And so it was. The small, crowded harbor glittered in the evening sun as we traded tacks through the narrow entrance channel with a gray-haired lady solo-sailing a pocket cruiser and grinning like she'd just hit the jackpot. Coveside Marina had open moorings for $40 a night, and we grabbed one.
Coveside Marina dominates Christmas Cove, offering a bar, a good restaurant, and showers for guests. We got a table quickly; the steamed mussels were superb, the service fine, and everyone was friendly, if frazzled. But after the easy rhythms of Burnt Coat, it felt a bit forced. Vesey ran afoul of a little catfight between our waitress and the hostess, and when we repaired to the bar for a nightcap, you couldn't hear yourself think for the racket as a pair of guitarists/singers vied with the Yankees and Red Sox on a big-screen television for the crowd's attention. It had that schizo mainland feel to it, and never a friendly wave from anyone. When we checked the chart book back at the boat, Rutherford Island indeed had that telltale bridge connection.