The way I see it, the worst thing about Fishers Island Sound are the CLUMPS; East Clump, Middle Clump and West Clump. Apt names for three piles of dangerous rocks pretty much smack in the middle. Oh, they are well-marked, and well-known, but still, there is no shortage of boats with banged up props and running gear at Dodson Boatyard. The prudent mariner will keep his chart handy when transiting this area.
I set a course that keeps Ginger Lee far away from all obstructions, but just in case, I knock on wood, rub our guardian angels head, and share my coffee with Neptune.
There is only one other boat in the sound, a sailboat motoring on a collision course to our port. He is the stand-down vessel yet is not giving way. I hail him on the radio but it’s useless; there is nobody at his helm! Suddenly I see a figure darting up the companionway towards the tiller, but it’s too late, I have to take his stern or be rammed by an inconsiderate sailer on autopilot. Believe it or not, this is second time a sailboat has done this to us. Just like on the road, there are rules that govern who has the right of way on the water. Unfortunately, within those rules is a clause that states that all boaters have a legal responsibility to avoid collisions regardless of who has the right of way. Which is kinda like saying you have the right of way unless the other guy doesn’t give it to you! Yup. It’s a free-for-all out there. That’s why The XO and I have a strict rule of our own: stay away from all boats and rocks.
Chocomount Cove is everything our cruising guides said it would be: quiet, serene, beautiful, and private. There are no amenities. You can’t even go ashore here.
I tuck Ginger Lee as far into the western shore as I dare, and drop anchor in 12 feet of water. I hope the wonky depth sounder is correct because the bottom is foul at shallower depths. We breathe a sigh of relief when our big Danforth catches and holds on the first attempt. We are completely alone here.
It is the kind of day you dream about. Perfect in all respects. Small puffy clouds adorn the horizon. The humidity is as good as it gets for July. Even Mister Sun seems kinder, gentler. Right now, on our floating home, we have everything we need from the world.
We fritter the time away like it was free. The XO prepares a wonderful dinner of chicken and zucchini and we share a bottle of red wine. As the sun dips lower on the horizon, and the city lights of the Connecticut shore dance on the water, we make a game of guessing which one of the huge mansions will turn on their lights first, and which will not turn on any lights. Chocomount Cove will not offer you restaurants, night clubs or sandy beaches. There are no sidewalks full of shoppers bustling about with their purchases. No fishermen or happy boaters going to and fro in their vessels. There is none of that. Just us: two lovers in paradise.