You Just Never Know

Buzzards Bay is almost 30 miles long and 5 miles wide.  It is tucked in behind the land mass from the mouth of the Cape Cod Canal to Woods Hole and farther out along the islands to Cuttyhunk, behind Martha’s Vineyard on the east.   The western shore stretches from Onset to Westport, MA.  It is a broad open bay where the dominant prevailing southwesterly winds establish the bay as an excellent sailing destination for many boaters. Even though it can be rough at this time of year, it was considerably quiet and we had a relaxing sail as we headed for New Bedford, Fairhaven, our next destination.

New Bedford is rich in cultural and sailing history, once a whaling capital of the world, and remains a busy seaport today.  It beckoned to us both; for entertainment and exploration purposes and as a good deep protected harbour to moor. We could take care of a few minor repairs on the boat, purchase new oars for the dinghy and check out the community. New Bedford and Fairhaven are sister cities joined by a series of bridges across the harbour on the Acushnet River.  Centered in the middle of the harbour is Pope’s Island connected to New Bedford on the west by a bridge and to Fairhaven to the east by another bridge.  Another favourable and distinctive characteristic of this harbour is its protection from the elements.  It has an immense breakwater built of stone outside the harbour which is almost four miles long and 26 feet high. In the centre of it is a 150 foot channel; at either side of which supports huge storm gates.  At the threat of a major storm or tidal surge the 80 ton gates close across the channel opening to protect the harbour, a feat that is conquered in just 12 minutes.

We approached the breakwater cautiously. The lengthy entrance from Buzzards Bay was well marked but seemed endless as it wound crisscrossed toward the gates.  The only other craft we saw was a lovely little sailing vessel as she headed out in the opposite direction to us, manned by a solitary soul, out for a cool evening sail toward the oncoming sunset.   I waved as she passed and the captain yelled over to me. “Hey Canada (he could see our flag stretching stately out behind us in the late afternoon breeze) where do you hail from?” I answered proudly, “From Nova Scotia” and could just hear the whisper of his response as his boat pulled away beyond our stern. “I know Nova Scotia. I have been there.” We exchanged thumbs ups, our verbal conversation no longer audible.  Bridlewilde’s bow arched around the last buoy reaching in through the 2.4 knot current of the ebb tide rushing through the breakwater into New Bedford.           

We slipped between  and beyond the gates and motored with ease through the mooring field. The captain caught the crusted lines of a vacant mooring ball closest to a boat ramp on shore; one he noticed would be within a meager reach for our dinghy tie up.  We had come to rest just outside the municipal marina on Pope’s Island, one we suspected was closed for the winter season; one we had unsuccessfully reached on the VHF earlier in the day.  We spent the night unsettled.  Keith was quietly unsure of the holding on the ball and was on deck numerous times throughout the night to check on it.  The position was also not to his liking; we were too close to the Fairhaven bridge; he could feel the current beneath us pulling on the hull and was uneasy.  Shortly after dawn the following morning Keith re-checked the lines.  They had held safely. However, after more thorough examination of their state, he decided we would move the boat.  He suspected that the extended growth of sea life attached to these ball lines was indicative of a mooring un-used for some time, possibly weakened; this coupled with the close proximity of the ball to the bridge was enough to warrant the move.  We took the dinghy into the marina to check its status and the possibility of acquiring a slip.  As luck would have it, the marina was open, remaining so for an additional week, with a slip available for Bridlewilde.  Within a couple of hours she was safely tied to the marina dock and we were free to scout out the area.

It took only a few short minutes to determine our visit here would require a four or five day layover to experience much of the local existence.  Fairhaven offered any marine specialists and boatyards for repairs from engines, rigging, electronics, canvas, sails, refrigeration, and propellers covering anything a boater may be in need of.  In Fairhaven, we hiked to West Marine to purchase new oars for the dinghy; a replacement for the one broken in half in Winthrop.  In Fairhaven, Keith found a welder to take care of a crack weakness he had noticed on a bolt in the boat’s engine.  The bolt holds down the valve cover and secures the rocker arm.  It took minutes to complete and the welder shook the captain’s hand but did not charge him anything for his work.  Keith had $7 cash in his pocket and left that for the fellow as a tip along with his sincerest of thanks. This same bolt had broken in Sheet Harbour on our voyage to Nova Scotia from Ontario.  We spent three days at anchorage there while working on the vessel.  While there, two fellows en route to dive for scallops from their trawler, noticed us in the secluded cove, steamed up beside Bridlewilde to say hello, exchange friendly pleasantries and check on our status, so typical of eastern Canadian mariners.  One of the two divers aboard was a maintenance serviceman for NS Power who assured us that upon the return trip from scalloping he would revisit, pick up the bolt, take it to his shop at the NS Power depot, weld it and return it before nightfall.  Within hours, the captain had the welded bolt replaced on the engine.  We were so thankful for the generosity afforded us; this act ensured and enabled us to continue our sailing journey; but the man would take no remuneration for his time, work or consideration.  He just remarked that we pay it forward somewhere in the future. This same bolt again had caused concern on Bridlewilde.  Again, here in New Fairhaven, we could not pay for its repair.  Uncanny! We were beginning to wonder. 

