Shopping with Gary

On our last full day in St. Augustine, we met up with our friend Gary from Manasquan, NJ--our first good samaritan and lifesaver, who had long beat us down to St. Augustine by car while we poked down the ICW. Gary took us to a colorful spot on Oyster Creek called Hurricane Patty's for lunch, where we caught him up on our travels, and he shared his special blend of funny anecdotes (MaryAnn versus Ginger comes to mind) and thoughtful suggestions/advice.

Then he drove us to one of his favorite shops, Sailor's Exchange, which, for anyone who is a packrat, a gearhead, a fixer-upper, a DIYer, or autistic, is absolute paradise. See for yourself.

 

 

 

 

Last Post in Manasquan

Yesterday, it looked like the wind would finally be favorable enough to leave Manasquan and head on an overnight offshore leg to Cape May, NJ.  Evan and I started our last day by skipping cereal in the boat and heading to the local breakfast mecca called Breakfast.

This is what remained after we labored at our plates for an hour. Their version of huevos rancheros: beef chili (of course!?), potatoes, green peppers, and eggs. The plus side of this weird breakfast was that we wouldn't have to cook for at least two meals!

Later, on the way back to the boat, we saw a house with what looked like a Halloween TP hangover. Turns out it was just an example of the bizarre suburban high school practice of cheerleaders "decorating" varsity football players' houses the night before a big game. (The cheerleaders are not being mischievous or tongue in cheek at all; this really is meant to be decorative and a morale booster.) My best friend was a cheerleader in a suburban high school in Jersey, and I bemoaned then, as now, how sexist and lame it is to make cheerleaders spend hours baking brownies and crafting lawn decorations for football players. Pity the poor parents too--may they pass the chore of cleaning up.

Arrested Development

Yesterday came and went. Tuesday, the day we were supposed to be out of Manasquan. Yet we are still here. We got the fuel filter we were waiting for, but now we are going to be here until Saturday because, Thursday, professionals will come clean and polish the fuel tank, and the wind isn't forecasted to be good for us until Saturday. This sailing business can really be a test of patience. We are catching up on "Arrested Development" on dvd.

Manasquan, and the immediate town of Brielle, are pretty towns with porched houses and American flags galore. Some homes without flag poles just stick the flag straight into giant tree trunks on their lawns. Many homes wave both the Italian and American flags. Others fly their favorite sports teams or family slogans next to the stars and stripes. These towns appear affluent, but the abundance of Sotheby, Prudential, and (local realtor) Richard I. Wood signs on front laws belies the appearance. On one stretch of Brielle Road, which runs straight to the dunes at Manasquan Beach, three modest bungalows in a row, and a lot, were for sale. The house directly across the street was a multistory, turreted, shingled wood mansion that stood in stark contrast.

In town, almost everyone I encountered was under the age of 20. The salesgirl and cashier at VNA Thrift Shop (where I bought an even wider straw hat than the one pictured in an earlier post) were no older than 14 years old. The cashier at Bit of Paradise deli reminded me of my 17-year old cousin, all stormy curiosity. It was a surprise to find myself sitting next to a pair of women in their 50s at lunch. Naturally, I eavesdropped as I ate my sandwich in the sun, and, listening to their slow, raspy and tremulous complaints, I had the impression that these were women who had never had much time to themselves and only themselves, that these women had perhaps gone straight from taking care of younger siblings in their childhood homes to taking care of husbands and sons and daughters. At my next stop, though, it was back to the young and the restless; the barista at the local coffeeshop--Sweet Tease--was college-age and taking advantage of the mid-afternoon lull to blare Ani DiFranco-esque music.

Another notable thing about this neighborhood: in five days (and 1000+ people, by Evan's estimations of the giant supermarket, marine stores, hardware stores, town center, two restaurants, and docks that we have frequented), we have seen three African-Americans, a handful of Hispanics, and a couple of Asians. Why are there so few minorities in such a beautiful area? Hm.

Perhaps it's a reaction to my environment, but I have been craving and cooking up a storm of Korean food these days. Alas, we have just run out of kimchi, the nearest Asian supermarket is a 25-minute drive away, and we don't have a car. Come Maryland, I will be stocking up, stink and space be damned.

Manasquan, NJ

We are here until at least Tuesday, while we wait for a fuel filter to come in. A local named Gary, who has sailed up and down the East Coast and in the Caribbean a bunch of times in his own Cape Dory, spotted us our first day here and came by to say hi. What a nice guy: he's driven us all around the area to the supermarket, the hardware store, and a bunch of marine supply stores. He's full of great boat and cruising advice, which he dispenses in the least pedantic manner I've ever experienced from anyone who says "Here's what you need to do..." I think part of this effect is created by his nodding gently while you talk, then repeating back your last few words in a ruminative but affirmative tone before he tells you what you're doing wrong. One of his favorite expressions with us is: "Weeeeell, you live and learn..."

Here is the marina we're staying in. Technically, it's in Brielle, which is right next to the town of Manasquan--which we'll explore later today--and on the Manasquan Inlet. It's a quaint little place. The lavender bathroom is straight out of the 50s.

I've taken a liking to the colorful hoses on dock.

And to prove that not everything is boat maintenance and provisioning, here are some pics of the Point Pleasant boardwalk and our ride on the Manasquan Water Taxi. Kitsch galore!

Detour in Manasquan

We left Atlantic Highlands yesterday and headed down along the Jersey Shore in high spirits, Evan, Vanessa, and I. It was sunny and warm out, and Hurrican Igor-spawned swells were gentle and far apart. Unfortunately, the light wind was directly behind us. This does not make for speedy sailing at all. (I know it seems like it should--doesn't it just blow us where we want to go then?--but the physics work better when the wind comes across the sails). So we chugged along on motor in order to make a minimum speed of 5 knots an hour. (This is 5.75 miles an hour, not much slower than the 7.6 miles an hour that is this boat's maximum speed. I will be posting about this in some other post soon.)

Things were going well for the first few hours, then I started noticing some of that seasickness from the other day. Newly learned lessons from the other day were put to the test. Valiantly applied as they were, they failed. A few hours after the first feeling of heartburn, I felt my mouth water, which could only mean one thing. I leaned over and puked, wondering if I had turned green just before, like I hear some people do.

We held open the option of cutting this leg short and ducking into Manasquan, which was on our way and not too many hours off.  I sat up on deck and watched for the swells and rogue lobster pots. I drank some ginger-lemon-honey tea. I thought how beautiful and strangely abstract the sea looks. I took  pictures. 

Then the decision about whether to cut our leg short was made for us: the engine cut out.

Damn engine! It came back, but died again a short while later. Evan's BoatUS membership came in handy, and he radioed in for a towboat to come pull us through the long inlet into the small harbor of Manasquan.  Night fell by the time we finally arrived at the inlet. Vanessa said she felt like she was riding Pirates of the Caribbean at EuroDisney. This boat (imagine it lit up at night), with its skull and crossbones, may have created that impression.

This is our first real stop on the Jersey Shore. We will be here for a few days, fiddling with the fuel filter, waiting for another good weather window, and checking out this town.