Something in the way she moves
Attracts me like no other lover
Something in the way she move me….. George Harrison
New York, NY
From the Captain
5/9/14 Bohemia River to Nantuxent Bay, Newport, NJ, 47.1 nm
We're looking ahead to the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal, then the Delaware River down to Cape May. Tides and currents play a big part in planning this part of the trip. There is a 7-foot tide on the Delaware, and a fast current, particularly in the upper reaches. If the current runs against the wind, the river can be uncomfortably rough. There is also a fast current in the canal.
The best plan would be to enter the canal as the tide is rising on the Maryland side. We would go with the current to the river and reach there as the tide falls, riding the ebb current downstream as far as we could.
Serendipitously, the week's layover helped us. When we reached Chesapeake City, high tide was at 4 am. By daylight, we would have reached the canal on a falling tide. However, tides advance by nearly an hour a day, timed with the orbit of the moon. By the time we set out from the Bohemia River, high tide was about 10 am, so the current didn't turn against us as we motored east beyond the Mason Dixon Line, into Delaware.
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| Delaware River is calm at the Salem nuclear plant |
We hit the Delaware on the ebb, and charged downstream at nearly 9 kts. Our timing could hardly have been better. We are rushing back toward home like a horse to her barn after a long day's ride. This is a windless day, as well. The notoriously rough Delaware River is as tame as a kitten today.
We are going toward the ocean, so the tidal change is coming up to meet us. We enjoy the ride while we can, knowing the rising tide will advance to meet us in a few hours. We plan for this accordingly. While we sailed up the Delaware in one day in the Fall, we will stop for the night somewhere in the middle tonight.
Our goal is a protected anchorage up the Cohansey River, on the New Jersey side of the river. We reach the mouth of the Cohansey in mid afternoon, but still have a very slight ebb current in our favor. There is another spot about 10 miles further south where a small creek enters near Nantuxent Point. There is shallow water here, but with the 7-foot tide we can get in and out in the morning without problem. Slack current ebb (the point where the current changes to start flowing toward the ocean) is at 8 am.
Light south winds and a possible thunderstorm are predicted overnight. We anchor in the mouth of the creek in the lee of a line of simple beach houses up on stilts to the south of us. We stay out of the channel, as we see some fairly large fishing boats up the creek beyond us. The night is calm, and there are no storms.
5/10/14 Nantuxent Point to Cape May, Delaware, 30 nm.
There is a good southwest wind today, and we are going southeast. We have the current in our favor. The sails are up, the motor is off. Another good day on the Delaware.
After sailing the shallow waters of the Bahama Bank, we don't feel inclined to keep to the marked deep water channel. We sail a straight line toward our destination, avoiding the shallows noted on the chart. Out in the channel, we count 7 freighters heading north to Philadelphia, one after the other like a parade of elephants in the circus.
We reach the canal to Cape May near low tide, There are a couple bridges on the canal that are 55 feet above water level at high tide. This is close to the height of Luna's mast, but the bridges are not a problem at low tide. We reach the harbor and motor around to the anchorage at the Coast Guard station. It is not crowded this early in the season.
But there is a boat there whose green sail and cockpit covers look familiar to us. It is Dana, the Morgan 38 whose owners we met in Carolina Beach and Southport on the way south. We anchor next to them and yell over, "Hi, Dana. We're Luna!"
Immediately, two sets of feet go into the respective cabins of the two sailboats. Down to the desk at the navigation station to find The Book.
The Book is a small binder with plastic pockets to hold business cards collected from sailors encountered along the way. Boat cards, they are called. They have the name of the boat. And the names of the owners. Jim and Bonnie. Bunky and Carol. Some of us may be poor at remembering names, but one rarely forgets a boat.
They have spent the winter in the Florida Keys at Marathon and Key West and are heading back to their homeport on Long Island. This is their second cruise. Four years ago, they sailed to the Bahamas. Over dinner we will share cruising experiences.
Bonnie is making crab cakes, and we take the dinghy into Cape May for a walk. We bring some letters to mail, then remember it's Saturday. Beside the boat cards, a calendar would be a useful tool. But, who looks at it? We have a calendar, but lose track of the days.
