Lost In Woodmont

I wasn't exactly sure where I was. I knew I was several miles west of New Haven but anything more precise or specific was hazy at best. After following streets with straightforward names like Beach Rd and Ocean Boulevard, the path became more confusing with each road becoming more narrow and circular. Was I in Milford? West Haven? I didn't know.
I spend a good portion of my floating life worrying about getting lost in fog. All the electronic devices in the world can't prepare you for that moment when a buoy isn't where you thought it would be. It is a scary feeling.
Unless you are hiking in the wilderness, getting lost on land is child's play. You are not lost in the classic sense, you are just not where you thought you would be. A little bit of backtracking or asking for directions usually regains your bearings.
But on this November morning, I felt I had been blindfolded and spun around several times. At least three times I passed the same house with a tiki bar on the front porch. The one-way streets all seemed to circle back to where I presently was. I was lost in a maze and couldn't find my way out.
I later learned  I was in the Woodmont section of Milford. Originally a summer community, it is now a mixture of various sized homes and designs. A walkway with random park benches wraps the shoreline and provides access to several small beach areas squeezed between the rocky shoreline
The most unique feature of Woodmont however is the rock themselves: orange phyllite. They provide a sharp contrast to the expected granite along these shores.
According to the Geology Of Connecticut, the rock is "a slate or phyllite, highly fissile, sericitic, and usually dotted with minute garnets."

More Nellie Photos

Soundbounder: Nellie (original post)
SY Nellie: Website

Nellie

Nellie is a powerful reminder of the age-old relationship between yachts and wealth. A century ago, this gaff-rigged cutter graced the western waters of Long Island Sound, flying the burgees of such exclusive yacht clubs as Larchmont, American, and Seawanka. She is the product of an era when sailing was a pastime reserved for men with pedigrees and summers off. An era when the western Sound served as the epicenter and playground for that crest of idle wealth.
Designed and constructed by the legendary Herreshoff Manufacturing Company of Bristol, Rhode Island, she was launched in 1903 for Morton Plant of New Haven, an heir to Reconstruction era railroad lines in the southern U.S.. With a 35' LWL and a deck that extends 46', she was one of three boats built to this design (Harold S. "Mike" Vanderbilt and J. Malcom Forbes owned the other two).
Surviving numerous owners and several different names (Butterfly), Nellie spent nearly 8 decades of the 20th century in western Long Island Sound. She had an auxiliary engine added in 1935; a new deckhouse in 1941; and suffered severe damage from a boatyard fire in 1959. Succumbing to the ravages of time, she
began her second century undergoing a 7 year restoration project which was just recently completed.

Two weeks ago, I had the opportunity to get a first hand view of Nellie and meet her crew. What an enthusiastic, accommodating, and fun group they are! I was invited aboard and given a tour which included a wealth of information about her history. She is a special boat and their pride in her was evident.

She is scheduled this winter to undergo work on some punchlist items from her recent restoration. Come spring, she will be back in the western Sound, ready to grace the waters for the next hundred years.

SY NELLIE: website (this is one of the best websites for a boat I have come across. Take some time and enjoy the photos and videos of her history and restoration. I highly recommend a visit; a long visit. You won't be disappointed)
Wooden Boat Magazine: Nellie (some beautiful photos of her undersail)
Herreshoff Marine Museum: website
YouTube: Interior Tour
Picasa: Nellie: Oyster Bay Spring Classic photo credits: Karen Martin

Clearwater Hauled In Norwalk

While the sloop Clearwater spends most of her time on the Hudson River, she occasionally ventures east of Hell Gate into the waters of Long Island Sound. Making an appearance at random waterfront festivals, this vanguard of waterway restoration has from time to time, brought her message to the shores of Connecticut and Long Island.

With an overall length of 106' and a mast height of 108', she is modeled after the 18th and 19th century Dutch ships that worked the waters of New York Harbor and the Hudson River. The brainchild of Pete and Toshi Seeger, the Clearwater was launched in 1969 with the intent to bring awareness and appreciation to the Hudson's beauty, heritage, and frailty. According to their website, the message was always simple yet powerful:

"To the people who see her broad sails from the shore, the message is a poignant reminder of the potential beauty and wealth of our region’s much-abused and neglected waterways."

Clearwater's primary focus has always been the Hudson, but her influence has been far reaching. The Quinnipiac, Save The Sound, Oyster Bay Waterfront Center, and numerous other organizations along the Sound are following in the wake of The Great Hudson River Revival.

When I read Monday that she was hauled for some short-term hull maintenance, I made a quick visit to Norwalk Cove Marina to get a closer view.  Under threatening skies, it appeared the work was nearly finished and she was awaiting to be splashed once again. Never one to sit idle for too long, she was berthed at the 79th Street Boat Basin by Tuesday evening.

Clearwater Website

New York Times: A Sloop Named Clearwater

Vessels Of The Hudson

Maritime Systems: Clearwater Location

Tugster: Clearwater Related Posts

YouTube: Making History Again

WWII National Submarine Memorial

WWII National Submarine Veterans Memorial, Groton

Submarine History: History of the Memorial (additional photos)
Soundbounder: Battle Of Point Judith
USS Nautilus Museum (nearby)
US Submarine Veterans, Groton
Map

Raven

The lobsterboat Raven rests quietly in her railway cradle; Stony Creek, November 2010

November

"November always seemed to me the Norway of the year."

EMILY DICKINSON

Hauling a boat is a ritual that I often try to postpone. When the calendar reaches November, a strain of denial seems to overtake me. I become convinced that there will be plenty of warm days ahead. I try to remind myself of the years when I sailed on Thanksgiving weekend. A few peppers still growing in the garden reinforce this delusion. Unfortunately, the calendar and the thermometer do not lie. Sailors, like aging starlets and men with bad combovers, need to acknowledge the passing of time.

The sail from Noank to the Connecticut River boatyard is an easy one. It is the preparations that are most consuming. I needed to make sure the yard had a dock space available. I also had to make arrangements for getting back to Noank to retrieve my car. Finally I had to dig through my bedroom closet for gloves, a wool hat, and the rest of my winter wardrobe. A gentle autumn day on land can sometimes feel like January just a few miles from the shoreline.

November is lonely on the water. An occasional commercial boat is the only other vessel you may see. The shoreline in the distance seems deserted too. Gone are the crowds that flocked to these beaches just six weeks ago. Waterfront homes that overflowed with guests, look empty and silent. Their awnings and Adirondack chairs have been removed from the lawn. Only an occasional whiff from a fireplace tells you that someone is home. A lighthouse that seemed like a quaint image for artists and tourists in June, becomes a utilitarian navigation aid in November.

November is also a sad month on the water. No matter how enjoyable the time might be, you know the days are numbered. This year is no different, as my day is spent looking back in time, rather than forward. I think of my trip to the Thimble Islands, and a starry night anchored in West Harbor. Any sort of thought to suppress my approaching winter ashore. The seasons of the year have come full circle.

I arrived in Saybrook without a hitch, and made my way to the train station the next morning.

It was a spectacular fall day with sunny skies and temperatures in the 60's. As the train passed through Niantic, Long Island Sound came into full view. There were several boats in the distance, taking advantage of the lovely weather. For a brief moment, I started thinking that I should drive back to Saybrook and take one more sail. There would certainly be enough time, and it would be a shame to waste such a nice day.
Eventually I realized that this would not be possible since I had already removed the sails from the boat. My sailing season was over, and there was no way to delay its inevitable end.

But in spirit, it never ends.

 

This was originally posted in November 2008; but I had no readers then.