Cruising the Race

It was over 21,000 years ago that the global climate had plunged to icy nadirs and the Northeast was covered deeply by the Laurentide ice sheet, to depths of over a mile. And then the climate warmed, abruptly; the glaciers receded, and a treasury of riches for New England sailors emerged. Cape Cod. The Islands. Cuttyhunk. Block Island. And the jewel of Long Island.

No one knows precisely what happened. Perhaps volcanoes, or prehistoric SUVs. But in any case, we are grateful.

Departing upper Narragansett Bay in early August, one Saturday morning, a fleet of serious boaters heads south. The winds, as they typically are this time of year, are on our nose, causing the sailboats to tack and powerboats to buck the waves. But an easy half-day later we are happily moored at Dutch Island, on the west side of Jamestown. This is only day one, and we celebrate our happy beginning with a walk into town, dinner, and as sailors wont, a drink or two.

Next day, Sunday, an early departure, we parallel the Rhode Island coast south: Bonnet Shores, Narragansett,  Scarborough,  Point Judith. And then west, heading for Long Island Sound. Fifteen nautical miles later, a major landmark heaves into view – Taylor Swift’s seaside mansion in Watch Hill. But respectful as we are, no one storms the beach, only snapping a few photos as we glide by, headed for the safe harbor of Stonington, Connecticut.

Stonington was founded early, in 1649, as a trading outpost. After some confusion as to whether she might belong to Massachusetts, Stonington officially became part of Connecticut in 1662. But we were more interested in the Dog Watch Cafe, one of the world’s top-ten sailor bars, and the Water Street Cafe, where two dozen of us were served dinner promptly and sumptuously.

And on Tuesday morning, early, the thunderstorms and microbursts steamed through, rocking our boats at their docks and killing the power in the marina. And wreaking havoc to the north, which we would not learn of till much later.

But little mind. It passed quickly, the sky brightened, and we set off to the south, to Sag Harbor on the eastern end of Long Island. But this crossing wasn’t to be without event.

The glaciers, in their retreat, had left some oddities in the topology of Long Island Sound, resulting in the Race.

The Race is a challenging area, where the tidal currents can run five knots (6 mph), and the wind raises sharp choppy waves much like the inside of your washing machine. No comfort for relatively slow sailboats, whose top speed may allow them little more than break-even.

We meet the challenge, but our forward progress is slowed to just a few knots relative to the bottom. Huge currents in the Race flow through submerged glacial moraines, attracting fish and fisherman, but tossing our boats in choppy seas, sliding side to side and eventually emerging, surfing, into calm water. It was a transit we will never forget.

The remainder of the journey to Sag Harbor is uneventful, but calls for careful attention to charts, for the channel into the harbor is winding, with treacherous shallows to lure the inattentive.  We call out to each other, warning of dangers, and all make it safely to port.

Sag Harbor is in the Hamptons. A hundred years ago, this end of Long Island had 20,000 acres of potatoes under cultivation. Before that, the whale trade predominated. Today, all of that land has been “developed,” if that can be given a positive spin. It seems that New York City has moved to the Hamptons for summer. Luxurious beach houses and “mansion yachts” prevail. Roads are clogged. Restaurants are crowded. We appreciate the history of the place, the differentness, the unaffordable luxury. But most of all we enjoy the swirling schools of Menhaden minnows in tidal pools, an artistic touch of nature.

On Thursday, we are happy to depart, destination Block Island, a long 35 nautical mile leg. A lengthy day, a few swells, long vistas and faint horizons, but finally we are back in Rhode Island. Familiar waters.

The next few days are comfortable. A crossing of Block Island Sound back to Jamestown, and then to upper Narragansett Bay. It has been a long week, but with rewarding adventures. A major storm, unknown waters, racing tidal currents, shallows and reefs. But we navigated all successfully, and shared comradeship upon each landing.

Here’s to next year’s cruise. Perhaps east this time. Always something to dream of, to plan, while the snows of December lay deep.

