City Island, New York

The days since our last stop in Connecticut have seen us sail through two additional states, meet some fine people, and see some wonderful sights. 

After we left the rainy but nevertheless pretty cool anchorage at Sheffield Island, we motored (sooner or later Cupcake will get to be a sailboat again, but we understand that the trip south will largely be a motorboat ride) through a rainy fog into a foggy rain that eventually resolved itself into a sunny day by the time we got to City Island in The Bronx. (Side note #1: Why are some places known as “The” places like The Bahamas, The Bronx, The Hague, The Netherlands, while others are known just by their proper names, like Schenectady, Timbuktu, Transylvania?

(Side note #2: I had been too embarrassed to let on that our radar wasn’t working when Cupcake was launched this year. Then in the fog as we made our way down Long Island Sound through increasingly frequent commercial traffic, the lack of radar seemed like less a pride issue and more of a safety issue. Because I installed the system myself a few years ago and it always worked well, there was nobody else for me to blame for the problem. 

I checked the wiring twice, went up the mast to check the wiring up there, added dielectric grease to all the connectors, (Side note #3: dielectric grease is my second-favorite greasy potion, I have two tubes aboard. My first-favorite greasy potion is Marine-Grade Anti-Seize Paste. I have a whole tub aboard) and messed around with the software. 

No dice. 

Then the other day I took a third look at the wiring. (Side note #4: each fall when the boat is hauled out of the water for the season, the mast is taken down. When that happens, all the electrical bits up on the mast (VHF antenna, WiFi antenna, radar, masthead light) need to be disconnected at the base of the mast so the mast can get stored in one place and Cupcake can get stored in another place.) 

When I installed the system a few year ago, I made sure the positive wires were red and the negative wires were black so they couldn’t ever get mixed up. I also labeled each wire that came down the mast as “+” or “-“, and I labeled the corresponding wire to which it needs to connect at the base of the mast, also “+” or “-“. I also marked with Sharpie next to the connections which was + and which was -.

And then when I connected the wires this spring, I did it backwards. Two simple, color-coded, over-labeled connections, done 100% wrong by the guy who put it together in the first place.

So, on the bright side, the radar is now fixed and works like a charm. My goodness I can be an idiot when I put my mind to it.)

Anyway, we dropped anchor in what could most accurately be called the middle of the City Island mooring field. Plenty of space, nobody minded. And what a secure spot. Good sticky Bronx mud. Got permission from Barron’s Marina to use their dinghy dock, and went ashore for the first time since Mystic.

Got groceries, had lunch, waited out a thunderstorm in the cafe where we had lunch (watched a James Bond movie on their TV while we waited) and got some bits and pieces for the boat.

The next day I got up early and went for a run the length of City Island. The key to success in the restaurant business on City Island is to name your Seafood/Italian restaurant something like Ray’s or Tony’s or Joey’s. The key success in any other business on City Island seems to be to make it a beauty parlor. 

The people of the island are friendly as can be, provided you don’t say “good morning” to them as you jog by in the morning. That phrase (and similar ones like “hi” and “how you doing?”) are met with very suspicious looks. City Island is not Maine.

We met up with our cousin Steven for lunch. He drove us to The Bronx to an Italian Seafood place. (Moss thought he was driving crazy fast because 40mph was the fastest we have moved in weeks. He was obeying the speed limit but does have a bit of a potty mouth.) Moss ate calamari (tried it first, was told what it was second, didn’t care and kept on gobbling it up). We checked out a market where some guys were rolling cigars. Saw all kinds of animal parts laid out for eating (pig trotters, for example), so much delicious looking sausage, sampled the best mozzarella cheese I’ve had in a long time, and generally enjoyed a little walk in the city.

Then Steven took us to his house where we the propane parts we needed to finally fix the second tank were waiting (remember that we’ve been on one tank since Woods Hole). Ellen has been nervous that we will run out without warning and without a second tank, so no brownies have yet been baked aboard.

Said goodbye to Steven after a delightful day with him, went back to Cupcake and hooked up the propane. SUCCESS! Everything worked perfectly, no leaks, lots of gas in both tanks.

The next morning we were planning to run down the East River, past Manhattan, to anchor near the Statue of Liberty. Timing was critical (my father and probably other sages will tell you that time and tide wait for no man). We needed to get ashore by 8:30 to buy eggs and milk, be back on the boat by 11am, up anchor by noon, leave the gas dock by 1pm, be at the Throg’s Neck Bridge by 1:45pm, in order to be at Hell Gate as close to slack tide or a fair tide at 3pm. Critical, careful, meticulous planning.

So when Ellen started the stove to make coffee and pancakes, the propane sniffer gave the green light, turned on the solenoid valve to let the gas flow, and then after about three minutes shut it all down with the shriek of the gas leak alarm.

Turns out that in all the yanking and wrenching on the gas valve at the tank end of things, I kinked the old copper line running to the stove and caused it to leak. Once the gas started flowing, the leaking gas made its way to the bilge where it was detected by the detector.

Now the clock was ticking: we needed to get a replacement copper pipe (with proper flared ends, etc.) in time to work the tides through Hell Gate and into the City. What to do?

We went ashore, and about a block from the marina we saw the Cottam Heating and Air Conditioning shop (motto: Reliable, Conscientious, Responsible). On a whim, we popped in and asked if they could make a pipe to replace our broken one. Turns out the owners, Gary and Vicki are not only sailors, they are Pearson sailors.

Had a very pleasant chat with them about sailing in the Long Island area, about long-distance cruising, about making the long-term cruising dream happen. While we were talking, one of their employees was busy making a replacement propane line for us. Finished it in a few minutes and then wouldn’t let us pay. We walked out with a new copper pipe, a handful of chocolate candies, and a nice dose of sailing magic. Thank you very much Gary and Vicki and everyone at Cottam.

Finished out last-minute grocery shopping, upped anchor, filled Cupcake’s diesel tanks (only our second fuel stop since leaving Maine), and sailed towards the Throg’s Neck Bridge.

My typing paws are getting tired. Stay tuned for the East River installment. Wifi is slow, pictures will be up eventually.