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PORT WASHINGTON
AH, it is so nice to be at a dock that is not rolling up an down an left and right 1 to 2 feet. This is flat as a pancake and steady. It‘s also quiet here, just moored boats. The boats at the marina seem closed up, waiting for their owners that will come on the weekend. It‘s still unseasonable cold though. We are early in the season yet we think because it‘s not busy at all. We thought it being late May and after Memorial Day that the area would be buzzing but guess the cool spring has delayed people We get all the local info from the dockhand who seems about 15 or 16 years old. Good job for a kid that age. He says there‘s a water taxi that can shuttle us to town as the walk is too far. He thinks it costs about $6 per person round trip. I‘m thinking wow, that‘s $24 to go see the town and then another $24 to go back for dinner for the four of us. I suggest we get the dinghy down and go ourselves. Our guests like the idea as all new guests on the boat, love the initial ride in the dinghy. It‘s comparable to going on a ride at a theme park for them. So we get TT Knotty Dog down (tender too Knotty Dog is what we call her). Larry gives Richard a quick dinghy lesson and we send them off on a scouting mission to see what there is to see in town and find a restaurant. I watch a they slowly putter away, glassy eyed, a new experience for them. I wonder if they will be able to find their way back in the huge maze of boats. They disappear into the distance, melting into the white spots of boats. I take advantage of the location and peacefulness to hose down the boat as Larry does things inside. The boat was dirty with city grunge from NYC. I was amazed how sparkily it became with just a good simple hose down. We didn‘t have the energy to wash it. I just wanted to revel in the quietness and level dock that we were tied to.
LOST IN THE MAZE
They said there wasn‘t much to the town but that we could eat at one of the three Greek Restaurants (all with the same name) if we wanted to go back. It seemed like a long way to travel in the dinghy. The wind was picking up and it was cold so I suggested we just sit on the boat and have dinner here. I think that was the words they wanted to hear. I‘m sure their first solo venture on there their own, plus a whole day on the water, was tiring and built up a good appetite. We decided we‘d all make a quick run into the town before we leave in the morning for Northport so we could see what was there.
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RUN TO TOWN
We found our way to the town dock right next to the commuter ferry dock. We tied up and walked up the ramp to the town park. The park is anchored by the top portion of an old wooden boat which now serves as a historical landmark to display historical photos and historical information about the area. The town dock area can be described as short and sweet, really just a small “seaport village“, with one or two stores. Just past the “seaport village“, in the other direction, is the Manhasset Bay Yacht Club. Up the hill is the center of town. It has a couple really cute boutiques and three notable Greek Restaurants. One has huge Greek columns out front and is so architecturally incompatible with the rest of the town that it becomes interesting by its indifference. It was early morning and we popped our noses into the Greek Deli across the street and WOW! What a feast for the eyes! It was the best Greek Deli I‘ve ever seen and the crew working was busy making loads of wonderful sandwiches and salads for the day. It must be a popular place as the food looked so fresh and of such good quality. Jane and Richard ordered Turkish Coffees and some pastries and we sat ourselves down on an outside table to enjoy the feast. I bought several other things for appetizers and snacks later on the boat. It was delish! We just don‘t have places like that at home.
As we headed back to the dinghy we were struck by all the restrictive signs the town has posted. “NO Dogs“, no this or that. It was a little surprising and very unfriendly. Manhasset Bay is supposed to be a “no dump zone“ but I think plenty of people are dumping and it all accumulates at the city dock. It was pretty bad. As we headed back to the boat, we could see slightly through the haze. The NYC Skyline. We want to get further up the Sound and away from the hectic pace of the city. If we were to stay longer we would‘ve taken a cab to explore the Guggenheim Estate or “Miracle Mile“ with the fancy boutiques but heading up Long Island Sound had a stronger draw. We had a nice, peaceful, really a blissful night‘s sleep and it was time to go. The weather was cold and windy and the marina seemed dead. We were wondering when this weather was finally going to take a hike and let the season come.
PORT WASHINGTON TO NORTHPORT
We had a nice short cruise today heading east along Long Island Sound. Our destination today was Northport. We were a ways off shore so any detail sight seeing of the many mansions on the shore was through binoculars. We passed a few picturesque light houses along the way. After a couple hours we arrive at the entrance to Huntington Bay. I have been taking a quick cat nap until now and have to quickly orient myself to what we‘re doing. Usually I check the chart ahead of time but things seemed so simple in this area that I was getting a little lax. To get to Northport you must enter the wide bay of Huntington and then just past the sand spit make a port side turn through the channel markers into Northport Bay. It‘s all pretty self explanatory and clear cut but the maneuvering around the three large fishing boats and many small fishing skiffs was a bit of a challenge. They all congregated themselves right in the center of the narrow channel. We maneuvered past them and once inside Northport Bay, you become very aware of the four tall bright striped stacks of the nearby power plants right smack dab in the center of this picturesque bay. We decide we‘re not going to let this ruin our opinion of the place and proceeded on. Larry hails the Northport Yacht Club for a mooring ball. Their guest mooring balls are at the very entrance to the Harbor and colored yellow. We picked one up away from the entrance and with a nice view of the bay except for the power plant. We had plenty of swinging room. Larry grabbed the stick on top of the mooring float and pulled up the big glumpy rope, pulled it through the hawsehole and “voila“ we were in. Engines off, dinghy down, and it was peaceful. Wow, it has been a long time since we‘ve been on a mooring. We all hopped into the dinghy and headed to the yacht club to check in, water Ziggy, and see where to go to see the place.
