Manhasset Bay, Long Island Sound

I am at the Port Washington Public Library.  Yesterday, at sunset as usual, we anchored in Manhasset Bay on the northwestern side of Long Island Sound.  Hundreds of other vessels, mostly sailboats, are anchored or moored in this large, protected bay.  F. Scott Fitzgerald's novel The Great Gatsby was set here, in two areas known as "West Egg" and "East Egg" which in reality at Great Neck peninsula to the west and Port Washington peninsula to the east of the bay.

Manhasset Bay at sunset

Millionaires from New York, including the Guggenheims, built mansions along the cliffs and shores of this bay, and many remain, as well as their exclusive yacht clubs.  In the early 1900's, the nearby Hempstead Plains to the south was considered the cradle of aviation.  Aviator and manufacturer Glenn Curtiss based his operations here in 1909.  The first plane the famous aviator Charles Lindbergh owned was a Curtiss Jenny.   His 1927 journey to France was in a Ryan plane; he took off from Roosevelt Field on May 20, landing his single-engine monoplane Spirit of St. Louis at Le Bourget, Paris the next day.  The Guggenheims offered him a retreat at their property on Long Island when he was hounded by the press and beseiged by the public after his return and then sponsored what was known as the Guggenheim Tour, in which the hero flew the Spirit of St. Louis across the country and back, touching down in 48 states, visiting 92 cities and giving 147 speeches from July 20 to October 23.

We slept well in the calm waters last night.  This morning Peter got up earlier than me, as usual, and spent a few hours adjusting the instruments.  When I got up, I went right to work cleaning the sea spray off the outside of the pilot house windows and the dirt and condensation from the respiration of four sailors over a few days from the inside of the windows and the interior structure.  It is gleaming gain.  In the mid-afternoon, we put the dinghy in the water and headed to Port Washington.  Yachting seems to be the mainstay of the economy now, but in the past, three other industries predominated:  boatyards, sand mining (the combination of fine and course sand was used in skyscrapers, sidewalks and tunnels in NYC) and oystering.

Now, I can backtrack.  We left the Anchorage Marina and Baltimore, after provisioning and cleaning the boat (and taking more photos of the sunset) on Tuesday morning, darting out just after yet another thunderstorm.  We had good wind most of the day for sailing up the Chesapeake Bay and anchored (yes, at sunset) for the night off Ordinary Point on the Sassafras River.  Enis was a great help with the sailing that day and throughout the trip to New York Harbor, and Ula provided us with delicious meals three times a day, spoiling both Peter and me.  I had been a bit apprehensive about taking on virtual strangers, but having them with us made the trip much easier and much more enjoyable, and we relished the long hours when we shared our personal histories and talked about sailing.

Last Baltimore sunset

Ula and Enis

Heading for an anchorage on the Sassafras River as the sun sets

The end of the sunset after anchoring

The next day, Enis, Peter and I arose at 2:30 a.m. and pulled up anchor by 3 so that we could continue the rest of the way up the Chesapeake, into the Elk River, through the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal with a favorable current, down the Delaware Bay and into Cape May (New Jersey) Harbor before sunset.

We were able to sail most of the way, and the day was uneventful except for the invasion of the flies.  In the middle of the Delaware Bay, we first noticed a few flies and wondered how they had stayed on the boat from when we were closer to land.  Then, more and more flies came--hundreds of flies.  We started out battling them with our lone flyswatter and quickly improved our skills, but we were greatly outnumbered, and we really began to be annoyed when they started biting.  By then, we had closed up the companionway to keep them from invading the cabins below and Peter brought out the bug spray.  It was out-and-out chemical warfare from there.  Soon, we had them dropping like flies!  The floor of the cockpit, the seats, every horizontal surface was covered with dead bodies, and we resorted to using the handheld vacuum cleaner to sweep them up.  We had to empty it out many times and recharge it once.  By the time we reached the mouth of the Delaware, we had overcome the enemy.  The few that were left were dead before bedtime that evening.

Flies on the swim platform

Cape May Harbor has an easy entrance but not much space to anchor, particularly for a boat with a 6 foot draft.  We found a place just past the Coast Guard station, which is a major recruit training facility on the East Coast.  There was a weird current that moved Mantra around all the time so that we were never facing into the wind, but at least we were not sticking out into the channel most of the time.  Soon after we heard Taps, we settled down for a delicious dinner prepared by Ula in the cockpit.  We had just toasted to a successful voyage when we were accosted by a loud male voice emanating from a nearby and smaller sailing vessel.  In staccato sentences, he repeatedly accused us of harrassing him and yelled out for anyone to hear that we were dangerous.  He threatened to call the police and then it was quiet.  Only a short time later, he re-emerged from his cabin to shout out that he had called the police and given a report.  (He repeated every single acccusation and statement during this whole ordeal numerous times--just in case no one heard him, I guess.)  After we had finished our dinner and were cleaning up, we saw a Coast Guard cutter approach his boat and heard people on this boat talking with him.  They stayed there about 15 minutes and then came over to us.  They apologized to us for the disturbance this man had created, telling us that he was a constant problem and advising us to call them if he bothered us again.

The next morning, after we had listened to "Reveille" and "The Star-Spangled Banner" at high volume, we got up and puttered around.  Ula and I continued to find fly carcasses, and Enis and Peter got the dinghy off the deck and the motor out of the forepeak.

At noon, we dinghied over to another Sundeer boat, Pelican Express, which a couple from Santa Barbara have owned since it was built in 1995.  After we looked around their boat, the six of us dinghied into Utsch's Marina, where we left our dinghies in order to go into town.  Bill called up an Uber for the four of us who were older and Ula and Enis rented bikes.  We all met at the center of Cape May, Washington Street Mall, a two-block pedestrian area filled with restaurants and shops.  All of us hungry, we didn't waste time searching for a place to eat but chose the Irish pub where we had been dropped out.  It turned out to be a good choice, and we enjoyed a variety of food al fresco.  Afterwards, we walked along the tree-lined streets, past the lovely old homes and inns for which Cape May is famous, to the beach, where I dipped my toes in the ocean.  As we walked, we engaged in various conversations:  Jean and I about our families, Bill and Peter about boats.  Back at the Washington Street Mall, we succumbed to the temptation of Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream.  Well-fed, Bill, Jean, Peter and I chose to walk the mile or so back to the dock while Ula and Enis cycled.  They picked up water, gas for the dinghy and ice en route.

Jean, Bill, Ula, Enis, Sherri and Peter after lunch

Houses in Cape May

Enis, Ula and Peter at Washington Street Mall

We were wondering if we would be verbally accosted again that evening, but all was quiet.  It was a bit chilly, so we ate down below.  As we were finishing our meal, we heard voices and went up to investigate.  The Coast Guard had been summonned for some reason by the crazy guy on the nearby boat.  I ease-dropped the best I could, catching some of the conversation.  They were obviously assessing him for suicidal or homicidal ideation because I heard them ask him if he had ever considered hurting himself.  I also overheard him promise that he would not call them again unless it was an "absolute, absolute, absolute" emergency.  I doubt that they believed that.

The next day (Friday, Sept. 21) we pulled up anchor around 8 a.m. and headed out to sea.  There will be more about this not uneventful sail to New York Harbor in a later post, because Peter is ready to return to Mantra, where we do not have Internet service.  Rain is expected all day tomorrow (Tuesday, Sept. 23), so we will probably remained anchored here for another day.