19. June 2009 - Back in Montague

I left Winter Cove this morning, after listening for another night to the growling, crunching, scratching of my anchor chain on what I imagined to be craggy underwater reefs, snagging my anchor, and making it impossible for me to hoist. The usual midnight worries...
Last night every skipper in the anchorage was on high alert, when an ancient mariner with his equally ancient wooden vessel (a potential beauty) sailed into the anchorage. Familiar sight from earlier years, when his arrival in other places resulted in some anxious moments as well, requiring untangling of boats and anchors, and observing rudderless drifting through crowded places, repeated failed attempts to re-anchor etc etc.
Here the grizzled skipper was again, loudly talking to himself, circling around, finally dropping the anchor, some swearing, some playing with strings (or whatever that tangle of stuff was posing as ground tackle) and then the expected drifting around whilst tying, untying, whatever-ing the anchor 'strings'. Somebody rowed over and offered help - but was cleary and loudly repelled.
By that time, everybody was out in their cockpits with binoculars, prepared for the potential 'collision at anchor'.
Half an hour later, with the skipper all the time muttering to himself and crouched over the bow busying himself with mysterious activities, the boat came to a stop - somehow.
I hoped the wind would stay steady. That way, should he drag overnight, he would drift safely past me.
My weighing anchor at low ebb this morning, and in only 14 feet of depth turned out to be quite easy, apart from having to remove loads of heavy kelp from anchor and chain. No mud tracked on deck, though - a clean break.
Off I cruised past the exposed wreck of the Robertson again into Plumper Sound, where a fresh breeze chopped up the water.
I rolled out my jib, hoping for a fast passage to Montague (the current should be with me, the wind CERTAINLY was). The sail was drawing nicely, Millennium was finally in her element.
Then I suddenly espied daylight where it should not be - two panels of the jib had parted company at the leach end. Not a good thing. Disappointed I rolled the sail up again, not wishing to have it ripped to shreds. Back to motoring, too rough - for me - to hoist the mainsail.
I bounced and rolled north via Plumper Sound and Navy Channel, through what seemed to be for the most part sea-weed stew. Trying to steer through the thick green patches of vegetation kept me from thinking about the sick sail too much. And the current did NOT cooperate (wind influence?) Then a rolly crossing through the ferry routes (got bounced a little more by their wakes) and into quiet Montague, where I grabbed a mooring before a whole flotilla of boats on a re-union cruise occupied every other one of them.
So, I'll stay here for the weekend, maybe motor to another anchorage next, then stop at my home dock - and pick up one of the spare jibs from the garage. Dumb of me, should have carried an extra anyway.
Life continues to be good...