Skyline Drive

We are finally moving again. After almost a week in Barnegat, the winds have finally died down enough for us to venture out. Of course, that means there is almost no wind at all. This seems to be the theme of the trip this year. But - with the help of scopolamine patches - I have been wonderfully free of seasickness so I am not complaining.

Our nine hour trip to Sandy Hook was long, but uneventful. There was a small bit of wind in the afternoon, allowing Rick to put up the sails for the first time and motor-sail for a couple of hours. And once in the anchorage, there was a nearby raft-up of eight power cruisers, annoyingly blasting techno-pop that could be heard for miles. Why do some people think they have the right to aggressively overpower their neighbors with their own egotistical noise? And in such a beautifully natural environment too. (Certain political flags could be spotted on some of those boats as well, which should come as no surprise to anyone.) But they did leave eventually, and we had a lovely late cocktail hour on the deck.

The next morning I needed to refill a prescription - running out of those scopolamine patches already - so we ventured in for a lovely wooded walk to a pharmacy. It’s complicated getting prescriptions filled when you are cruising. Out of state, no car, can’t get an actual person to answer the phone, etc. But it turned out to be a very welcome excursion ashore, and after some much needed exercise, we were ready to take on Manhattan.

I love this leg of the trip. The East River is such a busy waterway, with huge oil tankers and commercial freighters, tugboats and ferries, helicopters buzzing around gigantic sky scrapers on both sides, dwarfing everything in the water. And then there’s me and Rick, bobbing around in our tiny boat, Lilliputians in a world made for giants, wending our way around enormous barges and under massive bridges. It takes my breath away. Every time.

When we reach the junction with the Hudson River, just past the disheartening sprawl of the prison at Riker’s Island, we come very close to Laguardia airport, and planes come in for landings at regular intervals, like clockwork. They fly low, right over our boat, and for the brief moment that a plane is right overhead, the sound overwhelms everything, vibrating into your very bones. It is exhilarating! Although I don’t envy people who live here all the time.

After a long day, we pull in to the harbor at Port Washington and hook onto one of the town’s complimentary mooring balls. We’re going to grab some dinner in town, stock up on groceries, and basically rest up for the next adventure.