As we cast off the lines aboard Simple Life, our Island Packet 37, to depart our home port in Pawtuxet Cove, Rhode Island, the boat seemed to heave a sigh of relief. Wholeheartedly, we agreed.
It had been a tough summer. In June, a rare tornado had touched down in our neighborhood, wreaking havoc. Our home sustained some damage, and the waitlist for repairs was long. We’d spent most of the summer waiting for contractors to appear.
Now, for the next two weeks, we were free to go sailing. We’d planned to putter south down Narragansett Bay for a day or two, then head out to Block Island, about 25 miles offshore. It was the perfect place to forget our cares and woes.
Early on a Wednesday morning, we sailed out of the bay, planning to arrive at “the Block” by noon. That’s when more than 100 transient moorings in Great Salt Pond must be vacated unless a boat has prepaid for multiple days. The forecast for the next three days was favorable: light winds and mild weather. Perfect.
A few hours later, we motored into the harbor entrance. It soon became apparent that no boats were leaving that day; every mooring was occupied. We hailed the harbormaster, who told us that our best bet was to drop the hook and try again the following day.
Dropping anchor in Great Salt Pond can be tricky. Holding is generally mediocre, and despite its large size, the harbor has few good anchoring areas. There is excessive depth in many spots. As recent long-range cruisers, we’re well-equipped with good ground tackle and sufficient scope, but many local boats are not—even though the island is known for sudden, localized squalls that inevitably send poorly anchored boats careening around the basin.
Eventually we found a suitable spot in 24 feet, dropped anchor, and paid out 150 feet of all-chain rode. After a light lunch aboard, with the weather fine and the anchor holding well, we dinghied ashore for a midafternoon libation at The Oar, a famous yachties’ watering hole. From all points ashore, we had a clear view of Simple Life.
Even so, like most sailors, my husband, Joe, checks his favorite weather apps even when skies are clear and sunny. It’s a habit formed during our years of full-time liveaboard cruising.
“Uh-oh,” he said. He’d spotted severe thunderstorm activity on radar at nearby Montauk, New York, about 25 miles west. It was moving fast. “Looks like it will bypass us here, but let’s head back to the boat just in case.”
By the time we pulled alongside Simple Life, a Beneteau 42 with a solo sailor aboard had anchored off our bow, a wee bit close for comfort. Minutes later, ominous, deep-blue storm clouds appeared in the west, advancing quickly and swirling over the island.
Urgent weather warnings to all mariners blasted from the VHF radio: “Severe thunderstorms imminent. Seek immediate shelter.”
Wind gusts in the high 20s began building from the south. Gusts up to 50 knots were reported on the cell’s path toward Block Island. We watched anxiously as vicious squalls and ferocious lightning moved slightly north of us. Briefly, it appeared that the storm had passed. Dinghy engines all around us fired up, and a surprising number of boaters headed ashore.
But the storm wasn’t over. Within minutes, the wind shifted 180 degrees and built back to 25-plus knots. All hell broke loose. Unattended boats dragged into others in every direction.
Joe, on the bow, kept a constant eye on our anchor and the boat anchored close to us. It appeared to be moving slightly our way; he paid out a bit more chain and stood ready to fend off. We watched boats drag across the channel before tangling with others, bouncing off those only to hit elsewhere. BoatUS was dispatched along with the harbormaster. Numerous boats adrift were towed to emergency moorings.
Eventually, the storm and the chaos subsided, treating us to a glorious sunset.
Our appetites suddenly returned in full force too. For dinner, I had just the thing in mind: a northern Rhode Island specialty called Dynamites.
These oversize sandwiches are similar in concept to Sloppy Joes but are very spicy—hence the name. After the explosive storm, the food seemed particularly appropriate. Dynamites are a social experience, served at community gatherings and backyard potlucks. They’re also the ultimate homemade comfort food and perfect boat food: easy to make, filling and delicious. Once the meat sauce is cooked, it can be frozen and reheated.
As the spicy aroma of simmering beef and spices lingered in our boat’s galley, we savored every bite of our tasty meal and raised ice-cold beers in a toast: to good ground tackle, coming through the storm without incident, and the simple joy of winding down after a stressful afternoon.
Rhode Island Dynamites
- 1½ tsp. baking soda
- 3 Tbsp. water
- 1 tsp. salt
- 1 tsp. black pepper
- 2 lb. lean ground beef (preferably
90 percent lean) - 2 Tbsp. olive oil
- 2 large Vidalia onions, cut into 1-inch pieces
- 2 large green peppers, cut into 1-inch pieces
- 2 garlic cloves, minced
- 1 28-oz. can diced tomatoes with juice
- 1 7-oz. can tomato sauce
- 1 Tbsp. chili powder
- ½ tsp. cayenne pepper (to taste)
- Good-quality mayonnaise, as needed
- 6 to 8 soft torpedo rolls (see Cook’s Note)
Dissolve the baking soda and water in a large bowl. Add the uncooked ground beef, salt and pepper. Mix well with your hands, and let stand for 30 minutes. This technique is optional, but it tenderizes the meat, makes the sauce more velvety, and prevents the cooked meat from pebbling.
Heat oil in a large pot (cast iron if you have one). Add onions, peppers and garlic. Sauté until softened. Remove vegetables to a bowl. Add meat and cook, stirring often, until it’s no longer pink.
Return vegetables to the pot. Add diced tomatoes and tomato sauce. Season with chili powder and cayenne. Stir and simmer, uncovered, on low heat for 45 minutes, or longer if desired.
Slice a long, soft torpedo roll down the center. Generously apply good-quality mayonnaise. This combo might sound strange, but trust me, it’s delicious—and the mayo tempers the heat.
Serve with potato chips or coleslaw
on the side, cold beer, and plenty of napkins.
Prep time: 1 hour, 30 minutes
Difficulty: Easy
Can be made: Underway or at anchor
Cook’s Note: There are varying regional names for the long, soft sandwich rolls generally called torpedoes, including hoagie, hero, sub, Italian and—often in southern New England—grinder.
