We are sitting comfortably at anchor in the Hudson River off of the 79th Street Boat Basin as I type this, but wow, was it an adventure getting here. It all started with a confluence of factors that resulted in our ultimate voyage plan. We intended to leave Newport, RI and head offshore, passing to the south of Long Island, which would put us well offshore New York as we made our way to the entrance of Delaware Bay.

Well, plans are just that…While in Newport we looked out ten days and just could not see a good two-day weather window to make this transit. However, we had a good 24 – 30 hour window to transit west in the protection of Long Island Sound towards NYC, so that’s what we decided to do. This meant about 100 miles to our west was Hell Gate, where Long Island Sound meets the East River, the river that lies directly east of Manhattan. It meant we’d be cruising just feet from the beauty of Manhattan, which in truth, excited me at the thought of the kids seeing the skyscrapers up close and personal.

We left Newport on my 44th birthday (September 23rd). There wasn’t much wind at all so we motored out of Newport into Long Island Sound. We weren’t sure where we’d stop, but had researched several options (Block Island, Port Jefferson, Port Washington, Little Neck Bay, etc). As we started the day, we started planning the passage through Hell Gate. This is an area with difficult currents, so it’s best to transit at slack current that is going from flood to ebb. This would allow us to transit notoriously difficult sections with no current, and then as the flow ebbs we’d be helped along with the increasing current down the East River. For us, this meant the window to arrive Hell Gate was Monday AM 1000, Tuesday 1100, or Wednesday at noon.

There were other factors at play. One was our desire to get offshore from New York for a Thursday or Friday favorable weather window. Another was a rainy and windy day on Tuesday (uncomfortable but not unsafe to move in Long Island Sound). Third, the United Nations General Assembly was meeting this week, which meant there would be times that the East River was completely closed, and the other times you could only transit East of Roosevelt Island. There is only one complicating factor with transiting East of this island; a lift bridge that must open for our mast to fit under (no big deal we thought).

The transit down the Sound was going well, and we quickly left behind our eastern anchoring options. We looked into the timing of Hell Gate with our progress and turned out if we continued overnight, we’d arrive one hour before the Hell Gate window Monday morning. On top of that, the East River was closed Monday early due to the General Assembly but would open at 0930, just before our 1000 window. With all these factors lining up positively, we decided to push on. If we could get through Hell Gate Monday, we could sit Tuesday during the rain, see NYC Wednesday, and then prep Thursday for the offshore voyage Friday AM.

We arrived on time and started out transit toward the East River a few minutes before slack water. As we approached Hell Gate, vessel traffic hailed me on the radio and asked my intentions. When I told them I intended to transit the East River under the Roosevelt Island Bridge he informed me the bridge was stuck in the down position. “Crap,” I thought. I had studied the charts and knew there was 40′ of air gap under that bridge down and 99′ up. My mast is 65′ off the water. That math just didn’t work,

Vessel traffic asked if could turn around and I told him I wasn’t comfortable doing that with incoming weather and the current starting to ebb (I’d be against it if we turned around. I asked for an escort through the zone west of Roosevelt Island (there are no low bridges there) but was denied due to the UN Assembly, as President Trump was there and Secret Service offered no exceptions.

We reluctantly turned around and slowly proceeded back where we came from. We talked about what to do, and I’d be lying if there weren’t more than a few expletives. I found the phone number to vessel traffic and talked a bit more in depth about options. He was polite, offered several possible anchorages, and also said the bridge would likely be fixed within an hour. I proceeded towards an anchorage very slowly, hoping the bridge would be fixed but knowing the current was getting stronger.

About an hour later, Steph talked to the bridge operator who told her the bridge was fixed. About the same time a large mega yacht and two sailboats the same size as ours began moving towards Hell Gate. I looked at Steph, who was texting with Jamie Gifford of Totem about the situation. She said Jamie’s advice was to wait for the next slack water (current was over 3 kts growing to 4.5 within an hour). We talked risks:

• We’d be moving 4-5 kts down river while in neutral with no ability to steer at that speed (there’d be no water over the rudder)
• In order to gain steerage we’d need to power faster than the current to get water moving past the rudder. This meant things would happen quickly, and there wouldn’t be time to stop and analyze a situation. We’d need to be ready to react quickly.
• If we needed to turn around we’d be fighting a massive current. Wind was with the current, so we’d have to fight wind and current.
• All this said, we had the advantage of heading into Hell Gate once before being turned around earlier. It was wide open with plenty of space to turn the boat if necessary.
• Also, three boats were heading in before me, so I could stay back and react to their situation before I encountered it. If a sailboat got into trouble, I could react before I got into the same water.