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NORTHPORT We headed to the dock at Northport Yacht Club. It was a nice yacht club, very new and spiffy. We walked the street to the center of town and past some charming houses perched along the hillside over looking the harbor. It was a quaint place, lovingly cared for homes filled with flowers and cute arbors and decks over looking the bay. We reached town and its main street and felt the terrible urge to have an ice cream cone. We all found a bench outside the local creamery and enjoyed every lick. The town street was small, with a few shops and cafes. We spent the afternoon browsing the stores and deciding where to land for dinner when we came upon a great pizza joint. The pizzas were too much for us to pass up. We got a few pieces of several different varieties and took them back to the boat for a feast. There‘s nothing like NY pizza and we were determined to enjoy every bite. We got back to the boat, set the table and enjoyed the pizza and quite environs. We played some cards games and just enjoyed the scenery and peacefulness of the area. In the morning before we left, we took a fast ride on the dinghy to see the harbor and just off our anchorage on the opposite side of the bay was yet another Vanderbilt mansion. How many did this guy have?
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PORT JEFFERSON We left Northport at a leisurely hour and again squeezed our way past the “devil could care less“ fishing boats that crowded the narrow channel out. Again the trip was short to our next stop, Port Jefferson, the final destination for our friends, Jane and Richard. We passed several scenic lighthouses and more mansions along the shore. They were becoming a common sight like as if passing gas stations along a highway. Soon we were at the entrance to Port Jefferson Harbor. There‘s a small opening to the harbor marked by the standard red and green markers. Also at the entrance you are greeted by tall sand dune cliffs off to the portside. As we make our way down the long narrow channel to the dock a huge and imposing ferry is coming out headed straight for us. We pass him and are dwarfed by it‘s size and rolled by his wake. We again notice some more of the familiar red and white striped stacks along one side of the harbor. Another power plant taking away from the picturesque potential of a lovely harbor.
DANFORD‘S INN AND MARINA We got settled and plugged in. We are staying at the Danford's Marina which is part of the Danforth Inn. It‘s an old historic in, quite large as it encompasses several old wood buildings that span a few blocks in the town. They are all painted a crisp white with green shutters. It has a wonderful old main hotel with a typically low wooden beamed ceiling and old wide well worn pine planked floors. It much like an old tavern inside with an inviting stone fireplace and cozy wing cozy over stuffed wing chair. It has a lovely restaurant overlooking the marina with an outdoor deck and live music. The town is small but has a few streets that you can meander around poking into their little shops, mostly the typical tourist junk that you see at every port town and shoes, clothes and lots of little eateries. The surrounding streets are lined with old quaint houses, many dating back to Port Jefferson‘s glory days when the town was known for it ship building capabilities in the 19th and early 20th century. There‘s also a rumor that it did a little bootlegging during Prohibition. Since this was the last day and night for our friends we didn‘t hesitate to go out and investigate the town. It‘s a busy port with the ferries going in and out. Port Jefferson is the main access for people coming from Connecticut to Long Island so it‘s non stop people going through this little village.
Well, we so enjoyed our visit with Jane and Richard. We spent the rest of the evening playing card games on the boat. In the morning, they were going to catch the commuter train just up the block which would take them to NYC where they would catch their connection to the airport heading back home to Santa Barbara. They were great sports. I wish the weather had been better for them but they didn‘t seem to mind.
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THE IRONY OF CLOCKWORK It was almost like clock work as soon as they left the weather turned and the “start of the season“ began. The cold and mist disappeared. The sun and clear skies appeared and a small breeze began to blow away the gray haze that we‘d been looking at for weeks. People began to come out on the streets. Flags and sale items were brought out of the stores and displayed at their entrances to entice the tourists in. The restaurants began to set up tables outside for the first time this season to enjoy what seemed like “summer in the air“. The streets suddenly became busy with people and noises. Boats began to fill the marina. I don‘t know where they all suddenly came from. The ferries were coming and going filled to the brim with people and cars. Music was emanating from the several restaurants competing for attention. Sirens and horns were heard over it all. The sound of children laughing and people talking on the docks was everywhere. Laughter and happiness was in the air. We were tired from having guests, though we enjoyed every minute, it always is tiring being constantly on the go. We were in a kind of collapse mode. We took another walk up the main street but now it was crowded and filled with people and cars. It was a strange and different place. It was much different than other places we‘d been on the boat so far this season. We could hear different languages, such as Italian, Indian, Russian, and some that were unfamiliar and we just guessed what they were. Everyone seemed to be enjoying ice cream cones, walking the docks, looking at the boats, and eating in the restaurants, no matter what language they spoke. The people that were speaking English had a definite new accent from the places we‘d been and they were loud. Everything was shouted so much so that you could hear what they were saying way beyond the range necessary. The word color wasn‘t color any more, but “cullah“ and so on. Women were flashy, in tight jeans, and waistlines showing more than they should, and boobs were big and perky, most were artificial, hair was bleached, make up was heavy and shoes and purses are metallic. Men are wearing tank tops and displaying tattoos, with dark wrap around sun glasses. They are loud in their talk and flashy in their look but a friendly bunch. Ziggy is always an ice breaker with people, no matter where we are and they were all inquisitive about Ziggy. We grabbed a few items at the local 7-11 type market. I
was able to get a head of lettuce, a couple of tomatoes and some fruit. A
regular grocery store was not within walking distance so that was going to have
to do us for awhile. There was a wonderful local fish market. He was also
selling bell peppers, tomatoes, some vegetables and when I asked if he had
lettuce he said he would get some for me if I needed it. Really nice people.
The deli market was run by a couple from India. They were very friendly and
nice and behind the counter their family was snacking on a plate full of neatly
cubed watermelon generously sprinkled with salt and pepper and some sort of
chili pepper spice. Mmmmh, I thought I might try that some time.
THE WORLD WALKED BY We decided we‘d spend a nice quiet evening in. I‘d make pasta, as that was the easiest, and just watch the world go by. Well, that is an understatement, as the world literally walked by. The marina was full of boats now, and people are on the backs of their boats, sunning themselves as if it didn‘t matter about the sun rays. Guess those long winters makes them starve for laying in the sun. The main destination in town seemed to be walking down to the end of the docks to the gazebo and gazing at all the boats in the marina and also those on the moorings. We saw a bride and groom walk by accompanied by the wedding group. We saw families, couples, lonely single mean and women looking for someone to meet, and people walking their dogs. The tourist paddle wheel boat would come and go filled with people laughing and drinking and the ferries were a non stop sight, coming and going like clock work. The ferries were big white massive things, stealth like even though painted white. How ominous they would look if black. One was named P.T. Barnum. The ferries are part of the Bridgeport & Port Jefferson Steamboat Company. They cross the Sound almost on the half hour daily starting at 6:00 AM and ending at 9:30 PM, in season. So when you are at the marina, that‘s part of the scene so you can‘t let it bother you when the wind turns your way and you smell the exhaust or you jump when they blast the horn upon leaving. The ferries date back to the 1880‘s when P.T. Barnum started the business. He kept his circus animals here in Port Jefferson in the winter and would shuttle them back and forth to Bridgeport, CT on the ferry. Can you imagine that? An elephant, or giraffe or even a tiger riding the ferry? I can‘t. We spent the rest of the evening, along with others walking
the docks watching the spectacular sunset overlooking the moored boats and
watching the ferries and water taxis go back and forth through the orange and
purple skies. Every one was mesmerized by the sunset. It reminded me somewhat
of Key West when everyone, hundreds, gather at the famed waterfront to worship
the sunset. It was somehow so respectful as they stopped and silently watching
giving their respects to the beauty of it all.
If you are looking for quiet, this is not the place as the ferries create a constant roar until their shifts are done, and even when the shifts are done, they still make noise. Music is blaring from boater‘s radios, and the nearby restaurants, all fighting for dominance, each seeming to outdo the other. People are laughing, and talking loud and some are louder because of overindulgence of alcohol. Some boaters with their loud fast and powerful engines roar by with flashy girls sprawled out on bows of the boat like hood ornaments go by. I think it‘s the first time I‘ve seen a woman on the bow of a boat getting the lines ready to throw to the dock hand dressed in shiny plastic snake skin pants, a black see through lace top, long wild died black hair and high heels! I‘d never believe it if you told me the same thing. There are some sights here, that‘s for sure. We‘re heading out tomorrow for Greenport farther out on Long Island. We think it will be a sharp contrast to this place. It‘s near the Hamptons and we‘re anxious to see what it‘s like. We‘ve got about a 6 hour cruise and the weather reports are good. It should be a nice easy day, if we can get out of this crowded marina without scraping a few of our neighbors on the way out. We see now why they wanted to put us on the outside of the bulkhead. I really don‘t know how Larry is going to get it out. We‘ll see.
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GREENPORT, LONG ISLAND, NY We left the tight dock of Port Jefferson with no problem. Don‘t know why I worry for a whole day ahead about things like that. I was convinced we did not have enough room to turn the boat to get out but Larry said he had about 6 feet off the bow. I did notice however, that he was pacing off the dock the day before to see how much turning room he had. When he headed out, I was watching the stern for him and gave him on 1 foot of space between the dock and the stern to make the turn. I have no idea how much he had off the bow but all went well with no hitches. Larry backed her down the alley and made the turn outside the bulkhead and all the stress was over. We were both very glad to leave the marina as there was just too much noise here for both of us. We passed the huge power plant on the left. It seems like a common site now in each port. At home we would consider them a huge eye soar but here they are part of the landscape. They all have these enormously tall stacks painted with red and white strips like a lighthouse. I take the boat out heading towards the long narrow channel
out while Larry puts away the lines and fenders. A small boat pulls out in front
of me. It's the small pump out the boat for the harbor. Two young girls in swim
suits are running the boat and are totally oblivious to us and what’s going on
around them as they head across the channel. They are so busy fixing their hair
and rubbing sun tan lotion on and probably talking about their weekend. They
never noticed that they cut us off by a mere few yards away. I considered
honking at them but decided not to embarrass them. As we continued on out the long channel out the harbor we noticed that the harbor had filled with boats anchored and on moorings. There are a lot of places to go besides the busy noisy smelly marina. We noticed that most of the boats don’t have dinghies. We noticed at our first port on Long Island, Port Jefferson, that boaters rarely have dinghies. Their regular mode of transportation to get to the dock from your boat is by water taxi or launch. We remember now when we first started boating in the Boston area that that was the case. We didn’t have a dinghy the first year we had a boat. One time on Martha‘s Vineyard, in Memensha to be exact, we couldn‘t get dock space inside the small harbor. We ended up anchoring outside the harbor off the beach area. There was no water taxi or launch to come get us. Memensha was really just a small fishing port then. We didn‘t want to go back to another part of the island after coming all they way to the south end, so we swam in to shore with dry clothes in a plastic trash bag and used a fender as a float. I don‘t know what the people on the beach thought when they saw us appear. We walked behind some beach shack and changed clothes and hid the wet clothes in the trash bag behind a bush and walked to the village for lunch. Larry swore he wasn‘t going to swim back to the boat and I just laughed. Sure enough, Larry disappeared for a few minutes and soon he said to come down to the dock as he managed to talk some kid into taking us back to the boat in his skiff for a tip. Those were some fun days. Well, it‘s the same thing here. No one has a dinghy. All up the coast from Florida, people had dinghies, now no one does. Larry says he thinks it‘s mostly because they are day cruisers or go from marina to marina. Well, our trip from Port Jefferson to Greenport was pretty none eventful. The weather was great and we rode much of the way with the doors open letting the fresh air in. Finally we‘re getting some good weather. As we headed out the Sound we had land visible on both sides. We had Connecticut on our left and Long Island on our right. Larry rode a good distance off shore so we couldn‘t see much in detail on shore. As we left Port Jefferson we were amazed at the sight of the huge sand dunes at the entrance and then as we headed to Greenport, the shore is lined with stretches of beautiful white sandy beaches and majestic cliffs. We pass many of what are becoming the typical stone tower lights marking rocks. We are now starting to see lobster pots now and have to keep a close look out for them. They seem to come in batches. Occasionally we are over taken by the speeding yachts that race by in such a hurry pushing huge masses of water creating annoying wakes. They don‘t have the common courtesy that we‘ve been accustomed to in the areas south of here. I take a long nap as we cruise up this stretch and Larry wakes me as we approach Plum Gut. He points to two towers (one a radio tower and the other water) and says that that‘s where we are going. He said the towers are just on the other side of this sliver of land but we have to travel an hour to get around it to our destination. It‘s funny to see it so close but have to go such a distance out of our way to get to it.
FISH TAIL
As we come around Shelter Island be begin to enter a narrower area past the long sliver of land called Long Beach Point on our starboard. On the port are wonderful summer cottages and in the water is another stunning white sail boat with three masts full of wind. It looks beautiful. We also notice that we are approaching on our starboard side what looks like an antique sailing vessel painted in heavy gloppy dark green paint. The captain is a young fellow with a wide brimmed straw hat and puffy white shirt. It looked like something out of an old painting. The boat is listing a little and seems sort of water logged. As we slowly pass it is now quite clear that it is some sort of day sailor for tourists but obviously old.
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MANIACS ON THE WATER
We are nearing our port entrance and I can‘t take a chance going out on the bow to get the lines ready as it‘s too wobbly. Ziggy is running around the boat barking at them. He‘s mad too! I have to keep him off the bow because I‘m afraid he‘ll be thrown off into the water. This is horrible! Finally we enter the markers of Stirling Basin to our destination which will be Brewer‘s Marina. As we enter this little picturesque channel, it suddenly calms down. I quickly get the lines and fenders ready and enjoy looking
at the small summer cottages lined one beside each other along the channel with
a small sandy beach out front of their cottages. I hear Larry calling the
marina and getting directions for docking. We are following two sailboats under
power and I see them going through a very narrow area around an obvious exposed
sand bar. I point it out to Larry and he says there is supposed to be enough
deep water to get by it. It looks narrow and I can‘t imagine that it will be
OK. We make it by just fine. It was actually kind of fun to go so close by the
sand bar on our starboard and the wooden bulk head close on port and still have
plenty of depth. Larry said we are supposed to have floating docks here
(hooray) so I fixed all the lines and fenders accordingly but when we came
around to our slip it was those dam fixed docks again.
BREWER“S MARINA, GREENPORT This is a funny place. I would never think we were near the ocean here. It‘s like little canals cut in the land much like Florida. They really cram the boats in too. It almost has a tropical feeling here. It‘s very picturesque. There is a landscaped mound all around the marina, like a tropical island. The island is surrounded by wooden docks and walkways. We checked in and found out that it was a 15 minute walk to town or there is a free shuttle that runs to town every hour from 9:00 AM to 6:00 PM. It was about 3:30 in the afternoon now. We decided to get the bikes down. We didn‘t want to have to deal with the timing of the shuttle.
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We rode the bikes to town. It was a short ride, past lush green lawns and turn of the last century homes. We decided this place was going to be nice and quiet as the marina is surrounded by a large beautiful cemetery. No way was it going to be loud and noisy. As we got to town though we were passed by a string of loud motorcycles that just almost deafened our ears. As we got to the center of town where all the activity is, the parking lots were swamped with motorcycles. Bikers were riding up and down the streets and the bars out on the wharfs were over flowing with loud drunk people. It was black leather, tattoos, body rings, Mohawks, purple and red died hair and loud noises. We couldn‘t believe it. We were so hot and tired though from the heat and our ride that we just joined in. We went out to the bar at the end of the pier with Ziggy at the famous Claudio‘s Clam Bar and got two Margaritas. We couldn‘t have looked more out of place sitting there. We watched a wild band playing and everyone was having a good time but it was a wild time. We felt like a couple of Sunday Go to Meeting types amidst this group of tough looking bikers. After we finished our drinks, we walked past the store fronts and looked into the quaint little shops. The town really seemed uncomfortable with this wild crowd. We decided to head back to the boat for some peace and quiet. We decided to have dinner at the marina at the
Trattoria restaurant and it was excellent. It was quiet and overlooked
the water and the service and food was great. It was just what we needed after
the crazy day we had. We awoke in the morning to the singing of an ambitious mockingbird. We listened to him for most of an hour and I can say he never once repeated the same tune. How does he do it? We rode the bikes into town again and this time the town was quiet and peaceful, no motorcycle gangs. We ate lunch on the docks with Zig. It was the same place but not the same place. Yesterday it was wild and crazy. Today it was filled with women out to lunch, a family and a few other couples like us. Many of the stores were closed on this Monday so we missed out on that. Guess it‘s still early in the season. The town‘s gardens were filled with the most gorgeous iris‘s I‘ve ever seen. They were huge and amazing. All the rhododendrums and vibernums were blooming too. We had a lazy day and had dinner at the same restaurant again that night because the food was so good. We got to talking to Frank, the owner. When he found out we had come around through the Panama Canal he began to tell us about his days as a Ranger training in the Panama jungles by Colon. We had a lot in common to talk about Panama and our travels with him. He‘s a great guy. GREENPORT TO SAG HARBOR
We came slowly out of the channel alongside the breakwater and passed again that quaint little area of beach cottages all nestled together only visible in their charm from a view from the water. They are very modest and simple and so picturesque, much like a picture postcard. Today out in Shelter Harbor
Sound it was peaceful and quiet. There were none of those ridiculous speed
boats creating havoc on the water. I‘m wondering if the crazy boaters had
something to do with the motor cycle rally and the wild music that was playing
at Claudio‘s the day we came in. I guess we‘ll never know. I was just greatful
they were all gone and it was peaceful. We passed Greenport which today looked
like a rusty working town on the wharfs. A much different perspective than when
you are in the town with all its charming little shops and cafes and blooming
gardens. We could see the wharf restaurants and bars that we visited the day
before where the likes of the Hells Angels took over. Today it was quiet and
sleepy looking. Did we imagine or dream or rather have a nightmare about it the
other day? On our portside is Shelter Island. It‘s a lush hilly island with several old classic estates. They are wonderful to look at. It‘s just as it must have looked two hundred years ago. Nothing has changed. I love that. The wonderful houses and their cottages are nicely maintaine and their white painted clap boards looks so crisp against the green hills. We passed several noteworthy shingled mansions too with wonderful towers, turrets and interesting windows and large wrap around porches. The homes were perched high on enormous hilly manicured lawns that reached all the way down and touched the water. On the opposite side of the boat, not on Shelter Island but the land mass just south of Greenport were the small working man‘s cottages. They were sprinkled throughout the flattened landscape of marsh grasses and small ponds. They were modest and simple but equally picturesque in a different way. We passed an old resort that had cottage after cottage, lined up in neat rows on a small beach, all looking alike and small as shoe boxes. I loved the idea that things looked just like they have looked for over a 100 years. It‘s truly a beautiful area to cruise.
