Saturday, Flag Day, 14 June
The meter on the diesel pump rolled on toward 500 gallons. This gave the skipper of the big Sea Ray time to ask, “So, is this your homeport?” gesturing to the pier on which we stood.
This seemed an odd question in as much as the skipper was looking at the transom whereon the hailing port is clearly displayed under the name Steadfast. Her homeport confirmed, the Sea Ray skipper appeared startled.
“So, you brought her up all the way from Virginia? Wow. And she’s how big?”
Granted, there are those moments when even the crew of Steadfast questions this undertaking, as during the approach today to Oyster Bay Harbor.
The drama of a passing thunderstorm is unmatched when viewed from the cockpit of a small boat.
It had all gone so well ‘til then, Steadfast underway shortly after 0900, motoring north out of Manhasset Bay, then hoisting sail and turning east to run up Long Island Sound a ways. After the storms that blew through last night, a twelve-knot nor’westerly had her moving along smartly at 5 or so, for awhile, and even as the wind laid-down a bit, it still was fun to finally sail for a change. She’s quite comfortable under sail and, though cool under a thick cover of clouds this morning, it was a delightful run up to Rocky Point and the turn into Oyster Bay.
With the wind dead aft, there just wasn’t enough to keep sails full with waves and wakes from passing traffic. And then, 17 miles from Port Wash, it happened.
Little Red sprang to life all right but with that tell-tale hollow sound in the exhaust pipe that says “I’m choking!” The water intake filter was clogged. That’s the first time this trip but experience tells us it won’t be the last.
Once a big wad of seaweed was pulled from the Perko, she was back under power and motoring past a seemingly unended array of vessels, mostly under sail, several engaged in a regatta that brought them back and forth across the channel.
Remarkable waterfront homes, like this one on Oyster Bay, seem to be prevalent along the shores of Long Island harbors.
The bay’s West Harbor was the intended anchorage for the night but two factors intervened. One, West Harbor was filled by 30-foot-plus racing sleds engaged in another regatta. And two, the northerly that had diminished earlier was up on her toes and honking down the bay. Eighteen and 20 knots more often than not. This made for an interesting time in-and-out of the fuel dock on the harbor’s south shore, at which point—nearly 1600 by then—the decision was made that the modest fee for a mooring was well worth the peace of mind for the evening.
The foretriangle of a classic yacht frames another handsome estate on Oyster Bay.
So here she sits, or rather bounces, sways and swings. This is a gorgeous harbor, Oyster Bay, and a busy place, too. Busier than we’d anticipated. There must be at least 150 moorings in front of this one marina, the few still vacant are filling fast and, so it seems, those here all want a ride ashore on the water taxi. And still more boats swing on moorings all over the bay.
Yep. We’re not in Hallieford anymore! But that, mates, is why we cast off in the first place. Hoist the flag and fly the colors proudly!
Steadfast out.
At Sea with Steadfast 
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