ADVENTURE TRAVEL
Water, Water Everywhere
A photo (and video) essay about moving a sailboat along the Eastern seaboard of the United States
Personally, I was hoping for some sun as I volunteered to help run a sailboat to the Bahamas along the Eastern seaboard. It is 1,200 miles from Connecticut to Florida and I have driven it, but sailing? I had been on a few small sailboats in my life but never learned how to sail.
(Truth be told, I still don’t know how.)
I thought I could learn as I went. I imagined doing this as a career later in life. It seemed fantastic. Sun, surf, swimming.
Little did I realize, swimsuits were a long way off.
The journey involves a lot of bridges, fog, and cool weather when you start in New England in the Fall.
I enjoy being outdoors and love adventure. I read “The Self-Sufficient Sailor” as recommended by the captain.
I loved the idea of it — being able to live among the wild waves and sun. Little did I realize, motoring along the east coast can be cold and windy in November.
Quite cold and windy.
On Nov. 28, we cruised to anchor off Long Island and wait for the morning to sail along Manhattan, giving ourselves as much daylight as possible and timing our encounter with Hell’s Gate, possibly the most challenging spot on the East coast.
It is named Hell’s Gate because it occupies a nasty curve and if you do not time your voyage you can be pushing against a current running at 5 knots. Our sailboat had a motor and we used it, but there was no way we could have gotten through if the current was working against us.
The Sailor told me all of this once I was aboard.
I recall reading that I needed to trust the captain and trust the vessel. I knew that neither one of us intended to get in that water.
I trusted.
The radio was located underneath, or in the cabin of the boat, so in order for the Sailor to remain at the helm, I would duck down below into the cabin and radio the bridges we approached, giving them the name of our vessel, our location and requesting passage.
At times, they would ask us to wait. They opened on a schedule — every hour and half-hour, for example, so we would have to circle around on one side until the bridge could be raised or opened.
There are 135 bridges on the Intercoastal Waterway between Norfolk, VA and Miami, Florida. Trust me, there are plenty in New Jersey before you get to VA!
The first time I radioed the bridge, I was surprised they responded by calling me Cat.
“How do they know my name? I only gave them the name of the vessel?” I asked the Sailor, surprised.
“They don’t know your name. They are calling you ‘Captain’,” he replied.
Oh. Can I blame the static on the radio?
Challenges
I was willing to cook for the two of us since I have experience. In fact, I lived in a 250 -square foot house, so the tiny galley (the kitchen of a boat) was not intimidating.
(You can read about my tiny house adventure on Medium, as well as my crossing of the Gulf Stream and snorkeling on Moraine Cay in the Bahamas, and more.)
The challenge to onboard cooking is the motion. Even while docked, an errant wave or the wake of a passing boat can make a pot of boiling water dangerous. I cooked while standing in a wide stance and incorporating the safety measures learned on my day job — keep three points of contact at all times.
If one hand is stirring, the other is maintaining contact with the counter.
Our ship had water tanks, but we were never certain where and when we could fill up, so we tried to be prudent with its use.
In the cooler months, that cup of hot coffee, made by boiling water and using a French press could not stay hot enough long enough. Our galley did not include a microwave.
The wildlife encounters are magical.
Dolphins appeared out of nowhere to escort us. They enjoy the boat’s wake but seemed like friendly chaperones welcoming us into their environs.
There are secured areas near Cape Canaveral such as within 200 feet of the Navy pier, where it is prohibited to enter. The same applies to Naval shipyards such as the Groton/New London area of Connecticut.
ADV
The further south we cruised, the more derelict vessels we encountered. These abandoned ships called ADVs, for abandoned and derelict vessel, are left by the owners who cannot afford to maintain them or they have been damaged and lost in a storm and the owner cannot afford to pull them out or have them salvaged.
Those waving skeletons reminded me that not all cruises have happy endings.
We gathered supplies in Ponce Inlet, schlepping groceries and gear from the local West Marina (which is the equivalent of Home Depot for boaters) back to the dock preparing to make the crossing to the Bahamas if the weather would allow.
It is a great way to see the east coast and experience a variety of life along the way.
I highly recommend it, just bring warm clothes in the Fall.
To support my writing and become a Medium member, click below:
To read more of my writing, click here:
