Going No Where

There are times when going cruising means going nowhere. I did not use to think so. Incessant movement was the plan but now a half-decade into a wander my thoughts on this subject have changed.

I am presently sitting comfortable on the back of CR watching — and listening — to the also incessant traffic crossing the bridge from Grand Isle to North Hero. In the background is the second movement of Brahms’s piano quintet in F minor and the clanging of the surrounding sailboats unsecured rigging.

There is a stiff southern breeze but as I look north waves of dark clouds approach. Soon they will eclipse the sun and it will go from pleasantly warm to cool, and I expect even cold tonight.

When fronts meet, there is a lull in the wind as they sort themselves out. This lull provides precious time to reassess the sail plan and if the overtaking front is from the north, it usually means a reef in the main.

But today it is just I in a chair on CR’s aft deck so no reefs are necessary. A squall line is now clearly visible with dark threads of rain draped below it. The sun is gone and there is a chill in the air, a lone shaft of light pierces the dark tumbling clouds. The south wind is wavering and boats are returning to the marina.

This is the unsung part of cruising. Sitting safe and watching a storm develop — living out of doors with the comforts of home, at least on CR.