Open Writing

After that first venture into cruising Long Island Sound, we returned during two more summers, each time gaining the confidence and knowledge that allowed us to venture further afield. It was during the third trip that we encountered Milford Yacht Club (MYC), through an invitation from friends who were members.

The Club is set at the mouth of the Connecticut, Wepawaug River, on the site of historic Fort Trumbull, built to defend the town against British Colonial ships. It is a beautiful and sheltered location that now is home to hundreds of boats, large and small, power and sail. Milford also has its commercial clamming fleet that gives the place more atmosphere than if it were just a recreational harbor.

The Yacht Club was founded in 1903, and in its early years was nothing more than a beach with a few cabanas and a small clubhouse. Sailing members anchored their boats in the Harbor. Over the years, the facilities were enlarged, and a marina and pool were installed, then a bar and a restaurant. Sikorski Aircraft, designers and builders of Blackhawk helicopters among others, is located in nearby Stratford. It is by far the largest employer in the area, and many of its employees are, or have been MYC members.

This has the disadvantage that when wars are hard to come by, and the US economy falters, Sikorski downsizes and MYC suffers a loss of members as a result. When we visited as guests in 1991, despite the charm of the place, it was clear that it had seen better days. The infrastructure was badly in need of restoration, the wooden bulkheads were sagging, the docks were shaky and uneven, and the pool had a serious leak.
Despite its run-down appearance, we were hooked, and more than that, realized how much a membership would expand our sailing horizons. The next year we became members, and thus began our exploration of the New England coastline. We moved Yorkshire Lass from Whites to a mooring in Milford Harbor, which was an eventful journey in its self.

Flush with our accumulated sailing experience, we asked a friend and her daughter to join us for the three-day trip from New Hamburg on the Hudson River, to Milford. Joanne was born and grew up in Brooklynn, New York, moving away only after she married. We thought it would be a real thrill for her to sail by the Borough on our way up the East River. What we didn’t know was that both Joanne and her daughter suffer with extreme motion sickness.

Without telling us, they dosed up on Dramamine before we started out, and spent the whole journey either asleep or in a state of semi consciousness. As we motored up the East River, they were tucked up in the forward birth, oblivious to our passage by the Brooklyn Heights Promenade and under the Brooklyn Bridge, the very scenes we had wanted them to see. They talked about that non-experience for years.

Our second night was spent at the West Shore Marina in Huntington, where we had docked on previous occasions. Normally, visiting boats are allocated slips with easy ingress and exit, but all such slips were taken, so we were forced to accept a birth that involved some close-quarters maneuvering. I was uneasy about the problems that might arise as we left the slip the following morning, and my worst fears were realized when we awoke to a stiff breeze that would complicate our exit.

Like many boats of similar design, Yorkshire Lass does not back well, and requires boat-handling skills that I didn’t possess at the time. Sure enough, the breeze caught us, swinging the bow around, setting us up for a collision with an adjacent, very expensive looking yacht. Unfortunately, my instincts took over, and I reached out my right arm between our stern rails to fend off, which is a real no-no in boating. My action prevented a collision, but resulted in my wrist being caught in a scissor action between our rail and the other boat’s. Stainless steel being tougher than bone, my wrist lost the battle.

Fortunately, I was able to dock the boat with help from Sandra and the dock staff, and was soon in the emergency room of the local hospital, receiving expert treatment. The following day, with my arm in a cast from fingers to bicep, we continued on our journey, arriving in Milford a day late, but thankful none-the-less. For a short time I enjoyed celebrity status, and although I was embarrassed to admit the circumstances of my injury, my fifteen minutes of fame ensured that everyone knew who we were.

That day marked the beginning of our eighteen years of membership. Club cruises each summer, in company with other members’ boats, have taken us to places it is unlikely we would have visited on our own. To Martha’s Vineyard, and the sailor’s Mecca, Newport Rhode Island; to Mystic Seaport and its wonderful sailing museum, and to beautiful Narragansett Bay. These are just a few of the many destinations we have stored in our memories.

Our berths for the night have almost always been other yacht club marinas, where we have enjoyed the reciprocal hospitality extended by all legitimate clubs. Some were very old and grand, like Riverside near to Old Greenwich, and the regal Larchmont. Others were less imposing, but nevertheless provided all we needed to enjoy a night in port, and replenish our supplies. During our membership, MYC has gone through extensive renovations and improvements, with new docks and steel bulkheads, and now ranks as a destination of choice for cruising boats.

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