Jeez! I hate to leave Plymouth. So beautiful. So much to do and see. And the Plymouth Yacht Club is a gracious host. Their fifty dollar mooring fee gets you launch service, showers, and access to their bar. Nevertheless, I’m itching to move on.
It’s a warm, sultry morning. I towel off the dew clinging to the deck chairs and plunk myself down on one to enjoy my coffee. The sun, although still low in the eastern sky, is already kicking ass and taking names. On shore, large trucks loudly scoop up full dumpsters and bang them back down. Commuters are walking and driving to their jobs. Shop owners unlock their doors and sweep the sidewalk. It’s obviously a weekday, which means there won’t be so much boating traffic. Only working boats and a few recreational fishermen will ply these waters. This is a good. Like driving your car, it’s always better when there’s less traffic.
Soon, my wife joins me with her own cup of java, and we enjoy a quiet moment together on the sun drenched aft-deck. For the time being, we are not among the working landlubbers, and I sense that she is as thankful for that as I am. Oh, we’ll be punching that clock soon enough, but for now, timepieces are as superfluous as polished shoes.
“Ready?” she asks, taking that last sip.
“Yeah. Lets light ’em up,” I answer, and make my way to the lower helm station. The diesels start right up and thrum happily. The XO, looking quite adorable in her fuzzy pajamas, un-cleats the mooring pennant and gives Ginger Lee her freedom. I back away slowly, being careful of neighboring boats and the lines in the water. When the XO signals that we are clear, I shove the shifters forward and make way towards the channel.
“PYC, PYC. This is motor vessel Ginger Lee vacating mooring number two. Thank you so much for the hospitality in your awesome harbor. We’ll be back for sure. Ginger Lee out.”
“Ah, you’re very welcome Ginger Lee. Safe journey, and come back soon. PYC out”
Bye-bye Plymouth.
We leave the Bug Light to port, follow a working boat out into Cape Cod Bay, then head north past Duxbury Beach, Brant Rock, Humarock Beach, and the North River approach called New Inlet. (Ha! The so-called “New Inlet” was formed from a storm in 1898!) After a few hours the familiar lighthouse that guards Scituate Harbor greets us warmly. “Welcome back kids! Why’d you stay away so long? I miss you guys.”
Scituate Harbor Light.
Oh yeah. This place is one of our favorites, and it has everything a cruising boater needs: fuel, provisions, booze, and restaurants. All conveniently located near the water. But most of all, it’s just so darn pretty. It really gets ahold of you.
Rainbow over Scituate.
Three marinas have moorings available, and they all answer on channel 9. Perhaps they take turns with the transient renters, I dunno, and I guess I don’t care because they’re all very nice and attentive, and they all charge the same price: 45 bucks.
View from our mooring.
We’ve been here twice before, and each visit was chock full of wonderful memories. The last time, our port engine quit as we approached the entrance to the harbor. It was a windy day and the current was pushy. So naturally, the launch driver who was showing us to our mooring, took the scenic route around several wicked expensive boats probably owned by lawyers. Because of the wind and the flow of the water, Ginger Lee refused to turn left on just one engine. After a near miss with a six figure Hinckly, I hit the port engine starter, and to my surprise, it fired right up and stayed running. With the usual awesome twin-engine maneuverability, we caught the mooring with no lawsuits. A clogged fuel filter was the culprit. I always have plenty of spares on board so it was a quick fix. Click here to read about a previous trip to Scituate Harbor.
Scituate Harbor scene.
All boaters know that sometimes the weather and ocean conditions can boss you around. In order to take advantage of a good weather window, we make the decision to head out tomorrow morning to a place we’ve never been to: Hull Bay. I’m wicked psyched!
Scituate sunset.