home is where the boat is: New York, New York!

Sunday, October 20, 2013

Approaching the City.

Hell Gate. To pass from Long Island Sound into the upper Raritan Bay you must pass through a narrow, winding cut, swift with a strong current and humming with commercial and recreational traffic, and accentuated by a large island-like rock in the center of the thoroughfare, just at a bend where the current runs swiftest. The current splits and spins due to the presence of the rock, and that spot is notorious for being difficult to navigate, especially in low-powered vessels (such as a sailboat). The pass is known as Hell Gate, and its notoriety had us carefully planning our approach.

It is best to time your approach with a favorable current, because from what we’d read, slack tide itself only lasts four minutes at Hell Gate.

We spent the night before scheming, anchored in Little Neck Bay on Long Island, as it seemed to be one of the last anchorages in the Sound before approaching stronger currents. We decided we wanted to be underway at exactly 9:30 the next morning, a nice change from the early mornings and long days we had put in recently as we tried to put some miles behind as November crept closer and closer.

We left at 9:30 and hit Hell Gate spot on—we may have even passed during that elusive four minute slack tide. But the trip had us on our toes the whole time, and a lot of energy was invested in concentration and focus. The next three and a half hours passed in a quick blur, and we were surprised every time we looked at the clock.

Dad & Lou, ready for action!

We also had help from a friendly tug captain pushing a barge, and he helped orchestrate a safe passage through the blind turns of the route. We were monitoring Channel 13 to hear the security calls of the commercial vessels, so we’d have an idea of which barges and ships might be ahead of us. Just as we were about to enter the narrow, winding section that would lead to Hell Gate, we heard a tug hail “the little black sailboat.” Lou returned the call, and the captain of the tug, pushing a large barge, was monitoring AIS and from his high wheelhouse had a better view of what was coming around the next couple of bends. So he got in touch with two tugs pushing barges ahead of us, traveling in the opposing direction, and laid out the play by play for each of us: First, we’d all wait for a group of kayakers without a VHF to get safely out of the way. Then, the little black boat would go, hugging the starboard side, with this captain close behind us. The two others would hug their starboard shore, and the four of us would pass port to port. As soon as we were clear of the last tug’s wake, the little black boat would cut across the channel to the port shore, and the captain would overtake us, passing on our starboard side. We would then cut back to the starboard shore.

So we followed the Captain’s game-plan, and found ourselves bending around the infamous Hell Gate with tugs, barges, and kayakers, but it was carefully orchestrated and all went smoothly. We were grateful that the captains had included us in their plan, because knowing their expectations made our journey less stressful.

After passing Hell Gate, the city truly came into view. Suddenly we were right beside it, with Roosevelt Island on our left and skyscrapers on our right. It seemed as if they not only went up forever, but down forever too—as if they submerged right into the water. A bulkhead blocked land from sea and trapped the city, separating natural and industrial with a thin wall. The buildings seemed to rise and grow like trees, and travelling alongside the city felt surreal.

Then we passed beneath the Brooklyn Bridge and into the open hubbub and traffic of New York. The trip beneath the bridge—designed and built by John A. Roebling, whose industry was the reason for founding part of the town we grew up in (Roebling, in the Township of Florence, NJ)—felt like a special welcome. As schoolchildren we’d learned about Roebling’s bridges, especially the well-known Brooklyn Bridge. We’d also learn a bit of Roebling family history, and when we were researching and learning more about Evelyn, the Tahiti Ketch, and John Hanna’s boat designs, we found it interesting to learn that Hanna had done custom designs for descendants of Roebling during his career. As Lou, my Dad, Evelyn, and I passed beneath the Brooklyn Bridge it felt like something special—a moment connecting the past to the present. We glided under it, admiring it, and felt as if we had just made a grand accomplishment.

Then we arrived on the other side, and immediately were thrown into the chaos of NYC traffic. I always thought the traffic in NYC was hectic on land—with cars, taxis, buses, trains, pedestrians and bicycles—but on the water it seemed just as busy and much less organized. It was Sunday so recreational craft were everywhere. There were also commercial tugs, ships, and barges, water taxis, ferries, and sightseeing boats. The NYPD and USCG patrolled the area. Overhead helicopters buzzed and hovered over our masts. And seaplanes zipped around—one landed between us and a water taxi. The waters surrounding the city were a swarm of boats, and there we were, trying to navigate through them.

We skirted along Manhattan then turned into the wind, raised our sails, and cut our engine. Evelyn was quiet, and though noise and congestion was all around us, we felt calm and peaceful. We sailed past the Statue of Liberty and into Raritan Bay; the wind was behind us, and strong. By then it was late in the afternoon, but Evelyn sped along, and in just a few hours we found ourselves in Sandy Hook—the last stop before tackling the New Jersey Coast.

We refueled in preparation to leave early the next morning, then we anchored in Atlantic Highlands and rowed ashore to enjoy the homecoming welcome anyone raised in New Jersey can’t resist—pizza. We were in North Jersey, so it wasn’t home yet, but we were suddenly much closer to the place of our childhood, and we started to become more and more anxious to get there.

More photos from our trip alongside the Big City: