Atlantic Highlands

 After bidding Johannah an emotional farewell I welcomed Ron back aboard. We had a really nice rousing sail down the bay to Atlantic Highlands. I am relearning the NOAA weather peoples style for forecasting the wind along the coast. They called for southerly winds of 5 to 10, all day. On the lake, this would translate to almost calm. So I assumed it would be 10 to 15 and bent on the working jib. But initially, for about an hour, we motored through the flotilla of commercial traffic. Hoisting sail finally, we tacked under the Verrazano Bridge. Simply sublime. We had the tide in our favor and fairly flew down the bay in spite of the wind being against us. The wind continued to build and I eventually had to put in a reef. At this point it was clearly blowing over 20, probably up to 25. As we neared our destination we were near a large ship terminal complex, with a ship tied up. There was a buoy that we were sailing by that proclaimed it to be a restricted area. As we passed we noticed some more writing on the other side. It said keep out and that lethal force was authorized. Ron and I decided not to loiter in the area and tacked immediately. We had a good nervous laugh about it. No idea what goes on there.

Today we got some fuel and a pumpout. Walked into town and came up with a solution for the failing inverter. And we might sail down the shore in the morning, depending on the weather. Cold front tonight, NW winds tomorrow.

All the best, Charlie

Brief look at the city

We found a better place to chain up the dinghy, a spot that ended up eluding the sharp eyes of the authorities here. So Johannah and I set off to explore. Our hope was to walk to the subway station, 3 miles away, but there were just too many obstacles. No sidewalks, broken glass and smashed buildings, and scary traffic were contributing factors. So we caved in and Johannah downloaded the Lyft app. The driver dropped us off at the Grove Street station and we began learning about the subway system. We were surprised to find there were no maps or diagrams showing where it went. Johannah managed to download one and we investigated buying a ticket. Once again, there was no indication whatsoever as to what a ride might cost, so we took a wild guess and purchased a ticket with a value of 10 bucks. Then, the trick was to figure out how to get it to operate the turnstile. Johannah eventually got through, but I was unable. I finally said the heck with it, and jumped the turnstile. We enjoyed a long subway ride and were eventually deposited at 33rd St. It occurred to me that we could have probably rowed the dinghy to the Battery in less time, but we would surely have been run over by one of the insane boat operators in the harbor.

The city is just amazing, as always. It is stunning that people actually live there, willingly, but they do. I always feel like the complete bumpkin there, but Johannah is very comfortable and able to navigate those shoals. We walked around, visited Bryant Park, ate some street food which didn't kill us, and eventually headed back. And the dinghy was waiting upon our return.

Later, we enjoyed a visit from my friend Ron Rost, fellow sailor and musician extraordinaire. He brought his mountain dulcimer and played some really exquisite music. We talked about his spending some time aboard during this trip. He might join me tomorrow for a sail down to Atlantic Highlands, although it is now looking like the wind is going to be right on the nose. As they say, gentlemen don't beat to windward, and the idea of beating in a channel is less than appealing. I'll see what tomorrow brings. Johannah did get a reservation for Amtrak, so she will be heading out, sadly.

Good night, Charlie

Big Apple Transit

 We had a north wind yesterday and it was fine! At least for a while. We managed to sail for about 4 hours, mostly wing and wing, from the beginning of the Palisades down to mid town Manhattan. We were bucking a flood tide, but it gave us a nice slow look at the spectacles of the skyline, both of Manhattan and of Hoboken.

The previous evening allowed for some exploration of Nyack, which turned out to be a lovely place. Gaining access to shore was a bit problematic, but we met a fellow at a yacht club there who allowed us to tie the dinghy up for a couple of hours. We found the town to be quite busy as we walked up Main Street. Seems to be thriving with tons of eateries, folks on the sidewalks strolling, etc. On our return to the Yacht Club we found the place locked up, so we scaled the chain link fence, ignored any security cameras, and left in our dinghy. Happily, the wind had died down and the anchorage was quite pleasant for the evening.

