We left early on a pleasant morning. We sailed west in Long Island Sound for about 20 miles, before entering the East River. We sailed past Laguardia airport and other places of which I had heard, but have never seen.
After an hour or so, the East River turned south and there was Manhattan. That's when the sail became spectacular!
We sailed past the United Nations, the Chrysler Tower,
past the Empire State Building,
and under the Brooklyn Bridge. One of the attractions of the Bi-Centennial was the tall ships. Tall Ships from all over the world gathered and toured US ports. We saw a couple tall ships at dock on the East River.
The East River ends at Battery Park on Manhattan (far left in the picture).
The harbor opened up and we saw a number of other famous New York landmarks. The first was Ellis Island,
then the Statue of Liberty.
Looking back we had an awesome view of New York City. In 1976 the World Trade Center, only a few years old, stood proudly near the tip of Manhattan. This was one of the most memorable sails of my life. I was, and still am, in awe of New York City.
We sailed under the Verrazano Bridge in the afternoon, leaving the protected water and into the open ocean again. The plan for the next couple of weeks was to sail down the Atlantic seaboard, then into the Delaware Bay. Then we would sail up the Delaware to the canal that links it to the Chesapeake Bay. Finally down the Chesapeake to Norfolk, Virginia.
We had a beautiful evening and night sail down the New Jersey coast. I loved night sails when we could navigate by the lights on shore. The next day started just as pleasant. One thing you learn sailing, nice weather doesn't last forever.
The last thing I remember seeing on shore was Atlantic City, late in the afternoon. Earlier, I heard a weather 
report that called for scattered thunderstorms. So when the storm approached us from the southeast I really didn't think much of it. I figured we would simply ride it out and continue on our way. But THE STORM wasn't going to make it that easy.
Winds picked up and the rain pelleted us. We dropped the mainsail and the head sail and raised the foresail, leaving us with the infamous mizzen and foresail combination.
The winds strengthened to gale force. The waves grew to enormous sizes, huge ocean swells the likes of which we had never seen. Foam was spraying off the tops of the waves. We were fortunate for one thing the wind was coming out of the north which allowed us to sail downwind. Osprey raced downwind, surfing on the waves, lurching and heaving by the might of the wind and waves.
"Pitch-poling" is where the bow digs into the water and the boat flips end over end, "Broaching" is where the boat get sideways to the wind and waves and rolls over on its side. I could see how either could happen in these conditions. It was scary!
The helm was incredibly difficult to handle, and having the mizzen up didn't help. As a wave would approach us from behind it would lift the stern up and push the stern hard. The mizzen would catch the wind, adding to the force spinning Osprey into the wind. It would take the boat sideways to the wind and the waves, nearly laying the Osprey on it's side. To keep this from happening the helmsman had to counter the wave action just as the stern was lifting, by turning the wheel to starboard with all one's might. Too soon and you risked jibing. Too late, or too weak, the boat could broach. The strain on the rigging, especially the rudder, was incredible too. You could feel rudder shimmy and shake, as you leaned on the wheel with all your strength. We had a steering quadrant break in the Great Lakes the summer before. I just prayed Osprey would hold together.
Dad, Doug and I took one hour shifts at the helm, which seemed like an eternity. The hours went by slowly. This "scattered thunderstorm" wasn't relenting. In fact, it kept getting worse. Night fell and the sky went black. THE STORM blew harder. The waves got bigger, scarier.
Dad tried to lower the mizzen sail while going downwind but the sail was pressed tightly to the mast and rigging. The mizzen wasn't going anywhere. We didn't dare to turn into the wind to drop the sail either. Coming into the wind would require us to risk broaching twice. I was impressed when Dad threw warps over the stern which improved the helm somewhat. The drag from the ropes also reduced the chance of pitch-poling. Still it was a fight, a battle, a struggle. At the helm, I cursed the storm and screamed for it to quit. It didn't.
Navigation was sketchy. Using dead reckoning we plotted our course and running position. The storm pushed us south. For a while, I was hoping we could find the entrance to the Delaware Bay. If we could get behind Cape May, I thought, we could get some shelter from the wind and the waves. Our latest position fix was at least six hours old. We would need to identify a buoy if we were going to make the turn. But there was no chance the waves were too big, the sheets of rain and the spray too thick, to see a buoy.
Not knowing exactly where we were or exactly where land is made the anxiety more intense. (GPS navigation sailors never experience this. What a shame!) Our dead reckoning navigation showed us passing Cape May with no way to safely turn into the Delaware Bay. Now, we had a new concern, and this one just as threatening. Before, we wanted to stay close enough to shore to make the turn. Now, we needed to stay far enough out to sea not to run aground the on the land that juts out on the south side of the Delaware Bay. The new challenge at the helm was to make as much eastwardly progress as possible, as the gale pushed us onto a lee shore. To do this the helmsman had to risk broaching all the more. It was exhausting.
