Cerberus had its last sailing trip of the year last week on the Connecticut River. After several planned departures were abandoned due to unfavorable tides, bad weather, and a persistent engine problem, I was finally able to steer the boat out of Lake Montauk. It was a stunning morning.
I had spent seemingly hours studying tidal current predictions. Cerbeus is not exactly a fast boat, and the forecast for last Thursday had the wind out of the southwest at less than 10 knots. I would need everything I could get to reach even Orient, it seemed. However, once past the harbor breakwaters, the conditions began to align in our favor.
I cut the overheating engine and got up the sails while the boat drifted at a good clip in the direction of Culloden Point. There were a few other boats in the distance, probably working the rips east of Montauk Light for bass.
What appeared to me to be a Coast Guard boat was in the other direction, headed more or less toward Fishers Island. I went through a mental checklist to make sure I had all of the U.S.C.G-required safety equipment on the chance that the boat might change its course and stop us to conduct a boarding. But I was in a hurry. If the boat and I were going to get through Plum Gut, the delay would have been frustrating.
Contrary to the Weather Service’s views on the day, there was good wind coming up from the gap between Goff Point and Gardiner’s Island. The sails grabbed hold and off we went, making four or five knots, speed over ground. By the time we reached the Ruins on what had years ago been Bostwick Point, I believed we could in fact get through the gut and into Long Island Sound before lunch. There were more boats there, sportfishing mostly, and the Cross Sound Ferry. Two sails were in the far distance, going west.
As I see it, October is among the best times of the year to get on the water. The air is warm enough to be comfortable in the cockpit, but not swelteringly so, as in July and August. The clouds overhead can be ridiculously perfect on a clear, blue day. There seems a more seriousness of purpose, too — gone for the most part are the spaceship-like Rivas and other quasi-naval-looking pleasure craft that kick up high wakes. Other than a few ferries, Cerberus and I had the crossing to Old Saybrook to ourselves. I could stand a year of Octobers, I thought.
The following day dawned gray and damp, with rain heavy at times, as the weather people say. At Haddam that afternoon, Cerberus and I had to anchor for several hours until a remarkable, ancient-looking bascule bridge would open at 4. We had only bald eagles and the odd gull for company as we headed on as darkness fell.