Transiting New York Harbor in a small boat is quite remarkable. It wasn't bad till we got to the Battery at the tip of Manhattan. From that point on it was utter chaos. The waters were turned into a froth from the intersecting wakes of every imaginable type of vessel proceeding in every direction at flank speed. I can only imagine how many mishaps must have taken place in this area over the centuries. The primary concern would be high speed collisions. There were tugs and barges, tour boats, ferries, kayaks, paddleboards, sailboats, and the resulting bedlam was a sight to behold. I was trying to get my navigation app to download the appropriate chart while Johannah was doing a stellar job on the tiller avoiding multiple ongoing catastrophes. While all of this was going on the air was filled with helicopters taking tourists on a fly by of the Statue of Liberty. The thump thump of rotors would be with us till sunset. We pulled into the Liberty Park anchorage and after several attempts managed to get a good spot. Thankfully, there is no current in this anchorage, and none of the wakes make it in from the main harbor.

There appears to be no safe place to leave a dinghy on shore, but we chained ours to a light pole. I was very apprehensive about leaving it there so after walking about for a bit, I returned to safeguard it while Johannah explored the park. She has determined there is a train of some type that can be taken to Manhattan and on to Penn Station where she will catch the Amtrak. Turns out todays train is fully booked, but she has made a reservation for tomorrow. And, there is a possibility her aunt and uncle will pay us a visit today as they live here in northern New Jersey. So today looks like a day of rest, and probably some puttering around on the boat. Or, maybe a trip into the city, if I can secure the dinghy in a better fashion.

Johannah sailing under her favorite bridge, the George Washington!

Onward to the Tappan Zee

 Hi Folks,

Underway at 0600. Had to clear a huge mat of weeds that had drifted down on the boat overnight and caught on the anchor and the bow. I managed to get them loose but it turned out that a bunch got caught on the rudder and the propellor. The boat was just not moving as per usual. So, I shut the engine off, donned a swim mask, and went over the side. Johannah kept a close eye on me as I cleared the weeds, first by hand, then finally with a knife. It took 4 dives and all was clear. Water was delightfully warm. Had I done this in October I would be singing a different tune. This took place in front of Franklin Roosevelts house at Hyde Park. 

We continued as a motorboat. No wind, though at times there was a light breeze from dead ahead. Sunny, and hot at first, but gradually clouding up. Passed a large northbound ship just south of Poughkeepsie. Usual amount of smaller barge and tug traffic. Passing West Point and World's End was spectacular as always. Johannah feels the river has lived up to my advance billing, which makes me happy. We just missed a thunderstorm by the Indian Point Nuclear station. We turned the corner onto the Tappan Zee and were slapped with a stiff southerly breeze of about 20-25 mph which was quite a surprise. I thought about sailing and beating to windward, but at that point we only had about 4 miles to go so we just powered into it. The anchorage at Nyack was grim, with tide opposing the wind and boats rolling wildly, while surging back and forth on their anchors. Shortly after arrival, we joined the club, pitching and yawing wildly. Eventually the tide relented and the wind has died, so it is now quite pleasant. However, there is a thunderstorm bearing down on us, so I am reluctant to go ashore. I can sense that Johannah, given the proximity of the shore, would love to explore, but alas, concerns about weather and the safety of the boat will keep us here for the immediate future.

One tragic bit of news that I just discovered, is that the 79th street boat basin on Manhattan is shut down for several years, for a complete rebuilding. This iconic spot has been around since the 1930's, and really was the only  place where folks of average means could afford to stay. So, with that option no longer available, we may land at Coney Island, where there is a supposedly secure anchorage. From there, we could get Johannah into Manhattan for her train ride home on Sunday. And tomorrows forecast calls for light northerly winds, so there may finally be some sailing in the offing!

