Long Island Sound wasn’t done with us yet. According to the forecasts the wind was down to a pleasant 10 knots from the north. The direction was right, but she was blowing a steady 20 as we upped anchor. We knew the seas were going to be messy in the sound, but had no idea that we would almost not make it out of the harbor.

We set the main with two reefs again and headed out. As we approached the jetties of the channel the waves got incredibly steep and we dropped to less than 2 knots (as Trip is fond of saying, someone with a walker would have been making better time than we were). And of course there was a ferry leaving Port Jeff and another one on the way in, with a channel just wide for one of those big boats. We thought we might be able to make it through, but as we lost speed in barely controllable waves, and a ferry bearing down on us, Trip decided to gybe and head back in. Within a few seconds we had swung around, another few seconds and the ferry was past us, yet another few seconds and it was back into the wind and the general snot to try and get out. It was messy but we were able to get close enough to the jetty to let the other ferry come through. Using the main to help along with the engine, we swung over and crossed the channel just moments after the ferry passed. Another few messy minutes and we were out.

It wasn’t fun with stacked beaming seas, but with sail up we were making progress and we knew we’d be able to sail shortly after rounding Old Field Point. Then we heard a mayday call come in over the radio. An inexperienced, solo motor boater had gone out into this weather, had nearly capsized in the waves (his words), panicked and called the Coast Guard. We watched both the local marine police and the Coast Guard come out to guide him back to port. As uncomfortable as it might be for us, it was far better than whatever he had to have been going through in a light boat with almost no keel or sails to stabilize him.

The winds and seas calmed as we made our way west, but unfortunately we had a repeat of the gnarly shifting winds. Every few minutes it was dropping the traveler, easing the main, easing the jib, then pulling in everything a few minutes later. And sometimes furling or unfurling jib. I had a knot between my shoulders, and my arms and hands ached. It was a shorter day with fewer miles and less wind and seas overall, but it was still brutal. I’m now convinced it was the price we paid for such great weather all summer in Maine.

Once we dropped anchor, the wind and the seas dropped. I almost didn’t know what to do at that point with a quiet night without issue, no sound of the bridle creaking in high winds, no rocking in changing tides, just a quiet night of solid sleep.

After lunch ashore the next day at our favorite Mediterranean restaurant, our friend Dave came over from City Island that afternoon and was kind enough to not only bring beer, but to also invite us over onto his boat for a home cooked meal. Our boat was getting down to bare-bones-end-of-season-provisions and we were thrilled to accept a great meal and great company.