking creation out the shells.
Lobo-enstien
A couple of locals came by the beach in their speed boat to welcome us and let us know if we needed anything, food, ice, beer or use of a car, assuring us that they would be there to help us out. Canadian hospitality is real.
Beach buffet.
8 miles in.
Our next stop would be Country Harbour, an 8 mile long estuary about 25 miles from Webber Cove. Our hope was that with the prevailing southwesterlies we would at least be able to sail the 8 miles up into the estuary to our planned anchorage. It didn’t quite work out that way, we motored into the wind most of the way to the harbor’s entrance, about 5 miles out we were able to beat into a moderate breeze, as we got closer to land the breeze died down. When we entered the harbor the wind funneled through the estuary following us. We were able to sail wing on wing quite slowly for several miles until it became too monotonous then we motored the rest of the way, dropping the anchor as far up into the estuary as our draught would comfortably allow, Which happened to be adjacent to the first house on the western shore that we came across for the entire 8 miles trip into the estuary.
The next day we were off to Liscombe Lodge, a resort about 40 miles away. After an early start and a lot of motoring we were able to sail a bit. Liscombe Lodge is a couple of miles up a narrow river. Last year’s fleet stopped here on their way north, so it was familiar ground for John. For me, I was looking forward to being on a dock, where I could take a real shower and have dinner at the resort’s restaurant.
We docked, got fuel and ice. Chester, the dockmaster, lent us his truck so we could go to the nearest market, which was 20 miles away, for some provisions. It was a happening weekend at the resort, there was a wedding being hosted, some sort of a British Car Rally and a bus load of elderly tourists. Dennis and I wanted to hike the nearby trails, however, all Nova Scotia wooded areas were closed to everyone because of drought and the potential of wildfires. There was a fire happening near the lodge which temporarily shut down power to the lodge. We dined in the lodge’s restaurant, where we brought the median age down by at least a decade, and we aren’t spring chickens.
The next morning John had Dennis and I scurrying up on deck at 6am as he was pulling Avocet off the dock for our next destination Shelter Cove, in Popes Harbour, 45 miles away. The early start was so that we could take advantage of some favorable wind predictions, which we did; we sailed for several hours. Our GPS took us through a maze of rock outcroppings that if it weren’t for the GPS I would have gone further out and around for ease of mind. There was always plenty of water underneath us, it can just be a bit nerve racking seeing dangerous rocks, especially in unfamiliar water, baiting you on. We were never too close or in any danger, more than anything it was kind of cool to see.
Departing Liscombe.
Shelter Cove proved to live up to its name, the wind was blowing at a pretty good clip as Avocet and 2 other sailboats anchored in the cove’s protective waters. We grilled up some dinner and had a cocktail on the cove’s beach before tucking back into Avocet for what seems to be a long stretch of early to bed nights
Shelter Cove Beach, Avocet secure at anchor.
The following morning we set out on a 30 mile trek to Jaddore, our last stop before we hit Halifax. As we dropped the anchor the windlass all of a sudden stopped laying out the chain. Not sure what the deal was, we still needed to put out another 50 ft or so of chain, we bypassed the windlass by pulling the chain from the chain locker manually. Not a big deal, though I was dreading pulling the anchor and chain in by hand if we were unable to figure out what was wrong with the windlass.
We checked the obvious spots, the breaker at the nav station and the electrical connections at the windlass itself, everything seemed fine. Figuring that we would deal with it later, that is, John would have someone fix it, we went on with the rest of our day. Anyway the current plan was docking in Halifax and then, after a crew change, straight to John’s mooring in Boothbay, ME. So not much anchoring was planned for the rest of the trip.
Once again we had a visit from a local. He arrived by skiff, talked to us about recently sailing to Sable Island with his grandkids on his 37ft bluewater cruiser as well as doing the same trip on a 30ft Catalina. I used to own a 30 ft Catalina and would not have attempted the 170 mile crossing on such a lightweight coastal cruiser. He also offered us use of his mooring near his house, as well as the Canadian Hospitality of letting us know if we needed anything to let him know, it was a nice chat with another avid sailor.
Later that evening after a couple of cocktails and some charcoal grilled sausages, peppers and onions, I thought to look for another, a second, windlass breaker. Low and behold, within about 2 minutes I found one in a cabinet, up under the nav desk. It was flipped, I put it back in contact and we tested the windlass. Success!!!
Well, the success was limited. The next morning as we, the windlass doing most of the work, got about 60 ft of the chain in the locker, it died again. We checked the breakers, both were in their correct position, we flipped them anyway to no avail. The windlass was dead.
On to plan B, a plan which John described in detail last night during cocktails, before my “look for another breaker” revelation. With John’s play in action, we tied a line on to the chain at the bow, ran it back the primary jib winch, with a few other small lines to keep everything in place and not hack up the fiberglass or the teak deck, we were able to make quick work of getting the remaining 60ft of chain into the chain locker.
