Sailing Lake Ontario

After arriving on the Great Lake Lake Ontario in August, Grace and I had just two daysails. This was because I broke a bone in my foot.

A couple weeks later, Grace and I hopped a train going west. We travelled west to L.A. for her fall semester in mid-August; stopping in San Francisco to visit Brynn and Matt for a few days.

After returning to the boat, I decided to improve the Single Side-Band (SSB) radio reception. The SSB radio is a long range radio. While on the ocean, this radio system will make it possible to receive email, and more importantly current weather charts of the Atlantic Ocean. I could already listen and talk to people in Barbados, Amsterdam and the South Atlantic. However, I was not receiving the digital data (email, Weather Fax, etc.).

To use or test this radio system, the boat must be in the water. So, I wanted to do as much as possible before the boat is hauled out for the winter.

For the past few weeks, I have changed the emphasis from maintenance to sailing. Autumn was settling into Central New York. There was an unusual amount of colour along the lake. Typically, the wind is from the Northwest, which blows the leaves off the trees as they turn. However, this year, the winds have been consistently from the south.

Preparing Distant Horizon to go sailing

Leaves are just starting to change October 11, 2016

Sterling Bluffs

I sailed solo much of the time. On this day, October 11th I ghosted along the bluffs for a while. When I tacked and headed back, I saw Majic Journey coming out to the lake. Tom Leach had Dave Crast onboard as crew.

Tom Leach, greeting me as I approach Majic Journey flying the spinnaker

Tom Leach of Majic Journey was sailing with Dave Crast.

Tom approached with Majic Journey from astern (behind). Tom and Dave tossed me ginger snaps... one-by-one for an afternoon snack. Sorry, no pictures. I was busy catching my snack.

Since it was late in the season, many boats had already been taken out. After a daysail to Sodus Bay and back with my son Matt and a new friend John, I decided to put the boat on the end of another dock; making it easier to come and go when I single-hand. In hind-sight, I've re-thought the wisdom of that decision.

Distant Horizon (far left) sitting at the dock

You see... with winds primarily from the south and the boat being on the end of a dock, that being the south end of the dock, I get blown into or pushed hard against the dock. This makes it difficult for Distant Horizon to get away from the dock.

A few days later on another daysail, I had Ron and Peg onboard. They were in the process of winterizing their boat. While I was preparing to depart with Ron and Peg, Dean had arrived to sail solo on his boat. We convinced him to come and sail with us. We had a fabulous day; sailing out to Ford Shoal and back.

Ron and Peg relaxing with Dean at the helm

A couple days later, the wind was blowing strong (20-25 knots) from the south. Distant Horizon was pinned to the dock by the wind. It took an hour to get the boat off the dock. I decided to sail to Oswego. With wind from the south, I set a reef in the mainsail; making it smaller for the stronger winds.  I had the heavy weather staysail ready, but it would not be needed right away because the wind would be from slightly behind. The staysail is most effective when the wind is directly from the side slightly in-front of the boat.

In just a few days, the bluffs have burst into autumn colour.

I made it to Oswego in under 3 hours. Even though the winds were strong, there were just small 3-4 foot waves because of the southerly breeze. With the wind slightly behind the boat, I could just relax and enjoy the moment. The wind and waves were coming from behind. The sun was shinning. The air warm. In fact, it would be the last day of the year when the air temperature would reach 80 degrees!

The return trip was something else. It took almost 6 hours. The waves were not the issue. It was the wind. The wind wasn't too strong. I had a reef in the mainsail, the smaller heavy weather staysail, and a reefed jib. All that means is that I had a good combination of small sails for the stronger wind, so the boat wouldn't be over-powered. Actually, I was too conservative with sail size and could have used larger sails, but this was far more relaxing and the loss of speed was negligible. The actual problem was the wind direction. Little Sodus Bay is west by southwest of Oswego. The winds had veered from the south to the southwest.

A sailboat can not sail directly into the wind. In fact, Distant Horizon can barely sail at 40 degrees to the wind and prefers 50-60 degrees. So, a maneuver call a tack must be performed. It goes like this...

From Oswego, I sail due west (45 degrees to the wind). The shoreline is slipping farther and farther away as it follows a west-southwest direction. Sailing west, the wind is coming from in-front of the boat on the port side (left) at about a 45 degree angle to the bow. So, I turn the boat to port (left turn) until the wind is about a 45 degree angle from the starboard side (right). Now, I am sailing south; towards the shoreline, but not towards Little Sodus Bay which is southwest of my current position. As I get closer to the shoreline, the water gets shallower. So, I must tack again. This time I turn to starboard (right turn). Once again, heading west. In doing this, I sail west for 60-90 minutes. and sail south for about 30 minutes. This continued for a total of 6 tacks before reaching my destination.

I was a lot busier on the return trip. I didn't care. I was out there to sail... not just go for a ride. All-in-all, it was a glorious day of sailing!

Having just completed the sail to Oswego in 20-25 knots, I thought this would be a perfect opportunity to kick it up a notch. The forecast was for a full gale. That is, 34-45 knots of wind. To make it real interesting, the wind was coming from the northwest. The forecast had the winds gusting to over 60 knots.

