Midpack back to talk boats...
So now another BIL story... different BIL... In the early 70's we lived in Falmouth and he lived in Gray Gables (long ago, the home of the Summer Whitehouse) at the exit of the Cape Cod Canal into Buzzards Bay...
Gordon was an adventurer who would try anything, and living by the water decided to buy a sailboat... a 22' Herreshoff Eagle... that despite the hallowed name, was an absolute dog of a boat. Gaff rigged sail and a wide beam meant that not only could it not be sailed close hauled... but not even well on a close reach.
His second day of learning to sail, w/ DW, her sister and I along for the ride.... we sail east toward Cape Cod Bay with a good west wind.
Most of the way to Sandwich... and then... ebb tide, and, too late... we realize we have to go back. And then it starts... tack,tack,tack and we're making about 100 yards on each tack across the canal... We're barely moving on a close reach. An hour of this, and then the tide changes. The tide can run at 6 knots, and not only is the wind against us, but so is the tide... we're moving backwards towards the bay... away from home... and no anchorages...
That's not the worst... we're still tacking and suddenly see this huge wave coming up from the mouth of the canal... what the
? there we are, near the middle of the canal, and up from the depths, rising like a bad dream... the conning tower (wings) of a nuclear submarine, probably transiting from Boston through Buzzards Bay to Newport... these things are BIG... and scary... pulling a five foot wave...
We really weren't in any danger, as we were closer to shore at the time, but I have to admit, I was glad there was a head in the cockpit.
A friendly cabin cruiser saw our plight, and graciously towed us back to Gordon's slip...