Hudson River Get-Together 2002

July 4-7, 2002

Bruce and I ran down to the boatyard both Monday and Tuesday, July 1 and 2, after work to load up Realization for our trip up the Hudson. It was so hot on board each evening that we promptly stripped off our clothes after unloading the van and opening up the boat's ports and hatches. It was simply too hot to work down below. Good thing there wasn't much activity in the yard or on the docks, but then I imagine anyone else there would also be running around in their underwear -- or less.

We both had to work on Wednesday as well, but we each took a 1/2 day of vacation so we could get the remainder of our supplies, mainly the food, down to the boat and stowed -- another operation in our underwear.

With everything stowed, Bruce untied the dock lines and I flipped Realization into reverse and pulled away from the dock at 1740 Wednesday evening and headed down Cheesequake Creek in time for the 6:00 p.m. opening of the Rte. 35 bridge, exited the inlet and set a course for Great Kills Harbor on Staten Island, NY where Howard Kolsby, aboard CD33 Gemini, was already at anchor and waiting. By 7:30 p.m. the two boats were rafted together. Howard wanted to use his brand new gas barbecue grill. So Bruce helped him set it up on his stern rail and they then prepared a nice chicken stew for dinner which we ate in Realization's cockpit. The heat was still unbearable and I wasn't feeling very well so I had to force myself to eat. No one could bear to go down below so we all started the night sleeping in our cockpits -- or at least attempted to sleep.

There are several yacht clubs and marinas on Great Kills Harbor. It is also part of Gateway National Park. At least one of the yacht clubs/marinas had an outdoor party going on with a live band. The noise from the party wasn't too bad as it ended around 11:00 p.m. but the drunken revelers returning to their boats in the mooring field and anchorage was another matter. Some of them continued to party until around 3:00 a.m. making it very difficult to sleep.

We were underway again at 0745 on the 4th and headed first towards Old Orchard Shoal Lighthouse and then made a beeline for the Verrazano Narrows Bridge and New York Harbor. Realization led the way as we were carried with the current towards the bridge where we were hailed by Mike Davis and Howard Reichbach aboard CD25 Nephron. They were approaching the bridge from the Brooklyn side of the Lower Harbor. Neither of us could see the other as Hoffman Island lay between us. We were now fighting the ebbing Hudson.

We caught up with Nephron and her crew after passing under the bridge and motored behind her after coming along side to say hello. After awhile, Mike and Howard wanted a break from the constant drone of their outboard and opted to shut down the engine and sail. They were now sailing against the ebb in very little wind while Realization and Gemini continued to motor northward under the blazing sun.

Bruce and I sat in Realization's cockpit protected beneath her white Sunbrella awning and drank, drank, drank. I don't think I've ever downed so much water in my entire life. I kept checking behind us to make sure that Gemini was still there, that Howard hadn't passed out in the intense heat and bright sun, and Gemini wasn't heading for the shallows unattended. I'd also look for Nephron but she was nowhere to be seen. I tried hailing Nephron on the VHF several times -- but no response.

We opened up the yankee to motorsail close-hauled up the river.

As the sun made its way westward across the sky and its rays started to make their way under the awning to port, we decided it was time to setup the autopilot. That way we could stay in the shade while "Squeeky" steered the boat. Unfortunately, Bruce didn't get Squeeky setup in time. His back was lobster red. Again I tried to raise Nephron on the VHF without success but Howard responded immediately when I called him. Thank God he was alright. Gemini didn't have an awning or a bimini and Howard wasn't even wearing a hat. I thought, if that were me, "I would have passed out by now".

After passing beneath the George Washington Bridge we were beginning to think that Nephron and her crew may have turned back but if they hadn't, they'd still make it to the anchorage before dark. They couldn't be more than two hours behind us.

We were now travelling with the current and making 8 knots over the ground. And as we approached the Spuyten Duyvil I hailed Howard on Gemini and told him it was only another 12 nm to the Tappan Zee Bridge. He wanted to know how much farther we had to go from there and I told him it was another 7 nm, but at the rate we were travelling, it wouldn't be long as the current strengthened and would carry us faster up river.

