We had a terrifying ride through the Hell Gate. The confluence of Long Island Sound and the Atlantic Ocean with the East River and Hell Gate in the middle. The current runs at 9 knots and once you enter the narrow chokepoint, it takes control of the boat, speeds you up to where it is very hard to control your direction, then spits you into the East River where you need to quickly avoid tractor tugs pushing petroleum barges. We had a large ketch in front of us as we passed into the narrows that was caught in a back eddy and was literally moving in reverse. It looked like a collision was eminent as I lost steering trying to slow the boat down in reverse. Acid from my stomach went right to my throat as I put the Vindhler's engine into full forward and somehow edged around this guy. I did not care for the scare and decided on the spot that I did not like the other sailor.
I took a risk and sailed into the Newtown creek, a superfund site that contains one of the largest oil spill in the world. I found a wall of concrete that was recently constructed on the creek and tied up to it, only to be sitting on the bottom when the tide ran out. The best part of the anchorage beside the incredible midtown views is the other voyaging sailboat belonging to singlehander Chris Hanson, just back from the Azores. We hit it off and in a matter of 30 minutes developed a friendship that will last a life time. Chris, Eric and I shared sea stories leavened by hand rolled cigarettes and scotch. Later in the evening sailing friend Steve Morse offered hot showers for Eric and me at his nearby home. Steve is a friend who I used to see weekly and since leaving New York, spoke to him only twice in seven years. I know it is sad, but we picked up like a moment of time never passed between us. That is friendship and I love my easy friends.
I have been nostalgic about NYC since the day I arrived in Maine and still hold a candle for that city. It was where I found myself and the experiences there created the person I am today. Its streets contain the wanderings of my youth and 15 years of a soul's poetry. Unfortunately, Eric's tour on the Vindhler was to come to an end. The thought of him leaving and pushing on alone made me incredibly anxious and fearful. I just did not want to be alone on the high seas and have enough experience sailing to know that things can turn problematic very fast.
I did push off from Newtown Creek a little after noon, only to be headed by a cold wind and gray sky. I avoided ship traffic in NY Harbor and once under the Verrizzano bridge and into Raritan Bay, I was feeling better. I anchored at Sandy Hook, NJ just after dusk and was feeling much better.
The coast of New Jersey has a bad reputation for its limited number of safe harbors if the weather turns bad. Some of the harbors are not deep enough for cruising sailboats. I sailed to the Manasquan Inlet on day one and Atlantic City on day two. AC was pretty bizarre with the glitz of casinos pushing against a dingy waterfront with clam boats unloading their catch. It was a positive note that the waterfront was not over commercialized. I have a low tolerance for suburban sprawl and gross amounts of advertising. Day three put me in Cape May with a sixty degree day and nice little anchorage near the Coast Guard. Removing my two wool sweaters and wearing a t shirt put me in high spirits.
Newtown Creek, is a 3.5 mi (6 km) estuary that forms part of the border between the boroughs of Brooklyn and Queens, in New York City, New York, United States. It derives its name from New Town (Nieuwe Stad), which was the name for the Dutch and British settlement in what is now Elmhurst, Queens. It is one of the most polluted industrial sites in America,[1]containing years of discarded toxins, an estimated 30 million gallons of spilled oil, and raw sewage from New York City’s sewer system.[1]
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