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| Cape May oysters |
The dinghy is tied to the dock at the Lobster House restaurant on the waterfront. We stop for a beer and a dozen oysters from Delaware Bay on their outdoor deck. From their retail shop, we pick up some smoked whitefish spread for an appetizer and a chocolate torte for dessert.
Jim and Bonnie are leaving for Sandy Hook, NJ, tomorrow. We had been thinking of stopping at Barnegat Bay, about halfway up the Jersey shore. But the wind is favorable, south at 10 kts, and the temperature in the 50's. This will be an easier overnight than some we have done. We alter our plans to leave with them at noon, expecting to arrive at New York harbor by daylight.
5/11-5/12/2014 Cape May, N.J. to West 79th St. Boat Basin, Hudson River, New York City. 132.4 nm.
The cruise up the Jersey shore was uneventful. Before a 10 kt SW wind, we motor sailed northeasterly. The day was warm and sunny. Nightfall brought a nearly full moon that illuminated the seas around us. There was not a bitingly cold wind as on some other passages. We took the helm in 90-minute shifts.
The wind died at sunset, and we took down the sails. Then it changed directions to the southwest in the early hours, and we put the genoa out. We kept in radio contact with Dana, who was right on our stern. Along the way, we picked up the folks on Kiowah, who heard us talking on the radio. They are a couple from Maine on a C&C 40 with their two daughters about 8 miles behind us according to their radar.
We saw a few fishing boats in the distance, but no other traffic. Neither of us slept much on the passage.
We made great time, averaging over 6 kts, and reached New York three hours earlier than expected. We had a favorable current up the Hudson for another three hours, and instead of stopping to rest at Sandy Hook, we parted with Dana and motored the rest of the way past the Battery and the Statue of Liberty, past lower Manhattan and the skyscrapers of midtown, to the Upper West Side. We picked up a mooring at the West 79th St. Boat Basin, part of the New York park system and Riverside Park.
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| Sailing past lower Manhattan |
I dinghied in to the office, registered for two nights, and took a shower. When I returned to Luna, Kiowah had just arrived on the mooring just upstream from us. I stopped by, and we chatted for a bit. Their C&C 40 looks just like our C&C 35, only a little bigger.
They crossed from Lake Worth to the Bahamas when we did and were right behind us as we travelled north. They even sailed from Fernandina to Charleston a day after us. I was surprised we hadn't seen them until now. Travelling among the community of sailors is like living in Vermont in a way. When you meet Vermonters out of state, you are always surprised that you don't know them, or someone they know, already.
We should have a nap. On the other hand, the day is warm and sunny. A perfect day to be in the city. We walk a few blocks to the post office. We walk downtown. Have lunch at the Cuban restaurant. Make plans to walk on the High Line.
The commander is ready to go on, but I am done in. This is unusual for me. We walk back uptown, reach the Boat Basin, take the dinghy back to Luna, and I sleep for a couple of hours until dinner.
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| Luna on a mooring off Riverside Park |
5/13/14 New York City
We have a day to spend in Manhattan. It is one of those lovely New York days, warm and sunny, that make you fall in love with the city. We walked up from the Boat Basin, past workers and trainees tending shade gardens along the paths of Riverside Park. We walked toward Central Park. People are on the sidewalks, walking everywhere. Bicyclists. School children in tow for field trips.
In Central Park, new spring leaves and green grass create a sense of peace and majesty.
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock is inscribed on the asphalt path in chalk. Nannies push baby carriages. People are sitting or playing in the fields. . As many people as are there, we are amazed at the quiet among the trees and rocks.
We pass an old woman sitting still on a park bench staring pensively out over the park. The commander wonders how old we have to be before we are allowed to pass the day in such quiet contemplation, without guilt.
Someone asked Pete Seeger a few years back how he felt protesting wars while nations just continued fighting. He remarked at how much progress we've made in his lifetime. As we walk by playgrounds full of white, black, and brown children and see people strolling leisurely on the streets of New York, sitting in outdoor cafes, hear all sorts of languages spoken by those we pass, we start to grasp what Pete meant.
We spent the greater part of the day visiting the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I believe this contains more stuff than Luna, though we did not stop to count the pieces. Certainly, what Luna lacks in, say, ancient Greek and Roman pottery, sculpture, glass, and metal work, or large paintings by the old masters, or luscious Persian carpets, or Stradivari violins and old Martin guitars, or swords and suits of armor, she more than makes up for in her extensive collection of mis-matched nuts, bolts, and screws.
