My traveling for the next two days was controlled by the time on Monday when the current changed at Hell Gate Bridge, where New York's East River ends and Long Island Sound begins. You are best served by arriving at Hell Gate at slack tide, when the waters are calm and the current is slow. Earlier or later and you will be in a boiling sea that will have more say in which way your boat goes than you do.
I wanted to make as much distance on this day -- Saturday -- as I could so that on Sunday I'd not have to push too hard to get to Manhasset Bay, my favorite anchorage near Hell Gate.
As I studied the charts, I felt that my best choices for Saturday night were along the Connecticut coast, where there seemed to be a greater selection of anchorages. I had no plan to spend money on a mooring when I had two perfectly good anchors mounted on the bow.
By mid day, I saw that my progress was sufficient that I could probably make it with daylight to spare if I aimed for the Norwalk Islands. The cruising guide talked about one spot as a well-protected anchorage, although with somewhat shallow approaches. I decided that would be my destination.
By late afternoon, when I had the anchorage in sight, the wind had picked up from the west southwest. I followed the buoys toward the anchorage, in the center of a ring of small islands, according to the charts. But now I saw that some of the islands were little more than sand spits with no trees or structures to block the wind.
By now, however, I had cast my lot. I turned into a cut between the islands that the cruising guide said was my entrance. The depth sounder red 1.5 feet as I crossed the most shallow part of the entrance. Inside, the wind was blowing 15 to 20 knots, unimpeded. I took Robin up to the center of the anchorage, just short of where the chart said the depth was too shallow for Robin's 5-foot keel. Then I reversed the engine, halting Robin's progress. Knocking the engine into neutral, I raced to the bow and lowered the 45-pound plow anchor. Then I raced back to the cockpit to put the engine in slow reverse in the hopes of setting the anchor in the sand.
Somehow, the anchor dug in on the first try, and I was secure for the night. Frazzled, I went below and heated some dinner and hoped for the best as the wind moaned through the rigging.