Escape From Staten Island

After a near-disastrous brush with Superstom Sandy, this cruising couple had to head south—minus a rig and sails.

- Kerry Pears

Something’s wrong. Something doesn’t sound right. What had jolted me out of my on-watch daydreams? I listened carefully; the steady rhythm of the engine faltered again. I was alone in the cockpit, in the darkest part of the night, and our engine sounded as if it was about to die. We had been battered by Superstorm Sandy, dismasted by the crane that righted us, and now, off the New Jersey shore with the wind rising and the seas steepening, the last thing we needed was for our aging Nissan diesel to withdraw its vital services.

Just 12 hours earlier, our 40ft aluminum sloop, Folly, had been launched at Staten Island on a bitterly cold December day. An English cruising boat, 3,000 miles from home, we had been held by financial ransom by the hurricane-hit marina at which we had been washed ashore during Sandy, and were vastly relieved to be afloat. We were convinced that our weeks of work in freezing temperatures had made Folly seaworthy enough to head south to a warmer winter, where we would step a new rig.

Adjusting to being back on the water, we hastily checked for leaks, and satisfied that all was well, looked at one another: “How would the weather and tide look if we left now instead of tomorrow morning as planned?” John pondered aloud. “We really need to get out of here”.

A quick review of the information confirmed that we were good to go, at least for the worst part of the passage ahead of us—an open-water overnighter along the blighted New Jersey shore. If we didn’t head south as soon as possible, we would be weather bound in Staten Island for the rest of the winter.