Holy hell, now this is a fun town!! Fin made it to the anchorage located in South Boston. While Jon and I were coming in through the Harbor we heard an announcement over VHF channel 16. 

“All stations, all stations, all stations…….. for more information about underwater blasting near red marker buoy #4 at 1200 please switch to 22alpha”

I switched to 22a as we were going to be right next to this marker around noon, and well we don’t want to be near any blasting. Sure enough they were going to hold back traffic while the blasting happened, which would have kept Jon and I holding our ground in the busy harbor. Lucky for us, a large tanker that was behind us, asked if they could hold on the blast till after they had passed around 1210. We picked up our pace as much as we could so we would also make it past the marker before 1210. The locals didn’t like it, but they held the blast for the tanker and us. We made it through and could hear the boom a while later. We thought it was going to be much louder.

We anchored in the lee of Pleasure Bay, which offered protection from everything but south winds. The large sand beach made for very easy dinghy landing, and great walks. We had been saving our pennies so we could “go big” while in Boston. Across the street was a docking station for Blue Bikes which made getting around so easy. 

The 4 of us spent one full day doing the Freedom Trail, we walked and used the Blue Bikes to get around. It was incredible to stand in the same place that so much of American history had happened. I told Jon that because of growing up in California and never having visited the East Coast, I never really gave any real thought to American history. I hated American history in school, but to visit the place where it all started, was a very eye opening experience for me.

In a few days there was some south wind heading our way, and none of us wanted to stay in the anchorage at Pleasure Bay. Instead we headed back out into Boston Harbor with the intent to check out the islands that make up Harbor Islands State Park.

Now finding an anchorage that was out of the channel, deep enough, and somewhat protected was proving to be difficult. The fact that I was PMSing to the point where I was thinking about jumping ship, had nothing to do with the fact that none of the anchor spots where “good enough” I swear.  By the time we got the hook down in an “okay” spot off Gallops Island, I was in no mood to explore. I really just wanted some time to myself to get my emotions under control.

Christina on Fin, coaxed me out of my funk and told me that a walk around would do me some good. Part of me wanted to see Fort Warren and the other half wanted to sulk, but I put my party pooper pants away and got into the dinghy for the quick ride to the beach.

We landed the dinghy on the soft pebble beach of Georges Island and made our way up to the visitor building. The first thing we all noticed was that there were no people around. Our group of 4 was greeted by a park ranger who told us that because of a brake in one of the water mains the ferry’s were not running today. So we had the whole island and fort to ourselves! I could feel the ugly PMS emotions ebbing away and the normal Shannon coming up for air. 

Exploring the old fort with virtually no one else around, made the fort seem so vast. We spent a few hours looking around and all thought that the large underground cave like rooms were like nothing we had seen before. Jon kept saying ” I want to shoot a movie here… this place would be so cool to shoot a movie in…” so on and so on.

Once we were done exploring the 4 of us headed back to our boats and started the search again for a safe place to anchor for the night. It was just about sun down when we noticed that the very busy anchorage in Portuguese Cove on Peddocks Island just to the south of us was not completely empty… must have been filled with boats just out for the day. Sweet! It was the perfect spot for us to ride out the strong southern winds that were forecasted to be blowing for the next few days.

When we headed back to the anchorage in Southie, we prepared our selves for a night we would never forget. We were heading out for a classic pub crawl as we walked to Fenway Park. YEP! We went to a Red Socks game at Fenway. HOW COOL IS THAT! It would have been better if the LA Dodgers were playing, but still!! On our way we stopped at a few places, mostly dives off the beaten path, one of then was called Shannon’s Tavern, so we HAD to go there, then we found ourselves in a place that we don’t think even had a name. The door at the entrance was solid steel and had a single rope as a handle. When the 4 of us walked in, the bar got quite, something right out of a movie. The bar keep walked up to us, said ” your not from here, I’m Jerry” in the thickest Boston accent you can imagine. I could barley understand a word he said. We all ordered some beers, the cheapest in town according to the regulars that where there and were about to play some pool when things started to get hot. I am not sure how these men knew each other, but they were both Veterans and did not like each other.  By the time they were at each others throats and the bouncer separated them, we felt like it was time to go. By the time we made it to the gates of Fenway we were all pumped and also in shock. This was by far the most amount of people we had seen out with no masks for a very long time. Derek, Christina and I made it through security and turned around to see Jon was no where to be seen. Opps, seems like non of us read the fine print on the tickets, cause it says NO BACKPACKS. Like always, Jon was wearing his backpack, so he had to go down a few blocks to a place that rents lockers by the hour. By the time we were all back together, we realized why our seats were so cheap… we bought seats in the “family zone” which means no drinking. Luckily it was not a sold out game and one of the employees allowed us to sit in a different section so we could enjoy our $15 beers.  I cannot remember who the Red Socks were playing, but I do remember that the home team won, so that’s good.

