Delaware Bay to New Jersey (19/4/13)

The guide said the wide, forty-mile long Delaware Bay "can feel like it's 400 miles long" and it did. The currents run hard and we had the wind against us. At first, we hugged the shoals and passed close to the Salem nuclear power station in the murk to escape the ferocity of the tide in the main channel. James had suggested sitting it out until the tide turned to help us down the bay. Fortunately we didn't as conditions were slower and tougher when the tide turned. The wind over tide kicked up a nasty short and steep sea. Under power, we were barely making 2kts progress and April the autohelm's off course alarm was perpetually sounding as she lost steerage and blew round. We found the best tactic was to raise a triple reefed main and bear away thirty degrees, still under full power, which allowed us to make four to five knots' progress as we tacked up the main channel. Night fell and we still weren't out of the bay and again we were fighting the flood but at least the sea was smoother. Shipping was heavy and the fog was patchy – a massive dry dock passed a couple of hundred metres from us under tow up to Philadelphia, and another vessel hailed us in the dark to ensure we would remain clear.

In the early hours, we rounded Cape May shoals and bore away up the New Jersey coast and enjoyed the silence of being under sail. The morning dawned with lighter winds and dense fog. It was eerie to be at sea again with nothing in sight nor on the AIS and no shoals or marks to dodge. Our first landmark was Atlantic City. The hotel and casino towers punched out the top of the fog looking like the deformed bows of massive ships. Atlantic City held no attraction to us save for the availability of an easy and safe inlet if we needed to dodge inland to escape the forecast gales. We saw nothing else of the coast that day. Late evening, the forecast southerly gales began to build rapidly. We reduced sail to three reefs and a slither of genoa poled out as we swerved downwind and surfed the building waves. A steady current with us prevented the seas from building badly and within a few hours we were approaching the shelter of our destination – Sandy Hook. The fog had thickened but the sea was still visible in the darkness under a pervading sodium glow from New York to our north. Entering the channel to round the Hook, James took the helm as I stood on the foredeck to try to spot the channel lights, but most we just heard as we passed them.

At the top of the hook, the fog lifted rapidly and then the temperature rose over ten degrees in a matter of moments. We had rounded the north end of the spit and the wind now had a long land track up the warmed New Jersey dunes. It felt like standing under a hand dryer. To our north, the lights of downtown New York glistened behind the Verrazano Narrows Bridge. We were still making nine to ten knots with just the triple reefed main but had to motorsail once more as we headed south for the breakwater and mooring of the Atlantic Highlands Municipal Marina. We followed the New York ferry in and James deftly picked a path through the minefield of deserted moorings, posts and shallows to a safe spot for the night.