The quest began after 6-AM in easy breezes from the NW. Winds picked up to about 14-MPH shortly afterwards. Nice, but not the relaxing sail I prefer. 'Never-once used my PED going
to Cow Island.
Very few boats were out at that hour: Two salmon fishermen in The Broads—including the "fisherman in the 'red boat'".
As I approached the south end of the Barber Pole channel, an MP snuck up on me—turned on his lights and siren and took off—
after making a 180° turn. (A Jet-Ski "chase", I think, though the Jet-Ski had given me plenty of room). It could have been a registration number that set things in motion. Once the MPs have a complainant giving a registration number, they have a "hook" to pull you over.
At that time, I was in the "wind shadow" of Cow Island and proceeded in accordance with the gentle puffs. I drifted into the small cove near a tiny island with a very shallow entrance. Sundecks were in use, and several islanders commented favorably as I passed by:
"You would make a great picture", one said.
Just before I got over to the location of the purported Boston Whaler, I was passed at headway speed by a sight-seeing boat named "Big Sandy II". (New to me). They slowed even further to point out the tiny cove behind the tiny island. One lady passenger then waved to me: I knew by waving back, there would be many "waves" that would then "need-returning".
"Big Sandy II" had a diesel odor.
It docked on the Tuftonboro side and let off about 30 people. Those passengers may have something to do with the YMCA camp on Sandy Island, nearby. I recognized a "work-boat" from YMCA/Sandy Island that had preceeded them to the same dock.
After a little backtracking, a little before 8-AM—I'm still looking for a Boston Whaler. Even at that hour, there was some activity at the waterfronts along Cow Island. Lots of hammers swinging around the cottages there, this weekend. Two residents were moving underwater rocks around. Some were thrown into deeper water. (Something I don't understand
).
But I still ended-up not seeing any Boston Whaler boat.
Where I thought the Boston Whaler (and a camera) should be, was a dysfunctional scene: two dogs—one brown, one black—were running back and forth across the properties of other residents. Their owners were yelling and also chasing back and forth through five or more lots at any one time.
("No, Toby doesn't bite"...
)
At the waterfront, The Beatles were being playing loudly at 8-AM.
I'm not going to complain—ever again—about my own
July neighboring rental-people. I'd already nick-named them, "The Clampetts".
A Bald Eagle was sighted high overhead—soaring in great circles—drifting leisurely to the southeast. He was "checking out" the center of Tuftonboro Neck.
Because I was in no rush, the round trip took six hours.
The return trip was dicey, because "Chaos reigns" after 11-AM on weekends.
Even using the PED (as best I could in the extreme chop), I couldn't persuade even half of the oncoming boats to give me enough room to clear the markers. One stood out: a Grady-White with a Mercury. The "driver" waved to me, while passing at about 60'. His wake was considerable, and I had to reduce sail to keep from submarining under it.
For my small vessel at 12:30-PM, the lake was very rough with wind and wakes cross-colliding. The wind had increased markedly, and wakes were large and indeterminate. That gave me an intense workout I'd like to forget. I managed to wave to a few considerate boaters—most of them in outboards.
My eyes got to squeaking after being out on the lake for six hours-straight.
I shouldn't complain: it was a weekend, but it was sunny.
The crux of the problem is that the channel has an inside curve: that's where boat-wakes are steep, which are the worst you can encounter.
Residents are densely situated, and getting hammered by nearly every mid-sized boat that goes by. (Even at reasonable speeds.)
As I turned to leave the area,—wouldn't you know it—a tuber passed me running straight-through the middle of the channel.
He gave me about 75'—and a wave!