Our ride home is the part that we will never forget. Fenway Park is quite a long way by foot back to our anchorage in Southie, so we thought it would be a great idea to get the Blue bikes we used a few days prior. Getting an Uber was out of the question as they jack up their prices on games nights and it would have cost us over $60 to get home. We rushed to the nearest check out station for the bikes, and we were lucky that there were more than 4 left. By the time we had our check out and paid for, all the bikes were gone. Lucky, other wise it would have been a long walk home. Anyways, we all hop on and start to head back towards the boats, or so we thought. Derek took the lead and got us completely lost. I should mention that we are trying to get back to the check-in station next to the anchorage before the cheap first 20 min limit is up. So we are rushing, a bit buzzed and riding bikes in a very large city that we really know nothing about. Luckily it was midnight and the streets where empty but it took us more than 15 minutes to realize we were going in the wrong direction. Oops! Now we were really out of our way, so we all thought it would be fine as long as we make it before the hour, cause then the bikes get even more expensive. Jon takes the lead and gets us heading back in the right direction. As our 20 minute time limit starts to approach we realize we are getting close to the beginning of the Freedom Trail and one of the Citi Bike check-in spots. We hightail it towards the station, we loose Christina and I come to the realization that even though we are peddling like bats out of hell, there is no way we are going to make it. Now we are all parched (as we had no water) and had no more buzz, but instead nasty headaches from the dehydration. Fun times. I yell up to the boys that there is no reason to keep up this depleting pace as we are SOL. But where in the world did Christina go?

The boys and I make it to the station to find Christina there with no bike, she had made it to the check in station before the 20 minute, checked it back in and then someone else rented the bike. Now we still had over a 30 min bike ride back to the boats and were down to 3 bikes. Good thing Christina is a small human, she hopped up onto Derek’s handle bars and we proceeded back to the boats. I laughed so much on the way home watching my dearest friends on the bike in front of me yell at ever bump, ledge and pothole while they worked hard to keep the balance just right. By the time we made it to the check-in stand next to the anchorage, Derek could hardly move his legs, Jon and I were out of breath and Christina had a bruised bum. And it was all worth it!

Before we knew it, it was time to move on from Boston. All of us wanted to get up to Maine, but none of us wanted to bypass Gloucester. We had to see the place where the people from “Perfect Storm” called home. 

The sail up to Gloucester was like all the others on this coast, a motor. The anchorage in the inner harbor no longer allows anchoring, so we found a spot in the Western Harbor in front of a small beach. There was a huge mega yacht anchored in there with us, and we were able to get our hooks set before a nasty squall line joined us for our afternoon cocktails. Once the squall had passed we packed up and headed into the small town to check it out. We found the famous Crows Nest Bar and had more than a few rounds there, played pool and took a look at the photo album the bar has of when the cast and crew where there to film the epic “Perfect Storm” movie back in 2000. Other than the smell of fish and a few places to eat or drink, there was not much to see in this little fishing town. We spent the rest of our time walking the harbor and just taking in the sites.

Crazy enough there is a canal that cuts through Gloucester called the Blynman Canal, but none of us had heard of it before. Fin could not use it as they could not clear the bridges, but Prism could. We thought about going through it, that was until we saw the entrance and started to ask the locals about it. All we could see were small fishing and power boats going through. Apparently the current rips so fast though the cut that keeping the channel dredged is almost impossible. There is only 2ft in areas where it is charted to have 6.5ft. So that was out of the plans for Prism as well.

It was now time to head up to Maine, but there was some nasty weather coming, so it was leave this day, or be stuck here for another few days. We all opted to get moving and to make it at least up and around the corner to Rockport so that the next morning would be a very easy departure for the full day sail up to Portland Maine. The motor out of Gloucester then up and around Thatcher Island was beautiful with the setting sun. As we made it the anchorage in front of Rockport we were escorted by Fin Whales. The anchorage was deep and filled with crab pots, but the night was forecasted to be calm and we were leave at the ass crack of dawn. We got the hooks to set and wished we had more time to explore this cute little town. Rockport seams to be built into the rock cliffs and undisturbed by the rest of the world.