27th October, 2024

The Last Days of Summer

September, 2024 – Edgartown, Massachusetts

We are ghosting down Katama Bay on Whiskers. The current is behind us, giving us the push that we need to keep from turning on the iron genny. Jay is at the helm and holds the mainsheet, giving me a welcome respite from the responsibility that comes with sailing. Despite our movement, the world feels still. The summer traffic of boats is a memory, reminded only by the bobbing of their bows lying quietly on their moorings. I feel a slight chill in the air, but the sun is still warm enough to keep me from putting on the sweater I brought – just in case.

A dozen Canada geese swim by in formation. The bay appears to be their preference in daylight. At dusk, they will fly over our house, crying out with their distinct honking calls, announcing their flight back to the farm. That seems to be their preference for darkness.

I watch as we pass the mansions on either side of the bay. More and more are popping up along the shore. Each one slightly larger than the next, as if they are in a contest with one another. These are mostly second homes and, sadly, sit empty for most of the year. While others long for a single roof over their head year-round. I feel guilty and blessed at the same time. I wonder who deals the cards of opportunity and why some get more than others.

The wind is fickle today and just as Jay reminds me to be alert, the boom jibes, causing me to duck, saving me from getting hit. I am reminded of a day not so long ago when Jay was not so lucky, and the boom crashed into his head, almost knocking him off the boat.

It was July and the annual weekly celebration of catboats at the Old Sculpin Gallery in Edgartown. During the first half of the twentieth century, the gallery was a sail loft and workshop owned by Manual Swartz Roberts. A beloved man by the entire community, Roberts welcomed local artisans as they settled around him while he perfected his craft, building boats. They came for conversation and a place to create. Often, you would see a painter with his or her sketch pad, pencil in one hand, coffee in another, observing as Roberts put the finishing touches on one of his favorites, the catboat. The catboat is unique to the East Coast; it was initially built for its versatility and is used for both work and pleasure. It is wide enough for scalloping in the winter and comfortable enough to share with one’s family in the summer.  It has one large mainsail, and its boom hangs feet off the stern. It was within the walls of the Old Sculpin Gallery that many of them were built. Years passed, and in 1954, when it came time to retire, Manuel Swartz Roberts passed the building on to his favorite friends and fans who would become The Martha’s Vineyard Art Association. It seemed only natural then that in 2021, the artisans of the MV Art Association decided to pay tribute to Manuel Swartz Roberts and his love of catboats and initiated the annual weeklong catboat celebration.

It begins with a welcome reception for catboat owners who gather at the gallery with paintings and photographs documenting catboats over the years. We are offered food and drink while honoring the man who loved these unique boats in the way we do today. Sailors from all over the East Coast mingle in excited anticipation of the parade and race to come.

The catboat parade was to start at noon in the south end of Katama Bay. This year, seventeen catboats of different sizes gathered and raised their sails, waiting for SV/Dolphin and Captain Kurt to lead us down the bay. Meanwhile, the artists marched down Mainstreet in Edgartown, carrying brightly colored parasols and broad smiles. Together with the Mike Benjamin Band, they led tourists and locals to Memorial Wharf to watch and cheer us on as we sailed by.

The parade of catboats rounded from Katama Bay and headed east into Edgartown Harbor proper.  Here, it gets a little bit dicey as the throughway narrows between the moored boats and Memorial Wharf. We were all under sail, of course, and couldn’t help but bunch up due to the tight quarters. We were now sailing downwind, which can be precarious on any sailboat, but it is particularly challenging when two or more boats are squeezed into a small space. There were several boats crowded together as we passed Memorial Wharf. Whiskers was in the middle. I was at the helm. Jay was tending the sheet. Our crew, Bill and Dana, were enjoying the ride.

We were getting closer and closer to Memorial Wharf. The boat closest to the wharf started to jibe, which meant his sail was moving from port to starboard and coming right at us. As we were boxed in, there was little to do but yell, “NO! NO! NO!”

I waited for Jay to tell me when to turn, and he did, just in time. The other boat’s sail missed our sail by inches. Literally. Fortunately, the boat to our right saw what was happening and luffed his sail enough to slow down and get out of our way. There was lots of nervous laughter and a sigh of relief as we continued past the lighthouse and into open waters.

We were heading to the race start when the wind picked up. Jay and I agreed that it would probably be wise to reef. I put the boat head to wind. That was my job: to keep the boat head to wind while he and the boys reefed the sail. (Reefing reduces the sail area, which gives us better control in high winds.) By keeping the boat into the wind, the boom will stay centered.

Evidently, I failed at my job, and the boom came crashing across the dodger. There was more yelling, “NO! NO! NO!” and Jay got whacked in the head, sending him across the cockpit and almost overboard. We all huddled around him, asking if he was okay. He sat quietly for a minute, just looking at me.

“No!” I said, “Nope, nope, no. We are not racing. We’re done.” Jay loves to race and is quite competitive, so I knew he was actually contemplating continuing. But he was hurt. Thankfully, there was no concussion, but still, he was hurt more than he realized. The boys agreed with me, and Jay surrendered. We lowered the sail and headed back. I know Jay was disappointed – and I felt terrible – but it was the right thing to do.

This is how our summer season went. We did have a few good sailing days. But there were not as many as we would have liked between my broken foot, our book tour, the birth of our grandson, and the weather. Often, there was no wind. Sometimes too much wind. And then there was a nor’easter.

Five days of heavy winds and rain pummeled Whiskers. Jay was off the island; all I could do was watch and worry. The boom crutch (which holds the boom in place) broke, sending the boom swinging, which tore the dodger we had just fixed from the previous mishap. One of the mooring lines broke. We were lucky that Martha’s Vineyard Shipyard was out checking on boats and saw Whiskers was in trouble. The guys climbed on board and retied her, which held her steady for the rest of the storm.

That was the final blow (no pun intended). We called the shipyard, thanked them for checking on Whiskers, and asked them to pick her up and put her to bed for the winter.

Not one of our better seasons.

But wait! Cadenza is waiting for us in Mexico! Another winter season of sailing is on the horizon.