and a Surprise!
This colorful sail had a grand old time on "Bugoff" plying the waters of Long Island Sound. She sailed or was towed more miles than I can tell you. The investment in a nine-foot Dyer Dhow was a little dear at the time we bought her, but a great investment. Mike sailed with the local frostbiters all winter in Milford harbor in Connecticut for many years.
Photos by J. Clark
The men went out in work boats to break up any ice in the harbor so the races could be run. Can you picture these grown men, bundled up in heavy clothing, sailing in little nine foot dinghies?
Mike heads the pack,
in the third boat from the left! =>
One eighty-year-old sailed in spite of having had a hip replaced. He would hobble down the dock. He never complained, even when a gust of wind knocked over the boat he was sailing. The rescue crew plucked him out of the water within the allotted three minutes before hypothermia could set in and Dave was fine!
Pete, a senior airline pilot, told how he bid his trips so that he would have Sundays free. He told us, "The other pilots think I'm a football freak. If I ever told them I was sailing around in a nine-foot boat in the middle of an icy harbor, they wouldn't let me fly. Let �em think it's football!"
If Bugoff could have talked, she would have told you she preferred sailing forward to sailing backward. Yes, on summer cruises, the fellows ran "backward races." They even ran races for the women sometimes. It's called, "How to survive a large hematoma on the forehead and live to tell about it." You had to hold the boom amidships to capture the wind and force the boat to go backward.
If a gust came along or your hand slipped and you couldn't duck quickly enough, the boom crashed into your head. Spoken from experience, can you tell? Bugoff would also tell you about being used as a launch to transport Marmalade back and forth to shore. That little poodle would hold it for eight hours. He wouldn't use a piece of turf brought on board for his use, but the minute he heard anchor chain going across the bow, he headed for the stern. He'd whine, asking to be put into the dinghy . . . NOW!
This picture to the right is so similar to Stonington Harbor, I had to use
it. Sunsets are so beautiful there.
Here is a picture of our youngest son, Curt, bringing Marmalade "home" from a similar trip.
heading north toward CT, we were a bit late on the tide change and hit rip tide water.
The boat rose on the crest of a
wave, spun 180 degrees and settled into the next trough headed in
the opposite direction. Mike hollered to/at me, "What are you
doing?" I was at the helm when this happened! Yes, it was scary!
I earned a sweatshirt with the words, "Don't Shout At Me" on the back after
that trip! (grin)
