The Leeward Bridge (Hurricane Earl, part 2)

   The day after Hurricane Earl was suppose to pass, I headed out  to the Marina. New York had not gotten a direct hit from the storm, but it was still blowing good on Saturday. The air was super clear and beautiful, I could see all of Sheepshead Bay, and there wasn't a single boat out. I figured that must have meant something. So I waited to see what would happen. I lay on the beach, under the boat, sleeping some.
    Then the Russian 20-something guys that own the boat beside me showed up. They had a few cigarettes and a couple beers to steel themselves as they rigged the boat. They were going out.
    So I was going out.
    I had a plan. To avoid being over-powered by the wind, I decided to try sailing with only the jib. I strapped the main wrapped around the boom to the boat, in case I'd need it later.
    With still no other boat in the water they pulled out just ahead of me. The wind was out of the West and provided a nice tack directly South into the bay. I was moving pretty well with the jib alone. They capsized once they got half way across. They managed to right the boat only to have it pushed over the other way. They  repeatedly capsized, maybe 6 times. I was fine, shiny side down and crossed the bay, then gybed back across the bay, then back again once more. Thinking at first I could help them, then realizing I was best off just surviving myself.
    Someone on shore must have seen them capsizing and called 911. A helicopter came out a hovered over them as they righted the boat again. Then 3 full fire trucks came half way across the Ft. Tilden bridge and stopped, obviously watching the Russians and I as they continued to capsize then fly off, and as I tiptoed slowly across the bay. Seeing the helicopter and all the fire trucks made me think that it was probably a good idea to retire for the day, having successfully stayed upright and avoided the municipal expense of a rescue.
    So I gybed a second time to a Northerly reach to take me back into the Marina. But I was underpowered to beat even 90º to the wind and current. I was being pushed East towards the bridge. This was bad. At first my goal diminished, I figured I'd have to gybe again to make it into the Marina. Then I realized I lost a lot of ground turning and that would actually worsen the situation. So my new goal was clear the point, get into Dead Horse Bay and figure it out later, but I soon realized I wouldn't clear the point. I was headed for the beaches of Floyd Bennett Field. Not terrible. Then I realized there was a bigger problem, at my current rate I may not even stay clear the leeward bridge. And if I hit the bridge with the mast I was definitely capsizing, if not demasting, and could expect firemen in the water to save me. Not a pleasant prospect.
    There were at least 2 dozen firemen watching me now from the bridge and a few other spectators. They were yelling at me with a megaphone but I couldn't tell what they were saying and I couldn't make them understand what my situation was. I continued. There was nothing else to do.
    As I got closer to the beach, my margin of safety from the leeward bridge became less and less. I was close enough to the bridge now that I could understand their question "Are you okay?" I said yes that I was just going to pull up on the beach. I landed with about 10 feet to spare from being dragged under the bridge. One fireman came down to the beach and helped me pull the boat half out of the surf. They had no idea how close it was; my path to the beach right beside the bridge had seemed intentional I think. I told the fireman that I would stay put until the wind lessened.
    The Russians had not needed rescue either - they had righted their boat and returned to the Marina. I figured I'd kill maybe an hour sitting on the beach there, then sail home. 3 hours went by. Then 3 more. I was downwind of home and around the corner with the bridge still standing there to leeward. I did some beach combing, napped some more, then realized I'd have to do something, the sun would set in a couple hours.
    I decide to walk back to the Marina in the water pulling the boat, just beyond the breakers. It was a mile and a half, mostly in chest deep water. It was treacherous. there were several ruined docks in my path with the post still there covered in barnacles, half of them hidden under water. The point was an old dump too in the first half of the 20th century so the seafloor was made of broken glass, rusted wire, and tar. At the point the wind and the waves really picked up and there was a collapsed dock there that I'd have to go around. I stopped and looked at it for a while before proceeding. I had to walk out in water to my neck, holding the front of the boat in the waves and pulling it. The wind would grab the boat at the top of the waves and I'd float free for a second.  I figured worse case, let go of the boat and swim for shore. I made it around the point and back to the Marina as the sun was setting. My shoes were tatters and I was super tired. But otherwise, all good. I figured I learned the danger of the leeward shore pretty well.

Drying my pants in the fresh breeze. Already a half mile from the bridge at this point.

The ruined docks I had to climb through, boat in tow. When I looked at these pictures, I was disappointed that you could not see the strength of the wind in the waves.