Cheers everyone, Charlie

I'm a slacker

Hi everyone/anyone,

I seem to be slipping on these posts. After a night at lock 4 we had a good day, albeit very rainy with a thunderstorm thrown in, on our way to the Castleton Boat Club. We got a mooring for the night and paid to use the crane in the morning. I was wondering how inflation may have hit the Boat Club, but it still cost only $55, which was what I believe I paid over 30 years ago. For comparison, at the marina where I used to work, it would have been over $400.

Yesterday morning found us at the dock, and Johannah getting a quick tutorial as a crane operator. I forgot to mention that I had made up a new forestay and  upper shroud, using materials that I had had shipped to the boat club. Shoutout to Vermont Sailing Partners for making that happen. The weather for stepping the mast was perfect. Flat calm, no wind, and no boat traffic, although we did wait for a barge to go by. The stepping really was a piece of cake. But I decided to opt for another night on the mooring, since we were most of the day getting the rigging sorted out, tuned, sail on, etc. It was also blisteringly hot which necessitated multiple swimming breaks. All in all a very productive day.

This morning had us up before daybreak and we fired up the engine at 0600. Yes, we are still a motorboat. It was flat calm most of the day, but with an occasional very light wisp of a breeze out of the south, which was the direction we were trying to go. Quite beautiful though, with a good bit of fog early. Saw some commercial traffic in the form of barges and tugs. Surprisingly light pleasure boat traffic. At 3PM we decided to drop anchor, just south of the Norrie Boat Basin. We'd have gone further but there are not many places to anchor over the next 30 miles or so. Actually, there are no places to anchor. The Hudson on that section is deep, right up to shore. But we had gotten over 50 miles in, so were content to stop  and put the swim ladder out. We also rowed into the boat basin and purchased some more ice. The icebox is not doing so well, what with hot temps and the engine running nearby all day long. But, we have been enjoying nice cool provisions and drinks since Orwell.

Sounds like potential thunderstorm activity tomorrow. My goal is to get within striking distance of the City and be in a good spot to weather the frontal passage. Calm conditions are supposed to prevail tonight, but I wouldn't want to be in this spot during a serious blow.

Trip is going well so far! Everybody is happy and well fed!

Cheers, Charlie and Johannah 

This photo is available thanks to Johannah's efforts and IT skills. She managed to set up my laptop using my phone as a mobile hotspot and a different screen pops up that gives me photo options. It looks way complicated, but I will see if I can learn this process. This photo is off my favorite historic lighthouse, the Esopus Meadows light. Lovely!

Into the Canal

 Departed Whitehall at about a quarter after 7 AM. Johannah handled her first lock transit with aplomb. We made it from Lock 12 to just outside Lock 4. We got there right at 5 when they close for the day . The lock keeper said we could tie up for the night with no problems. We took a walk into Stillwater village, where we picked up an extremely important item that I had forgotten, mosquito repellent! Johannah is heating up a delicious looking dish of mushrooms and orzo that she had prepared the day before and has been awaiting us in the icebox. Yum!

50 years ago:

A Honda? Huh? My father had found a little portable generator made by a company he had never heard of, called Honda. His thinking was that I could use it to run a sander, a drill, and some other tools when shoreside power wasn't available. I was pretty much sick of sanding at that time, what with a fleet of 10 charter boats, and therefore not keen on another device that could get more work out of Charlie. But then I realized, the generator that was buried in a deck locker could run a battery charger. I dug it out and Fred was delighted when it fired up. I can't remember how long it took, but after a while, the Perkins fired up and order was restored. We didn't need to run it continuously since we still had wind, but we conserved the batteries and continued pumping by hand. A day or so later, we motored into the Ft. Pierce inlet and had the boat hauled out. The source of the leak was immediately evident. A plank end, far forward at the stem, was sprung, and allowing a good bit of water to enter. A couple of new fasteners and we were on our way. Back on the ocean and down to Ft. Lauderdale, where, very uncharacteristically, my frugal mother booked us a slip at the uber expensive Pier 66. My father must have experienced heart palpitations when he found out about that bill.