A tramp freighter will do

A tramp freighter will do.

It is difficult, in today’s “now” culture, to appreciate the happenings of seventy years ago.

The world had been viciously attacked by dictators who imposed their will upon hundreds of millions of people. America, along with her allies, beat back these dark forces and earned her place as the bastion of democracy. But the way was not smooth and decisions far from easy.

Germany was overcome in May of that year, 1945. But the battle for the Pacific continued to rage, with the Okinawa campaign spanning 82 days from April through mid-June. The Allies suffered over fourteen thousand killed in that short period, nearly twice as many brave souls than in all the fourteen years of our operations in Iraq and Afghanistan.

But worse, we saw that the Japanese fought desperately to defend their homeland, with 77 thousand soldiers and up to 150 thousand civilians killed or dying by suicide. US planners, working on the invasion plans of mainland Japan (Operation Downfall), estimated that from 400,000 to 800,000 American troops would be killed because of the fanatic hostility of Japan’s defenders, both military and civilian. And judging from the Okinawan experience, we also anticipated over a million Japanese military deaths and two million civilian deaths. The cost of this operation, in human life, was beyond imagining.

So it was against this calculus of three million Japanese and many hundreds of thousands of American deaths that President Truman made his most difficult decision. To use the atomic bomb against Hiroshima and Nagasaki, or execute the war plans for Operation Downfall and invade the mainland.  

Our nascent atomic program had been proceeding desperately, quietly, secretly, but ultimately successfully. On July 16, 1945, the first atomic bomb was detonated in the New Mexican desert.

And on that same day, upon learning of the results of the test, the USS Indianapolis departed San Francisco bearing atomic bomb components including over half the world’s known uranium 235 supply. Racing for Tinian Island, the speedy cruiser arrived on July 26. Bomb components and scientists were offloaded, and construction began. By August 6, seventy years ago, they were ready. The bomb, “Little Boy,” was loaded on a B29 Superfortress called “Enola Gay,” and was dropped on Hiroshima.

Exploding with the force of fifteen thousand tons of TNT, Little Boy was devastating. Intense heat and light, shock waves and radiation, nearly instantly killed over 100,000 people, and started raging fires which finished the destruction of the city. Slowly, later that day, the Japanese military command began to comprehend that a single American bomber had completely destroyed a city. Their analysis confirmed that an atomic weapon had been used, but they estimated that only one or two additional bombs could be assembled. The Emperor decided to continue the war.

Three days later, on August 9, another atomic bomb was prepared on Tinian. “Fat Man” used 14 pounds of plutonium-239, and when dropped by the B29 “Bockscar,” exploded on Nagasaki with a force of twenty thousand tons of TNT. Once again, a city was obliterated, with 75,000 killed.

Not assuming that this was decisive, the United States pressed forward with preparing additional bombs, with as many as seven to be ready over August, September, and October.

But it was decisive, and on August 14, Emperor Hirohito signaled his surrender to the Allies.

And with this, World War II finally ground to a halt. The world began to heal and rebuild.

Germany and Japan are now strong economies, close friends, and stout allies. But other things have changed in seventy years. These early weapons, which devastated whole cities, were puny. Modern atomic weapons are 2,500 times more powerful than Fat Man and Little Boy. A single contemporary atomic weapon could destroy Los Angeles and all of its environs. Millions of people instantly killed.

It is for this reason that we have tried hard, for seventy years, to keep the nuclear genie in the bottle. For the longest time, only the US, Great Britain, France, China, and the Soviet Union had nuclear weapons. Now the club has expanded to include India, Pakistan, and North Korea. (Israel is also rumored to have the bomb).

This is why it’s so important that the club not be expanded. Iran, in particular, must not be admitted. Because while we think our technology and power and broad oceans protect us, an advanced ICBM is not required to deliver nuclear holocaust to Los Angeles.

No, a single tramp freighter will do.