In preparation for this particular passage, I had studied the charts and the cruising guide specifically to search for a safe harbor in or near New York Harbor. Twice when I've made the trip down the East River, I've encountered brutal conditions at the Verrazano Narrows Bridge. Both times, I had help. This time I was alone.
The first time was the 2008 trip that Monica and I had taken to Cape Cod. All the way down Long Island Sound, the wind had been strong from the east. We sailed at top speed, enjoying the ride without needing the engine.
We discovered the cost of such sailing when we turned east to go under the Narrows bridge. There, the seas had been building for three days ahead of that easterly wind, and Robin confronted four to six foot walls of water, bucking her bow up to the sky again and again. On a day that we planned to end offshore with Cape May in our sights, we scurried for cover behind the arm of Sandy Hook to wait for improved weather.
The second time was in 2009, when John Morrison, Curt Michael and I ran into fog so dense that when we passed below the Narrows Bridge, we finally saw the structure, straight overhead. It was an action packed hour or so when we passed out through the ambrose Channel, searching for buoys while hearing the thrumming of massive ship engines passing by to our port, completely invisible to us.
Now, I'd searched the charts for an escape route and had found none. So my plan was to do my best to get to Sandy Hook, well beyond the Narrows by several miles, and spend the night there.
The day started overcast, and the image of a fog-bound Narrows filled my mind. I motored slowly, since I had all morning -- until about 11:30 -- to get to Hell Gate. First I passed La Guardia Airport and then Reikers Island Prison.


And then I was through Hell Gate and motoring south on the East River. There was very little traffic -- one tug with a barge and one New York State freighter connected with its environmental protection office.
As I approached the South Street Seaport Museum, I saw a high-speed ferry idling just off the wharf. I radioed on Channel 13, asking the captain where he was headed.
The surprise was that I didn't get the sarcastic response I'd earned in New London. Instead, a very polite captain came back to say that he would move out of my way.
Amazed, I took advantage of this gracious behavior to cross to the east -- Brooklyn -- side of the river in preparation for cutting behind Governor's Island, the short route to the Narrows.
Now the landmarks came one after another.

When Robin passed through the Narrows, the seas were calm, and at three o'clock in the afternoon, when we were off Sandy Hook, the sun was shining. The Coast Guard was transmitting an urgent weather bulletin on Channel 16, warning of severe thunder storms approaching New York. I could see them, but I was unconcerned. By now, I'd phoned Monica to tell her Robin and I were headed for Cape May, non-stop. I figured I be there in the morning around 9:30 if all went well. I'd be using my kitchen timer to take 15 minute naps during the darkest part of the night. But I felt invigorated and ready for the night alone at sea.