Photography by Jim Raycroft
The Luck of the Fall
A New England autumn cruise is always a gamble, but, if you win, the rewards can be spectacular.
A fall cruise in the Northeast is a risky proposition. Any time you venture into these waters after October 1, you have to weigh the allure of solitude and breathtaking beauty against the possibility that the clear and warm of today will collapse into the clouds and chill of tomorrow. Most boaters just don’t bother and haul out as soon after Labor Day as practical. But for the hearty and daring, the gamble can be rewarding. If you manage to bracket a couple of cold fronts and if it’s one of those special New England autumns, you’ll get a cruise you’ll never forget.
Marquis 420 SB
I spoke with John McGee of Bosun’s Marine (www.bosuns.com), who sold the particular boat in this story just recently. Here’s what he had to say about her: “The 420 is a unique vessel as far as American boats go,” he said. It was designed by Nuvolari-Lenard of Italy. With typical American production builds, things can get kind of cookie cutter in the looks department. This boat is anything but. It’s very stylish. When you look at the boat, frankly, it’s stunning.”
“And it runs fantastically,” he continued. “The boat in this story has a pair of [Volvo Penta] IPS600s in it, and they were phenomenal for that hull. Also, that 420 had every bit of luxury you could ask for. The boat had a custom cockpit grill station and a separate cockpit control for the pods, plus a hydraulic swim platform so you could launch your Jet Ski or tender.”
“It has two staterooms, a forward island queen, and an amidships cabin with two twins, then a settee in the saloon also converts to a berth to sleep six in total,” McGee said.
“For 2015 this boat is named the 430,” he explained. “There will be some changes, mostly to the layout I think. The 420 was a single-head boat, and I’d suspect they’re going to put two heads on the 430, and implement some profile changes as well.”
“I should note, the 420 sold for $890,000,” he finished. — Kevin Koenig
Besides luck, you’ll need the right boat and local knowledge. Last fall I had both. Thanks to Marquis Yachts and Bosun’s Marine in Quincy, Massachusetts, I had use of a Marquis 420 SB, complete with the all-important lower station for those times when sun and serenity turn to cold and chop.
Marquis also supplied local knowledge in the form of Capt. Rick Kilborn, who runs Boatwise (www.boatwise.com), a comprehensive boater-training company. He knows the area intimately, as does our photographer, Jim Raycroft—a good thing since I didn’t; I’d always skirted it on my way up to Maine. Rounding out our crew was Audrey Felske, Jim’s assistant and another experienced boater.
By the time Bosun’s GM Steve Chase had finished fueling our 420 and recommissioning her fresh-water system, the temperature was in the mid-60s, with a light breeze, flat seas, and a cloudless sky. Still, we all knew change is the rule this time of year, not the exception. In Quincy the leaves were at peak color, but Rick and Jim said the best leaf viewing was farther north and east, along the Merrimack River. We hoped the color was still there and the weather would hold until we arrived.
An hour out of Quincy we hit Marblehead, which—much to the consternation of Newport, Rhode Island, and Annapolis, Maryland—touts itself as America’s sailing capital. Sailors are notorious late-season boaters, but as we turned into the picturesque harbor, I saw barely a half-dozen sailboats. Even amid the maze of mooring balls it was still hard to grasp Rick’s claim that in midsummer 2,500 sailboats routinely cram these environs. Today only a couple of lobster boats were underway; even the launches for the blueblood Corinthian and Eastern yacht clubs were idle. The town was quiet, too, but at least there were plenty of leaves on the trees.
Idling out of the harbor we all felt the change: Horsetails began to mar the cerulean sky, the leaves ashore were hustled by a freshening breeze, and the temperature had dropped. Weather reports had predicted a cold front, the severity of which depended on which one you tuned to, and by the time we idled into Salem a few minutes later, the sky was leaden and the sun had disappeared. Jim was sullen but Rick was cheery: “If one word describes New England fall weather it’s changeable.”
Salem was as busy as Marblehead was quiet. There were boats in the water, the waterfront restaurants were crowded, and tourists strolled the breakwater gazing at Friendship, the 171-foot three-masted East Indiaman replica. Along with The House of the Seven Gables, it’s the big waterfront draw here. But it still didn’t explain all the tourists on this now-blustery day. Then we remembered: Halloween was a week away, and what better place to get inspiration for your witch’s costume than Salem?
