Moping on the way to Cape Cod Lindsay McRory September 28, 1995 The day after the storm that almost smashed Hakuna Matata into a rock shore brought clear skies and fair winds. The mood onboard was somewhat on the solemn side, and it took a while before we thought of ways to joke about being on fire while getting pushed to our demise. It wasn't that funny. But there was lots to do. It was a matter of concentrating on the tasks at hand. A major low-pressure system had passed to the north of us, so it was a perfect time to make a run for it. It would take a couple of days before another serious low could build. Hurricane Marilyn was moving north at 21 mph, and it would be three or four days before she would be near the Nova Scotia coast. We knew we were straddling hurricane season to the south and the Atlantic winter storms to the north, but a three-day window between the two seasonal systems is a lot tighter than we expected. The plan from here is to follow the Nova Scotia coast then run like dogs for the Cape Cod Canal. Once sailing again, it was easy to slide into a comfortable pattern of two-hour watches and the lifestyle of living on a rolling boat. Hakuna Matata was clearly in a offshore sailing mode. Every afternoon we posted a watch list for that night and the next day. Everyone had two hours on and four hours off, and we changed crew once per hour. This way you would spend your watch with two different people. The hourly check consisted of logging our position with GPS and radar, as well as course, speed, and barometric pressure. If the engine was running we would also check the engine room. If a sail change was required, additional crew would be called on deck. Lee cloths were fitted to each berth to prevent falling out while the boat heeled. These are strips of heavy canvas (or Dacron) that is suspended between the cabin roof and the berth. They are actually quite comfortable to sleep on. The crossing to Cape Cod was excellent. Moderate winds followed us from Nova Scotia until we almost reached Cape Cod. Night watches were the best. Hakuna Matata screamed through the water with just two small sails. A waning moon on our backs illuminated everything ahead and made for an exciting, eerie experience. First land was spotted off our port bow early in the afternoon. It was Provincetown, Massachusetts, at the very tip of Cape Cod. It looked like a cool place to stop, so we changed our agenda and docked up for a rest. The expectations were for a quaint little tourist town, neat shops and good restaurants. What we found was a window to another world, a nearly all-gay world at that. Our first indication that something was different than your usual New England town came right after we got off the dock. There was a small knick-knack shop called the Source, on top of it was a mural the width of the store and about four feet high. It was a well-done bluish pastel of a naked woman standing with arms and legs spread urinating. Not just a little trickle, a big gusher. The six of us stood looking up in a silent awe mesmerized by this peculiar advertisement. We figured there must be another interpretation. After a long spell we came to the conclusion there was no other interpretation. As odd as it was, Provincetown was a good little stop, although a bit of a culture shock for most of us. That night we set the alarm for 4:30 am, plotted our course to Cape Cod canal, and called it a night.