Realization rounded the point and entered the anchorage at approximately 5:30 p.m. First we found Evening Light and yelled. Leo MacDonald's head then appeared in the companionway and we slowly passed and circled Evening Light. Then we headed towards Macht Nichts and then to Adamarie and said our hellos before heading back towards Evening Light. We rafted to Evening Light's starboard side. Then Gemini rafted to Evening Light's port side. No sooner was Gemini rafted when Howard let out a scream and jumped into the waters of Haverstraw Bay to cool off. Bruce and Leo quickly followed suit. I continued to readjust our fenders as I didn't like the way we were rolling. I decided I'd rather have a shower than a swim and slipped down below. Then Nephron entered the anchorage.

After their swim, Leo invited us and Howard aboard Evening Light for dinner. Ruth had prepared and stowed a batch of her famous tortellini soup and we enjoyed a great meal. Thank you Ruth.

Then the disaster!

While the boats lay rafted together and we were enjoying our stew, a large cabin cruiser decided to pass rather close to our raft and generated a 4-foot wave which sent the boats pitching and rolling in a BIG, BIG way. I had just made an adjustment to our stern line and had sat back down. Not two seconds before the wake I had turned and asked Bruce if we should move since it seemed a bit roly anyway and a front would be moving through. Well that wake answered my question immediately.

Anyway, Realization and Evening Light survived that wake even though the boats pitched violently out of sync. I had set two 12-inch fenders horizontally and three 8-inch fenders vertically on Realization's port side in addition to Leo's two 6-inch fenders. That combination of fenders kept the two boats separated. But Gemini was not so lucky with only two 12-inch fenders set horizontally on her starboard side. Evening Light came down hard on Gemini's rub rail tearing away about a 3-foot section of teak and bronze with a loud C-R-A-C-K. And that cruiser continued on its merry way completely oblivious of the effects of its wake. From what we could tell, Evening Light was unscathed.

So we uncleated our lines, separated from the raft, and found a place to anchor. Howard did likewise with the wounded Gemini.

Then the front moved in from the northwest. Not that I'm complaining because it dropped the temperature about 30 degrees almost immediately. So we went from essentially windless, blistering, unbearable heat to a cool, bug-free rocking 'n' rolling anchorage with howling wind and a lee shore. The wind literally howled all night but at least it was cool enough to sleep down below; the constant motion of the boats left some of the crews a bit seasick.

Morning arrived and the wind continued to howl sending white caps and spray through the anchorage. The white caps turned into small rollers as they reached the shore making landing and launching a dingy a very wet operation. We had not yet inflated our dingy and were questioning whether we could row against that wind or if our electric trolling motor was stong enough to fight it. So we decided to move the boat closer to shore to shorten that wet ride to and from the beach. I accepted a ride to shore offered by Fleet Captain Michael Heintz. Michael was to pick me up when Bill Goldsmith arrived aboard Realization so Bill and I could go food shopping for the barbecues.

Bill's CD27 Second Chance was still tied up at the dock at the Shattemuc Yacht Club located south of Croton Point. He intended to paddle his keyak, along with his young son, from the beach at Croton Point Park out to Realization. One look at those white caps and Bill had second thoughts. So he hopped back in the car and returned his son to his mother then returned to the beach to paddle out to us.

We got Bill aboard then waited for Michael. But no Michael. We tried calling him on the VHF, but no response. We then called Evening Light -- no response from Leo either. Then we noticed that there were three dinghies tied behind Macht Nichts so Leo and Dick Feffer had to be aboard Macht Nichts as well. We tried calling each of them without success. So we sat and chatted with Bill and waited. When Michael finally arrived he had a large bandage on his left shin. While trying to climb up the swim ladder to Macht Nichts, one of the teak treads decided it was time to disintegrate. It shattered sending Michael falling. When he fell the splintered teak cut a deep gash into his shin clear down to the bone. So everybody on Macht Nichts had been attending to a medical emergency. We tried to convince him that a trip to the emergency room might be a good idea, but he refused. We also needed to discuss the game plan for the barbecues. So once we concluded our discussions he brought Bill and I ashore. And Leo brought Howard. Then Bill, Howard and I piled into Bill's SUV and we rode off to the local supermarket.

We each grabbed a shopping cart and Bill headed for the Deli and Meat counters to pick up our orders of salads and meats. I started up and down the aisles for the remainder of the items on my list. And Howard set out on his own search for provisions.

Good news and bad news.

