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 tune 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.
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.
Bluefish… “blecchkk”, “it’s too fishy”, It’s too strong”, “it’s oily”.
Ahhhm, no, no, no and no!
Bluefish in the hands of someone who knows how to cook it, is an amazing versatile fish. Canned tuna and smoked salmon are perennial favorites to most and are way fishier, stronger and oilier than bluefish. Treat her right and you will end up with some great results.
Enter our end of summer bluefish:
cobb smoked Bluefish Fillet with corn risotto, grilled zucchini, tomato-basil relish and spiced popcorn
This dish is a hyper-local ode to New England. The fish is from the Cape, The corn and basil are from Verrill Farm in Concord, the zucchini is from Wards Berry Farm in Sharon, the tomatoes are from Kimball Fruit Farm in Pepperrell and the popping corn is from Hurricane Flats, in S. Royalton, VT. You can’t get much more local than this. We have been making this dish for many years. Some years, unlike this one, local peaches are available and we substitute peaches for the tomatoes in the relish.
To prepare this dish, first we fillet, portion and then brine the fish in a salt, brown sugar, water solution in the refrigerator overnight. The next day we give it a quick hot-ish smoke, over corn cobbs, (that have been dehydrated and are left over from making the risotto), being careful to not cook the fish through. At this point we’re looking to just add some smoke flavor and not cook the fish. The cobb smoke really shines with bluefish, it’s offers a sweet and not too pungent smoke flavor.
bluefish fillets in our smokerdehydrated corn cobbs, ready for the smoker
When an order comes into the kitchen we take a portion, give it a healthy dusting of our not so secret spice mix and pop it in a pan with a mixture of white wine, garlic and vegetable stock and into a hot, 450 degree oven. Then we bake it until it’s just cooked through. This could be anywhere from 3 to 9 minutes, depending on the thickness of the fillet. The best way to test the doneness of fish is with a cake tester, after a few minutes of cooking poke the thickest part of the fillet with the cake tester, if there is a change in resistance, it needs to cook longer, if it slides right through, it’s done.
I know this is a great dish, customers have been raving about it since it first hit our menu. However it was validated by the Great American Seafood Cook-off, an annual cooking contest held in New Orleans. In 2016 I was asked to represent Massachusetts. Of course, I was happy to do it; a weekend in The Big Easy, yes please. I went with Mark Dieffenbach, one of EVOO’s longtime sous chefs. I chose to cook this dish because, to me, it really does represent summer in Massachusetts and that was what I was asked to do. We had a blast, eating great food, a bit of drinking and I kind of remember some late night bowling with shots of whisky, and, oh yeah a cooking contest… We placed third, I wanted to win and if I said I was happy with third, I’d be lying.
not first placeMark digging the New Orleans vibes
Now let me digress, I have a family bluefish memory. It’s from when I was probably 8 or 10 years old. Some weekends my father would hook up with some of his buddies, head out on his boat in the Boston area or go to the cape on one of his friend’s boats to go fishing. Their goal was to to catch striped bass, but, inevitably the catch was bluefish, which my dad would bring home. My mom, a woman who’s lips, very rarely, if at all, allowed fish or any seafood what-so-ever to pass, would dutifully put the catch into the freezer and ultimately into the trash. However, one time, I’m thinking she wasn’t too happy with dad going fishing again, so she decided to cook it. She took the whole fish, guts, scales and all, covered it with mayonnaise, don’t ask me why, because I don’t know, and into the oven it went. About 2 hours later, which is at least an hour too long. Sunday dinner was served. The whole dried out stinking mess right in the middle of the dining room table. To my young eyes, it was scary. When mom served us fish, it was in the form of frozen fish sticks, never mind this big whole fish with sunken cooked out eyes and jutting teeth. I don’t think that anyone, including my father actually did anything more than poke at it. The stink of overcooked fish and guts remained for days. That was the only time that I can remember bluefish being cooked at home. On top of that my dad’s fishing trips with his buddy’s were scaled way back; I think he wanted Sunday dinner to remain as the usual- roasted meat and potatoes. This experience embedded lasting scars, it was a good 15 years until I tried bluefish again, not that I really tried it the first time. Which is another degression for a future blog post about fishing while sailing and cooking our catch.
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