With the boat business concluded, we were anxious to explore New Bedford.  There was much to see.  We started with a walking tour, first across the swing bridge that joins Pope’s Island to New Bedford from which we could easily see the city’s deep piers.  At times, we learned, the commercial vessels are rafted three deep along the wharves; we saw huge freighters unloading clementines for distribution all across North America and loading tons of frozen fish catches for export. 

Commercial fisheries - New Bedford

We hiked over the bridge to the historic downtown, through narrow cobblestone streets amidst pubs, art galleries, theatres and all the eclectic shops that are so fun window gaze.  We listened to criers tell stories street-side of the occurrence of the first Naval battle of the Revolutionary War just off the local shores that lead to the construction of forts to guard and protect both sides of the harbour. Fairhaven’s fort built in 1775 on Nolscot Point was rebuilt and renamed Fort Phoenix after it was attacked and burned by the British in 1778. The fort in New Bedford is named Fort Tabor and was built in the 1800’s.

Cobblestone streets - New Bedford

Downtown New Bedford MA

Art in New Bedford

Art in New Bedford

We hiked up Johnny Cake Hill to the Whaling Museum to take in all the interesting memorabilia and vestiges so exquisitely displayed there.   Two of the most spectacular exhibitions are the skeleton of a 45 ton sperm whale hanging from the ceiling in the foyer of the museum and an 89 foot model replica of the whaling bark, the “Lagoda” that you can actually go aboard.  It is amazing, built to half the scale of the original and is the largest model of a ship in the world.  The museum collection is stunning; I was easily lost in nostalgia all the while we visited.  Here, I was reminded that Herman Melville actually left from Fairhaven aboard the whaling ship Acushnet to go to sea and from where it is thought that he garnered much of the background for his writing including that of “Moby Dick.”

Whale Skeleton

Whale skeleton

Replica of Lagoda

Lagoda Repica

Keith in the Waling Museum

Jo in Whaling Museum

Another piece of information that I learned when we went to the Seaman’s Bethel is that Joshua Slocum, a Nova Scotian sailor and the first man ever to sail around the world alone, rebuilt his vessel the “Spray” in Fairhaven before he left on his voyage.  The Seaman’s Bethel is a non-denominational chapel dedicated to whalers and sailors lost at sea and is located just across the street from the Whaling Museum.

Again, I cannot put to words how utterly gripping and undeniably enthralling it is to experience this voyage we are on.   We are only a few weeks in and we have already faced supreme wondrous sights, have been moved to tears and have been exposed to the most incredible of circumstances.  There are some terror events however, on the sea.  You may remember one such incident that was heavily covered by the media in July 2008 about a rescue water recovery, 156 miles SE off Nova Scotia in the North Atlantic Ocean.  Tropical Storm Cristobal raged offshore where a lone sailor, Cyril O’Leary, was making a passage to the Azores, Portugal in his sailboat when it was caught, overturned and lost.  However, not before the Canadian Coast Guard was able to respond to a Mayday call  from its captain, send divers and helicopters to assist, recover the battered man, lift him and a diver alive, from the water to safety aboard the rescue Cormorant.  He was taken to hospital in Kentville, NS where he recovered and then returned, without his vessel, to his home in Fairhaven, MA.  

We went to the marina office one afternoon while in New Bedford to check with the manager about her recommendation for the best pub in town.  We checked to see if Denis had arrived there in the past few weeks. We met Denis in Yarmouth, NS.  Denis was singlehandedly sailing his vessel, Painkiller, south also.  Also like us, was awaiting the same weather window to cross the Gulf of Maine.  We knew Denis was making his way to New Bedford too; we were told that he had arrived at this marina but had already departed, heading down Long Island Sound, the destination we too would sail toward upon our departure.  During our chat with the manager we heard a bit of a raucous taking place at the gate and continued on below us on the marina deck.  As we continued our conversation in the upstairs office, a strong male voice, one I had heard before, bellowing, “I am looking for a couple Canadians on a burgundy boat.”   I heard the hammering of heavy footsteps quickly bounding up the stairs.  And with a flurry of enthusiasm, in through the door, flew a man I recognized immediately.  I did not know his name but I knew who he was.  I had seen him recently and knew he was one who shared some similar experiences like us.  He chattered to us, “I have been looking everywhere for you; I have been to all the moorings and all the marinas asking of your whereabouts or if anyone has seen you.  I saw your boat on a ball and then you were gone.  Here you are; I have found you. I am Cyril O’Leary, the sailor you waved and talked to as you sailed toward the breakwater.”

We were dumbfounded.  We introduced ourselves; we had wonderful conversations about his sailing escapades and ours.   He told of his many connections to Nova Scotia and asked what he could do for us. He was so appreciative of his own rescue by Canadians; he hoped to give something back to some Canadians. We spent the afternoon together chatting, shopping and telling stories.  Cyril is a like-minded diehard somewhat like us, retired too, not deterred by his sailing challenges, but excited to be out on the sea at any given chance.  What is the likelihood of us unexpectedly meeting this man? What are the chances of our wakes ever crossing each others?  What are the chances of us becoming friends?  Life on the water is indiscriminate, its random, and utterly wonderful.   You just never know!

We knew that New Bedford was to be an interesting visit before we arrived.    We had no idea however how memorable! We ruminated, reflected, pondered our kismet as we pulled together our next plans to head out of this harbour into the Long Island Sound, toward the next milestone of our voyage.