By the time we left the harbor the weather was downright cold and threatening rain, so Rick throttled up our IPS 600s and we beat it to our overnight stop, Gloucester. Despite 3- and 4-footers the 420 managed a comfortable 20 knots, and a half-hour later we pulled into what has become the prototypical American fishing village, thanks to Sebastian Junger’s The Perfect Storm. We grabbed the face dock at Brown’s (www.brownsyy.com), a popular but now-deserted transit spot not far from where the ill-fated Andrea Gail departed.
It didn’t take long to feel Gloucester’s authenticity. You see the fishing history everywhere. Industrial and gritty, the harbor’s filled with draggers whose rust-stained hulls bear witness to their hard times offshore. Finding a fresh seafood dinner was no challenge, and after satiating ourselves on catch mere hours out of the sea, we turned in. But before I did, I took a quick look aloft. No stars. It looked like rain.
The Watering Hole
If you’ve ever seen the movie The Perfect Storm or read the book of the same name, you’ll no doubt remember The Crow’s Nest, the working-class, waterfront pub that acts as a hub for many of the central characters in the story. And there’s a reason they spent so much time there. The place has character. Junger described it thusly: “It was a fine place. People bought drinks for each other like they said hello …” And it’s true, a little common courtesy and perhaps a cold brew for the old salt down the bar goes a long way in this one-time—and occasionally still—rough-and-tumble establishment. But don’t be scared. Plop yourself down at the bar, order a Budweiser and some fresh-caught grub, and lean back and have a gander out that big front window (most of the windows in the town’s bars were built small, it’s said, so that no one could be thrown through them). Take it all in. This is a way of American life that’s quickly fading by the wayside. But right now, right in this spot, you’re living it. — Kevin Koenig
The next morning I looked out of my stateroom window to see uninterrupted gray—a bad omen. But after I’d donned my glasses I realized I was staring at the weathered wood of the dock. Up top it was all blue sky and bright sunshine. Gloucester’s two windmills were turning briskly, so I knew it was blowing, but no matter. We were looking at a near perfect day for the run to the Merrimack.
Brisk fall weather stokes the appetite, so we motored across the harbor to Rocky Neck, an agglomeration of funky galleries and working shipyards, including the Gloucester Marine Railways, “the oldest working shipyard in America.” It’s also home to Sailor Stan’s, the best breakfast in town. After coffee, eggs Benedict, and autentico huevos rancheros, the crew’s verdict was unanimous: Sailor Stan’s is a must-stop.
To skirt the longer, rougher passage around Cape Ann, we headed northeast, up the Annisquam River, where we got a taste of real fall color amid quaint houses and pristine marshes. Exiting out onto Ipswich Bay, a 25-knot wind threatened to derail the 8-mile run to the Merrimack Inlet, but as soon as we tucked into the lee of Plum Island things laid down. By noon we’d cleared the inlet and were on the river.
Just inside, Newburyport was surrounded by colorful trees, and the farther up the river we went, the better it got. Not only that but the temperature had clawed its way back to 60. We’d reserved a slip at the Merri-Mar Yacht Basin (www.merrimaryachtbasin.com) because it’s a little north of town where it’s quieter and more scenic.
The next morning our gamble paid big dividends. The picturesque Merrimack was a riot of color and the light was perfect, all the way up to Amesbury. I desperately wanted to stop at Lowell’s Boat Shop (www.lowellsboatshop.com) there; it’s a National Historical Landmark where they’ve been hand-building traditional watercraft since 1793, but we had to get the 420 back to Quincy.
Our perfect weather held, and the run back was a sleigh ride. We couldn’t have asked for better weather. But I was reminded that it had been a gamble nonetheless when I checked the forecast before shoving off for home: a cold front was headed in with temps dropping to the low 50s and possibly heavy rain. Talk about a gamble paying off.
- Builder: Marquis
- Model: 42 Sportbridge
- LOA: 43'7"
- Draft: 3'7"
- Beam: 13'11"
This article originally appeared in the September 2014 issue of Power & Motoryacht magazine.