There were only a few other boats on the bay Sunday when I took Cerberus out alone for what might have been its last, leisurely trip of the season. I could see sails in the distance, no more than five or six, their crews enjoying their own late-season reveries, I imagined.
Winds of 10 to 15 knots with gusts to 25 were in the forecast. I had tied a reef in before leaving the dock, that is, reduced the amount of sail catching the wind. It was a good call. A cliché among sailors is to shorten sail as soon as the notion crosses the mind; waiting might mean that it would have to be done after the wind piped up, which can be dangerous, especially single-handed.
Cerberus and I sailed to Cedar Point and, just for fun, tacked back and forth a half-dozen times to defeat the outgoing current and enter Northwest Harbor. Two fishing boats and a larger sloop passed us as we fought the tide.
Having had enough of the back-and-forth, I nudged Cerberus around and bobbed quickly around the point and made a course in the direction of Three Mile Harbor. Off Springy Banks, we sailed close to a sizable and mysterious red-painted yacht anchored up with no one in sight aboard. Life aboard such vessels must be rather boring; that is why their owners install massive TVs, which can often be seen from shore flickering. Electronic devices are few on my boat, and anyway, after a day’s hand-steering, I tend to drop right to sleep as soon as we are anchored for the night.
Wanting a pause near Hog Creek, we heaved-to, setting the headsail in opposition to the rudder, jogging along in a straight line at a single knot per hour. Heaving-to is a survival maneuver, I have read, but it is also a way to just about stop the boat for any reason. I ate sardines on sourdough, with a cup of cold coffee and some grapes, and relaxed.
There is a never-ending list of things to do on an old boat like mine. A rusted anchor chain should be replaced. I want to figure out how all of the cabin lights went dead last winter. Already a bilge pump installed in September has lost its automatic sensing capability. But these were worries for later as we drifted along peacefully about a half-mile off shore, thinking about nothing.