A full gale on the Great Lake Ontario

As it turned out, I did not sail on this day. There were several factors leading to this decision. First, to go out into a gale is foolhardy. The proper way to gain this experience is to go out prior to the gale's arrival. That way, I would go through the proper sequential progression of reefing and changing sails as the weather deteriorated. To do this, I would have had to depart in the morning's predawn darkness on Saturday. The next safe window to return would be around midnight Tuesday morning. Fundamentally...

1. I did not plan far enough ahead to find a kennel for Emma. 
2. The boat was slowly and systematically being de-commissioned for winter and did not have provisions for three days. 
3. Leaving or returning at any other time would not be safe based on the latest weather forecast.

In hind-sight, I was glad. Distant Horizon was sailing so well, I did not need to stress her and possible break something at a time in the season when it would be difficult to make repairs.

West on the Erie Canal - Day #4

I woke at 2am. The wind was still blowing. So, I shut off the alarm. At 5am, I woke and took Emma for a walk. The winds were finally starting to drop significantly.

The sky was clear, the air was cool, the winds were very light, and the waves had settled.

At 0615 on July 19th, we departed Sylvan Beach. I took the boat out the channel to the lake. From there, Grace handled the boat for the entire Oneida Lake crossing.

Grace at the helm; crossing Oneida Lake

These fisherman were out early as you would expect.

Oneida Lake fishemen

This motor cruiser passed us about 0800.

Motor Cruiser passing us on Oneida Lake

We made good time crossing the lake; having reached the familiar Frenchman's Island in just a couple hours.

Frenchman's Island

We quickly made our way through the Brewerton Lock E23, and arrived at Lock E24 in Baldwinsville in time for Lunch at Canal Walk Cafe.

West on the Erie Canal - Day #3

I rose early to walk Emma in the morning. The air was thick. At 0600, it felt muggy.

With a little teasing, I was able to get her to run a little ways with me. Her endurance is better than mine; after all, I was sprinting to keep ahead of her.  Once I recovered, we ran again. While doing this, I was teaching her a new word.... rrrrrrrrun! She's a quick study!

We departed Little Falls at 0730 on July 18th. After being lifted at Lock E18, the Lock Master informed me that dredging was going on past Guard Gate 5; a few miles ahead. Power boats could go around the dredge. We had to radio ahead on Channel 13 so they could move the dredge; allowing us to pass through in deeper water.

0940 we hailed the dredging crew. They knew we were coming and asked us to give them a couple minutes for the tug to move the barge. When they called back, they gave us very clear directions. We had to go between the green channel marker and them; staying as far away from the channel marker as possible. As we passed by the Crew Leader asked if we had Grey Poupon.... We were about 6 feet from the barge in 17' of water. The dredge pipeline was about two football fields long and then turned to go ashore where we saw heavy equipment moving the tailings. Tailings is the generic term for anything that is dredged up; mud, sand, rock, gravel, etc.

By 1100, we had reached Lock E19. We landed (moored) the boat with great difficulty. No matter what I did the boat was being pushed away from the wall. Grace used the boat hook to grab one rope at the bow and slid the boat hook to me. Thank God for my long arms. I could barely reach the rope at my end (the stern). So much so, the thought of falling overboard rushed through my head.

The whole lift was difficult. We had to fight to keep the boat inline. The bow was being pushed away hard. I could see Grace pulling as hard as she could, but making just a little progress at getting the boat back towards the wall. The ropes were long enough for me to walk forward, and we switched positions; me on the bow, Grace on the stern. I had to plant both feet and use my legs to bring the boat back to the wall a few times. As we reached the top, the Lock Master said he lifted us as gently as he could. I told him I thought the wind was bouncing off the lock wall and we had trouble controlling the boat. He said everyone was having trouble today and we did better than most.

An hour after exiting Lock E19, the NOAA Weather Radio alarm went off. A line of thunderstorms was heading our way. The second time I listened to the broadcast, I marked the location of the line of storms on a map. Most were south of us. Some were headed our way. Grace took the wheel and I carried Emma below. As the storms got closer, I used the iPad and local doppler radar to get a better assessment. The sky was darkening. As the clouds approached us they were noticeably lower. I swore if the mast was up, the masthead would have been in the clouds. I had Grace give get my rain coat and large sunglasses that fit over my glasses. That way, The rain would spot the sunglasses and I still had clear eye glasses when I needed them.  The sky opened up as soon as I had the raincoat on. Grace and Emma were down below with orders to stay away from metal. I could hear thunder rumble a short distance off to my left... south. Visibility was very low. The rain came down so hard, it was like a silk curtain had been pulled in front of us. With the mast down, I do not have a functioning radar system. I saw a bridge on the chart about a quarter mile away. I could see a faint outline of the actual bridge at the end of a very long straight stretch of water. I decided we could wait out the storm under that bridge. However, the rain came to an abrupt halt before we even reached the bridge.  All together it rained for about 15 minutes. All the thunder and some lightning was always behind us. We were thankful to have just skirted the edge of what seemed to be a very nasty storm.

At 1300 we approached Lock E20. The lock had few ropes hanging down, and they were all near the front of the lock. This was okay. The walls at the back and middle of the lock were in disrepair with deep crevasses that would swallow our fenders. We were able to secure ourselves at a fairly smooth section of the wall near the front of the lock. We were in Marcy, NY; between Utica and Rome.