As we pass the ferry landing and make the turn around North Haven Peninsula we can see, in the distance, Sag Harbor. Even though it is quite a ways off, we could see the huge yachts at the harbor.
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Larry hailed the marina, by radio, as we got closer. We were given instructions to come in past the breakwater. There‘s a long stone breakwater to protect the harbor. On the outside there are a few sailboats at anchor. On the inside there are more to the left just inside the outer breakwater. I would imagine that anchoring on the outside could be exposed to some bad weather if the winds and current were in the wrong combination. As we entered past the breakwater, there is a pier that comes straight out into the harbor. It has a restaurant on it and and some large, well huge, yachts at the docks, right off it. That‘s not our destination. We are heading to Sag Harbor Yacht Club which is to the left and more inside the protected harbor. The yacht club has a huge yacht docked on the outer “T“ dock calle Milk and Honey. It‘s by far the biggest vessel around. We are instructed to come
around Milk and Honey and take the first slip right beside it. As
we come around this huge yacht (which is like a building), we see our slip and
are greeted by two girls who are the dock hands. They are dressed in light
brown khaki shorts with matching khaki short sleeved shirts (not blouses). They
are very friendly and welcoming. They take our lines quickly and professionaly
tie us up. They get the fenders and doors set in all the right places so there
is no post in the way. They were so good. I was totally
impressed. They immediately gave us a tour of the yacht club house, gave us
maps to borrow and offered to book dinner reservations, get rental cars or
whatever we needed. They are well trained and very professional. The place was
immaculate and every square inch was freshly painted. The club house was not
pretentious but stately and traditional. It was a small old building with high
exposed wood ceilings decorated with yacht club burgies from all over the
world. The furniture was comfortable white wicker with faded blue and white
large striped canvas fabric. The wood walls and ceiling were painted a crisp
white and there were glass enclosed cabinets displaying the club‘s various
sailing trophys and hats and shirts that were for sale. It was simple but very
New England traditional. Just outside the yacht club across the road was the Dockside Restaurant. It was located on a patio outside the Veteran‘s Hall. It was the place to be, where all the locals went. It was just off the main street of town, far enough away from the tourists, to give the locals a place to go. It was always busy and crowded with interesting people. Just across the road and north
of the yacht club were the docks for the smaller boats. They were just inside a
small bulkhead with a narrow opening much like a canal opening that you would
imagine a small narrow barge going through in the canals of England and France.
We would watch as the boaters, in their smart Hinkley style picnic boats,
manuever their way through the narrow opening. The small marina was filled with
beautiful Hinckly style picnic boats and other classic, expensive run abouts.
There were some really spectacular looking boats and all were immaculately taken
care of. One in particular, at the yacht club, was especially spectacular. It
was the largest picnic style Hinkley we‘ve ever seen and had to so much
teak on it that it must be a full time job keeping it in the great shape it‘s
in.
The whole week we were at the dock, we were next to the enormous yacht, Milk and Honey. It was a 130 foot plus yacht, 4 levels high. It was like being docked to an office building. A far as we could tell the owner was just a man and a woman and a small child. They could have been chartering the boat but I don‘t think so as the crew seemed to know the family too well. We spent our days, when on our boat, wondering how many crew members were on the boat. Each day we would notice another crew member surface. We figured they had eight people on that boat servicing the two of them. It was amazing that two people needed so many people to take care of them. It was like we were invisible to them though. We were only a dock‘s width from their yacht, maybe eight feet at the most, and the owner would never acknowledge our prescence. Each morning, he‘d come out in his fluffy embroidered white terry cloth robe and stand on the gangway, reading his New York Times or Wall Street Journal while smoking one cigarette after another. We‘d climb out of our boat getting ready to take Ziggy for his morning walk, and we‘d only be a few feet away and he‘d literally ignore us. It was the strangest feeling to feel like you were invisible or really, not good enough even to say “hello“ to. The only people we ever saw them talk to were other people on a large yacht that came in. If you weren‘t in the same realm, they ignored you. The crew, on the other hand, became very friendly but not at first. I think one of them was bowled over one day when I said good morning to them as we passed on the dock. After that, they all would always make a point to say “hello“ and ask one or two quick questions about us or the dog. It was as if they weren‘t allowed to talk to anyone but would sneak a question or hello in every so often. I don‘t think they were ever talked to as a human being by the owner, they were just servants, nothing else. By the end of the week the yacht club was filled with other huge yachts, but Milk and Honey still topped the cake in size. We actually became the pip squeek of the whole group. It was about time to go anyway. We‘d stayed about a week and needed to head on. On our last day, Sunday morning, the New York times was delivered to our boat. It was dropped just inside the door to the portegues bridge. It was topped with a dog biscuit. The dock staff loved Ziggy and every time we passed the office they would come out to give Ziggy biscuits. Obviously, Ziggy really enjoyed his stay there. He also enjoyed the local cormorant that would come near by the boat, everyday, and dive for fish. It was like clock work, same time, same place, every day. Ziggy got on to the schedule too and would actually wait and watch for him at the same time every day. It would puzzle heck out of Ziggy when the comorant would dive and disappear under the water. He just couldn‘t figure it out or where he went. He would run all around the boat looking out, searching for him and then cry and give a bark in frustration when he couldn‘t see him anymore.
click on the camera for photos
SAG HARBOR
I visited the Sag Harbor Whaling Museum one day. Larry walked Ziggy while I went inside. They have a fantastic collection of old whaling tools and whaling memorabilia including original scrimshaw and old photographs of the whaling industry and it‘s famous ships. It‘s worth a visit. At the time I visited, they had a special exhibit showing the beginnings of surfing going all the way back and beyond the time and travels of James Cook. I didn‘t realize that natives and indians all over the world were surfing and hunting whales way before white man learned from them.
