Month: October 2021

Our last day of the summer adventure, a trip down the East River we’ve done dozens of times, what could go wrong? We left with enough time to comfortably make it to Hell Gate – a spot on the East River you never want to go through with the current against you. Unfortunately the forecast of northerly 10 knots turned into a reality of 20 knots on our nose, and our slow progress left us at Hell Gate at almost complete slack tide. That wasn’t a problem, but the current was now going to turn against us going down the river. With our under-powered engine trying to push a lot of boat weight, it was a slooooooow run down to the Battery. Given the nice weather though, it really was still a fun ride.

But we weren’t done yet. It’s always a challenge to get across New York Harbor before the Verrazano Bridge with all the big ships coming in and out of the harbor. Today wound up being especially nerve wracking. We found ourselves in the middle of the channel with big guys both coming in and going out simultaneously.

This ship was on our port side….

And this ship was on our starboard side at the same time…

Luckily it was broad daylight, there was no bad weather, both ships could see us clearly, and I learned that there’s plenty of room under the bridge, no matter how scary it looks in the moment.

The wind was still on our nose in Raritan Bay, so we got no sailing done all day, but we did make it back to our mooring just as the sun was setting. And another successful & wonderful season accomplished!

Long Island Sound wasn’t done with us yet. According to the forecasts the wind was down to a pleasant 10 knots from the north. The direction was right, but she was blowing a steady 20 as we upped anchor. We knew the seas were going to be messy in the sound, but had no idea that we would almost not make it out of the harbor.

We set the main with two reefs again and headed out. As we approached the jetties of the channel the waves got incredibly steep and we dropped to less than 2 knots (as Trip is fond of saying, someone with a walker would have been making better time than we were). And of course there was a ferry leaving Port Jeff and another one on the way in, with a channel just wide for one of those big boats. We thought we might be able to make it through, but as we lost speed in barely controllable waves, and a ferry bearing down on us, Trip decided to gybe and head back in. Within a few seconds we had swung around, another few seconds and the ferry was past us, yet another few seconds and it was back into the wind and the general snot to try and get out. It was messy but we were able to get close enough to the jetty to let the other ferry come through. Using the main to help along with the engine, we swung over and crossed the channel just moments after the ferry passed. Another few messy minutes and we were out.

It wasn’t fun with stacked beaming seas, but with sail up we were making progress and we knew we’d be able to sail shortly after rounding Old Field Point. Then we heard a mayday call come in over the radio. An inexperienced, solo motor boater had gone out into this weather, had nearly capsized in the waves (his words), panicked and called the Coast Guard. We watched both the local marine police and the Coast Guard come out to guide him back to port. As uncomfortable as it might be for us, it was far better than whatever he had to have been going through in a light boat with almost no keel or sails to stabilize him.

The winds and seas calmed as we made our way west, but unfortunately we had a repeat of the gnarly shifting winds. Every few minutes it was dropping the traveler, easing the main, easing the jib, then pulling in everything a few minutes later. And sometimes furling or unfurling jib. I had a knot between my shoulders, and my arms and hands ached. It was a shorter day with fewer miles and less wind and seas overall, but it was still brutal. I’m now convinced it was the price we paid for such great weather all summer in Maine.

Once we dropped anchor, the wind and the seas dropped. I almost didn’t know what to do at that point with a quiet night without issue, no sound of the bridle creaking in high winds, no rocking in changing tides, just a quiet night of solid sleep.

After lunch ashore the next day at our favorite Mediterranean restaurant, our friend Dave came over from City Island that afternoon and was kind enough to not only bring beer, but to also invite us over onto his boat for a home cooked meal. Our boat was getting down to bare-bones-end-of-season-provisions and we were thrilled to accept a great meal and great company.

We thought we had northerly winds at 10-15 knots gusting 20 that would make for a good beam reach down to Port Jefferson. With two reefs in the main and half a jib (a little more cautious than usual given our experience the day before), we set out. The winds were blowing much closer to the 20 knot end, but we were riding comfortably with reduced sail, making over 5 knots even with 2 knots of current against us. By 1 pm, the winds were dying so we shook out the reefs to gain speed. Uh, what a mistake. Not only did the winds pick up again, but then proceeded to shift from north to north west and back again, making it necessary for constant sail adjustments. I personally hate sailing close hauled (as far into the wind as you can), heeled over in messy water. Trip acknowledged that we would normally reef again, but that we needed the speed at that point to get the sail over with and get into harbor. I was uncomfortable (I absolutely hate this kind of sailing), but we weren’t in any danger. We managed to get into Port Jeff and drop anchor just as the sun was going down. It was the same routine as the night before (drink, dinner, bed) with the addition of some Advil for all the aches and pains of constant sail trim.

It was only 10 miles. A short run and one we would have to do by motor (west/southwest winds expected), but it would give us a better anchorage for the night with northerlies coming, shorten our next hop just a bit (critical with less daylight to sail by this time of year), and set us up nicely for the run to Port Jefferson. It would also bring the craziest weather of the season.

We knew we were going to get some rain from the forecast. I checked the radar regularly and thought we would only get rain, so I pulled out Trip’s foul weather gear. The skies started darkening, we could see rain out over Long Island, and lightning struck periodically. Then things got interesting.

I ducked down to double check that things were secure and port holes dogged down as the rain started. Then came the wind. Suddenly it was an onslaught of both. I had grabbed towels to mop up the torrent of rain pouring in through the open hatch. Trip cranked the rudder over as far as he could and held on. I watched in disbelief as the wind reading on our chartplotter climbed from the 20’s to the 80’s in a minute or less. Most of our electronics were already in the oven (acting as a faraday cage to protect from power surges during lightning storms), but I used my phone to snap a shot of the wind speed. The last reading I saw was 96.9 knots before the anemometer stopped reading and went into a free fall. I love the picture I got reading a wind speed of 444 knots, but even I don’t think we went through gusts like that. Winds in the nineties was more than enough thank you very much.

The whole storm probably only lasted 20-30 minutes, but it was the most intense weather event we’ve ever experienced onboard. Once it passed Trip went around and checked the boat to confirm that there was no damage. We were a little bit rattled by the experience, but otherwise fine ourselves. We made our way deep into Niantic Bay, dropped anchor, had a couple of stiff drinks with dinner, and then passed out for the evening.

We’ve anchored in West Harbor at Fishers Island several times going and coming from Block Island, but had never been ashore. We were determined to visit this time. We anchored outside the inner harbor, but had to wait till the winds shifted (a whole day of waiting), before it was comfortable enough to go ashore.

The island and its people are truly charming. The yacht club let us tie up right at the launch dock as it was so late in the season and they had very little traffic. We wandered into town (consisting of a post office, a hair salon, a shop, and ice cream store, a grocery store and a restaurant), and I was able to buy a couple of things for the boat at the local gift boutique for end-of-season prices. We had to hustle over to the grocery store (they close at 1 and don’t re-open till 3) as we needed lunch, supplies and ice. I was going to just leave the ice and groceries in the dinghy while we finished up walking through town, but Beth from the yacht club pulled out a cooler that we could use for cold storage till we were ready to leave.

The Fishers Island Museum was closed that day, but Beth had said to knock on the door as we passed by anyway. The director and an assistant happened to be there and were happy to let us poke around. The museum was extensive, covering the history (native and European), geology, flora and fauna of the island. I was particularly taken by a photograph of an osprey mid flight with a fish in her grasp. The director told us that there were 20+ nests on island (one with a web cam), and took us upstairs to see an entire gallery of work by the photographer I had been admiring.