Block Island, RI, July 17 – 19, 2015

July 17 – 19, 2015

Heading out of the Narraganset Bay

Block Island is a favorite stop for cruising boats. "It is six miles long and three miles wide with beautiful, sun-washed beaches, cliff-side views, fresh air and island mystique which draws young and old alike.  Great Salt Pond, in the center of the island, is more than one nautical mile long and almost as wide, with New Harbor stretched along its southeastern perimeter." It is in this Great Salt Pond that our marina for the weekend is located. 

Lighthouse on Block Island

Our Waterway Guide line-itemed Champlins Resort and Marina on Block Island as having 225 berths for docking. Little did we know as we arrived early this Friday afternoon that this was a 'rafting' marina which meant: a) another boat could tie to us, could tie to that boat, could tie to that boat (surely there's a limit), making us a little floating island in and of ourselves; and b) the 225 number could swell to double that boat population if not more. Uh-oh. Seemed innocent enough at the time of our arrival but as time progressed, more and more boats arrived to create a party scene reminiscent of olden days at Two Rivers Marina. Well, I guess it is what it is.

With map in hand, I decided to walk to the beach. Sam and Clay opted in, giving me companionship as we trekked over the asphalt two-lane road with no shoulder or sidewalk to the beach beyond. I was truly amazed that, given the walking/biking population (mostly visitors), the walkability of these roadways was so poor! The beach stretching north from Old Harbor was fabulous! Scattered about were kids building sand castles, older folks shelling/rocking, families wading and bobbing in the water. With Sam in the lead heading north, Clay and I followed up the shoreline toward a distant point which Clay quickly ascertained was wayyyyy too far. I called a meeting of the minds to chart a course that would make everyone happy. We returned to the boat 1.5 hours later to regroup before dinner.

Sam and Clay had investigated dinner options with Sam making reservations at The National Hotel which "has the monopoly on the old-fashioned rocking chairs and breakfast on the deck." We grabbed a cab from the marina, deciding to explore prior to dinner the downtown of New Shoreham (Old Harbor), the smallest town in the smallest state in the US and the only town on Block Island. The village at Old Harbor offered everything from trinkets to trendy sportswear, imported goods and artful crafts.

Seated at The National Hotel for dinner on the porch, we had a colorful view of the passing scene as well as of the water. We found our food to be delicious with Sam ordering fried clams; Clay, lobster fettuccine; and me, swordfish. But, the porch was crowded and very loud which diminished our enjoyment somewhat and made us eager for a quick escape without dessert.

Desiring some me time, I bolted from the boat early Saturday morning for a solo walk, making my great escape before either of the fellas got up. I had charted my course, and turned right out of the marina with map in hand. En route, I met Harriett who was a fellow boater (sail) docked at the marina adjacent to ours. Harriett was well-acquainted with Block Island and shared tidbits with me as we walked Beacon Hill Road which cut through the island from West Side Drive to Center Road. I loved the road naming which gave validation to the location of said roads. Beacon Hill Road, with its dirt and gravel surface and periodic pot holes and ruts, dissuaded any desire of mine to jog a bit; it was remote and infreqently traveled, but Harriett assured me we were safe. I noted the sign "No scooters" and quickly ascertained the why for the exclusion. Harriett and I parted company after she pointed out the direction of the airport and indicated her destination of the Saturday morning farmers market, her backpack an almost dead giveaway!

Returning to the boat, I urged Sam and Clay to do their own thing today, and I'd do mine. I loved the sense of freedom and self-direction! So, off they went for lunch at Dead-Eye Dick's and an afternoon of exploration at the Mohegan Bluffs. I got consumed by housekeeping chores, but broke away mid-afternoon to go biking. I pedaled out the marina driveway and onto the main road curving right, rode about 100 yards and got whacked on my outside arm by some idiot (clown? nasty-name?) riding by on his rental scooter. He gave a huge 'woo hoo' as he hit my left arm on the upswing; I kept my balance and watched him weave back and forth over the center line as he rode on down the two-lane asphalt road. Idiot! I kept my balance, but sobbed, remembering a similar incident during my growing-up years.

Block Isl Bikes!

Soon recovered, I had a nice ride around the lower half of the island, then circled north by the a

irport. I heard a shout from a passing van (taxi) in which Sam and Clay were returning from the bluffs (I recognized Clay's cap). Talk about coincidence! I then proceeded north along the beach the 3.7 miles we'd previously noted to Settler's Rock. Settler's Rock commemorates the landing of the sixteen European families who purchased the island and first came ashore in 1661. I paused to walk the beach and pick up a few rocks as souvenirs. All in all, I biked about 2.25 hours, with stops for viewing and picture-taking. There are hills here, but they are short hills which allow for quick recovery in the downward slope beyond.

We three returned to the downtown area for a late seafood dinner at Manisses Restaurant, then called it a night and returned to the marina.

Clay and I walked Sunday morning, retracing much of my Saturday route, and again encountering Harriett who gave a hearty shout out "SaSea Sally" when she saw us in the distance. Such fun in a sea of strangers to have someone hail me in recognition. Returning to the boat, Clay noted the fog setting in. Note: Waterway Guide highlights fog and wind in the same sentence with Block Island often being called the "Bermuda of the North." 

The hundreds of boats prepping for departure had a wait on their hands with a few of the more impatient ones heading out prematurely. Stupid. We left in the second or third shift of the fog lift, but were astounded to find ourselves soon maneuvering in a very dense fog which descended once again. With 200-300 yards visibility for much of the trip, we were thankful for the electronics onboard...and amazed at those traveling in our same waters with no electronics. All three of Sam, Clay and I drove with only the captain's hands on the helm wheel. Three hours later it was hard to believe the battle we'd just wagered with Mother Nature; clear and sunny the remaining three hours, we arrived at Brewer's Greenwich Bay Marina where Sam was to switch out boat for car early the next morning.

Because Clay had noticed some acceleration problems with SaSea in the last hours of our trip, he was anxious to have the props and shafts checked for possible rope or damage. Astutely, Sam spied a diver just calling it quits for the day. We solicited the diver's help in checking us out and were given an all clear. Hmmm. I suggested we take the boat for a test run the next day to reassess. Will keep you apprised.

A grocery run, dinner prep and clean-up kept this little lady hopping for the remaining hours of Sunday evening; and I retired pooped following a good dinner of grilled burgers, zucchini and fresh corn on the cob. I mentally prepared a to-do list for Monday morning when Sam was scheduled to depart and sister Susan to arrive.

More later when we've transacted this quick turnaround, bidding farewell to Sam and welcoming Sus aboard the SaSea Sally!