THE HAMPTONS We rented a car so we could
explore the Hamptons. It was probably the most expensive car rental we
ever had. We couldn‘t just get a mid size car you had to get a luxury car.
Ours was a brand new, luxury version of a volvo. It was way more than we needed
or wanted with the Zigmesiter. It had leather seats that we were constantly
covering with towels so Ziggie‘s toe nails would scratch them. Guess the
Hampton airport has learned that its expensive clientelle would only expect to
have luxury cars available.
We soon learned there are several Hamptons; Bridge Hampton, South Hampton, East Hampton and so on. Each had its own character and all were equally fascinating. We also spent one day driving out to Montauk Lighthouse at the very tip of the fish tail.
SOUTH HAMPTON South Hampton was an amazing place. This place has in one concentrated area some of the most expensive homes in the US. The most stunning, including the likes of Calvin Klein and Ralph Lauren are along the sea shore and what they call the “pond area“. All the mansions in this area are carefully hidden behind tall expertly manicured privets or hedge for as far as the eye can see. All you are lucky to see are the multi faceteed roof tops and multi numerous chimenys and just a minimal glimpse into their long pea stone driveways behind ornate electronic gates and brick pillars. They‘ve got this place so regulated that no one can stop to take a picture. There‘s No Stopping or Parking, Anywhere, Anytime without the threat of a huge fine or incarceration (just kidding). The beach is off limits too to the common folk, unless you get a “special“ permit from town and in some cases that costs as much as $20 to $30 dollars just to park your car and walk the beach that everyone owns. The town is old and charming but very stodgy. People are not friendly and mostly kind of rude. You have to adapt your driving skills very quickly to drive defensively. The Hamptonites find it extremely important to butt in front of you or cut you off at every opportunity. It‘s the same case scenerioi inside the stores and restaurants. The protocol is to “see who you can cut in front of and make sure you get served first, or get the best, no matter what it is“. I don‘t know why these things are so important to them. It must be very stressful to have to worry about such things everywhere you go.
Bridge Hampton, in our minds was where the commoners, or those that work for the rich, go shopping or where the “rich and famous“ come to get a bargain, even though they don‘t need a bargain. It‘s your typical shopping mall that all we commoners know and use. It‘s where the area‘s main large grocery store is and K-Mart and well so on. Again, the same scenerio applies in the grocery store as out on the highway. Get your wheels ready because the women push those carts the same way they drive their cars. They just have to get ahead or in front, or butt in front to get the best produce before you can. No one is friendly or nice. It‘s a sad place in that respect. We noticed a huge population of Mexican or South Americans here which initially surprised us but then we concluded that they are the riches‘ working force or should I say slaves?
EAST HAMPTON East Hampton is by far the most gorgeous. No privats or hedges to hide the houses. The homes are spectacular and their grounds are out of this world. The rhododendrums and tulip trees were in full bloom along with the vibernums. The lawns were lush and green. The song birds were out and singing. It was just heaven on earth to look at it all. Again, they have lots of rules to keep the regular folk away, such as “no parking, no standing, no looking“, and to go on the beach be prepared to pay, pay, pay, unless that is, if you belong to the private beach club with abundant parking, showers, umbrellas, and refreshment and food bars. Again, no one is friendly and there is a snobbishness like we‘ve never experienced before, anywhere. It‘s sad that such a beautiful place has such disgruntled people.
click on the camera for photos
MONTAUK Aahhh, back to some real people, well except for all the ridiculous rules and regulations at the lighthouse. Again, “no stopping the car to just stop and take a picture“, “pay to park to see the lighthouse“, “no dogs allowed, ANYTIME, under no circumstances“. Wow, what a bunch of up tight people. I find it so surprising that what should be the people‘s right to walk and see things on our seashores is so abruptly taken away or that the privilege to see it is accompanied by a fee.
TIME TO HEAD ON OUT AGAIN We easily decided Sag Harbor was one of our favorite destinations on the boat, not to be out done by many other places but it was stylish, traditional and beautiful. We found the locals in Sag a friendly group though their Hampton neighbors not so. We so enjoyed our stay. It was nothing like any place we‘d been to yet.
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AH, as we enter the welcoming arms of Port Washington,
we felt cuddled. We passed a sprinkling of large mansions interspersed with
many beautiful medium sized homes gracing the shores of Long Island. We passed
a sand spit on our left anchored by a stylish house that was a cross between
what looked like a light house and a contemporary beach house. Once inside the
protection of the nature harbor we are stuck by how many boats are on moorings!
It‘s like a huge parking lot of boats. We have never seen so many boats
moored in all the time we‘ve been boating. The water is flat and calm. A
little wind is wagging the flags and burgees on the sleeping boats. We meander
our way through the swinging boats and head towards the dock per the dock
master‘s instructions at Capri Marina. We see two teenage kids on the
dock waving us to our spot. Richard, our friend is on the bow and he tosses the
line to the first dock hand and we tie up.
I went below for a quick nap and when I arose our guests
hadn‘t returned. The wind was picking up with a little chop over the water. I
became concerned. Did they get lost in the midst of this huge parking lot of
look a like boats and marinas or did they fall overboard? Why didn‘t we give
them our two way radios? What if there was an accident? Did they have life
jackets? Paddles? Of course the worry wart in me started to get busy with all
sorts of imaginable scenarios when all of a sudden I spotted a small moving
speck across the waste land of boats. It was Jane and Richard weaving in and
out of the maze. I knew it was them because I could see a speck of red and Jane
had a red sweater on when she left. I could see the moving spec going into
another marina area in the distance. They must be lost and overwhelmed with all
the boats. Now that I knew they were safe I got a little chuckle out of it. I
knew they would eventually make their way back to us as we were in the direction
they were coming. By the time they got back, it was getting brisk and chilly
again and I could see Richard had gallantly given his over shirt to Jane. They
had big smiles though so all was OK. 