We secured a much more reasonable berth up the New River, and everyone headed home but me. I was to keep the boat maintained and looking great for a potential sale. I spent the winter doing that, and picked up a job washing dishes on a restaurant dining boat. And the schooner did sell, to an actual Greek shipowner. 

And so ended my first cruise south! Hope you enjoyed hearing about it!

Whitehall, birthplace of US Navy

 Actually, there are several claimants to that title, but Whitehalls is fairly solid. Benedict Arnold built a fleet of ships here in 1776 and they were used later that year in a major battle on Lake Champlain. Anyway, we, (Johannah Schneider and I) are tied up on that site, which is now the Whitehall Marina. We had a nice run down what is a really beautiful part of the lake when Johannah arrived a bit after 2. Normally I would go thru the first lock and tie up on the bulkhead for free, but the authorities have reduced the hours of operation, so I caved in and rented a slip for the night. An extremely bad habit to get into, but there don"t appear to be any anchoring options.

Meanwhile, the other story continues:

The batteries weren't completely dead, they just didn't have the oomph to turn over the big Perkins diesel. But Fred could read the writing on the wall and asked if we had a manual pump aboard that didn't require electricity. I got out of a storage locker a large Edson pump that fit the bill. And so the pumping began. It was quite tiring, but we had motivation, knowing that we were 50 miles offshore on what no one could deny was a sinking boat. We took turns, and with 4 able bodied men aboard we were able to keep up with it. I don't recall my mother taking a turn, and my dear little sister was clueless. We discussed which inlets on the Florida coast would be easiest to negotiate under sail and figured it would be based on the weather at the time. Then I remembered the Honda.

To be continued

Another Day in Orwell

 Not a lot to report. Got the final coat of paint on the mast this morning. Had nice visit with Bruce on Timshel, who I had met in the Exumas with his wife Karen on the last trip. Gonna be a hot day. Need to finish the macerator installation and reinstall some hardware on the mast.

And now, back in time. The storm died down the next day and we found ourselves moving steadily along in pleasant conditions. But we noticed that the bilge pump had come on and was staying on for a disconsertingly long time. It would shut off, and then start running again. We had developed a leak, probably as a result of the storm. The Sea Song was a wooden vessel, and though stoutly constructed and relatively new, was not immune to seawater intent on making its way inside. Attempting to discover the source of the leak we removed the floorboards and peered into the dank recesses of the bilge. The problem was that most deep areas of the bilge had massive iron pigs fitted in that provided ballast. These pigs weighed around 60 #'s apiece and were well nigh impossible to move around without resulting in smashed fingers. And the pump kept running. The interval between run cycles was getting shorter. Fred realized that we had been putting quite a strain on the batteries what with running the navigation lights and the bilge pump so he decided to fire up the engine for some battery charging time. As he pushed the starter button there was a very feeble sound as the engine turned about a quarter of a revolution, then silence. The batteries were dead.

To be continued.

 Definition of cruising

Boat repair in exotic locations. Thanks to my good friend Silas for that definition. Not sure if Orwell, Vermont qualifies as an exotic location, but it is a lovely place. 

After the rain stopped and things dried off, I sanded the mast and applied the first coat of paint. My former boss and friend, George, would refer to it as a 20 footer. This means that it presents well at a distance of 20 feet. I suppose I could strive for a true yacht finish, involving hundreds of dollars in multi part linear polyurethane painting components, and getting the mast inside a paint booth where I could utilize maximum technology, but no. I'm just using a sheet of sandpaper, a bit of paint thinner, and a quart of Rustoleum. Total cost, with tax, a bit over 20 bucks.

