|Leaving behind Manhattan, The Bronx, and Staten Island ,too|
Rather than heading into Barnegatt Bay the first afternoon, I sailed by as the wind window slammed shut. Instead, I dropped the hook half way up the Delaware in the Cohansey River 150 miles and 30 hours later. So, it actually was a dumpster fire fought in a fog of fatigue.
The romp from Sandy Hook to Barnegatt Inlet was delightful. The stiff breeze had just enough westerly slant to tame the wind waves. The hurricane's leftover swells were imperceptible. I arrived by mid-afternoon with perfect conditions for running the inlet at the start of flood. I love it when a plan comes true.
Well, mostly true. The forecast for the next day's winds was hedging its bets. Rather than light airs it was updated to be on the nose and building throughout the afternoon. Within three days everything would be flying about in the gale. It was time to think seriously about where to be by then.
|Dawn, yawn, on the Delaware River|
|The Delaware River was calm after a night's sleep.|
I'm too old for these single-handed overnights. But sometimes a hard thing is easier than the alternative. I'm way too old for the alternative.
That gale was everything they promised and more. By then Sweet Pea was lashed to the dock at City Yacht Basin and I was having a delicious oyster po' boy at Laurrapin's.
|Wind tide from gusts in the 40's at Havre de Grace|