We are on our way to Jamestown, Rhode Island. The weather is quite warm and humid, not unusual for mid summer, tee-shirt and shorts weather, bare feet goes without saying, as well as a large glass of carbonated water with extra ice. I’m thankful for the hazy, quasi-foggy conditions; full sunlight would be way too uncomfortable.
Our heading is northeast toward the northern tip of Connanicut Island, then south down its eastern coast and under the expansive Claiborn Pell Bridge. Ginger Lee lopes along at a leisurely five knots, barely ruffling burgee or ensign. It’s a relatively short jaunt so there is no need to go any faster.
We’ll avoid the hustle and bustle of the Jamestown Yacht Club, and instead, rent a nice quiet mooring at Clark Boatyard, located about a half mile south.
I tried to get a mooring in Newport, the expensive playground-for-the-rich harbor in Rhode Island, but nobody answers their phone or even bothers to call me back. Just as well; the view is incredible here at Clark Boatyard, just across the bay.
We idle the rest of the day away, loitering on the aft deck enjoying cold drinks and unhealthy snacks, watching all manner of ships lumber slowly through the bay. I offer my hypothesis of where they are going, their cargo, and where they have been. The XO adds her version, and soon we have a whole imaginary story down pat, complete with main characters, subplots, and locations, ready for publication.
The hot July sun nears the horizon, and the lighthouse comes to life on Rose Island. Tomorrow we will visit that lighthouse, and maybe tour Newport Harbor, if the mood strikes us.
You don’t have to fill every day with activities. Sometimes ya just gotta get lazy, and in a setting like this, it almost becomes spiritual. Floating here, not connected to land, I have everything I need, and someone to share it with. I feel like the luckiest man in the universe.