OK you guessed it, it took a bit longer than 3 hours to get to Newport. 30 hours actually. It usually takes 3. My buddy Jon had his boat here in Dana for some service and needed to move it back up to Newport where he lives, and invited me to come along. His motor wasn’t working so we knew there was a chance of not making it in one day, but we both like a good adventure and prefer to sail rather than motor anyway so we were game for whatever might happen. Or not happen, as it turned out. No wind. Or at least very little. It was forecasted for 10-15 knots all afternoon and evening, but 2 hours of light breeze was about it. We made it out to the end of our first long tack, 5 miles straight out from Dana, and the wind died. We bobbed about as we watched the sun go down and the lights of Dana come on, not too far away it seemed, but inaccessible to us without a motor. It was a gorgeous night though. Full moon, calm seas, not a ripple on the water. We each took turns posting watch on deck while the other slept. We weren’t worried about colliding with anything since visibility was perfect, it was very bright out, we had a big glowing white sail up, and we were not anywhere near any shipping lanes. We were on watch to catch some wind if it picked up during the night. No luck. The sun came up, bright blue sky, no wind. Not until about 11:00 and then we were off. We made good time, about 5 knots average, and had a great run up the coast, clicking off the miles and were about 2 miles from Newport when the wind died again. This time the bobbing wasn’t fun. The wind had created cross swells where the wind wave conflict with the ocean swells, and created what is called “chaotic” seas, for good reason. Waves coming from all directions in no pattern and they really toss a boat about. I have been in those conditions before with no problem but this boat of Jon’s is a racing boat, built light for speed, not heavy for comfort in a rough seaway, and it had a really odd motion that finally got to me and for the first time in my life I got seasick. Yep, puking the over the side kind. ARGH.

So there we were, no wind, bobbing and bouncing and puking in those rough seas, and the sun going down soon. So close, we could see Newport harbor jetty clearly, right over there. Can’t get there. Jon had a job he has to back for the next morning and can’t afford another night of adventure out on the high seas so he got creative. He had a little rubber inflatable dinghy and a tiny little gas motor for it and we pulled that out, tied it to the side of the boat, a 35 foot boat, and proceeded to get nowhere fast. through those rough seas we made maybe a ¼ mile per hour towards Newport. The motor only had a tiny fuel tank and we had to keep refilling it from a little gas can which soon ran dry and there we were just bobbing again. Somewhere in the middle of all that, while Jon was in the dinghy refilling, a big wave caught him off guard and catapulted him up and out of the boat into the water. Fortunately he dropped the gas can in the dinghy and it landed right side up and spared the bit of fuel we had left (not that it would have made much difference…), As we were not moving it was no problem for him to easily crawl back in and keep fueling.

Jon was able to call a buddy of his there in Newport who came out to us in his sailboat. His boat engine was small, not powerful enough to tow us, but at least he could bring us a full can of gas, so we puttered on at a snail speed. We finally made it into the harbor and tied up to his mooring at 8:00, after 30 hours on the water, I’m sure setting some sort of record time for a Dana to Newport run. Not really one to call Guinness about.

It was a good experience for me. I have never been out on the ocean in the dark, that was cool!. And had never been 100% at the mercy of the winds that might not blow. Even my little dinghy back home had oars and I could always row somewhere if the winds died. Of course the winds will always blow again, at some point, but being an engineless sailor certainly requires the time to wait, not needing to be somewhere at any particular time (or day!) , and the patience and mental preparedness to deal with that. In a crossing of the Pacific ocean there is a place out there, several hundreds of miles across, along about the equator, where the winds don’t blow, called the Doldrums. Folks crossing the ocean usually power up and motor across this section, but if they cannot for some reason they report weeks of bobbing, perhaps small squalls coming on now and again and tossing you about a bit but not really anything that allows you to set sail and make way to any extent. They report almost going stark raving mad by the sails just flopping back and forth and the constant bobbing which really is very hard to deal with physically. (To be honest I am not exactly sure how they do make it across but it seems they do. Maybe they just make the most of those little squalls to make way when they can and eventually make it to the band of trade winds further along. ) Those old timers with no motor and no choice were a tough couple of monkeys!

I must admit it was hard to just sit and wait. We are so accustomed in this culture to get there and get it done. It was a good lesson for me to know what to be prepared for if I choose to not have, or not use, a motor to get around.

(PS I don’t mind firing up the motor to gitterdun once in a while! I may be an idealist, but I am not a psycho!