And while the artwork at the Met is precisely cataloged and perfectly arranged, Luna's stuff is more casually arrayed in what a boater might call, "Like everywhere you look?" Though the Met has more items, I think if you divide the area occupied by the stuff by the total area available to contain it, calculate, in other words, the clutter index, I think Luna might have it beat.
But there the comparisons end. Such is life on the cruising sailboat where the challenge, as well as the joy, is learning to live in a small space. We've become pretty good at it, learning to store what's used more often the closer at hand. We've become expert at navigating the interior of the boat to retrieve what is necessary with the fewest number of motions.
One of the highlights at the museum for us was a new installation in the rooftop garden. Here we walked among ivy and magenta wisteria blossoms on a thick carpet of artificial grass. We looked out over the Manhattan Skyline and Central Park. We sat on the grass and had picnic lunch, purchased at the snack bar up there. We watched others lounging with family and friends, shoes off, sitting on the grass as we were.
Later, we walked downtown, had an early dinner at a tapas place in Hell's Kitchen on 9th Avenue, and saw a play off-Broadway, a one-man depiction of an elderly Louis Armstrong reflecting on his life.
It's Tuesday night, and the sidewalks and cafes are crowded. As we walk back uptown, I am thinking about the sense of community. About diversity. About the helpful staff member at the Met who came over and asked what we were looking for when he saw us trying to make sense of the map we picked up. About the friendly waiter in the restaurant. Maybe Pete Seeger was right. Perhaps we, as a species, are evolving toward a place of greater cooperation, empathy, and understanding. This is not the New York of just a decade or two ago.
5/14/14 New York City to Wappinger Creek, New Hamburg, NY, 51.5 nm
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| Fog on the northern Hudson River |
We're off with the incoming tide, riding the flood north toward Albany. There is a mild north wind, so we're motoring along, making 7 kts. The day is cool, but not cold. The river, as it narrows and winds north of the city and beyond the Tappan Zee, is beautiful. We are starting to see mountains.
A large wooden sloop lies in the water off West Point. She is motoring into the wind. As we get closer, we identify the
Clearwater. There is a group of young students on board, hauling in unison on
the halyard to hoist the massive gaff-rigged mainsail.
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| Sloop Clearwater |
Yesterday, I was thinking of Pete Seeger, and today we see the
Clearwater. This is a 106-foot replica of a Hudson River sloop, used in the age of sail to transport goods up and down the river. It was built in Maine and launched in 1969, part of Seeger's Clearwater Foundation. The latter grew out of his work to clean up the Hudson River, contaminated by PCB's from electrical plants along its banks. The mission of the Clearwater Foundation is to bring people back to the river, raise and teach environmental awareness, clean the river, and host a yearly music festival. The awareness raised by the foundation helped the passage of the Clean Water Act and certainly succeeded in cleaning up the Hudson.
We motor up past Seeger's hometown, Beacon, NY, where a smaller sister ship of the
Clearwater, the
Woody Guthrie, is moored.
We anchor toward the east bank of the river near the mouth of Wappinger Creek, south of a marina there. The spot is not well protected from any direction, but anchor holding is reported to be excellent, and we are not expecting significant winds tonight.
Train tracks hug both banks here, like a zipper on a pair of cosmic trousers. Little snippets of
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| Commuter train travels up the Hudson |
commuter trains run up and down the east bank, looking like Lionels. Engine in front going north, sometimes in the rear coming south.
Freight trains travel the west bank. The tracks here are not welded at the seams, so we can hear the clack-clack of the wheels as the trains pass. The freights are not as frequent as the passenger trains, but they are much longer.
Paul Simon, who wrote, "Everybody loves the sound of a train in the distance; everybody thinks it's true," probably has not spent much time up here. However, the horns and the thrumming diesel engines and the clicking wheels blend into the background after a while, and we sleep well, bobbing gently in the current on the river.
Tomorrow, we will reach Catskill, NY, about 30 miles upriver. Here, we will unstep Luna's mast, tie it to her decks, and head for the Champlain Canal. We are only about four days away from home.
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| Sunrise at Cape May Coast Guard Station |