After a few minutes of discussion, I told Steph I was confident we’d handle it okay and we turned and fell in behind the last boat.

Steph texted Jamie, told him to grab some popcorn, and joined me at the helm.

As we approached, we listened to Utopia, a 150′ megayacht, converse with the bridge. At one point, Utopia paused right in Hell Gate, and that boat can as it is a powerful megayacht that likely has some type of dynamic positioning (push a button and the computer automatically adjusts the engines to keep the boat in place). Serendipity has no such luxury, so I put the boat in neutral and drifted at a leisurely 4 kts towards them. I heard the captain say, “I’m holding in Hell Gate, so make it quick!” as he was dealing with some oncoming traffic.

The Utopia started moving a minute later so I did too, He rounded the corner and lined up for the bridge. Then stopped. Again. By this time I was in Hell Gate, and figured I had three options:

• Go through the security zone and risk the ramifications. There were NYPD boats there that would likely stop me, by force if necessary
• Keep going around the corner toward the bridge, or
• turn around in Hell Gate and attempt to hold position

The problem with this approach is the bridge is around the corner of Roosevelt Island, so it is hidden on the approach. By the time the bridge is visible, it’s almost too late to abort, as we would be getting sucked through the East River at 5 kts, which would be very difficult to overcome. Basically, if we started around the corner, we were likely going under that bridge whether it was up or down.

I chose option 3, and swung the boat around into the current. I powered up to about 75% of our engine power and the GPS said we were making about 1 kt….IN REVERSE! Even at 75% I couldn’t overcome the current…we were going backwards. We held that position for about 30 seconds and noticed an area just around the corner with less current where the other two sailboats were holding. I swung the boat around and moved to this area where I could maneuver.

During all this, we heard on the radio, the bridge had not yet opened, and there was one electrician walking off the bridge (assumingely the guy who fixed it). The Captain of the Utopia was agitated on the radio. “I’m in the chute, I need the bridge open!” You could sense the tension in his voice. The bridge operator responded again that the electrician was walking off the bridge. I felt like telling him to have that electrician RUN. There were four boats trying to hold position in a difficult spot, in a spot with little margin for error. After what seemed like an eternity, the bridge started to open and the Utopia proceeded swiftly down river.

I felt tremendous relief, and pointed the bow in the direction of the bridge behind the Utopia and the two other sailboats. “We made it!” I thought. I was moving along about 9 kts behind the Utopia, and watched her slip under the Roosevelt Bridge. My mind eased even more.

Just then, the unthinkable happened! The bridge operator started to lower the bridge. I yelled on the radio, “Roosevelt Bridge, you have three more boats to transit under the bridge!” The captain of the Utopia, safely under the bridge, spoke sternly into the radio as well, advising the bridge operator he needed to open the bridge NOW! The two sailboats ahead of me were pretty close to the bridge, and they swung around hard to fight the current. I did the same. I wasn’t making any headway, but wasn’t losing much either. I yelled to Steph, “just watch the bridge, tell me when it starts to open again!” The minute it took for the bridge to begin to open felt like hours, but it opened. I swung the boat around again, and drifted under the bridge at 9 kts.

After that we enjoyed a leisurely ride around Manhattan. The kids were in awe at the size of it all, and Steph and I couldn’t stop thinking about the experience we just encountered. We were never in serious trouble, but we were in a position where we could have easily become in trouble. As a cruiser, my risk tolerance includes having “outs”, or options. When we dock, we discuss a plan and then say what is our out should it go wrong. For a few minutes during this evolution, I had no “outs”. We were in it. It worked out, but definitely made an impression and I have no doubt it will impact our decisions moving forward. It was a great experience that will make Steph and I better sailors, but it is one I don’t want to do again.