We grab a New London town mooring for several days. Brendan has to be in New York City for work Monday through Thursday so we need a solid spot to leave the boat while we’re away for several days. (Also, we haven’t bathed in over a week, and the town offers some solid amenities for transient boaters)
It’s difficult to tell whether New London is on the brink of a renaissance, or in the final phase of that renaissance’s downfall. (And as someone who loves industrial and seaport towns, I say this with great affection.) Every other building along Bank Street and State Street seems to be an abandoned storefront. These storefronts offer soot and sawdust through arcade window displays. They entice ghost-shoppers to pass through their crumbling entrances, aisles of once-ornate tiles. Sprinkled sparsely among these apparently empty buildings are a handful of galleries and hip eating establishments.
When we return from NYC, we make a quick trip to the nearby <3 Defender <3 warehouse to pick up some essentials (warm-weather gloves, a new inverter, cupholders for the cockpit). We also entertain some special guests — the original owners/builders of Creeky — Henry and Brigitta — who live relatively nearby in Rhode Island. The night before we depart, it is cold, and Birgitta meets us for an early dinner at FatBoy’s and offers some warm words of encouragement.
We set out the next morning (Saturday) at around 7 o’clock. It is sunny but the temperature is still bitterly cold, with a RealFeel® of 12 degrees. Sea smoke drifts over the waves, steaming towards us in soft, gray ripples. The weather makes for a bone-chilling experience for whoever is on the con and the dodger provides little respite from the frigid wind.
It’s blowing 18-22kts and we put out the jib. Suddenly, a huge gust slams the boat over to an extreme heel. I’m (Carrie’s) at the helm, gripping the wheel. “Woah, woah, woah!” I say, slurring, sliding across the cockpit. In a moment of irrational panic, I fear something in the rigging has snapped. Brendan rushes to ease the jib and we level out steadily. We both breathe a sigh of relief and quickly agree that we need to reef the sail, but I’m a little shaky throughout the rest of the trip.
Thankfully our trip isn’t too long and we make it to Port Jefferson on Long Island around 3pm. We anchor, warm up, down some hot toddies, and head into town for dinner. Port Jeff is nice (FYI, excellent public restrooms at the ferry terminal) and we get a kick out of all the establishments with punny names (e.g., a fromagerie called “C’est cheese” — c’mon!)
The next morning (Sunday) there is no wind whatsoever, so we set out relatively later (9am) and motor about seven hours to Barron’s boatyard on City Island (Bronx). Fortunately it is mild and warmer (mid-40s), allowing providing a much more pleasant trip than the previous day.
New London, CT:
Leaving New London:
Entering New York!