Lock E21 is 18 miles away; just over 3 hours at our rate. This was a good stretch for lunch. Grace made us sandwiches and brought up some snacks, as well. As if on queue, when Grace went below with the lunch dishes the sky grew dark once again. Grace took the wheel and I carried Emma below. Then, the NOAA weather radio alarm went off again. As before, a line of severe thunderstorms were headed our way. Unlike a couple hours ago, the sky cleared above us. It stayed dark to our south and was pitch black to the north. We were going to go right between two of the storm cells. We had a light sprinkle for about a minute. The winds did pick up. My hand-held anemometer (wind speed instrument) registered winds over 20 knots.

The wind had died down to about 14 knots as we approached Lock E21. The first of two locks that lower us down to the level of Oneida Lake. We still had a clear memory of the Lock E19 and the troubles we had. The wind was stronger now. However, this time we had a plan based on our previous experience... if needed. It turned out the that the lock experience went very smoothly and we did not have to deviate from our normal locking procedures.

One mile later, we were going through Lock E22. We were just 4 miles from Sylvan Beach. With the storms that have passed through, there was no doubt in my mind that Oneida Lake would be a rough ride. We decided to stop at the pier in Sylvan Beach. Grace walked Emma while I checked the weather forecast.

We went to Eddies for dinner

When we returned to the boat, we took Emma for another walk. This time, we could take her on the beach since it was not so crowded. She went in the water. She was biting at the waves, then hopping to avoid the waves, then she just got out. She loved all the different smells on the beach and meeting all those new people. She stood still while a four-year old boy hugged her, hanging all his weight on her neck, until the boy's father told him to stop. We practiced our new word too! Rrrrrrun, Emma! Since she was on her leash, I had to sprint along with her. She was a very happy dog!

The forecast showed the winds dropping to less than 5 knots around 3am through most of the morning. It will take us 4.5 hours to cross the lake. Right on the chart for Oneida Lake, there is a warning to seek shelter when there are approaching storms. It states: " Oneida Lake can go from flat calm to 6 foot waves in 10 minutes...". I decided we would get up around 5am and go. That would give the lake a couple of hours to settle if the forecast was correct. So, we went to bed early to get as much rest as possible.

West On the Erie Canal - Day #2

Overnight, there were thunderstorms and heavy rain. Emma has panic attacks during thunderstorms at home. We had set up a blanket and her pillow in the v-berth at the bow of the boat. It is the darkest place on the boat. When the rain started, Emma immediately left the salon. We found her in the v-berth on the blanket shaking. Thankfully, the storms did not last long. As soon as the storms stopped, Emma decided my bunk would be more comfortable and jumped, her head placed on my pillow. A big smile on her face... she was teasing me!

In the morning we left early to make the short trip to Lock E9. We wanted  to catch the first lift of the day. Aaron had told us there was a convenient store across the street here. The Lock Master let us tie up at the top of his lock, so we could go to the store.

Grace took Emma for her morning walk and I went to the store. Across the street was accurate, but not what I had envisioned. It was a fair walk up a steep grade and across four lanes of Rt. 5. I came back with fresh coffee, donuts, muffins, some snacks... oh, and three more gallons of water.

There was another sailboat tied up at Lock E9 when we arrived. Upon returning from the store, I noticed he was preparing to depart. We followed this little blue sailboat through Locks E10, and E11. He was a little slower than us, but not so slow as to be hindering our progress because the distances between those locks was so small. The distance from Lock E11 to Lock E12 is 10 miles. Here, I could put some distance between us and the little blue sailboat. The difference between his speed and ours would mean two additional locks by the end of the day.

Little Blue Sailboat

The next few locks went smoothly. It was becoming routine to motor a while; stop to be lifted at a lock; and continue on as before. The scenery didn't change much either. The picture above is very representative for a large part of the trip along the Mohawk River.

Lock E17 was a huge lift when compared to the other locks we've been through. Later, I read it was the largest single-lift in the world until 1959.

It is intimidating to motor your boat into this lock. First, unlike other locks, there aren't two doors that swing open. The single door lifts up, like a solid steel portcullis. After watching this behemoth being raised, you slowly motor under it. As the droplets of water drip from the door, you are hoping it does not slip. Once safely through in to the lock, 40' steel walls surround you with ropes hanging down. Once the boat comes to a halt, you grab a rope with leather gloves protecting your hands. These ropes are how you maintain control of your boat.

Every sound echoes. When the door closes behind you, everything seems to stop, no wind, no sounds other than the chugging of the small diesel engine echoing off the walls and a small waterfall from the water leaking through the seam of the door ahead. The water begins to swirl. There are eddies of swirling water forming on the surface all around. The boat gently, slowly slides backward. You tug on the rope to stop that motion. Now, the surface of the water is like a gentle boiling without the steam. You change your grip on the rope as the boat rises along the wall. If the mast on the bow of the boat starts moving towards the wall, you tug on the stern rope to pull the stern closer to the wall. If the bow moves too far away from the wall, it requires a tug on the bow rope to bring it back inline. Once you've been lifted to the top, it's like the whole world has just been opened up for you. There is the sound of chirping birds and water rushing down a nearby waterfall.