The good news was that the Deli order was ready and waiting to be picked up. The bad news was that the Meat Counter had lost our order, so no meat. Okay, not to panic, we'll just clean them out. So I proceeded to load up the cart with burgers, franks and chicken -- enough for 30 for two days -- while Bill had it out with the manager. Anyway, he then grabbed the buns for the burgers and franks and we were on our way to the checkout counters. Oops, the cashier dropped one of the salads. Well that's one down. Again, not to panic, we've got more than enough food. Just subtract it from our bill.

From the supermarket it was a quick ride to a convenience store for ice where we packed coolers full of the perishables and ice. Then we bought even more ice and headed back to the park. Bill dropped off me and Howard and then headed toward the grove to get the barbecue started. Howard and I headed back to Gemini and Realization. Once aboard Realization we restocked our ice box with ice and gathered up the remaining items for the barbecue. Then, with Leo's help, we set our second anchor since that wind was still howling, we were closer to that lee shore, and we would be leaving the boat unattended while at the barbecue. And then it was another wet ride back to shore where Bruce and I managed to haul everything over to the grove in one trip.

Friday evening our group included 19 sailors and one puppy who had arrived on seven Cape Dorys or by car. The attendees were Cathy Monaghan and Bruce Halley (CD32 Realization), Leo MacDonald (CD33 Evening Light), Howard Kolsby (CD33 Gemini), Michael Heintz and Nan Wasson (CD30MKII Macht Nichts), Dick Feffer and Holly (CD30MKII Adamarie), Michael and Rivka Soloway (CD31 Puffin), Dennis and Carol Truett, and George Kampher (CD26D Summer Wind). We were also joined by Wally Bennet and his friend. And let's not forget Bill and Amy Goldsmith and their three children. Nephron's crew were still recovering from heat exhaustion after that long haul up the Hudson in that unbearable heat the day before and opted not to join the rest of us at the barbecue and instead made plans to head back to Brooklyn early.

In the grove, the attendees had turned about a half dozen picnic tables on end to build a wall to block the wind and used another to block the wind near the barbecue grill. It wasn't easy getting a fire started but with the help of George Kamphor, Dennis Truett and Bill Goldsmith we were on our way. The plan was to have chicken but it took so long to get the fire going that we switched gears and threw on the burgers and franks instead. In the meantime, Bruce Halley finished preparing the chicken so that it would be ready for Saturday's barbecue and George Kamphor manned the grill. We had arrived at the park with all of the food and supplies for both barbecues so I busily tried to separate the items for Saturday's meal from Friday's before the attendees tore into every box and bag. I think I was mostly successful. Anyway, despite the wind and a few other minor problems, we managed to have a good time with a really nice group of people, all of which were eager to help out.

The park closed at dusk and we cleaned up, sent the remaining food and supplies home with the Goldsmiths, and returned to our boats -- another wet ride and another night of rocking 'n' rolling in the windy anchorage.

A few of the crews had decided to head out on Saturday rather than stick around for the barbecue. The desire for crews to get an early start back had also prompted us to move the Saturday evening barbecue to noon. But in the morning some of the boats participated in a fleet sail/mock race on Haverstraw Bay. CD33 Evening Light and the CD30MKIIs Macht Nichts and Adamarie were joined by CD26D Summer Wind and CD27 Second Chance. The rest of us watched with our binoculars and listened to the race antics from the anchorage.

After the race Macht Nichts and Adamarie continued south on their way back to Connecticut and Evening Light and Summer Wind returned to anchorage. Second Chance entered the anchorage with 9 crew, all donning big smiles, and towing two keyaks. In the meantime, Bruce and I loaded up our dingy and headed for shore to prepared for the noon barbecue. And Bob Breur arrived with his CD36 Sculptor.

When we arrived in the grove, Dennis and Carol Truett and George Kamphor were already there and again we found that there were squatters in our grove who had already setup for their own picnic. I hated to make them move, but we had reserved and paid for that grove and fully intended to use it. We let them stick around until the Goldsmith gang arrived with the food and supplies. In the meantime, those of us that were waiting were getting really hungry.

At least the squatters had already started a fire in the grill so it wouldn't take too long to get the meal started. When Amy showed up with the carload of food and supplies it was another mad dash to get the chicken on the grill (Bill and Amy had taken the chicken home the night before and partially cooked it) and the corn shucked and wrapped in foil. At least that was something we could get the kids involved with.

