Passage to the Chesapeake Bay

[Kyle]Our timing for the leg from New York to Chesapeake Bay was a bit strange. We wanted to depart New York Harbor on the ebb, which is quite strong, and then time our arrival at the Delaware Bay entrance to be at the beginning of its own very strong flood. To get between the two, our average speed only needed to be a sedate four-and-a-half knots. With twenty-knot tailwinds and a half-knot boost from the coastal current, our big problem was going to be keeping Begonia slowed down.

Leaving Coney Island Creek (where the abandoned submarine sits in the creek, and locals make use of the sand spit for a bit of fishing), the lighthouse is Nortons Point Light (at the tip of Coney Island, in Brooklyn); farewell New York

It was a beautiful, clear day that would have been perfect for bombing along under the spinnaker. It was tough to resist the instinct to try to get the best performance out of our boat, particularly when a couple of monohulls overtook us. Even though they were cheating (I could see the exhaust water churning out of both, for what reason on such a perfect sailing day, I have no idea), we could have easily left them behind.

Proving that we made a good boat purchasing decision wasn't supposed to be our primary goal. I told my inner teenager to shut up and go sit in the corner - Grandpa's driving!

Sailing off the New Jersey Coast

Through the Chesapeake and Delaware (C&D) Canal at night to our anchorage in Still Pond, MD

Getting to Delaware Bay early would be bad. Not only would we be fighting the quite considerable ebb, the wind, which was also supposed to shift with us right about then to push us up the bay, would still be against us then. That would leave us getting beat up as we tacked into headwinds and probably losing ground with each one.

So, keeping our speed a little high, as a hedge, we kept the spinnaker stowed and sailed with just the jib, which we gradually reduced as we went along. By the time we were ready to make the turn northwestwards into the bay, I had been under bare poles for the last three hours of my watch.

We were still a bit early for the current change, but the wind had already shifted. Now the strategy was to go as fast as we could. Pushing into the last of the ebb, we were still able to go six or seven knots over the bottom during dinner together.

Then the current reversed. Maryanne woke me an hour early for my night watch, telling me the wind had died, the boat was barely moving, and that she needed to start an engine to maintain steerageway to help her avoid being set into the heavy shipping in the channel. Then she disappeared to go deal with everything.

Barely moving? Aww, that was not good news. We're going to lose the flood! We'll be stuck in this bay all day now! Why didn't she start the engine earlier?

After climbing the steps from our berth, she handed me a cup of coffee. I went outside and saw four big ships, two in each direction, passing by as we hugged the margins of the deep water on the outside edge of the channel. I took a look at the chartplotter to see how bad the damage was to our progress from the lack of wind and did a double take. In the five hours that I had been sleeping, Maryanne had dispensed with the entire fifty-five mile stretch of Delaware Bay between mouth and the entrance to the Chesapeake and Delaware (C&D) Canal.

Oh... Nevermind.

The last of the flood had just ended. That was perfect, because the ebb flows westwards through the C&D Canal. It pushed us through and then down Chesapeake Bay to our first anchorage at Still Pond. There, I was able to turn the tables on Maryanne and wake her up an hour early so she could drop the anchor. We're here!

---

Anchorage location >> On google maps