A brief trip back in time, to Charleston, 50 years ago. We spent several delightful days there, while my father managed to rustle up another captain, a really great local guy named Fred Wickman. We set out one late afternoon, and by midnight we were in a strong northeast wind, blowing over 30 knots. It was spectacular sailing, running wing and wing. About 3 am, Fred asked me to douse the jib and the staysail, as they were mostly just flogging about. The staysail was easy, but jib involved making my way out on the bowsprit to haul down and secure the sail. I took in the view, with the big seas, the low scudding clouds, the moon flashin through, and resolved to always remember that moment. I still do.

Battery a bit low, so, Good night all!

Charlie

 Mast down today

I sailed off the mooring yesterday morning at 0825, with serious doubts about proceeding on the trip. It was mostly a result of excessive worrying about a host of things I won't delve into at the moment. Suffice to say that being on the move once again, on a small boat, helped to rearrange my outlook. It was a nice day, although I did end up motoring through calms for almost 3 hours. The majority was under sail.

Arrived at Chipman Point Marina, which is a favorite spot, and Chip, the owner, and a friend, agreed to unstep the mast, which we did today, shortly after lunch. I am planning to paint the mast over the next several days.

Just took a break to close things up as a rain squall has started. Really coming down!

Good friends Tom, Michelle, and Douglas came down and took me out to a great dinner at the Wheel Inn in Benson.

Back to the trip south of 50 years ago. After leaving Norfolk we were a couple of weeks moving south to Charleston. Mostly under power, being on a vessel not suitable for close quarter sailing, but we did get some sailing in on the big waters of North Carolina, like Albemarle Sound, Pamlico Sound, and the Neuse River. We spent several days in Morehead City, for reasons I have forgotten, but used the time to meet some local youth and party a bit. Eventually, we found ourselves in Charleston and I felt a huge sense of relief in having gotten the boat there without screwing something up. It was a good confidence booster for me as well. I had gotten a low number in the draft lottery and had decided I didn't really want to be in the army. My dad had been in the Navy and I decided that would be for me. But I flunked the physical due to a lack of depth perception. So I felt like a real loser. Even the military, sending kids to Viet Nam in droves, didn't want me. So that 2 week stretch was really just what I needed.

Till the next time, Charlie

 Provisioning

Hi everyone, or anyone for that matter! Getting ready for my Golden Jubilee cruise. Filling the lockers aboard with food, tools, clothing, spares, you name it. Trying to get the house in order for Meg so that things won't fall apart immediately when I leave. She has proven more than capable of keeping things going here. I haven't really told a lot of people I am doing this, so there will be no going away party, no fanfare. Just the way I like it. Hoping to leave sometime during this upcoming week. Yes, I know it's early, and hurricane season is nigh, but my hope is to be able to spend some time enjoying Chesapeake Bay. In other years I have been generally freezing my butt there, and under pressure to make time in a southerly direction.

Back to some remembrances of my first trip. We had pulled out of the Shelburne Shipyard on Lake Champlain with the masts on deck, and the 85 HP Perkins diesel running strong. It took us 4 days total to transit the southern part of the lake, the canal, and the Hudson River, finishing up at City Island. I had made most of this trip in the opposite direction a couple of summers earlier, helping to bring a 45' Alden ketch from Tarrytown, NY to Shelburne. This was another of my father's charter boats. So I was familiar with the river and the beauty of the area. The trip thus far on the schooner Sea Song had been uneventful and we were looking forward to restepping the masts and heading out to sea. None more so than one young man, whose name I disremember, but to whom we shall refer as "Ted". Ted was full of confidence and swagger, and was very disappointed with the work we were doing to get the boat ready for sea, which he deemed as mostly unnecessary and a waste of time. And indeed, it was mostly of a cosmetic nature, since we were enjoying a rare late November warm spell, which Captain Don wanted to make full use of. It was really only about 4 days that we spent at City Island doing that work, but Ted couldn't wait, and made it clear to everyone just how frustrated he was.

