Thunderstorms soaked the dock the night before we left Atlantic City. They were supposed to be pretty intense. If they were, I slept right through them. In the morning around 0600 it was still drizzling as we got set to drop the lines. Across the dock from us, new friends were doing the same, as were several boats across the river at the other way too expensive marina. The inlet offered a bit of pitch and roll but after we got about ten miles away from the inlet and a couple of miles offshore, the Atlantic settled down. It wasn't quite glassy smooth, but it was close enough. And that was a pleasant surprise as the weather forecasts suggested a long, somewhat uncomfortable day.
Roughly eleven hours after backing out of the slip, the hook splashed into the water around Sandy Hook. The snubber was set. The engines fell silent. And there was a good chance I was the most contented sailor on the planet at that moment. The outside Atlantic part of the Great Loop was now behind us. A goal that took, if one includes our first attempt derailed by shattered bones and heart failures, more than a year to reach.
Years ago, Deb's and my first sailing adventure with big salt water was an ASA105 class charter around Long Island. The last night of that trip was spent anchored off Sandy Hook, across the harbor from New York City. Deb remembers us talking about someday being there again on our own boat. Now, at near the beginning of our adventure as fresh water river and lake powerboat pilots here we were, anchored in our own boat.
Anchored nearby were our new friends from the dock. They came over to First Light for sundowners and we had a really fun time. Tomorrow they will head off to pick up family and head to New England. Deb and I will head up the river to become fresh water river pilots. Locks and currents and barges...oh my. (If you get that reference you are showing your age!)
Such is a unique aspect of the cruising community. Good friends are made in minutes, and are never seen again. But the very act of friendship touches our life and brightens our take on the world. We have friends out there living their lives. We would never do anything to harm them in any way. Maybe that is humankind's main problem. We don't make enough friends and spread them out far enough. And I speak as one of the world's dedicated loners.
This morning, we dragged out of the berth kind of early after an ugly night of rolling. As we motored out of the anchorage, we waved goodbye to our new friends and headed out across the New York Harbor.
Years ago, I made part of my living by flying a twin-engined airplane in and out of JFK on freight charters. The first time I made that trip single pilot was a bit intense. Ahead of me was a British Airlines SST. Behind me a United 747. At one point during what was an instrument approach (though I could see the city under me), I was told to “report statue inbound”. There was no “Statue” intersection on the approach plate. When queried, the Controller barked, “Statue...the big green lady holding a torch and surrounded by water.” I could just about hear him slapping his forehead and I'm sure lots of cockpits were filled with laughter. I made many a trip back into JFK over the decades, from flying a single-engine Piper Lance to a CRJ700 airliner. I was never asked to "Report Statue" again.
This morning, helming First Light through New York Harbor, I kind of felt the same way as I did that first time into JFK in the little twin. It was busy and bouncy. Fast ferry boats criss-crossed everywhere. We did one 360 to fall in behind a car carrier headed in and did a 90 degree jink to space a container ship headed out. We passed the “big green lady holding a torch and surrounded by water, dodging tour boats, barges, yachts, speed boats, and fishing boats too numerous to count. Most were moving at max speed with unknown intentions. Others were anchored here, there, everywhere. It was busy that way for miles up the Hudson with the added fun of dodging sailboats who knew they had the right of way.
It might have been one of the coolest things we have ever done with a boat. Motoring through the city, buildings towering overhead, helicopters coming and going, and boats everywhere? Damn it was fun. A few miles later we crossed some kind of line. For the rest of the trip up to our anchorage for the night we might have seen a dozen boats total. One was a tug, bow to a barge, drifting down the river stern first. All he was doing was keeping the barge in the channel while the current carried them along. Never seen that done before.
What a difference two days can make.
Ed Note: the triangle sticking out of the top of the building in this photo is a porch. You could see people on it with the binoculars. Told my youngest how cool it would be to take her up there...she declined.
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