The other side of sailing..................from K

We were ready to journey back through NYC last Thursday when we haphazardly realized that the date was 9/11. With the added harbor security and traffic for commemorations, we decided to stay one more day in the Long Island Sound, which brought us to Port Washington. It's a quiet little town with one great asset - free town mooring balls for transients. You would have thought we won a million dollars! We settled into our spot and checked out the neighbors - a trawler from CA with a very cute dog, except the captain had set his fenders (permanently?) off his gunwale like he was challenging us to bumper cars. Our best entertainment was watching a sailboat make 4 arduous attempts to grab the mooring ball stick. This is painful laughter in that we know, "but only for the grace of God go I." I've learned that sailors are pretty humble when it comes to admitting embarrassing situations and also quick to help in a pinch. Each decision has the potential to be brilliant or catastrophic, Which brings me to our next adventure.

Our motor back through NYC was thrilling, but lacked the early-morning charge of our first trip. With a brisk wind and foggy patches, the city seemed more remote, but there's something about the Manhattan skyline and Lady Liberty that makes you proud to be an American. After passing under the Verrazano Bridge, we had a quick decision: either leisurely sail 7 miles down Sandy Hook and spend the afternoon on a mooring ball or sail another 20 miles to Shark Inlet. The weather report called for 40% rain and 2-3 foot waves - uncomfortable, but very doable s0 we donned our rainjackets and set out for the ocean. Well, the 40% chance of rain turned into 100% and the waves turned to 4-7 seas. A southerly "breeze" had us beating into a 20-25 knot wind. Okay, now we were more than uncomfortable. Now for the lifejackets. Turn back? Always concerned with my comfort, P asked my opinion. "We're sailors, let's sail," I reasoned. After 4 hours of beating (an apt sailing term) down the coast, we pulled in the genoa and turned on the motor - not any more comfortable, but at least we could move in a more direct route. Our salon looked like Hurricane Ike had gone through. The pounding of the waves had caused cabinets to fling open and toss flashlights, clothes and books everywhere. At 6 p.m. we faced the Bascule Bridge, pleading the tender to raise the bridge so we could enter Shark River Inlet. The narrow basin is lined with quaint Asbury Park homes. I wanted to jump ship and knock on the door of a cozy house that I just knew had a blazing fire in the family room. But alas, we are sailors. P & I found a spot to drop anchor and envied the warmth from the foggy water. Actually, once we peeled off our sopping slickers, Senara warmed up quickly and we celebrated the end of long, cold, wet day with a hot dinner of kielbasa and peppers - YUM. We couldn't have been more comfortable and satisfied than tucked into our own dry, cozy salon. Did we make the right decision? From the perspective of the morning after, absolutely!





A short respite near the end of a tough day.