Of flies and yah hairdos

A year afloat: to the Caribbean and back
Sam and Alex Fortescue
Wed 6 Jul 2011 21:24
41:11.60N
71:34.63W
 
I want to share some glorious prose in a recent email from my Edinburgh friend Rachel, who has the following to say on the subject of the wafro:
'We will be waiting wherever you dock with some union jack bunting, and a bottle of champers. Oh, and a silk scarf for you Sam which, franchement, seems the logical sartorial conclusion to your wildly 90s Edinburgh yah hairdo.'
Thank you Rachel.
 
I should also note that Marina, who is now back in Luxembourg after a 10-day trip to see us in NYC, has committed to finding me a job in advertising and modeling on the strength of my hair. This is obviously great news, as it has the potential to keep me solvent without an excess of toil. Suggestions on possible advertising jingles or products are welcome...
 
In other news, Summer Song had a good spinnaker run down from her comfortable anchorage on Long Island to a more remote, but no less beautiful, spot on Block Island. This is a teardrop shaped piece of land 10 miles south of Massachusetts which has been hollowed out by a large salt lake. Some enterprising fellow dug a channel through to the sea many years ago, so the lake is now home to hundreds of anchored yachts. We raced up to within an ace of the shore with the spinnakoo, before furling the beast and racing in through the narrow channel under main and jib at considerable speed (by which I mean at least 5 mph).
 
The thing to do here seems to be cycling around the island, but we have a long passage tomorrow to Martha's Vineyard, so we're not planning to set foot ashore here. It's a shame, because it looks quite a cool place - less steeped in the conspicuous wealth of the Hamptons and more haphazard with great beaches. A 10 knot breeze is blowing the smell of hay and summer meadows across the deck - enough to make any old salt turn in his oilskins for a pitchfork and settle in to the Good Life. Days of warm sun have only been gently puntuated with wafting fog and the odd thunderstorm since we left the Chesapeake. It really has been glorious.
 
I tried to copy a Springmead classic supper this evening: chicken stewed in white wine and lemon juice. The injudicious addition of Caribbean pepper sauce and soy sauce rendered it both fiery and salty - a curiously unwelcome combination. It took some time to make, however, so we both agreed it was delicious. I won't make it again.
 
The other excitement aboard is the resolution of our fly problem (see previous posts). After nearly overpowering ourselves in the confinement of the cabin with the flower-scented fumes of Baygon spray, we have gone all old school with fly paper. As well as wiping out our fly population, it has added an extra dimension to boat life: the Dead Fly Sweepstake! In essence, this is a game of hazard revolving around guessing the rough number of new flies trapped on the paper each morning. We're on 60, and counting...
 
Fog at lovely Georgica Beach
 
A tough afternoon of spinnakooing across Block Island Sound