I enlisted a jolly crew of beery reprobates -- Peter and Tony and my son Andrew and Tony's pal Eddie -- to bring the boat around from Port Washington to the Hudson. We had a great day, actually. Great by my standards, at any rate. Fairly strong south wind, so we made it from Port Washington to the Throgs Neck Bridge on three boards -- or maybe four -- and then blasted along on a reach to the Brothers. Motored down the East River, rounded the Battery and for once were not pounced upon by the Staten Island Ferry. Somebody in that crew is clearly good luck.
As we headed up the Hudson ominous clouds gathered and theatrical lightning bolts were seen to strike land on both sides of the river. It didn't end up being as big a deal as one might have expected -- 'Verdi overture, Puccini opera', somebody muttered -- but for the last half hour or so the rain came pelting down in quantities I have rarely seen in New York. We all got thoroughly drenched but it never got very cold, and for me at least, wet is no problem unless you're cold with it.
We picked up the mooring sweet as kiss-my-hand, Andrew at the helm and me in the bow with the boathook. Another crewman observed that Andrew and I seemed to have a telepathy thing going, which was an awfully nice compliment. In fact I think we do understand each other rather well.
Photo of the gathering storm above, from Andrew, who also immortalized Eddie, Tony, and Peter, below:
