The Point Pleasant Canal was backed up with Saturday morning traffic as we tailed ten fishing boats to the Manasquan River and out onto the Atlantic Ocean. In a few hours we had crossed the waters into New York and saw the city skyline on the horizon. The view was a welcome sight as I had not realized how much I had actually missed home until now. Not going back to the city will be somewhat of an adjustment, but I was excited for the change and the new memories to be made. There was a cool breeze as we motored out on the open water to a slight chop and made a beeline toward the East Rockaway Inlet. The conditions were relatively calm and I drove most of the way across as Duane readied the boat for docking. It had just hit us both that this was the last time we would be tying the boat up to a dock until we arrived at our home port marina in Connecticut.
Making the turn into the channel, we maneuvered around pleasure boaters and were in full view of the all too familiar beach clubs of Atlantic Beach. Umbrellas and beach towels covered every inch of the sand as family and friends enjoyed the holiday weekend outdoors. Passing under the Atlantic Beach Bridge, which I had crossed over hundreds of times growing up, but never under until now, we were about an hour away from my friend Tara and Michael’s house on the bay along the Reynolds Channel in Long Beach. Approaching the dock, the Captain thought at first we would not be able to maneuver into position as there was an old boat lift taking up part of the dock space which I had not realized was there. But, it was no surprise that he backed in with expert precision. The kids helped with the lines and we were soon snug and secure against the dock.
It was a beautiful day and Duane went out on the paddle board with Breda and Brogan who tried in vain to knock him off. Guerin showed him how to navigate the jet ski and he was soon off taking a spin around the bay. While all the kids, big and little, played, I gave Tara a tour of the boat and we sat outside on the fly bridge watching all the activity. Michael was at work and we wouldn’t see him until the morning so Guerin hopped on his bike and went to pick us up burgers for dinner. Sitting out on the deck overlooking the bay, we had a nice night enjoying the breeze and talking while the kids played on the dock and jumped off the bow of the boat until the sun went down. The sunset was spectacular and the boat glowed in the reflection off the water.
Our quiet peaceful sleep was rudely interrupted at about 6:30 the next morning when we were rocked out of bed by the wake of a passing boat not abiding by the No Wake Zone. Up early, I grabbed my towel and took an outdoor shower before the kids made their way down to the boat. Our friend Jen was coming to pick me up later that morning to go to her sister’s beach club in Atlantic Beach. I had lived in Howard Beach two blocks from Dee and Jen for many years and loved going to Atlantic Beach where Dee now lived so this was going to be a treat. Duane choose to stay around the bay with the kids and Michael to enjoy the water sports. We had acquired a knee board along our travels and Duane whipped it out for the kids to try. Before we left, we gifted the board to them as they would get so much more use out of the toy than we ever would.
Grabbing some sandwiches from the deli and filling the cooler, our beach chairs were already waiting for us as we joined the circle of friends who had gathered for a lazy afternoon on the beach. Dee’s husband, Shane, pulled a chair up beside me and I told him some trip highlights as no one had believed a year ago we would make it this far. The day flew by and we all went back to Tara and Michael’s for a barbecue on the deck. After having drinks on the boat and showing everyone how we lived the last 394 days, Michael grilled up some chicken, hot dogs and burgers. Another great evening with friends was in the books.
Bright and early the following morning Duane took me out on the jet ski to show me what it could do. He opened her up full throttle to 52 mph and I thought I had whiplash as he jumped the waves and did donuts around the bay. Along with Dee and Shane, our friends Lisa, Laurie and her boyfriend George were meeting us for lunch at the Jetty Bar and Grill in town. Long Beach was my old stomping grounds and we set off toward West Park Avenue where I took a short detour to show Duane two houses which I had rented for the summer many many many years ago. When we were younger, we would pack the small bungalows to the rafters with friends and it would be a non-stop beach party every weekend. After lunch, we all went to have a drink at Lily’s sitting outside at the makeshift picnic tables set up in the would be parking lot. It was so good to see everyone and I hoped that these gatherings would become more of a regular occurrence now that we were back home…well as long as Covid didn’t mess things up.
Tara and I spent the rest of the time hanging out outside on the dock, catching up and making plans to get together in the “country” where I was now going to live. Michael had to leave for work super early so we said our farewells to him that evening before heading to bed. We again counted our blessings for having such good friends who were willing to take us in and add to the unforgettable memories we will have of this journey.
Tara was taking Breda to the eye doctor early in the morning so I went up to the house to wish them well before they left. After we showered and got the boat ready to move on, Brogan and Guerin helped us untie and watched as we drove off out of sight toward the Railway Bridge. Moving along, the Reynolds Channel Bridge was super narrow and said to have a clearance of 18 feet. I held my breath as we squeezed through with no problem before turning out the Jones Beach Inlet. Passing familiar landmarks the whole way, such as the Jones Beach Theater and the Jones Beach Water Tower, we powered through the Fire Island Inlet back into the protected waters beyond Robert Moses State Park. Once the lighthouse on the Great South Bay was in full view, we were in the home stretch to our destination –Ocean Beach, Fire Island.
After Long Beach, my friends and I graduated to renting summer houses in Fire Island for many years. During high season, the area was only accessible by ferry, water taxi or private vessel as motor vehicles were prohibited on the entire island. Fire Island, being a narrow barrier island consisting of a string of beach towns surrounded by sand and water, had always been a great getaway to escape the craziness of life in the city. Anchoring off of Ocean Beach, we took Baby Belle to the public dock and walked to the center of town. The shops and restaurants were just as I had remembered them and it was as the changing times had left the town untouched. Our friends, Staci and Jen, were taking the ferry over to meet us at Maguire’s for dinner so we sat at the bar and I ordered Duane a rocket fuel so he could have the full experience of life on the island. Seeing the ferry pull in, Jen and Staci soon rushed through the door and gave us the biggest hugs welcoming us back safe and sound. Sitting outside on the deck, we ordered drinks and toasted to a job well done. Duane pointed at the boat floating out in the bay with the magnificent sunset as a back drop…she had safely gotten us through many precarious situations and was a few days away from a much needed rest. The meal was absolutely phenomenal and the dinner guests even more enjoyable as we joked and laughed for hours just like old times. A year had gone by in the blink of an eye. Jen made fun of Duane and his selfie stick as I told stories of his hilarious photography attempts with the contraption. Staci, in turn, passed on relationship advice from Terrance as we had left them in Naples over 8 months ago in the height of our exciting travels and we were now headed toward boring domestic life. Walking them back to the ferry, I realized how much I had truly missed them and all the laughs and I was extremely sad to see them go.
The lights of the ferry had soon faded and we rode back to the boat to settle in for the rest of the night. There was a light drizzle when we woke up and moved the boat a short distance down the bay to anchor outside Sailor’s Haven. We took the bikes ashore and rode through the Sunken Forest. The forest was located behind the sand dunes and was a rare maritime ecological habitat. We biked along the wooden paths and through the sprawling trees and abundant plant life, but the damp air had stirred up the mosquitoes which were on the hunt. We had both sprayed ourselves from head to toe, but some still managed to penetrate and I was swatting and shooing the pesky creatures for half of the day.
Elated that I survived with only three bites, we secured the bikes onto the boat and I cranked up the anchor. It was a gloomy day and we drove along the Great South Bay to Narrow Bay anchoring in Shirley just beyond the Smith Point Bridge off the channel. There was not a soul around and the weather had cleared up enough to treat us to another beautiful sunset as we inched ever so close to home.
