Taking a sunny afternoon sail on the Thames River is always a treat.

But crisscrossing from the New London side to the Groton side aboard Luff Affair, Jim Avery's 26-foot Nonsuch-class catboat, up to the mouth of the river and back toward the Gold Star Memorial Bridge, with the reminiscing raconteur/owner/skipper at the helm, is especially rewarding.

Sailing alongside Pfizer's Groton manufacturing plant, for instance, I learned where barges used to come to take away the foul-smelling spoils from the production of penicillin that used to take place there.

Passing close to the waterfront at Electric Boat, where Avery worked for 48 years as a draftsman and designer, he told how he helped blow the horn for Mamie Eisenhower.

For the 1954 launching of the submarine Nautilus, when Avery was 24 years old, he was assigned a spot just below the elevated platform where the first lady stood to crack a bottle of champagne over the bow of the world's first nuclear-powered submarine.

When the mink-clad Eisenhower let it rip, Avery carried out his assignment, calling the horn operator to say it was time, and the Nautilus then slid down the ways that cold January day with the sound of a blaring horn carrying out over the Thames.

I could almost hear it this week, as we sailed by.

Avery is a remarkable sailor for his dogged determination to stay at it, day in and day out, through three seasons and a small part of a fourth.

His is usually the first sailboat launched every spring by Crocker's Boatyard in New London, with a target of April 1.

"I'm the groundhog of New London," he said.

He stays in, and keeps sailing, right through the middle of November.

His red-hulled sailboat is such a familiar sight on the river that he knows of someone in a river-facing office at Pfizer who marks on a calendar the days Avery's out there.

Avery himself keeps a count. Last year he went sailing 136 times. His best year was 164.

Avery takes credit for enlisting New London Mayor Michael Passero into the obsession of sailing, offering a young Passero, then in eighth grade, an invitation to go sailing. He offered it to all the kids working a scout scrap-paper drive he was supervising, but only Passero accepted.

The two are still sailing pals, race and cruise together, and finish every sailing season with ritual trips aboard the mayor's Born To Run, a Nonsuch catboat similar to Avery's, but larger. The weekend before Thanksgiving they go to Block Island and the week after they go to Greenport, N.Y.

Avery bought Luff Affair 11 years ago, not long after his wife died. It helped him get over his loss, he said.

His previous boats were named Luff Story and Luff Song. With his wife gone, it was finally OK to have a Luff Affair.

His wife never liked sailing very much.

"We had an arrangement a long time ago that when she wanted to go for a ride, she would tell me," he said. "She never told me."

His daughter likes to sail, and he sometimes has a chance to take her, her husband, and his 13-year-old grandson out. But they live in Massachusetts.

Avery, who is 86, said he decided a few years ago, without anyone suggesting it, that it was time he stopped sailing alone.

So he now has a list of about 15 friends, all different ages, some sailors and some not, who join him on his afternoon excursions.

I got a temporary spot on the list recently and got my call at 7:30 a.m. Monday.

"Meet me at Crocker's at 1," he said.

When he's not sailing you might find him riding his Segway around town. He has other hobbies, too, developed over 20 years of retirement. Among the many leadership posts he has held at Thames Yacht Club is membership chairman, and he has enlisted hundreds of new members into the city sailing club over the years.

Avery accepts sailing help from his passengers, but he doesn't need it, easing the little cruiser in and out of its slip with aplomb. His and Passero's are among the few boats in the water right now at the boatyard.

He's rigged an electric drill to a winch, to make it easier to raise and lower the boat's only sail. He surveys his realm from a raised wooden seat behind the wheel.

The boat's snug cabin has a few bunks, a microwave and refrigerator, although Avery doesn't cruise much. Sometimes he goes down to the boat — he lives only a few minutes away — for just a meal or to tinker.

Among the things I was told on my sail this week is that the Triton, the only submarine built by EB with two nuclear reactors, also was fitted with special accommodations for the president, should he have needed a secure undisclosed location in the time of war.

I couldn't find out much more after some quick research, but I trust the description by Avery, who was there when it was built.

I also was surprised that the former EB designer, who knows so much about the grounds of the Groton shipyard, has never been inside the company's new design offices in New London, which he glides past so many days.

I suggested his sailing pal, the mayor, might help him get a tour.

This is the opinion of David Collins.

d.collins@theday.com