BACKYARD CHARTERS...

By Mike Lee

 

It's difficult to find new places to explore these days. Seems like the masses always beat you to the punch. Even such remote locales as the five Capes, the Arctic, Antarctic and Mount Everest are old hat for adventurers. Our latest cruising destination was certainly not as exotic as all of the places, but it was almost as unheard of a place for a sailing cruise - Long Island's fish tail.

We set out on a chartered Beneteau 42' from our homeport of Newport, RI harbor early on a fall Saturday with weather in our favor, pushing us out of Narragansett Bay on a crisp autumn breeze. About two miles down the track, barely offshore, the wind came to an abrupt halt. It knew more then we did. As all sailors are reluctant to admit, some days sailing is just not going to happen, no matter how badly they want wind. Today was that day. It's strange to base an activity solely on wind, but thankfully cruising is more about and can still happen without sales hoisted even though sailing is a nicer way to get there. With a heavy sigh, we started the engine.

Motoring at the invigorating speed of 4 to 5 knots gave me time to think about sailing and cruising. I have always believed the best deal in sailing is crewing on a racing boat where you get to show up, have fun, tidy up and not worry about the bills, but there is something to be said for having the ability to take off whenever you want and drop the hook in some teal-watered cove and just hang out. Since we haven't started down the slippery slope of boat ownership, which for all its wonderful advantages also requires a good amount of money and a fair amount of time (don't let your house know you are getting a boat because it will soon be run down as the boat receives all of the attention), a cruise for us means chartering.

And that's OK, because it's nice to show up to a clean boat with a full fuel tank and an empty holding tank. Just like the Beneteau we chartered from Bareboat Sailing Charters was. Let's face it; now that Marianne and I are seasoned cruisers (twice now), we sometimes need a change of pace. Montauk, New York on the very east end of Long Island, is the sailing destination we never saw coming. Even when we were still miles away from the harbor entrance we realized there was one thing that happened in Montauk. That would be fishing. Think blues, strippers, sea bass, tuna and shark. The Gulf Stream slides along the tail of Long Island making the waters warm, which is ideal for all kinds of sport fish. We were even greeted by something with a black fin lazily floating around the harbor entrance. I think the Chamber of Commerce sent him to greet the silly sailors making their way to the marina.

Boats were everywhere in the Montauk harbor. There was every type of ocean fishing boat present and accounted for, acres of large, shiny sport fishers backed into their slips with outriggers standing at attention like the swords of naval officers. Scattered about were small Boston Whalers with a few poles, while next to them sat million-dollar sport fishing yachts fresh from the showroom. One section of the harbor was filled with the hard-working fleet of commercial fishing vessels, their hulls and rigging showing the effects of countless strenuous miles. Also in the mix were ferry-sized vessels loaded with hundreds of peopled ready for a day of sailing.

Montauk had a unique beginning because it didn't just grow into a town from people who had settled there long ago: it was designed and built. In 1925 a man by the name of Carl Fisher had a history of thinking big and doing big things. It was his grand idea to build Montauk. His goal was to develop the almost deserted area with its miles of beaches and stunning landscapes into the Miami Beach of the north. At the time the idea sounded a little far fetched, but he was he was after all the same multi-millionaire who designed and built Miami Beach out of nothing more than sand and mangroves. Building Montauk from scratch seemed easy by comparison. The location was more the ideal being only three hours by rail from the city of New York, and with three times as much beach as Miami Beach. Carl targeted his dream of a summer paradise to New York's upper crust by building golf clubs, surf clubs and a polo field, along with office buildings and an enclosed tennis arena. He even went so far as to take the freshwater Lake Montauk and blast a harbor entrance on its protected north side. He finished Lake Montauk off by plunking a yacht club right on Star Island. The only thing Carl Fisher did not envision was the Great Depression and the coming of WWII, which quickly snuffed out his dream of a rich mans paradise.

Montauk is not the place for late morning sleepers. The town comes alive well before the sun is up with everyone heading to their boats. In the 5 a.m. darkness, floodlights from the charters across the harbor filled our cabin. In my groggy state, I peeked out the companionway to figure out what the heck was going on. Coming down our dock was a boat owner followed by a dockhand sherpa-ing a cart of shaved ice. The boat owner kept looking at his watch as his pace quickened. Obviously he had a date with a fish. By 9 a.m. the slips were vacant and all was quite. Fish must be easier to catch before they have had their morning coffee.

By sun up it was strangely quite in the harbor, and now it was our turn to leave in search of our next destination. It was obvious we weren't going to need our sails today, so instead of hoisting sails up the mast, I hoisted Marianne and her camera gear. When we were far enough out and there was nothing interesting left to point her camera at, I lowered her to the deck. Next stop, Shelter Island.

Later in the day there it was, off in the distance, our next must-see guidebook destination: the Sunset Beach Bar & Restaurant (www.sunsetbeachli.com ) tucked away on Shelter Island.Logic told us we couldn't go wrong with a name like the Sunset Beach Bar,even if it turned out to be three wobbly bar stools and long plank for a place to set your beer. We motored close to shore, dropped anchor, and had a swim along with a few icy beverages before hopping into our little rubber friend, the dink, and headed to the beach bar. The bar and restaurant were made up of three open-air levels that reminded me of a cool tree fort I once had. The grilled burger I was dreaming of was quickly forgotten as I peered at the menu of fresh fish, grilled, broiled or baked to perfection by the chef. From our table we watched the sun glow orange and drop below the land as people applauded the day's end. The Sunset Beach Bar may have gone unexplored by us had it not been for its clever disguise as a burger grill and we would have missed a dining experience truly out of the ordinary.

After dinner, we had two choices within 1.5 miles to spend the night - Greenport with the famous Claudio's waterfront restaurant and marina (www.claudios.com ) or Dering Harbor on Shelter Island. We decided to head for Dering harbor, a quite little harbor where it is said that pirate Captain William Kidd buried his treasure.(www.shelter--sland.org/restaurants.html)

It was our last day on the Long Island trip, and still no wind predicted. This wasn't going to stop us, though, because our plan was to motor around the corner to Orient Harbor. We were straying from our original itinerary because Orient Harbor looked too interesting not to explore.

The east side of Orient Harbor is made up of a finger beach about two miles long, perfect for anchoring and exploring. The beach, we discovered when we dinghied over to it, was not a sandy beach at all, but made up of small, light colored stone that from a distance looked like sand. The long beach was desolate in the middle of what seemed to be a popular area. Very curios, A strategically place sign informed us the beach was Orient Bay State Park and prohibited walking about with out a permit because the land was designated a National Natural Landmark. The state was protecting a unique cactus, yes cactus, only found in this area. The cactus is known as the prickly pear (Opuntia humifusa). We were disappointed at not being able to explore, yet it was obvious this very ordinance kept this spot, surrounded by a very populated area, pristine. This was the kind of place we were searching for, but were going to have to admire it from anchor.

The rest of the day was spent back on the boat. With the exception of the lack of wind, for mid September our weather couldn't have been better. It was warm and humid, and our only plan for the rest of the day was to swing around on the hook, swim, eat and be lazy until we were picked up to go home.

Throughout our Long Island excursion the wind gods were away on holiday. It didn't matter too much to us, because whether you are in a sailboat or '67 Mustang, cruisers just enjoy watching the world go by. Our destinations were not what either of us was expecting, but ignorance guided us along the way and showed us cruising is alluring even if it is out of the ordinary.

The end came, and in true sailing fashion as we stepped off the boat our missing companion, the wind, returned.