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From Padanaram our main objective was to get through the canal that eliminates the necessity of navigating all the way around Cape Cod.  At 480 ft-wide and 10 miles long, this is supposedly the largest sea-level (no locks) canal in the world.  However, the differing tidal ranges at the ends (4ft at the west end and 9ft at the east) result in strong currents (4-6 knots) and necessitate timing one’s passage to go with the flow, in our case on a flood (rising) tide.  To catch this tide during daylight, we had to hop from Padanaram to spend the night near the canal mouth and for this we selected the bay at Onset.  While waiting for a suitable tide on which to leave Padanaram we decided to clean the wheel that measures boat speed through the water since its reading was always slower than the speed over ground measured by the GPS (suggesting the unlikely situation that we had always had a current flowing with us).  As you might expect, this wheel is under the boat and cleaning either involves a swim or, supposedly more conveniently, one pulls the wheel on its mount back up through the hull.  Now, this leaves an open, underwater hole through the hull which is obviously not a desirable state of affairs.  A suitable plug to replace the extracted wheel is provided and a flexible valve is supposed to reduce the influx of water while the plug is substituted for the wheel.  Sounds straightforward but as we discovered, should be practiced out of the water first…  Because if you pull the unit out to reveal an emphatic sign of “Do NOT Remove” on the outside, you will find that there is no valve, the plug is not big enough to fill the hole that you have opened up, and water will fountain up in the cabin most spectacularly.  This is being written on a still-floating boat not in an insurance company office because, luckily, a plastic bag held firmly over the hole by hand is sufficient to quell the flow.  In the long-run this is a good thing to know about a small breach in the hull, but at the time it did not thrill the person (me) who had recently spent several hours drying out the now re-flooded bilges.  Closer examination of the extracted wheel showed that we had also pulled out the valve-containing sleeve that, indeed, should not be removed and into which the plug would have fitted perfectly.  After the much-needed wheel cleaning and another brief fountain we replaced the sleeve and wheel (all secured by screwing into a large, brass through-hull fitting so no unexpected popping-out by a large wave) and the bilges were pumped-out once more. After sufficient excitement for one morning, we motored uneventfully up Buzzards Bay to Onset and anchored in the bay busy with Sunday afternoon boaters.  As we turned off the engine, we were very satisfied to note the well-charged state of all our batteries.  After a dinghy ride to the town dock we enjoyed walking around the town and stocking up on a few supplies.  The town of Onset has sensibly maintained large expanses of public beaches and these were being fully utilized except for one fenced-off area.  Enquiries about that and the large number of people purposefully setting up chairs overlooking the bay revealed that rain had caused postponement their Saturday (July 5^th) firework display until tonight.  So after watching fireworks from Padanaram on Friday and Saturday we were going to be lucky enough to be entertained for a third night in a row.  The reality was unusual but not quite as spectacular as planned.  Low clouds over the bay meant that any rockets launched high were almost completely obscured by surprisingly dense cloud or only the bottom of half the display was visible, descending oddly from the clouds.  We could only hope that the assembled crowds at the town beaches had a better view. At seven on Monday morning we approached the Cap Cod canal and enjoyed a stately tide-assisted cruise under its three attractive bridges and alongside morning joggers and skaters on the adjacent tow-paths.  Once in the calm waters of Cape CodBay, with a promise to investigate more of the Cape and associated islands on our return in the fall, we turned north contemplating a stop somewhere near Boston or going overnight to somewhere further north.  Randall dropped fishing lines in the water (unsuccessfully) and the breeze picked up enough to warrant unfurling the jib.  As usual, we unrolled the large fore sail from its furling apparatus on the forward stay using the jib-sheets. (Note: consider checking-out a website such as www.sailingstop.com/sailingterms.htm if you are confused by the sailing lingo and thought that sheets were only useful on “berths”.)  As anticipated, for a moment the sail bellowed out satisfyingly but then, most unexpectedly we watched aghast as it suddenly collapsed onto the deck and, inevitably, into the water.  Throwing the motor into neutral we rushed forward to haul the wet canvas aboard and lash the pile to the deck before any of it could get caught on the propeller.  Well, that changed our plans because it was going to require a trip up the mast under calm conditions to reattach the jib to the top of the furling apparatus from which it had become detached due to a the pin falling out of a shackle.  We also saw a frenzy of seizing all shackles with thin wire to prevent the pins twisting their way out in our future. So we headed into Plymouth, MA, and tied up to a mooring rented out by the Plymouth Yacht Club.  Anchoring places are limited in the sheltered harbor of Plymouth and with 30 knot winds forecast later in the week the reassurance of a mooring seemed worth the price.  And what a location! We were close to both the 1956 Mayflower replica and the Plymouth Rock, both of which I had an especially good view of from the top of the mast when  Randall hauled me up in the bosun’s chair so that I could rescue the top of the furler before the winds picked up.   It was Randall’s first visit to Plymouth and although I had been a couple of times before I had never arrived by boat.  On our way to pay for our mooring we rode the dinghy close to Mayflower II and wondered how more than 100 people and their possessions had crossed the Atlantic in a boat that was scarcely more than twice the length of Tregoning.  We also peered at the rather diminutive Plymouth Rock behind the bars that prevent entry from the sea (or beach at low tide).  The large surrounding Victorian portico was under renovations so from the street the rock could only be seen through an uninspiring plastic window in the scaffolding. The Plymouth Yacht Club seemed to be doing better, claiming to be one of the oldest, still active yacht clubs in the US, founded in 1890.  It appears to have a very active and enthusiastic youth program and as a temporary member I was able to enjoy the spectacular sights from the clubhouse decks while waiting for our laundry in their excellent facilities.  We spent much of Tuesday (July 8^th) riding our bikes.  First to get a replacement shackle and assorted other things at various stores and then to investigate what turned out to be a dirt forest road that took us past some cranberry bogs to the curiously named BillingtonSea (the freshwater lake that fed, Town Brook, the Plymouth stream that the pilgrims found so attractive).  After lunch we visited the excellent and newly expanded PilgrimHallMuseum where we learned much about the Pilgrims’ story including many of the 18^th century fabrications of story and paintings.  The following day, after taking care of laundry and other domestic tasks we walked through the well landscaped gardens along Town Brook, through the fascinatingly old cemetery of Burial Hill, and up to the oddly abandoned-feeling, 81 ft-tall granite National Monument to the Forefathers which graces the harbor’s skyline with the personification of Faith pointing heavenward.  We returned via the jostle of restaurants, ice-cream stalls, and souvenir shops that crowd the waterfront.  In our opinion, Plymouth has a classic mix of captivating history and cheesy tourist features but with careful focus on the former is a very interesting and attractive place which made us surprisingly thankful for a broken shackle.