As I mentioned, we were amazed how Manhasset Bay was just
filled to the brim with moored boats, yacht clubs and marinas. The cruising
guide says it has more yacht clubs than any other port on the Sound and it
becomes quite obvious as we meandered through this mass of boats. You can find
some of the oldest yacht clubs in the Sound here. One is the Knickerbocker
Yacht Club, established in 1874! It was the first sponsor of the
Frostbite Regatta, January 2, 1932 (if you can imagine!). Manhasset Bay
once was known as Little Cow Bay. In the 17th century Port
Washington was nothing more than a cow pasture, thus the name. In 1643, 18
English families rowed across the Sound and purchased the land from the Indians
so they could settle and practice their religious freedoms. In later days it
became known as the Gold Coast, home to the very rich who built huge
homes and castles to display their wealth, many of which we passed on our
journey in and would still see many more on our tip to Northport today. 
We headed back down to the dock, not without walking by the
glamorous Manhasset Bay Yacht Club with its groomed lawns and tennis
courts out front. Again it has an interesting story as to its beginnings. It
began in 1891 on a scow with a piano and bar and dues of $5. It‘s quite
different now. The club is a wonderful old wood building that is what everyone
images as the most perfect idea of a yacht club. Stately and traditional and
very elegant!
We left the peaceful quietness of Northport, heading slowly
out of Manhasset Bay taking more notice of the beautiful homes, well, mansions
really, that grace the cliffs and shorelines. I‘m sure if the weather had been
better, Port Washington would have been hopping and the restaurants around the
Bay and yacht clubs open and busy. Our timing with the weather was just a
little off.
We hail the harbor master at Danford‘s Marina & Inn.
The young man on the radio instructs us to tie up to the outside of their large
wooden bulkhead. We‘re not liking the looks of it and the thought of spending a
couple days here docked to that ugly thing was not very appealing.
Nevertheless, we maneuvered up to it. The tides are quite substantial in this
area and the tie up was not working for us. We were visualizing our stay which
would be struggling to constantly adjust the lines every time the tide
changed. We would be rubbing up next to this ugly, slimy wooden dock and Larry
and I both were getting irritated at the thought of it. We would normally deal
with the situation but since we were coming to a nice marina we didn‘t expect
this. Also we were wondering why we couldn‘t go inside the bulkhead and dock
like the rest of the boats. The line handler on the dock was having a terrible
time getting the lines tied to secure us and work with the tidal change. The
other negative factor was that every one going in and out of the marina would be
going right by our boat. We could tell this was not going to be a pleasant
stay. Finally Larry yelled at the dock hand and said he didn‘t want to tie here
and asked why we couldn‘t just dock inside. The dock hand said we could, that
simply and off we went into the marina. For Pete‘s Sake! So off the lines went
and Larry maneuvered inside to a nice slip, protected and the docks were
floating so no problem with the tidal change. Whew! You wonder sometimes
what‘s going on when they assign you to dock spaces? 
We decided that night on my mistaken recommendation to eat
at the crab shack by the ferry landing. I thought it would be fun but the clams
I got were the grossest looking things we‘d ever seen. They had the “pissers“
sticking out and the nauseating membranes were all slimy and hanging on to the
body which was sort of spongy. I just couldn‘t make myself eat them and Jane
took them back and asked them how they thought anyone could eat these disgusting
things? They agreed and offered to give us a refund. It was so funny and I was
very appreciative that Jane got them traded for a nice cup of clam chowder.
Thanks Jane!
Plum Gut is the entrance to the “fish tail“
area of Long Island, in other words the tale end. The entrance is marked again
by what we call a common light tower, this one being black and white striped.
Just beyond is a picturesque lighthouse in sand stone block on Plum Island
on the opposite side of the entrance. We can see a huge ferry coming at a very
fast pace from the direction of the mainland of CT getting ready to head in the
entrance. We slow down to let him go first. We are in no hurry and certainly
don‘t know the waters to be in a position to race a ferry in. He creates a
huge wake in front of us. That wake mixed with the crazy waters at the entrance
made for an exciting entry into the “protected bay“. The waters change depth
abruptly as you enter through these two points creating whirlpools and what you
might describe as boiling waters. The depths change quickly from 100 plus feet
to 20 feet. You can distinctly see the deeper water of the Sound it is like
satin and the demarcation of the shallow area is rough with white caps. As we
round the light tower marker and enter Gardiners Bay, the water is
swirling in different directions like whirlpools. As we get farther in to the
protected Bay, it calms down. It reminds me of areas in the Pacific Northwest
and Alaska where the waters rush through narrow areas like a rapid and create
boils which the Indians referred to monsters below the water stirring up
trouble. The ferry boat that cut in front of us is now joined by other ferry
boats going in and out from Orient Point. There are also many
pleasure boaters coming and going. We see more lobster pots that we will have
to maneuver around. The weather is fantastic, warm and sunny. Zig and I ride
on the bow of the boat and enjoy the breeze. There‘s land on all sides now as
we are surrounded. It‘s a protected feeling like the land is cuddling us into
safety. We see a beautiful sailboat ahead in full sail just enjoying this
Sunday. We see the lobster man responsible for all these lobster pots pulling
up his catch. 
As we follow the channel in to Greenport, speed boats are
coming at us and by us like a nest of bees that have been disturbed. They are
weaving back and forth over each other‘s huge wakes and creating even bigger
wakes over the other big wakes. They are speeding over the crests of existing
wakes and flying in the air. Our boat and another sailboat under power ahead of
us are both wallowing in this madness. His mast is wagging so badly from the
wakes that we can‘t imagine what destruction is going on in his galley. For the
first time on all our boat travels my cup of coffee is spilled all over the
pilot house settee where our computers are. I‘m cussing up a storm. Who can
tell what idiot was responsible, they are all acting like idiots. They are
going by so fast, so close and so furious that I‘ve never seen anything like
it. How can there be so many inconsiderate boaters in one place? The were big
cigarette boats and small speed boats, sports fishing boats and even trawlers
that usually are lugging along have their throttles full force. It was like
they were escaping the plaque. Where is the harbor patrol? This is awful!