The RNSYS was a 30 mile sojourn, mostly under power. I have had the pleasure of docking at the RNSYS 6 times in the past, 5 of which were as part of the Marblehead-Halifax Ocean Race. The RNSYS is the Halifax end of the race’s sponsoring club, the other time was last year on Avocet on our way north.
The restaurant and clubhouse of the Royal Nova Scotia Yacht squadron.
The RNSYS is great, picturesque, outside of the hustle and bustle of downtown Halifax and it has great amenities; laundry, shower, a bar and a very nice restaurant. Added to that you get to watch their vibrant youth sailing program in action, they’re (the kids) buzzing in and out of other boats with no fear; it’s a great thing to witness.
Dennis and I Ubered to the airport hotel to pick up my car that I left in long term parking 2 weeks prior. Unfortunately it was almost crew change time. That night we took advantage of all that the RCYS offered.
The next day after everyone had the opportunity to shower, provision and chill, the flotilla repositioned downtown, now it was time to be amongst the action.
Dennis and John moved Avocet from the RCYS to downtown while I moved my car. Dennis and I didn’t want to jump ship without hanging with the incoming crew, so we got an AirBnB a few blocks from the dock. Having sailed with 2 of the new crew in the past we wanted a proper celebration of the transfer of responsibilities through food and drink, we wanted a bit of a party
As mentioned before, I have been to Halifax many times before, the first being in 1985, for 3 weeks, where Dennis and I were part of the crew on an 85ft yacht, Dragon Lady, the name was eponymous. After visiting the city over many years, I can highly recommend that you visit. It’s walkable, not too big, it has a lengthy harbourside trail. If there are cruise ships in town and if you are like me (and my wife) there are some pretty amazing people watching opportunities. Even with a plethora of tourist trap restaurants and bars, there are some top quality ones as well. Durty Nelly’s is both, a touristy Irish Bar with a nice vibe, live music and good food, be careful though later in the night it fills up with 20 somethings out to party, if you’re into that that’s great, however I’m too old.
.We moved our gear from Avocet to the AirBnB then proceeded to follow up on our crew integration plans. We had a couple of rounds on Avocet, then on to dinner at the Water Polo, a waterfront restaurant, owned and operated by the same people who own the very popular nearby Bicycle Thief Restaurant. Water Polo at first glance seemed glitzy, pretentious, busy, touristy and expensive, not the vibe I was hoping for. It ended up being none of the above, well it was busy and glitzy. The people working there were welcoming and appreciative. The food was very good, (that’s pretty high praise from me) and the cost for quality ratio, especially because we were dealing with Canadian dollars, was reasonable. If (when) I visit Halifax again I would definitely go back.
For some of us, including me, night caps followed at Durty Nelly’s; off to our AirBnB.
That’s a wrap for another of my unbelievably fortuitous experiences sailing with John Slingerland and the Blue Water Sailing Club. What’s next…
I love this photo for many reasons. It’s Martha’s Vineyard, one of my all time favorite places. I have so many wonderful memories rooted in M.V., as a kid on my parents boat, as a young adult on my own boat, as an adult renting homes with family, friends and my kids. This public fishing pier juts out over Inkwell Beach in Oak Bluffs near the ferry dock, you can see the ferry dock in the background.
This photo prompts memories from many M.V. experiences. Early ones such as falling off the back of my parent’s boat, Bridget, named after my Grandmother, while docked in the harbor (I was about 5). Trying to grab the brass ring while astride the backs of the Flying Horses’ carousel’s ponies. So many ice creams at Mad Martha’s and Ben and Bill’s Chocolate Emporium; fudge and saltwater taffy at Murdick’s Fudge Shop. Later memories of getting engaged in Oak Bluffs, on the beach at sunset. My niece was conceived in one of the rental homes (not that I witnessed this, it’s family folklore). Midnight doughnut runs to Back Door Donuts. Taking long walks along the beach, checking out the Gingerbread Houses or to the East Chop Lighthouse, and even longer bike rides. Jumping off the “Jaws” bridge, watching my kids jump off the “Jaws Bridge”.
There are some music related memories as well. Beach Road Weekend Concert in 2022 featuring Wilco, Jason Isbell, Mt. Joy, Lord Huron, The Avett Brothers, Emmylou Harris and many more. A young woman shimmying herself up and down on me at a Toots and Maytals show at the now shuttered Atlantic. This was while I was standing next to and obviously with my then fiancé Colleen, we still laugh about that. Drinks and local musicians playing at The Ritz and at the also now shuttered Rare Duck.
I took this photo in July, 2024, when we rented, for the third time, the perfectly located home between Circuit Ave and Inkwell Beach, which was great for everyone, an easy walk to either downtown with it’s restaurants, cafes and shops or to the sand and sunshine of the beach.
