There is this strange bright light in the sky. This may be the first day we've seen the sun without clouds for weeks. It figures, since this is almost our last day out.
Last night we ate at Tutto Pazzo. It was the Italian dinner I've been
seeking. 
There
are a lot of interesting restaurants here in Huntington. One, which we ate at
a few years ago, is Co-Co's -- not as notable for its food but its style,
and its place as a local hot spot. Unfortunately, the mooring we took was right
off the dock at CO-CO's, where the dance music went on into the wee hours. Fortunately,
our usual vacation sleepiness, with an added bottle of wine, made falling asleep
very easy.
Today, the plan is to fight with the engine, and make the relatively short hop to Port Washington where we will meet friends for dinner.
Marion has come down from the cockpit announcing that, "It's too hot out there!" Quite a change. She likes to go up into the cockpit and have coffee and read. This trip hasn't had many days where you can do that. Some clouds are rolling in though, and a little breeze coming up. This weather! All you can know is that it won't be the way you want it.
The fuel pump sounds right today, but this is not really proof of anything. As I noted, it's a short run today, so we'll wait to find out if there is a problem. Although some of the fiddling around seems to have made things better, I'm sure that it's not fixed. Nothing on a boat is ever fixed. (That's another Law of Sailing.)
The law is true, but after successfully struggling with our stubborn engine, again, we fuel up and are on our way. I think I've isolated the leak in the fuel system, and have wrapped an old latex glove around the section, and wedged a paper towel in a way that seems to make things work. Seems is likely the operative word, but we only need to play this game once more before we're in range of a marine store with some replacement parts.
The sky
is mostly sunny, it's humid and a little hazy. It is also very calm. For the
most part, the seas are glassy smooth. Given the weather of the recent past,
this is not all that bad! At least this seems like summer.
As we move down (up?) the Sound, the amount of commercial traffic starts to become heavier and then, the most dreaded moment of all, we see the silhouette of New York City come into view. It is at the same time Oz, and the definite sign of the end of the trip. Although there are many small cities of note on the passage to the Cape, they all look like toys set beside a model railroad layout. None is so large as to dominate the landscape. New York is rather unique in this. It's not until Boston that anything comes close.
A very large motor yacht passes by throwing a rather large wake in the otherwise undisturbed water. As it hits us, we roll a bit. A short time later, we experience the same thing again. It is the other half of the boat's wake reflected off the shore. Days like this make it very clear how much of the chop on the water has been created by pleasure boaters. As with the beach, the middle of the week is the best time to sail.
Finally
we see Gangway Rocks. I always wondered where it got its name. In any
case, it marks the eastern entrance to Manhasset Bay -- our stop for the evening.
We manage to contact the North Shore Yacht Club, one of the oldest clubs in
the area, for a mooring. I raced with a member of this club in college, and
for the most part, it hasn't changed much.
After a
little relaxing in the cockpit, we go ashore to meet with Amy and John. Amy
has requested that they be the "first newlyweds on [our] website."
Amy and John belong to Felicity, a Bristol Sloop, with whom we have cruised
many times in the past. Their new home is their latest excuse for not joining
us in the rain. It was fun, but too short seeing them.
We return to the boat where we try Marion's latest theory. She noted that on those occasions recently when we ran the engine late in the evening, we had no difficulty with the fuel system, and had no problem in the morning. We have now verified that this theory is wrong. Tomorrow, first thing we will do is bleed the system and hope that things get going for the final leg home.
For now, it's off to sleep. We'll be up early, as tide (if not time) waits not for us.