I was scrambling through the Cruising Guides to determine where we could stop for the night. One small note on the Lock E17 page said stopping above the lock was prohibited. Instead, you had to go to the Canal Terminal.  The Canal Terminal turned out to be the Little Falls Canal Harbor and Rotary Park. They had a new floating dock; a nice welcome center with a walking path; showers, and snacks. For just $1/ft we were given the key to the welcome center and told to make ourselves at home. We could have watched TV, but didn't. We used the microwave to heat some restaurant leftovers we had in the refrigerator on the boat. We even had ice cream sandwiches for desert. I left the $2 with a note stating what it was for. The snack sign listed ice cream sandwiches as $1 each.

We took turns walking Emma before turning in.

West on the Erie Canal - Day #1

We rose early in the morning. As I came up the companionway and slid the hatch open, I could see the lower end of the mast hanging over the stern. The grogginess was replaced with exhilaration.  We will reach the canal system and fresh water today.

Emma was onboard. So, the first priority was to take her for a walk before the long day on the boat. I had to carry her up the companionway and off the boat to the dock. She does not like being carried. At home, she starts the day with an hour-long 3 mile walk. I was hoping to spend half that much time. So, I let her sniff about for a little while. Then, I started running her up the hillside road. When we came around a bend in the road, we both stopped dead in our tracks. There, in the middle of the road, was a doe and two fawns. This may be Emma's first time seeing a deer. She stood still, only her nose moved as she sniffed the air. The doe was equally still; keeping a close eye on us. After what seemed like 10 minutes, but was probably only one, the doe urged her fawns across the road and up the steep hillside. As soon as the deer were out of sight, Emma ran to the place where the doe had stood and sniffed the ground very intently. Then she was off to follow their scent. She didn't go far. The hillside was too steep to be worth the effort.

At 0600 on July 16th, the air was cool. The golden cast of pre-dawn light was brightening as the sun rose to start the new day. The tide was low but rising. We slipped our lines and departed Hop-O-Nose Marina.

With the rising tide, the current would favor us for several hours. Our trip to Troy was about 35 miles, which meant it was nearly 7 hours away. Tides change roughly every 6 hours. So, the current may be against us before we reached Troy.  I say may, because there is a period of time when the current is slack; meaning it is  effectively not running. The tide must stop before changing direction and so does the tidal current.

Once the engine started, Emma wasn't too sure about her new environment.  I wasn't sure she wouldn't jump.  She loves the water, and didn't seem to have the same affection for the boat. So, I had a safety line attached to the boat and Emma to keep her in the cockpit. The safety line is 6 feet long. So, she could safely move about. Instead, she just curled up by the companionway door.

Emma... a bit unsure of her new environment

The trip north towards Albany was uneventful. The scenery was nice, the temperature was rising. It was sunny enough for a sunburn but overcast with a splash of blue sky.

Hudson River scene, south of Albany

Much of the scenery on the south side of Albany was very industrial: factories, shipyards, barges moored. That improved dramatically as we went through the city.

Albany, NY

Albany, NY

Until now, we were a little concerned about Emma. We were second-guessing our decision to bring her on this trip. However, she had adjusted to a level of tolerance before we reached Troy. I'm not saying that she's spoiled, but you can see she has her blanket (from the car) and her pillow from the couch at home to provide some familiarity to her new surroundings. Emma would get up and move about, going to the other side of the cockpit to see Grace, or come to me to have her butt rubbed. She still moved very cautiously. There was no need to have her tethered to the boat.

A happier Emma!

At 1300, we made it to Troy! Lock #1 in the canal system is not part of the New York State Canal System. It is a Federal Lock; run by the Army Corps of Engineers.  Federal Lock #1 is where tide and tidal currents end. Once through the lock, we would be in fresh water running from the Mohawk River and Lake Champlain. This would be Distant Horizon's first fresh-water experience.

We went directly to Waterford, NY where Lock E2 is located. I called the Lock Master and inquired about the proper location to purchase the permit. He said he would do the paperwork after lifting us. So, we went directly into the lock and did not stop in the village of Waterford. I like Waterford. It's a nice little village. However, we were moving the boat to Lake Ontario not cruising the canal system and there was plenty of daylight remaining.

The fee was $35 for 10 days. We would need far less than the 10 days to make it to Oswego.

Locks E2 - E6 are all in very close proximity to each other. As a group, These locks are referred to as the Waterford Flight. The 170' lift over 1.5 miles is the highest lift over such a short distance compared to any other lock system in the world.

Entering Lock E3

The Lock Masters were all very friendly and courteous. Some took extra care and provided a slower smooth lift. There are three critical factors that effect sailboats in the locks. They are rounded on the sides; so there is not a flat surface to rest against the lock wall. They have the keel hanging down under water, which is greatly effected my the currents of the flooding lock. Their mast is horizontal and over-hangs both the bow and stern of the boat. The mast for Distant Horizon is 50' long; sitting in cradles on top of a 35' sailboat. That's 15' of mast hanging over; 8' in front; 7' behind. Swinging from side-to-side too much, could cause significant damage if the masthead hit the lock wall. We always appreciated a gentle lift!

Our plan was to make it through Lock E6, and stay at the bottom of Lock E7 for the night. I thought this was an aggressive schedule. However, Distant Horizon was enjoying the fresh water and made it through Lock E7 and Lock E8 before dark.

Aaron, the Lock Master of Lock E8 told us that Lock E9 did not have a suitable place to tie-up below the lock. So, we stayed the night at Lock E8.

