Robin is on a mooring in Rocklaond (ME) Harbor. Tom Gilmore went home yesterday morning on a Grayhound. Now I'm waiting for Monica to arrive. I pick her up at the Manchester, NH, airport Friday night.
The trip up was interesting. John Morrison helped Robin get to Cape May, NJ, in three days. Those were uneventful passages.
Tom got on when John left, and we headed out immediately for Buzzards Bay and the Cape Cod Canal. I had decided to forego the passage east around Cape Cod due to the kidney stone attack the day before we left Cambridge.
Four events marked the crossing to the canal. The first was a fish -- about 18 inches long -- that walked on water. Clearly he was being chased by something. He shot up out of the water vertically and, to avoid being dinner, tilted his body forward and, thrashing his tail furiously, managed to run on that tail perhaps 100 feet before energy gave out or gravity prevailed. When he fell beneath the surface, we lost contact. Don't know whether he managed to escape.
The next event was a commercial fishing boat about 50 feet long that approached us from our port side about 50 miles offshore. He drew closer and closer until it seemed that we might be on a collision course. He crossed our bow about 50 feet ahead -- with no one on the bridge or on deck -- in fact, no one in sight.
The third event was a line of thunderstorms off Long Island that caught us just inside the shipping lanes. We couldn't run away. They slammed us for a couple of hours, but we emerged the other side untouched.
Fourth was the time when, in 20 t0 25 knots of northwest wind that came at daylight following the storm, we hooked a bluefish. We landed the 27-incher, and that night, on anchor in a peaceful Hadley Harbor, we had a feast.
There is more, but it is lunch time and I need to get back to Robin for nourishment.