Here’s a few more recent M.V. photos that are not on the walls of Za.
The top of the pier
We rented this house three times
My kids sailing in Vineyard Sound on our friends boat
Colleen and I at the East Chop Lighthouse
Nellie, Dan, Colleen and I having dinner at Jimmy Seas
Colleen and Nellie in East Chop
Statue in Menemsha
Sailing out of Menemsha
Oaks Bluff Harbor
My family with my dad in Gay Head
The cliffs, Gay Head
An ignored sign
Shane mid-air from the “Jaws Bridge”
My son and nephew getting ready to jump from the “Jaws” bridge
I’ve been told that dogs are colorblind, that may be true. Another truth is that Grace here enjoyed this tranquil and reflective lakefront sunset moment as much as I did, even though I saw it more vividly.
I took this photo in August of 2019.
While enjoying some adult beverages, we walked the short distance from our family vacation home in Moultonborough, NH, to a public beach on Lake Winnipesaukee so that we could check out the sunset. We often saw Grace and her human family at the beach catching the sunset, socializing and savoring their own beverages.
It seemed to me as though Grace was digging the whole scene. She was sitting there very regal like, watching over everyone, all the while contemplating her dog issues. It’s no surprise that I took a bunch of photos of the sunset, which was pretty great by itself. However, as I was watching Grace I knew that I needed to capture her in the moment.
Here are a couple of more photos from the same night, these photos are okay, but the one with Grace is a keeper.
This is Toby, my brother’s black lab who loves little more than he loves being in the water.
No dog sunset. Dogs make (almost) everything better.
This photo is another that I took while I was out for a run. I was in Cuba with my dad, I went for a run along Havana’s ocean front walkway and seawall called El Malecón. The image I saw before taking this photo is one of those that I could completely imagine as a great photo. I initially ran right on by before it clicked in that I had to go back, it was only about 20 yards before I turned back to capture this moment. The fisherman in the forefront in complete shadow with the waves breaking onto him, the bright sun and the Havana skyline behind him, I had to have it.
The link below is a blog post that I published soon after returning from Cuba. The post will tell you all about our trip, why and where we went, it also has a number of other photos that you may enjoy.
I showed this photo to my slightly older and immensely wiser brother, Steve, when he referred to the building as Motif #1, I didn’t have a clue as to what he was talking about. I thought what the f*#k is a Motif #1. Now that I am writing this post I thought that it might be prudent to find out the origin of it’s moniker. So I googled it…
This Boston Magazine article has all the information that you will need-
To me this iconic red fishing shack is synonymous with Rockport, it brings back memories of summer visits on my father’s boat(s), as well as on my own sailboat, where we would just tie up to the pier and head into Rockport, usually for ice cream. I have even docked at the pier overnight on a couple of occasions. No one ever said we couldn’t and we never gave it a second thought. Now, I’m sure you would be asked to leave or you would have to pay some outlandish fee to tie up to this or any other pier in Rockport.
I took this photo in June of 2021. It was a hot day and we were still dealing with the effects of COVID 19. Colleen and I were off from work, EVOO was still closed and the kids classes were all online. We decided to take advantage of the beautiful day and have some quality family time. We headed up to Rockport, do a little sightseeing, a possible plunge into the frigid North Atlantic at Front Beach, followed by local seafood at The Lobster Pool.
Taking the photo wasn’t as easy as it should have been. We parked in a public lot near the Motif, not a hundred yards from where I took the photo. It was a picturesque day, I saw the little red building that I always associated with Rockport and I started directly to the end of an apposing pier, where it looked like I would be able to take advantage of what looked to be great photo opportunity. I didn’t get 10 yards before a professional looking woman holding a clipboard said that I couldn’t go any further along the pier. I shrugged and kept going, I wanted this photo. By the time I got to the end of the pier and quickly took my photos, the woman was right behind with the back-up of a couple more officious looking people, still yapping that I wasn’t supposed be there. She was saying something about having rented the space for the afternoon. I recall saying something about it being a public space and for her to have a nice day. After we backed away we noticed that there was a film crew there. I have no idea what they were filming, however I do know that they didn’t want to film me.
Anyway, I took the photos and they came out great. Now when I see the photo on Za’s wall, with that one shot, I have 3 generations of memories, my childhood with my parents and siblings, being there on my own sailboat, as well as being shooed away by some film people with my kids.
Recently a longtime guest of ours asked if they could buy the photo; they also claim to have some family memories of Rockport. Being a businessman, who am I to say no, we sold them the photo. Don’t worry, I have the original and have already ordered another enlargement to made, it will soon adorn the wall of Za once again.