Saturday we were 31 sailors and one puppy strong. In addition to the 19 sailors mentioned above, joining us were Mark Yashinsky and his wife and daughter plus one, Jacob Bogatch (CD30 Fhloston Paradise) and two crew, Joe Karger (CD32 Manitou), Sam and Nancy York (CD27 Carina), and Bob and Peggy Breur (CD36 Sculptor).

George Kamphor again found himself manning the grill, this time with Mark Yashinsky and Jacob Bogatch. And again I spread the rest of the food and supplies -- the salads, cheese and crackers, chips and dip, paper plates, plastic utencils, you name it -- out on the picnic tables. And again we all managed to munch, talk, make new friends and have a good time doing it.

As the day progressed we noticed a white veil of fog enshroud the river. We weren't sure if it was a fogbank or what. My husband commented that he thought any minute we might be overcome by a white squall and wanted to hear a weather report. I flicked on our handheld VHF but NOAA made no mention of bad weather or fog. We later found out that it was a plume of smoke making its way down from Canada riding on that howling northwest wind.

Saturday evening, after returning to the boats, Howard Kolsby invited us aboard Gemini for dinner and to discuss our trip back. I brought the charts, the Eldridge, and the tide and current tables for the area and we decided to leave the anchorage at 7:30 a.m. the following morning. That would give us a nice ride down the river with the ebbing tide for our entire trip on the river.

Sunday morning the whole area was blanketed in white with very limited visibility. We had two sets of ground tackle to deal with, so we didn't waste any time. We decided that I'd first haul up the 23 lb. Fortress and then Bruce would haul up the 35 lb. CQR. Both anchors were well set and we had to use the engine to break each of them free. And each anchor was covered in muck when it surfaced. Bruce spent at least an hour, if not longer, cleaning up the anchors, chain and rode, and spreading the rode out on the foredeck to dry. Then he disconnected the Fortress, brought it back to the cockpit, disassembled it, placed it back in its bag and stowed it down below as we travelled south. Gemini trailed behind as on the trip up.

A little more than an hour out we noticed that Gemini was falling farther and farther behind. Bruce contacted Howard and learned that Gemini's engine had quit. So we turned around and headed back. When we reached Gemini, Howard told us that the engine had overheated and he couldn't restart it. Bruce indicated that it wouldn't restart until it had cooled down and he started asking questions. Was there good flow from the exhaust? When was the last time you changed the impeller? Is there any coolant in the expansion tank? Is there any antifreeze in the bilge? Yes, there was antifreeze in the bilge and the expansion tank was empty. Bruce suggested he tighten the fittings for the tank and add more antifreeze/water mix. Howard added water to the tank, the engine cooled down, and she started. Phew! Gemini continued to follow us down the river and we continued to look back though we did lose sight of him a few times in the thick white smoke.

It was odd to cruise into New York Harbor and not be able to see the tall buildings, the Statue of Liberty, the shoreline or any of the bridges. Visibility was so poor that keeping a sharp lookout was critical since ships wouldn't be spotted until they were right on top of us and the smokey fog wouldn't cut down on the number of excursion boats and ferries that we'd have to contend with. Okay, where's the Staten Island ferry? Realization sports a radar reflector but no radar. Anyway, we made it to the Verrazano Narrows Bridge before the current change and blindly altered course towards Old Orchard Shoal Lighthouse. We couldn't see Gemini so I contacted Howard and let him know that we had just passed under the bridge and he assured us that he was right behind us but would continue out into the Atlantic bound for Avon on the Shark River so we said our goodbyes.

The still ebbing current was now against us and a nice breeze developed which of course was directly on the nose from the southwest. We wanted to get back to our slip and get the boat unloaded and cleaned, so we continued to motor. I adjusted our course based on the wind and the current. Low and behold, when the lighthouse finally came into view, it was dead ahead. As we passed the lighthouse we changed our course once more and visibility seemed to improve. We were nearly home -- only 8 nm to go.

When we finally approached the inlet and requested a 5:00 pm. bridge opening there was only one other sailboat waiting, Fame, a large racing sloop with lots of winches. Realization led the way through the inlet and under the two bridges. As we approached our slip we were greeted by Linda Pistilli aboard the CD30 Theodore B.

Bruce sidled Realization up against the finger pier, we tied her off and started the packing, cleaning and unloading process just as we had begun our trip -- in our underwear.

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Last modified: 12 August 2002; C. Monaghan