It didn't actually rain last night.
We left the dock at about 5:30 PM after finishing loading up Solace. We left work at lunchtime, and started the mini-vacation with sushi. Heading up the river (with the tide) we actually enjoyed sitting in the warm sun, which has become quite an infrequent pleasure this summer.
Anchored behind the breakwater at Atlantic Highlands, the sun is now setting unseen behind a thick wall of clouds, while we still have blue sky above. As the sky darkens and dinner (flounder, fish soup style) simmers, we see an amazing show of lightning off to the north. This continues for nearly an hour while we watch the moon rise and the stars come out above. Later we see the flood watch come on for Northern Jersey; they have been getting more rain than even we!
We found a nice spot to anchor, in the midst of several cruising boats from Canada. As we swing around in the light winds, we finally become convinced (all right,I finally become convinced) that we won't go bump in the night, although we do swing to a point where we are directly over another boat's anchor. Marion says not to worry, as we'll be leaving before any of them are up.
As it turns out, the sea gulls, and at least 3 of our neighboring boats are up before us. We listen to anchor chains and departing boats while trying to get a few more minutes of sleep. Neither of us slept very well last night, which seems to always be true of the first night on board.
The gulls continue to mutter. Marion points out that gulls seem to think sharing is good - when another gull has a fish.
We set
the Fortress (a modern Danforth type anchor) last night, so getting under
way is quick and easy. No mud to clean off the heavy chain which we use with
the CQR. As we round the end of the breakwater, we see several boats digging
clams - on a Saturday, no less. It is, by the way, foggy; only about a quarter
mile visibility. We have faith that this will burn off and we'll actually get
a pretty good day.
The fog persists, but is melting into haze. As we approach the Verazzano Bridge, its tower tops are just hidden in the fog. It reminds me of the Golden Gate, only, in San Francisco, the fog glides in over the mountains and where the fog isn't, is crystal clear. Here, it's fog or haze; the sharp focus is missing.
Under the bridge, the City is still hidden from view. The water is calm and the tide running strong with us. This actually makes for a pleasant trip. It continues to brighten, so we hope that by the time we reach the sound, we have a summer's day to greet us.
Rounding the point at Throgs Neck we do get a blast of summer. The sky is clear here (although we see clouds in the distance), and the temperature rises rapidly; cold seltzer is now flowing freely. This, however, is not to last long. We speak with Moonshadow, and there is a squall line passing through Northport, a couple of hours ahead. We can hope we miss it.
No sailing today, but the trip under power is nice enough. Of course, being not only a Saturday, but the Labor Day Weekend Saturday, every weekend warrior is out to get his last licks. The number of power boats jostling us with their wakes is larger than usual. Also, the number of sailboats returning from their vacations is large. It's not really the end of the sailing season, but it's too close.
The trip from Huntington Harbor to Hempstead Harbor is a blur to me. I discovered that one of our Internet lines at the office was down, and spent at least an hour on the phone trying to get a trouble ticket opened up. Murphy never sleeps. It's only on those holiday weekends, when nobody is around, that disaster threatens to strike. The agitation level this creates causes me to all but miss the fact that after having turned south into the harbor, the air is dryer and sky clearer.
This is,
of course, just a joke on us. It is the sign of an approaching thunder storm.
As we enter Lloyds Harbor, we see lightening on shore to the south and to the
north. We've arrived at our destination, however, and pick up Moonshadow's
mooring. They are about 15 minutes behind.
Our friends
do, indeed, arrive, and we begin the dance, dropping the mooring for them to
pick up, then coming along side to raft up for the evening. As we board
Moonshadow, the rain begins. The shower cools things off a bit, and is
not unpleasant. We admire the new canvas that has been fitted, and note how
dry it keeps us.
We settle in for dinner and a pleasant evening with Dick and Phyllis, discussing whether the word is spelled cus or cuss, the stupidity of New Jersey politics, and sailing.