Everybody loves Bassetts. What’s not to like? It’s the perfect anchorage, protected on all sides with beautiful beaches and scenery, and has excellent holding in firm sand. It took us a long time to discover Bassetts, but once we did, it quickly became one of our favorites. Like Onset, we will weekend here a few times during the season. The cruise from Wareham is just about an hour, enough time for the engines to fill our water heater with gloriously hot water.
View north.
View south.
It’s a very popular place, especially on a nice day like today. The southern end is filled with the party people and children. There’s lots of fun and music, jumping, splashing, hootin’ and hollerin’. The locals with smaller boats will pull them right onto the beach. In my advanced age, I prefer the northern end of the anchorage, it’s more subdued, almost too quiet. You can hear conversations coming from other boats. I remind myself to keep my voice down.
Nice trawler from Quincy.
The XO will attempt to circumnavigate Bassetts Island.
Success!
I toss a couple of burgers on the grill, pop open a cold brew, and kick back on a comfortable deck chair. Jeez! I’m feeling pretty darn fortunate right now.
Zuccini and burgers.
After dinner swim.
Just in the nick of time, the ice cream boat approaches.
Many boaters come for the day, but only a few of us will stay overnight. You can always tell by the scope of the rode.
Dusk brings such breathtaking peace and stillness. The XO calls it “The Lemon Light”.
The Lemon Light.
I wake early to an awesome morning filled with rising sunshine and the plaintive call of a hunting Osprey. My wife still sleeps peacefully. I will not wake her if I can help it. I’m actually jealous of the fact that she can sleep until nine o’clock, something I have never in my whole life have been able to do, and I will often leave the boat to defend her right to do so. But my motives are somewhat ulterior: I do enjoy my own company at dawn, so I dinghy to the beach, where I am the only person in the world.
As I walk along the deserted beach, I come across a Border Collie playing in the water. Jumping, splashing around, swimming, and basically entertaining herself. It’s the cutest thing. I try to walk by unnoticed, but she spots me and yips playfully.
I find an old tennis ball and throw it. She picks it out of the water, takes it to the top of a sandy rise, puts it down, and chases it as it rolls to the water. Happy to supply a new form of play, I move on and focus my attention on trying to beat my rock skipping record.
Trying to beat my twenty skip record. No luck.
Looking over a dune into Buzzards Bay.
The northern half of Bassetts Island is private property. There are a few houses. I’m not sure how many, because unlike the flashy mansions that line the shore on the mainland, they’re all well hidden by the trees, as if their owners don’t want to be flashy. I totally understand that.
Plenty of no trespassing signs on the northern half.
We hang around until we get hungry, but we’ve run out of food and the closest store is quite a few miles away. Nearby Kingman’s Yacht Center has an awesome restaurant, but on a nice weekend day like today, the waiting list is a mile long. With rumbling stomachs, we reluctantly pull up the anchor and head home. We will be back for certain. I hope this place never changes.