Finally, we slipped the docking lines and headed out through Hell Gate and down the East River. It is a process of several hours to negotiate the vastness of New York Harbor, but we finally headed out the Ambrose Channel and set a course southward. The change that overtook Ted was remarkable. As the sails were hoisted and the bow of the Sea Song met the incoming swell of the Atlantic, Ted developed an ashen look, vomited over the side, and retired to his bunk. This marked the end of any usefulness Ted may have had, and it left Captain Don without a watch mate. Don, incidentally, was the penultimate captain, a really great guy, and consummate sailor. Thankfully, I found myself unaffected by any hint of seasickness. If I remember correctly, we spent a couple of nights at sea and found ourselves at daybreak off the Delmarva Coast, right near the entrance to Chesapeake Bay. These were the days before good weather forecasting, but we did hear on the radio about a severe cold front that had passed through Washington DC, bringing high winds and snow, that was headed our way. Sure enough, I was at the helm, riding a flood tide over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge/Tunnel, when the front hit. We started the Perkins, dropped the sails since the wind was almost on the nose, and started pounding into some really ugly waves. They were very steep and close together, not surprising, given the opposition of wind and tide. The weather bureau was saying 7-14 feet, and I could believe it. The wind was about 40 knots.  Captain Don was exhausted, having gotten practically no sleep during the last 2 days, Ted was out of commission, and the other crew member didn't have much experience, though he was very helpful. So I was stuck steering. Eventually we made Hampton Roads and the conditions moderated. Turning the corner into Norfolk was a real relief. We pulled into the big marina there and celebrated our survival with a quiet but heartfelt thanks.

Ted had undergone something of a revival, but the result was that of a completely shattered man. He gathered up his gear quietly and without fanfare. Saying goodbye, he allowed that he was seeking a new life in Kansas, as far from the ocean as he could possibly get. He appeared to be completely serious. Nobody stood in his way as he walked down the dock, away from the salt water, and all it represented. Meanwhile, Captain Don had to return to Vermont for work, and so I was left as the owner's representative,(my father), in spite of being the youngest person aboard. Needless to say, this precipitated a collect call to my dad, and I asked him what he wanted me to do. My father was busy working in one of his other businesses and couldn't spare the time to come down, so he suggested I take the boat south, using the Intracoastal Waterway. This seemed to me like quite a stretch, given my lack of coastal experience, but I was too cowed by the old man to argue back. Then, he sweetened the pot a bit by saying he would send my mother and little sister down to help me. My mother I could see, but sis was only just 10 years old and likely to be as useful as Ted was. But I acquiesced and allowed that I would do it. Sure enough, a couple of days later they showed up, and without further ado, I headed out as a completely green 18 year old captain, on waters I was totally unfamiliar with. But at least I wasn't the youngest aboard anymore, that honor went to my sister.

To be continued.

 Here I go again.....

Not sure why I do this, but I am getting ready to do another trip south. It's really a beautiful time of year here in Vermont and I am quite comfortable in retirement so there is no logical reason why I would go back to living in cramped conditions, dealing with horrible weather, and being away from my lovely wife for many months. No, it makes no sense at all. But there is something about making long trips in small boats that I just can't stay away from.

It was 50 years ago, in 1972, that I made my first trip south. I was crew aboard my father's schooner, "Sea Song", and he wanted the boat delivered to Ft. Lauderdale where it would be advertised for sale. She was 43' on deck, 52' overall, heavily built in Nova Scotia, and gaff rigged. She was one of the boats in the family charter business and I was quite familiar with her, having been responsible for some of the maintenance and assisting the charterers during summers on Lake Champlain. I was capable of taking her out on my own starting around the age of 15 and I remember making other boat owners very nervous in the close confines of the docks at the Shelburne Shipyard. At that age, I was very small, and looked to be about 12 years old, so the seasoned skippers would look askance as I manoevered the massive schooner into the dock around all the other boats, but happily, I never caused any damage.

I will tell more of this story in later posts!