THE PLAN
I arranged to meet Crab Camp for a sailing trip without pressing timetables. I wanted to set out prepared to overnight so that I wouldn't feel a need to hurry and turn back by any particular time to make it home. We would be free to head wherever the wind suggested we go.
What an appealing plan…
THE LAUNCH SITE
The town landing on Sakonnet Point in Little Compton, RI. is a small sandy beach with parking across the street for vehicles with trailers.
I like the free usage and 48 Hr parking.
The reported 2' depth at MLW limits who can launch there, but it gets deeper pretty quickly (to about 5' MLW). There are lots of moorings in the small cove, but most of the boats were gone when I launched and I had no problem sailing through them out past the breakwater and into the mouth of the Sakonnet River.
There is an aquaculture obstruction completely blocking ingress and egress directly up river to the north which is where you would go if heading straight out of the harbor, but to exit the area into Rhode Island Sound between Buzzards Bay and Narragansett Bay requires a hard left to the west so the obstruction should present no problem ...
THE LAUNCH
Crab Camp phoned to say he would make a stop for food. We agreed to meet at the ramp.
I arrived and set up the mast in the parking lot across from the ramp to be ready to launch. We loaded out stuff onto the boat and I got ready to back to and down the ramp. Crabbers asked if I knew how tall the mast was.
There is a utility line along the road between the parking lot and the boat ramp.
We let the mast down and backed onto the ramp (beach), 
then set up the mast again and tossed in the boat without incident.
THE VOYAGE
The wind was good for us when we left - from the north and steady, pretty strong. I had to use the old tiller because the one I made last year broke since my last sail two weeks ago. I guess my workmanship leaves a bit to be desired.
We zipped out on a reach across the mouth of the river west toward Newport. We went between Cormorant Rock and Sachuest point. It took less than an hour to get about four nautical miles. I thought we were making pretty good progress. I enjoyed the view of Newport.
The seas were a little wilder than I thought we should be seeing. I had followed The National Weather Service and NOAA's forecasts for a few days prior and had expected somewhere between one and four foot seas throughout the area for at least two days. Winds should have been 10 to 15 Kts with occasional gusts to 20. We estimated three and four foot seas with occasional larger rollers, consistent twenty plus knot winds with white caps the whole way. It was turning into a damper trip than I had hoped for and a more exciting one than Crab Camp had signed on for. At his suggestion (without objection from me) we decided to head back to our launch area before it got any rougher. We beat back into the wind as it came around a bit out of the east so that we were directly downwind of Sakonnet.
After a couple of hours we were able to get into the river in an effort to get a break from the swells. This worked out pretty well. We still had some strong winds and they had been getting more variable and gusty throughout our trip, but the waves had become pretty gentle in the shelter of the river.
Crabbers was settling in and beginning to enjoy the sailing (though chilly, due to being wet from splashing through whitecaps) when we heard a snap and the sails fell into the water to starboard with the mast and rigging. We were a little less than a mile from the eastern shore of the river (Little Compton side), but that was into the wind.
We weren’t drifting much but we were rolling a bit with the waves. We managed to fish the rig out to the water, remove the sails and stuff them into the cabin. Then we got the mast reasonably well lashed to the deck. I began paddling with Crab Camp on tiller. We got the boat heading toward the windward shore on a cross wind course and seamed to be making way slowly for a while, then it became apparent that we were fighting a delaying action at best - out drift was slow but we were heading over to the Newport (west) side.
I had a first look at the damage then. The port side stay had parted. I pulled the cable from the water and found the turnbuckle and wire intact. I looked at the gunwale and saw that the stainless steel swivel clip had snapped. 
The part that remained formed a wide open "C" of the jaws but without the swivel. I thought that I could refit the mast if I kept tension on the stay so that the turnbuckle wouldn't slip out of the jaws. I sorted out the rigging and found the jib halyard. I cleated off one end of the halyard to the bow cleat and put the other end in my teeth preparing to lift the mast back onto its step.
This is about the time Crab Camp suggested we call for a lift. Probably a reasonable thought. I believe I have an underdeveloped sense of defeat. I started lifting the mast and trying to shove it back onto its step. Between the swearing through the halyard in my teeth and the rocking of the boat, Crabbers thought (quite rightly) that I could use a bit of a hand so he came up and helped steady the mast as we wiggled it into place and cleated my end of the jib halyard to hold the mast in place. I went out to the bow to fasten the fore stay and was about to snap the clip onto the turnbuckle when I heard a familiar yet unsettling snap. I put my hands over my head as I felt the forestay slack and waited for the mast to land. It wound up in the water to the starboard of the bow, a couple of feet from me.
Just after we fished the mast out of the water again while I was lashing the port stay together with a few wraps of 1/4" line in preparation for another attempt to restep the mast 
Crab Camp found the most impressive life jacket we had and put it on. I really think he would have gone for a helmet and probably some steel toed shoes too if he could have found them. Dr. Camp is not convinced that I row with both oars - metaphorically speaking.
The second try worked out better and we got the mast to stand. We ran up the mainsail and Crabbers took the helm while I ran up the jib for the close tack up the lee shore to the harbor for our haul out. The battens were hanging out of the mailsail because of our failed efforts to remove them for storage before we got the mast back up.
We approached the harbor without further problems and were relaxing and congratulating ourselves on the tack that would carry us close-hauled straight into the harbor without tacking.
Just beyond the entrance to the harbor my vigilant companion noted mariculture markers across our course and pointed out that they indicate a net stretched across our path. It appeared that the net went nearly to the rocks ashore to our left (east) so we beared off hard to starboard and had to divert about a half mile out into the mouth of the river to clear the end marker. When we passed the marker, Crab Camp said that the mooring line was very shallow and across our coarse at a range of about two meters. Then we stopped. Then we backed up. Then we started forward again. We managed to clear the line after the bounce off our dagger board.
Then Crab Camp said that the mooring line was very shallow and across our coarse at a range of about two meters. Then we stopped. Crabbers asked if there was something he could do. Then we backed up. I suggested he could try to pull up the dagger board. Then we started forward again. Apparently the end markers are held in place with a three point anchoring system.
After bouncing off of two of the three mooring lines, we made it around the marker and tacked a couple of times back into the harbor. Just within the breakwater a dog greeted us from his cruising sailboat. We had seen him coming in as we were heading out what felt like a few seasons ago. We yanked dagger board and rudder and sailed right up to the beach. I tossed out an anchor and a beer to Crabbers who had stepped ashore, then opened one for myself and walked up the beach with him. 
He was still wearing the life jacket. I was glad that he hadn't found a helmet and boots.
The yank out was uneventful and I think I will toss in here again. I like the access and there were no crowds. The people we met appeared to know what they were doing and were pleasant and friendly.
After his ordeal, Crab Camp bought me an ice cream, so I guess I didn't scare him off too badly. I'll probably be remembered as his eccentric and reckless friend in his list of colorful characters.
Crab Camp @ tiller - dead calm, New Bedford, MA
Ratman @ tiller - dead calm, still New Bedford, MA
The Zombi playing with the new fiddleblock. 
Theere's dangerous rogues sailing these waters! 
"Marina Bay" Yachtingly exclusive, but they didn't toss us out. 
