Manhattan Transfer                                                                                                                              

Like a little frog leaping onto a leaf and riding it down stream, spinning its way through the currents, rips and eddies was my ride down the east river. After two days of storms the weather broke allowing me to pull the anchor at 10:30 pm in order to make the midnight tide at Hell Gate. As I entered the river I was greeted by barges, tugs and ships moving in all directions. Panic stuck me as I closely passed between two moving barges, I would have turned back but had no choice the fast moving current had its teeth in me, like it or not, I was committed, headed toward Harlem, the east river had me now. Soon I found myself alone being careful to avoid the hundreds of years of sunken ship, barges, the rocks sticking up from nowhere, and the shallows outside of the channel.  As I rounded the bend at the Triborough Bridge I was grabbed by the surge from the Harlem River pulling the boat with such force I almost went over the side, watching my speed double I was headed toward the gate, fog moving in and wind beginning to blow. I kept thinking please don’t be any ships in the gate I can’t fight the tide; I can’t stop, or control the flow. And like that I found myself making the turn, the boat slipping sideways in the current, I couldn’t steer, I couldn’t see the fog was too thick. I was now being pushed to the head of Roosevelt Island. Hitting the power the boat sputtering forward into the mist, in the distance I could see a slight reflection of from the cars racing down FDR drive, I could now overwhelmingly  feel one of the strongest currents in the worlds, one of the best currents; the pulse of Manhattan. Mesmerized by the mystique of the fog smoking city now broken by an ocean going tug breaking through the clouds, waves tumbling from its bow, coming right at me, I pushing on the tiller hard to starboard, I once again was on the leaf.

From Roosevelt Island to the tip of Manhattan I felt like I was living history, a movie and seeing something in a way rarely seen. Bridge after magnificent bridge and 3 ½ hours at the helm I now slipped past the battery clearing Manhattan knowing that I was living a moment I would never forget. High from the ride, my legs started to shake the Statue of Liberty fading from my vision fast in the fog and by the time I cleared Governors Island I could no longer see 100ft, the light or lady liberty; Manhattan a distant memory. I took this trip for the adventure, I took this trip to really feel life and now I found myself in the middle of New York Harbor, alone, in the thickest soup, blind, racing in the outbound tide, in one of the busiest harbors in the world a little frog among one million pound iron goliaths moving all around. In the distance I could hear their giant motors rattling the water, their house size propellers churning at the water. I kept waiting for a freighter bow to break through the clouds, gasping my last breath, breaking my little leaf. I hugged as close to shore as I thought I could get in the dark to get out of their paths.

Soon I found myself approaching the Verrazano Bridge one of the largest expansion bridges in the world which marks the entrance of NY harbor at the narrows. A pillar seen from NJ to NY and within less than a quarter mile I couldn’t see it. Carefully lining myself up in the channel to miss its bases, I made my run for Sandy Hook NJ the sky turning clear and in an instant I could see. In the channel in front of me were ships of all sizes impatiently waiting for the harbor to become clear before entering. As I moved forward the fog kept pace behind me, never pulling away, never getting closer. Once again fear sleazed a hold as the fog horn poured from deep within the bowls of a rusty freighter hiding behind the cloak of fog behind me. Its sound rattling my spleen, I could feel the blood start to pump, I knew that in any minute he would be on me. Setting a course between a reef and the channel I safely moved to the side and watched him appear from the mist. Out of the way and now being tossed in a horrifically rough ocean, unable to even stand at the helm, broken now, I refused to stop I was going another 18 miles to the Jersey Shore.  Four hours later I found myself at the breaking inlet to let me into the protected water beyond, I surfing my way into the inlet, I was now safe. That afternoon after tying up to the Goldenberg’s dock, I stood on the ground for the first time in days still feeling the ocean rolling under me. The only thing missing: Theme Music.

People keep asking me how I can do this alone and all I can say is, “I can’t!” In our modern world we are taught and at times believe that we really rule our worlds, can do it alone and are immortal. I want to thank Earl, for sitting up most of the night as my co-pilot on the river, until my phone died in Manhattan. Without him walking me through the gate with his firsthand knowledge it would have been tough. Thanks to Adam for guiding through the breaking inlet into New Jersey and all the countless emails, text message and face book encouragement from all my family and friends. It reminds me of something I heard my uncle say recently. “If you want to see how you will turn out in life, look at your friends”. Pick them wisely, take care of them…no one is an island.