Leaving Fire Island, arriving in Cape May
Jon and I, just the two of us, departed Fire Island, New York on Tuesday morning. The wind was calm, a steady 5 to 10 knots as we motored out of the inlet. Fire Island was a great place. The people were some of the friendliest I've met and I really enjoyed Columbus Day weekend there. Its a tourist town, strictly seasonal, as well as most of the residents. The restaurants, bars and shops were all closing that Monday, so it was a great time to visit. The little village of Ocean Beach was more or less deserted, outside of a handful of locals and a few tourists trying to pretend like the summer was not yet over. We got to get to know these locals, the people who stay there year round, and they were fascinated with our story of leaving our lives behind to sail south on a 40 year old sailboat and that the only reason we were there was exactly due to fate and our mainsail tearing some 30 miles from the inlet. They did a lot for us: showed us how to actually navigate the bay without running aground; where the best places for fuel, food, music and booze were; giving us local specials on drinks (since it was pretty much just us and them); and even offering us a ride to the mainland for a couple of supplies.
The only trouble we ran into was when we left. When we were towed in after running aground, the tow boat operator said that it was out of season and that we could stay here for free. Winchelsea was one of six boats out of what seemed to be 100 slips. We stayed there for four days and, literally, as we were about to leave, a couple of guys came up to us and asked us if we wanted to "settle up". I gave them a look that expressed both confusion as well as annoyance and asked exactly what they meant by that. They said I owed them $77 per day for each of the 4 days I had been there. I did not get angry, I did not lose my cool, I calmly said, "well boys, this is the first I've heard of it, and the guy who towed us in said it was out of season and there would be no charge." They replied (and I'm paraphrasing here, they were of the type that struggles with logical thoughts and sentence structure simultaneously), "we're sorry, but you have been misinformed. And, surely, you must have seen us collecting from other people all weekend." To which I rebutted, "so you knew I was here for four days and you are just getting around to me now? This boat basin doesn't look that busy! I had no idea what you guys were doing, selling ice cream and raffle tickets for all I know or care, but if I knew it was going to be $77 per day I'd have pulled out and anchored the second I was towed in!" They said something about how that didn't matter, and they I still owed them $77 * 4, which I refuse to actually multiply for the sake of my own blood pressure. I could tell at this point that reasoning was just not going to work with these fellas. I told them that I only have about $50 cash on me, knowing there was not an ATM for miles. They said they only take credit cards and checks. "Well guys, I'm truly sorry, but you are out of luck. I don't have a lick of credit to my name, nor a checking account. I'm living free and clean of all that nonsense. I can send you a check in the mail when I get to New Jersey though, if that suits you." They agreed, and a phony name and address later, we were off the dock.
After leaving the inlet the next morning however, the wind died. The engine on Winchelsea again performed like a champ and powered us towards Barnegat, NJ for 8 solid hours. When the sun went down, we had a solid 15 to 20 knot wind out of the north on our backs and a following sea. Life was good. It was a bit of a struggle to keep her from crash jibing as the weather helm would push us one way and surfing down a wave would push us another, but from hour to hour, shift change to shift change, we got the hang of it. By sunup we were within 15 miles of Cape May! We had ripped through the night air at an average speed of over 6 knots. By 10 am we were motoring into the inlet and dropped anchor 15 minutes after that. I ordered a mainsail from a used sail dealer in Annapolis and it is already sitting beside me. However, that was not without trouble either. I called literally a dozen marinas in this area and nobody would do me the small favor of accepting a UPS package. I finally persuaded a guy who ran a marine supply shop to help me out, and he admitted, "they don't take kindly to sailors around here, sailors never spend a dime when they pass through." Well, I'm sorry if I have to spend money to achieve a basic level of human decency. It would have been no trouble to accept a package, I even explained that my sail had ripped on the way here, really hammed it up sob story style. Thanks but no thanks, New Jersey, I can't get out of here fast enough.
All we have to do now is wait out a gale that is tearing through here tonight through Saturday, and Sunday we weigh anchor again, bound for Norfolk.
The only trouble we ran into was when we left. When we were towed in after running aground, the tow boat operator said that it was out of season and that we could stay here for free. Winchelsea was one of six boats out of what seemed to be 100 slips. We stayed there for four days and, literally, as we were about to leave, a couple of guys came up to us and asked us if we wanted to "settle up". I gave them a look that expressed both confusion as well as annoyance and asked exactly what they meant by that. They said I owed them $77 per day for each of the 4 days I had been there. I did not get angry, I did not lose my cool, I calmly said, "well boys, this is the first I've heard of it, and the guy who towed us in said it was out of season and there would be no charge." They replied (and I'm paraphrasing here, they were of the type that struggles with logical thoughts and sentence structure simultaneously), "we're sorry, but you have been misinformed. And, surely, you must have seen us collecting from other people all weekend." To which I rebutted, "so you knew I was here for four days and you are just getting around to me now? This boat basin doesn't look that busy! I had no idea what you guys were doing, selling ice cream and raffle tickets for all I know or care, but if I knew it was going to be $77 per day I'd have pulled out and anchored the second I was towed in!" They said something about how that didn't matter, and they I still owed them $77 * 4, which I refuse to actually multiply for the sake of my own blood pressure. I could tell at this point that reasoning was just not going to work with these fellas. I told them that I only have about $50 cash on me, knowing there was not an ATM for miles. They said they only take credit cards and checks. "Well guys, I'm truly sorry, but you are out of luck. I don't have a lick of credit to my name, nor a checking account. I'm living free and clean of all that nonsense. I can send you a check in the mail when I get to New Jersey though, if that suits you." They agreed, and a phony name and address later, we were off the dock.
After leaving the inlet the next morning however, the wind died. The engine on Winchelsea again performed like a champ and powered us towards Barnegat, NJ for 8 solid hours. When the sun went down, we had a solid 15 to 20 knot wind out of the north on our backs and a following sea. Life was good. It was a bit of a struggle to keep her from crash jibing as the weather helm would push us one way and surfing down a wave would push us another, but from hour to hour, shift change to shift change, we got the hang of it. By sunup we were within 15 miles of Cape May! We had ripped through the night air at an average speed of over 6 knots. By 10 am we were motoring into the inlet and dropped anchor 15 minutes after that. I ordered a mainsail from a used sail dealer in Annapolis and it is already sitting beside me. However, that was not without trouble either. I called literally a dozen marinas in this area and nobody would do me the small favor of accepting a UPS package. I finally persuaded a guy who ran a marine supply shop to help me out, and he admitted, "they don't take kindly to sailors around here, sailors never spend a dime when they pass through." Well, I'm sorry if I have to spend money to achieve a basic level of human decency. It would have been no trouble to accept a package, I even explained that my sail had ripped on the way here, really hammed it up sob story style. Thanks but no thanks, New Jersey, I can't get out of here fast enough.
All we have to do now is wait out a gale that is tearing through here tonight through Saturday, and Sunday we weigh anchor again, bound for Norfolk.
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