One problem we had, was the boat's fresh water still had a taste of anti-freeze to it. So, I had brought gallon jugs of water for cooking and drinking. We only used the boat's water for washing. We were running low on the fresh drinking water. Aaron said it was several miles to walk back to town. So instead, he allowed us to refill our containers from his office's water cooler.

We arrived at a great time to experience an amazing sunset. I apologize for the lack of photos. You see, we took turns walking Emma to ensure she had enough exercise. I experienced the sunset on one of those walks and the camera was on the boat.

Northbound on the Hudson River

At Liberty Landing Marina, each dock is locked and secured with an electronic key. Distant Horizon was on M-dock. That's 13 docks from the office. In other words, a long walk. I also had the predicament: once I turned in my key, I could not re-enter the dock. I decided to get up at 0430 and move Distant Horizon to the Gas Dock where the office was located. I made my breakfast at the gas dock; took a shower at the Captain's Lounge; and then turned in my key before departing.

At 0530 on Thursday, July 14th, I departed Liberty Landing with no particular destination in mind, only a direction... north. Poughkeepsie would be a reasonable destination if I wasn't leaving quite so early. Kingston would be a possible, but a very long journey for one day. Eventually, I had to reach Catskill, NY. This is where the mast would be stepped (taken down) for transiting the Erie Canal. So, rather than set a specific destination today, I would go while the tidal currents were in my favour and then stop. The tides switch approximately every 6 hours. The current was running north now. So, I would motor through contrary currents for six hours later this afternoon. Stopping then would be too soon. Then, I will have the currents pushing me again in the evening. When that current switched, I would find a place to anchor. This seemed to be the only reasonable approach.

Departing Liberty Landing

It was cloudy, humid, and the temperature was quite warm for the early morning. The forecast mentioned isolated Thunderstorms this afternoon.

As I mentioned in the previous blog. The Liberty Landing Marina was easy to find due to its entrance being in close proximity to the Colgate Clock. I was exhausted when arriving. So, I didn't take the picture. Besides, I like this early dawn photo of the clock lit up better.

Colgate Clock

 As soon as I made my turn north on the Hudson River, I looked toward Manhattan and there was Freedom Tower standing tall.

Freedom Tower

Twenty minutes later,  I was passing the Lackawanna building on the west shore. I believe this is the Hoboken Terminal, which has trains, buses, and ferrys all converging in this old Lackawanna Train Station. 

Lackawanna Building

At 0600, I was not alone on the river. The barges come frequently, but no so often as to present a hazard. These barges are pushed along by the tug boat behind them. I found they are always willing to provide information when needed.

Hudson River Barges

 Besides the barges, all the ferry terminals were active, as well. Below you can see one of the small ferrys passing a barge.

Another Hudson River Barge, being passed by a NY Waterway Ferry

It took about two hours to reach the George Washington Bridge.

George Washington Bridge

 I had forgotten about this light at the foot of the George Washington Bridge.

George Washington Light

20 minutes farther up the river, I came to Yonkers. They have a really nice municipal dock and a large sign stating: "Transient Dock Open". Being just two and-a-half hours from NY, it may make a nice stop. It is listed as a free dock.

Yonkers Municipal Dock

After passing Yonkers, The next milestone is passing under the Tappan Zee Bridge. I've heard a lot about the construction project as they build the new bridge. The Hudson River Channel was closed to all traffic for a short time this spring. Today, I got a good look at the progress.

Piers for the new Tappan Zee Bridge next to the old bridge

The bridge holds two names: Tappan for the Indian tribe; and Zee, the Dutch word for widening waters. The river widens to almost 3 miles at this point.

Tappan Zee Bridge Under Construction

Along with the dark and cloudy day, there was a constant threat of thunderstorms. The humidity was unbearable and the temp in the 90s. There was no reason to think the forecast was wrong. The weather radio was broadcasting a Thunderstorm Warning for pretty much every county bordering the Hudson River. I kept looking at the charts for a place to duck in or hide from a passing thunderstorm. it was only 1000 (10am). I knew the storms were coming... just not yet.

Shortly after this we reached the Bear Mountain area. The river starts to narrow and also bends and twists around the mountains. The wind shoots down the valley.  In the middle of all this is West Point Military Academy. You can see a little blue sky; allowing the sun to add to the already intolerable heat. Also notice the clouds building to the west. Thunderstorms will not be far away.

looking North at West Point from the Hudson River.

Did I mention the river is narrow and bends and twists at this point? Just north of West Point, the river makes a sharp bend to the west. This is what was waiting for me!

Tug Pushing a Barge, just north of West Point

It's a good thing I don't try to cut the corners to save time and distance! Since I was in the right place, there was no issue. My main concern was the deep rumble of thunder coming from the other side of the mountains. The sky was dark. Every now and then, I thought I could see a flash of lightning.

After this tug passed by me, I decided to hug the west side of the river. If a thunderstorm came over the mountain, I would blend well with the trees and the hillside (from an electrical perspective). As I was doing this, I came upon  some care-free teenagers jumping off a rock into the water. They seemed to stop as I approached. I wasn't close enough for them to be concerned. So, I decided they were doing something the shouldn't and didn't want me to see. When I got closer, I shouted, "So! Are you going to jump or just stand around?" Three of them immediately jumped! I graded them. The middle guy had the best form, the one on my right made the biggest splash, and the one on my left... well he was just crazy... he did a flip! They all seemed to appreciate the commentary and waved as I moved on.

I was surprised they would be dong this with the obvious thunder just on the other side of the mountain! Or, maybe I'm just getting older. Two bends past West Point, the valley opened up and the river naturally became wider. I was a little south of Newburgh. I looked back to see the thunderstorm storm. If necessary, there was room for me to anchor out of the channel here. The thunderstorm has quickly slip over the mountains and was more east of me... I missed it. I was glad too! I could see all the lightning now, from  a safe distance away.

Looking South, Back Towards West Point

Looking ahead, to the north east I could see a storm cell slipping past me as well. Somehow, I had positioned my self right in between the storm cells. 

Looking Ahead, towards the East

Sometimes it's better to be lucky than good!

The sun was setting. The tidal currents were still running in a favourable direction. I continued to push north. 

When I reached Kingston, it was completely dark. I remember the entrance to be a bit tricky and decided not to  try it. Besides, I still had a current pushing me north. What I didn't remember... were the narrow channels north of Kingston. Traversing these in the moonless dark took a great deal of concentration. There were flashing red lights every where... and in the dark, depth perception is limited. The trick was finding the closest red light and steer to that. 

I made it through the first channel and was glad that was over, only to find there was a second channel. When I was nearly through the second channel, a tug boat operator hailed me on the radio. He said he noticed I was going through the middle of the channel and wanted to know if I was familiar with the area. I told him no, I wasn't. He said when I passed the next red, there is plenty of deep water to the right. He needs the entire channel to get through. So, If I could just hug the reds on the outside, he could slip past me. He was heading south. I checked the chart. He was right. So, I agreed. After passing me, he called up once again to thank me. Then told me I would have plenty of deep water in about a quarter mile. All this was possible because I have an AIS transceiver that sends out the the boat's name, speed, direction, and type (a Sailing Vessel). Otherwise, the tug operator would have only seen a target on his radar and not know I needed deep water. He would not have had the boat's name, which would have him hailing  generically: "Northbound boat at approximate position...."

It was midnight. My eyes hurt from straining to see the markers. I found a good spot to drop the anchor. The tide would be changing soon anyway. Once the boat was secure, I was relieved and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

The next morning, I rose at 0430. I made a quick breakfast of oatmeal. It was a beautiful morning, cool, no bugs. I decided to take advantage and eat breakfast in the cockpit. At the same time, I worked a brief plan to Catskill, NY. This was the view from my office, while eating breakfast.

Looking West

Finally, at 0500, I raised the anchor and started moving again. The tide was low. This meant, I was about to get another boost from the tidal currents. It didn't matter much today. While doing my plan, I found I was just 5 miles south of Catskill!

While heading north to Catskill in the early dawn, I noticed this young buck foraging along the river's edge.

Young buck foraging along the river's edge

An hour later, I was at the mouth of the Catskill Creek. I found a spot to anchor and started to prepare the boat for the mast stepping. Once ready, I headed up the creek to Hop-O-Nose Marina. One of the guys came to the boat and went over everything I need to do before they would step the mast. He said, if I got it done early enough, they would step the mast today. Talk about incentive! 

I called Grace and asked her to come to the Marina today. I was trying to depart tomorrow. Grace would bring Emma with her. The plan was to have Grace help with the boat while going through the canal system. Emma would go for the ride. It was short notice. Ok, I didn't give Grace any advance notice. Still, Grace gracefully agreed.

It was a hot muggy day, but I was driven. All the sails were put away, and all the items checked off by lunch-time. The marina's crew stepped the mast at 1600 (4pm). Grace arrived around 2000 (8pm). After walking Emma for a while, Grace and I went to the restaurant for dinner. Then we all settled down. We had to rise early. The first lock, Federal Lock #1 was 35 miles away.

Cape May to New York Harbour

My cousin, Dave,  arrived in Cape May as planned. I gave him an orientation of the safety equipment, basic living environment (refrig, galley, pantry, berths, etc.), and the running rigging (sailing lines). After getting settled in a little, we went to Lucky Bones for dinner, which was conveniently located on the corner across the street from the marina.

The following morning, Tuesday, July 12th, we departed Cape May. Our destination is Liberty Landing Marina, Jersey City, NJ. The estimated time enroute is 30 hours. Most of this time, we would be sailing on the Atlantic Ocean. Although there are several places to stop, we planned to sail through the night.

It was a beautiful, sunny day. The sky was a patchwork of small cumulous clouds. The winds were light and behind us. We were able to sail at an acceptable speed. The windvane did the steering.

Around 0800, we were gently sailing past Wildwood, NJ. The only sound we could hear was that of the waves lapping against the hull.

Before Linda passed away, one of her last requests was to see the ocean one more time. We took her to Wildwood, NJ. We would wheel her along the boardwalk to all the small shops and eateries each day. Her favorite was the Beach Wheel chair we rented. With it, we would take her down to the waters edge. We would walk on the beach, heading south for a while. Then we would turn and walk north until we approached the roller coaster and then back south again. We would even take Linda into the water until the big wheels started to float. Seeing this sight, brought back those memories.

Wildwood, NJ

By noon we had reached Avalon. The winds has dropped to under 10 knots. We started the engine and began motor sailing. Motor sailing is when you use the engine to help keep the boat moving. The engine is run at a low rpm to add assistance to the sails. In doing this, the windvane can still steer the boat. If we were to use the engine at it's regular power setting the wind from the boats forward motion would be greater than the actual wind. The windvane could not be used for steering, we would have to steer; we probably wouldn't go any faster; the sails would have to come down (the boat would roll a lot more); and we'd burn a lot more fuel.

U.S. Coast Guard Helicopter

A short time after passing Avalon, we were witness to what we think was a Coast Guard practice session. Being a fixed wing pilot, I was just in awe of how steady and motionless the pilot held that helicopter for as long as we had them in sight.

The wind continued to drop and veered to be even more behind us. We had to take down the staysail (the small sail between the jib and mast). It was blocking the wind from the bigger jib.

Atlantic City, NJ

We approached Atlantic City around 1500. The winds shifted agin, but this time they increased to 11-12 knots. The engine was turned off. We had the peaceful silence of sailing once again; just over 5 knots.

Around 2000 (8pm), we passed a dredge.

Dredging operation

Dave took first watch at 2100. I was going down below to take a nap. However, the winds backed and we were suddenly in18-23 knot winds. It was near dark. Typically, I set a reef in the mainsail well before dark, but the winds had been so calm all day with a forecast of the same for tomorrow, I didn't set a reef. Now, in the darkness, I had to go up on deck to set a reef in the mainsail. First we furled the jib. That is, we rolled it up so it wasn't being used. Then we started the motor. Dave steered the boat directly into the wind. I set the reef. I was once again thankful for the high-intensity LED lights I had installed on the spreaders. They are so bright, it makes working on the deck seem like it's daytime.

After this was done, Dave turned the boat back to our heading. The winds were now, directly behind us. I don't have sails for going directly downwind. So, we turned off so the wind was coming from the side and behind us. Now we were not going directly towards our destination. We would have to jibe (turn the boat so the wind crosses the back of the boat to the other side). If we waited every three hours, the length of our watch, we would be adding a lot of miles to our trip. So, we tried to jibe every hour.

This didn't last long. the winds died out almost completely. We started the engine. We furled the jib, but left the mainsail up with its reef, just to help stop the boat from rolling side-to-side too much. Much of the night was steering, not for the wind direction, but for the wave direction to give a reasonably comfortable ride.

We played this balancing act all night. Neither of us got much sleep. When the sun rose, Long Island, Manhattan and Atlantic Highlands were in sight on the horizon.

Upon entering NY Harbour, I avoided the shipping lanes as best I could; crossing through the middle. The shipping lanes run along the perimeter because there are shoals in the middle. The shoals are well marked, just too shallow for large ships.

Romer Shoal Light

It took another hour and-a-half to reach the Verrazano Narrows Bridge. As we approached the bridge, we were getting closer to the shipping channels... and close to the ships that traverse those channels.

Ship Exiting: Verrazano Bridge on left, Manhattan on right

Once we passed under the Verrazano Bridge...

Verrazano Narrows Bridge

We had out first clear glimpse of Lower Manhattan...

Lower Manhattan

After passing the Statute of Liberty, were quickly found the entrance to the Liberty Landing Marina, which is clearly marked by the Colgate Clock.

Statue of Liberty

29 hours 30 minutes after we started, Dave and I reached our destination. We had light winds most of the way. The winds were directly behind us. This makes steering an exhausting activity.

We motor sailed a good portion of the trip. The engine ran for 23.3 hours. The good news... we burned less than 8 gallons of fuel.

We met the planned time for this leg of the trip. Without Dave's help, I would have had to hove-to and take a nap. I later calculated this would have been a 40 hour solo passage. My only regret, was Mother Nature didn't provide us with a better wind angle. Something where we were more actively sailing to make the trip more enjoyable for Dave.

Chestertown to Cape May

At 0900 on Saturday, July 9th, I released the dock lines at Worton Creek Marina. I knew Distant Horizon was ready to make this journey. All my doubts lead inward. I would be leaving by a channel marked with shoaling on the charts for waters known for strong currents, which I have never been in. Even my plan was variable. I didn't want to stick to a hard schedule. That can lead to bad decisions and disaster.

I was meeting my cousin Dave in Cape May three days after my departure. This leg of the journey should take two days, but opposing currents could make it three.

I left on a rising tide. If Distant Horizon encountered shoals in the creek, the rising tide could lift us off. I stayed close to the green channel markers and never saw depths less than 10 feet... perfect!

The weather was a gloomy overcast with a slight hint that the sun might break through to brighten the day. With the typical high humidity of the Chesapeake,  the visibility was moderately good, but hazy.

Along with that rising tide, came a current. In the creek the current flowed against us, but that was for just a couple of miles. Once we turned north in the Chesapeake, the current carried us along at a better than planned speed. By lunch time, Distant Horizon was entering the Elk River; the start of the C&D Canal. This canal connects the northern Chesapeake and central Delaware bays.

Chesapeake City Bridge

In less than an hour, we were approaching Chesapeake City. The current had accelerated us to over 6 knots. This was both unexpected and welcomed.

Chesapeake City, Schaefer's Marina

My initial plan had me stopping at this marina for the night. That is, if the currents were against me. I arrived so quickly, I had to switch to Plan-B and continue on to the Delaware Bay and anchor for the night.