In April of 2015, Me, Colleen and our kids Shane,10 at the time and Caitlin then 7, did a family vacation during the kids school April break. We first drove to Washington D.C. where we did all the usual touristy things. We visited the Lincoln monument, walked through and discussed the Viet Nam War Memorial. We got up at some ungodly hour for the opportunity to go in and up the Washington Monument. We also went to the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum, as well as the Museum of American History. We strolled by the White House and waved to “Uncle Barry and Auntie Shelly”. It was a great few days, as usual I took many photos, none of which made it to the heralded walls of Za.
From D. C. we drove to NYC, well Hoboken, NJ, where My sister had a condo and was kind enough to let us squat for a few days. The location was great, very convenient. To get into Manhattan, from the condo it was a 3 minute walk, followed by a 15 minute ferry ride and boom there you are right downtown. As with D.C. we did all of the touristy things. Strolled through Time Square, did the Empire State Building thing, walked the Hi-Line, Had dinner at Jonathan Waxman’s (one of my favorite chefs) restaurant, Barbuto, in the Meat Packing District.
The next day the weather was perfect, not a cloud in the sky, a slight breeze and temps in the low 70’s, we took a ferry out to see the Statue of Liberty. The statue was open and we were able to climb the stairs up to the observation deck in Lady Liberty’s crown. We had a great day, as I mentioned the weather was perfect, I was with my family and I got to go on a boat ride; not much could be better.
With the perfect conditions I was able to get some great shots of the statue, including this one. I had the photo enlarged and placed on the wall when we did our most recent renovations in 2021. This photo gets a lot of comments, including, surprising to me, “what is it”?. Since I took the photo I know exactly what it is and with a quick glance I can almost understand the question. Most people do figure it out quickly though.
This photo is of Buttercup, AKA Butter, Butters, Buddy, Mr. Buttercup, Bubs, Cutterbut and probably a lot more than a handful of other names. He is our dog, we got him, or rather he got us, in 2015 from the North Shore Animal Shelter in Salem, MA. Colleen and the kids wanted a dog, I did not. Poop, fur, stink was my mantra. Colleen and I had a beautiful Golden Retriever, Ginger, for 12 years, so I knew what it took to take care of a dog and I didn’t want to take on that responsibility again, especially because at that point I was sill working a ton of hours. However, after much badgering and reassurances from the kids of how they would help in caring for a dog, I gave in; after all I was out voted 3 to 1.
It was decided that we would get a dog from a shelter. The other prerequisite that I had was that we would name the dog Butter. Why? I’m not really sure, except that I wanted his name to be food related and who doesn’t like butter?
Off we went to the shelter to see what they had. There were several dogs looking for the right family, one of them was this happy, energetic, cute, slanty-eyed mutt, he already had the name Buttercup. We were all, including me, immediately smitten. We walked him around the grounds of the shelter and decided he was the dog for us. Shelters don’t just let you come in and grab a dog and go, there is a vetting process that you have to go through, which took 3 days. When we went to pick him up, the staff had us wait in a room away from where the dogs were kept and they brought him to us. When he came into the room he made a bee-line to me, jumping and wiggling right onto my lap, keep in mind he is not a lap dog. So much for the “poop, fur, stink” mantra, I was done, he was ours.
As for this photo, which I took in October of 2020, my brother-in-law and great friend Dan and I went for a moderate hike near Squam Lake in Holderness, NH. A good excuse for getting us and Buttercup out for a while before watching football, drinking beer and grilling some meat. As part of this particular trail there are some elevated platforms to get you over the wet and muddy areas. Butter, with his dog common sense, decided he wanted to jump in, so he did, no hesitation, just jumped right into the muck. This photo as well as the few others below are from that day and show the dirty dog results.
After he jumped in, in an effort to clean off some of the muck, Dan and I spent the next hour or so trying to get him to jump into the lake. It was a futile effort, he dove for the mud, but had no interest in the lake. We where traveling in Dan’s almost new, very clean truck, so as much of the muck that we could clean off beforehand the better. We ended up having to hose him and Dan’s truck’s floor mats down when we got back to our shared vacation home in Moultonborough, NH.
Muddy Buddy
The above photo of Buttercup was enlarged and hung at Za soon after I took it. He enjoyed his mud bath a lot more than Dan and I enjoyed cleaning up after it. Whenever I look at this photo it brings a smile to my face, so the clean up was worth it.
Buttercup is a bit older now, he still sometimes shows his puppy spunkiness, but for the most part he’s chill. Most days he gets out for a couple of miles walk, he is a great companion.
He loves the kids and I, but he is in love with Colleen, he follows her around the house, lies down in the office when she working. He gets up when she does, I could be up for hours and he won’t show his face until Colleen does. I get it, she is quite lovable.
This probably doesn’t need to be said, but the kids never did live up to their promises of taking care of the dog, no surprises there. They do give him lots of love, however rarely do they walk him and have never cleaned the yard of poop.
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