I hate those tall rough
woody posts to tie to again. It‘s always a dilemma too getting on and off the
boat. We had two dock hands waiting to help us so at least that takes the
stress out of the situation because there is no way I can get on the dock from
the boat to tie it on those darn wooden fixed docks.
BLACK LEATHER, TATTOOS AND BODY PIERCING
We left again at a leisurly
hour in the morning. Every cruise lately has been short trips and today is an
especially short one. We are still on the “fish tail“ of Long Island and just
going to another nearby port. Larry had me (yikes) back it out from the
starboard outside station this time. I followed his instructions and what I
thought might be tricky went without a hitch. I took her past the marina which
is very much like a meandering river with no current. Larry watched over my
shoulder as I took her out and around the precarious looking sandbar in the
harbor. I had to hug the side closest to the bulkhead keeping us off the
sandbar. The opening was just as narrow today as two days earlier, but looked
smaller today because I was at the helm. We had plenty of depth below us and I
guess all the locals know it because everyone goes in and out of this narrow
area like it was nothing. They all know that this passage is dredged deep.
We came around the other side
of Shelter Island and could see a small ferry crossing in front of us
ahead. The island almost touches Long Island Sound or what they call North
Haven Peninsula. We see a truly magnificent old wooden house perched on the
point by the ferry crossing from one neck of land to the other. It is the most
wonderful thing to set eyes upon. As we approach closer I see that the windows
are boarded up and the paint is in sad repair. It‘s such a great place that I
hope that the town‘s people will find some way to preserve it. It surely has an
interesting history as it is the most fantastic place. It‘s right near the
ferry landing. Right next to it is another interesting place or what was left
of it. The remnants of the place look as if at one time a huge mansion must had
stood there. Now all that was left was the brick and ivy covered ruins of a
huge boat house and the magnificent stone or concrete waterfront. You wonder
what ghosts and stories surround these structures. The little ferries are busy
transporting people and cars across this narrow stretch of water linking Shelter
Island to North Haven Peninsula. They are the smallest ferries I‘ve ever seen,
well actually, they remind me of the ferries that run between Balboa Island and
Newport Beach Peninsula in Southern California. They are cut as bugs. There
are two working at once. They remind me of the little train that said “I think
I can, I think I can“ as they chug back and forth. 
SAG HARBOR YACHT CLUB
Actually I have to say that, we officially reached “preppydom“.
Everyone now was preppy with golf shirts, all colors and stripes with the back
collar turned up. Guys have khaki shorts with top siders, no socks. Well,
girls and women too. Some wear long sleeved dress shirts, stylishly wrinkled
and if it was slightly chilly they had matching or color coordinated sweaters
draped over their shoulders and losely tied around their necks, and of course
the polo collars are sticking up and out. It was like a uniform. The docks
were nicely kept and though the docks were fixed, not floating, it was OK
because it gave a nice old traditional feel to the place, (and I didn‘t have to
tie the boat to them, the girls did). It wasn‘t always graceful climbing on
and off the boat though, especially when we were docked to the mega dock with
its fancy polished stainless steel ramp that moved accordingly up and down to
the tide change. There were none of those old dark splintery dock posts here as
these were all sanded and painted light grey with white tops. The yacht club
was enclosed by a tall wood fence with lattice work trim and had a covered gated
gate area. The place was never locked but the yacht club but somehow everyone
knew that there would be no looky loos her. People, or outisders, just didn‘t
wander through. It was the same with the other marina off the pier. Somehow
that wasn‘t allowed. The staff here was extremely professional and always
friendly and helpful. They were here to help you with any need and obviously
are used to waiting on their guests. There was never a feeling that you needed
to lock the boat when you left. It was a safe place.
The town is wonderful. It‘s
just perfect for boaters. Everything is within short walking distance of the
docks and is so picturesque. It‘s like a small modern day functioning
Williamsburg. The main street through town has restaurants, boutiques, a small
but great grocery store, a liquor store, a wine store, bookstore, small hotel,
antique stores, a wonderful pizza parlor, homemade ice cream store, and every
thing is pretty affordable when you consider we are in the Hampton area.
The buildings are all beautifully historical and functioning just as well today
as when they were built. You just can feel the age of some of the
buildings when you walk in their doors. You feel the well worn floor boards and
the tilt to the building that has sunk to one side or the other over the years.
You walk down the main street and see that some of the buildings are slanting or
have crooked doors and windows. Still they are sturdy, built of solid wood,
with thick doors, and beautiful hand crafted trim. They just don‘t make them
like that anymore. Most of the the storefronts have white painted wooden planter
boxes out front, filled with the most wonderful combinations of flowers. The
window displays are very clever and nicely done. This town has style.
The nearby houses are mostly modest and reminiscent of a working class people
who made a hard living back in the whaling days. Some are more elaborate,
obviously built for the ships captains. Those have elaborate moldings and trim
and grand entrances, all with layers and layers of white paint. The little
working class houses are charming too. Many are shingle covered with maybe two
windows on the front and a very simple door with a simple, single lantern and
one door stoop. Most have picket fences out front to define their small lot.
BRIDGE HAMPTON 
We loved Montauk Harbor
though. It‘s a funky little harbor was busy with fish chartering boats, cute as
bugs and characters you can only dream about in novels. The amazing toothless
wonders, in rubber boots, and scruffy beards, hanging around the docks. Many
are hustling their boats for fishing charters. They all claim theirs is the
better boat to catch the bigger fish. Each dock is ladden or decorated with
smelly dried out limbs of great fish that were caught on their boat. They were
like trophies. Many had old weathered photos encased in yellow aged plastic
showing some lucky soul who caught some big fish or more likely a monster shark
on their boat. This place was JAWS all over again. I wished that we could‘ve
spent more time there. It was quiant and picturesque and as interesting as
hell. We loved it.