The current stayed with me through most of the canal. Then it switched. At this moment, I was thinking everything had changed... including my luck. The boat speed dropped from 6.2 knots down to 4.6 knots. The alarm went off on the VHF radio, indicating a weather alert. A line of strong thunderstorms producing high winds, lightning,  and hail was approaching Reedy Point. I was approaching Reedy Point!

I could hear the deep reverberation of thunder long before I could see the lightning to the south. I was heading south.  I was able to stop Distant Horizon under the Reedy Point Bridge and hold her steady against the current as the  thunderstorms passed. Most people don't know their car is the safest place to be when there is lightning... not because the tires insulate you... but because the electrical charge cannot travel under your metal roof. A convertible is not a safe place! In this case, I used the bridge as my metal roof.

Thunderstorms have just passed south of us

Just as I started toward the Delaware Bay, another set of thunderstorms were approaching. The distant thunder actually shook the whole boat. According to the NOAA weather radio, these storms would stay north of Reedy Point, where I was currently located. However, another set was following the track of the first... and these were more fierce! The warning included cloud to ground lightning; golf ball sized hail; and 60 mph winds. I made the decision to try for my intended anchor location and be there before the storms. If I waited, it may be dark. I could never negotiate the unmarked channel safely in the dark.

I won that race... by a hair! After setting the anchor and ensuring it was set properly, I went below. It was not raining. When I reached bottom of the companionway steps, I could not see the island I was anchored behind. It was 1200 feet away. The rain hit the cabin top so hard it was like being inside a drum... it was deafening! The winds howled, and the boat turned; facing in a different direction four times. My main concern was whether the anchor would break free from being turned so violently. With these winds, I would have less than a minute to get above and control the boat with the motor before hitting the island. It was useless angst. The storm was moving so fast it lasted just 20 minutes. When everything settled down, I estimated the boat had moved about 12 feet.

Reedy Island with Salem Nuclear Power Plant in the distance

When the rain stopped and the thunder had passed, I went back up on deck to take a picture of Reedy Island. I sat there for a while to enjoy the clean, cool air. A waterskier went past several times. A few barges heading north went by on the other side of the island. It doesn't look like it provides much protection, and it doesn't from wind, but the island stops waves that are traveling up the Delaware from the Atlantic Ocean and wakes from the passing barges.

A Tug Boat pushing a barge north, on Delaware Bay

I spent the night here. It is almost half-way to Cape May. I did my plan for the next day. It looked good. The currents will be in my favour again. I slept well.

I rose at my regular time without an alarm; had my breakfast; and raised anchor. It was around 0730.

Sunrise: A small town on the mainland near my anchor position

One of the rules in the C&D Canal is: "No Sails"! So, I raised the mainsail with the boat drifting free with the anchor secured. Just south of where I stayed  anchored last night, there is a small cur through the island. It was a small section with 10 feet of water. It was not as wide as my boat is long. It was a challenge getting through; eyeballing the rocks on either side as the boat twisted and turned with the currents and eddies running though the cut. We made it safely to the deeper water.

Finally, with the mainsail up, I could set the job and turn the engine off! The winds were light. Still, with a current running with us Distant Horizon  was making good time; well over 6 knots. The current ran with us all the way to Cape May. The was shining. It was a glorious day!

I found it odd that most cruisers do not respond when you call them up on the radio. They are required to monitor Channel 16 at all times. I have had better luck talking with ships and tug boats than I have with cruisers! So, I was shocked when I hear that I am being hailed on the radio.

World Cruisers on S/V Pheonix

The call came from the Sailing Vessel Pheonix, which was slowly passing. The were curious where I was headed. So, we talked briefly about my long-term plans. They called because the recognized the boat was set-up for ocean cruising. They had just returned from a circumnavigation and were heading home to Maine.

Now, I reached Cape May while the tide was still falling. There are two bridges I need to go under that provide 55 feet of clearance each. My mast is about 50 feet tall and there are the wind instruments and a light on top of that. I estimated that I had an hour and-a-half before low tide. Low tide will give me the maximum clearance. To kill that extra time, I sailed down around to the Cape May lighthouse to take a couple of pictures.

Cape May Lighthouse

By the time I returned to channel inlet, leading to Cape May, it was low tide. Better yet, it was slack current! So, I didn't have to go against a current and I wouldn't have one pushing me too fast. When I got to the first bridge, it was a little scary. I can not tell how much clearance I have when I go under the bridge. It did not look like very much. I was going as slow as I could possibly go and still be able to steer. My radio antenna didn't hit. So, there was at least three feet clearance above the mast. I was through! When I came to the second bridge, I did it on faith. The Army Corps of Engineers measured both bridges to be the same. I went through the second bridge at 3 knots.

Once in Cape May, I found a slip at the South Jersey Marina. I had to go stern in (back into the slip). My Distant Horizon and boats like her, do not turn well when going astern (backwards).  There was no wind. So, I accepted this as a challenge. Let's say I got a 90% on that test and decked without any issues... thanks to the South Jersey dockhands who pulled me in the last 10 feet.

My cousin Dave will arrive tomorrow. I will give him an orientation of the boat; we will have dinner; and depart the following morning. Dave has taken sailing lessons and was looking forward to an opportunity to sail the Atlantic Ocean from Cape May to  New York Harbour.