The battle at the helm continued through the night. The storm at sea scene in "Forest Gump" is a decent depiction of what it was like. For hour after hour the wind blew a gale. The sky was pitch black but the water was glowing from the phosphorous being churned up. It was surreal.
On my shift, sometime around 4 or 5 in the morning, the wind subsided. THE STORM was over after 12 grueling hours. Some scattered thunderstorm! As the sun rose the wind died. For what seemed like hours I sat at the helm of the Osprey, becalmed. The sails slatted back and forth as we bobbed in the undulations of the ocean. I couldn't see land. I knew everybody was dead tired, but I was still surprised at how long they slept that morning. I just sat there looking at the glassy water, pondering what we had just been through. Finally Doug, Mom and Dad arose to a hazy, but sunny and warm morning.
The question was, "Where are we?". Our best guess was that we were about 50 miles south of the Delaware Bay. Without wind we turned the engine on and steered a course west, back toward shore. After a couple of hours we saw a buoy. We read the markings. Doug tried to identify the buoy in our navigational aids book. He couldn't find it. Then he looked in a different book or a different section and finally found the buoy. It was the Chincoteague Delaware buoy about 10 miles off shore. The reason Doug couldn't find it was that it was 60 miles south of where thought we were. To go this far we must have been traveling at 12 knots during the storm, nearly twice Osprey's hull speed.
At this point, it was easier to go on to the Chesapeake Bay, than to go back to the Delaware. So we plotted a course south. Next stop Norfolk Virginia.
After a long day of powering we finally arrived a Norfolk Harbor that night. Norfolk is a major base for the US Navy. In the dark of the night we sailed past the huge silhouette of an aircraft carrier. It was so big. I was in awe.
While in Norfolk Doug and I noticed that the musical group Chicago was coming to town. Chicago was one of the hottest groups in the country. Unfortunately, the concert was going to be after we left. Doug and I decided to take the bus back to Norfolk from Morehead City.
We left the Osprey docked in Norfolk and we drove to Washington D.C., Annapolis Maryland, Williamsburg Virginia and Charlottesville Virginia.
This was an especially great side trip for me. I had never been in this part of the country.
I really enjoyed being in our nations capital. There was so much to see, including the Jefferson Memorial.
Thomas Jefferson seemed leave his mark on everything. We saw the University of Virginia,
and his wonderful and beautiful home Monticello.
Annapolis Maryland was one of the ports that we thought we would visit by water. But because of the storm, we drove to Annapolis.
After the great side trips we started down the Intercoastal Waterway, the final leg of the trip for me.
The inter-coastal waterway from Norfolk to Morehead City is a long and tedious trip. Hours upon hours of time at helm navigating from marker to marker to marker. The sun was brutally hot. I decided to take the opportunity of 3 days of isolation to quit smoking. This was a bad idea. I was uncomfortable and irritable. This is not the prescription for a happy day with 4 people on a 50 foot boat.
A beautiful Sunset near Pamlico Sound, part of the inter-coastal waterway in North Carolina. The beauty of the Sounds in North Carolina was the redeeming quality of the trip. After a very long trip powering down the inter-coastal waterway we arrived at Spooner's Creek Marina, in Morehead City.
I immediately bought a pack of cigarettes, putting the stamp of futility on the quiting smoking idea.
This was the end of the line for me, but just the beginning for my mom, dad and brother.
As with everything Dad had carefully planned Spooner's as the place where they would outfit and supply Osprey for the around-the-world trip. Dad was a meticulous planner and that would serve them well in the years to come. Reading accounts of other voyages, reading weather charts and learning about ports and facilities around the world, the trip was planned out in great detail.
From Spooner's Creek Marina looking out towards the inter-coastal waterway, you can see the inlet to the ocean. I said good-bye to Mom and Dad. This was tough. It was an emotional good-bye. I felt they would be fine, but there were so many unknowns and uncertainties. And there was the fact that just about every time into the ocean we got lost! 
As planned, Doug and I took a bus from Morehead City up to Norfolk to see Chicago in concert. The concert was at the Scope Arena, downtown Norfolk.
On the street corner outside the Scope Arena, I said good-bye to Doug. It wasn't a particularly sad good-bye. But, I remember seeing something in his eyes. Whether he was just disappointed I was abandening ship, or apprehension about his adventure to come, I don't know. At that moment the thought crossed my mind, "There is a chance I may never see him again." Perhaps Doug sensed the same thing. I wished him luck.
With that, I walked off to the train station, my ski instructing job in Crested Butte Colorado and relative safety. Doug went back to the bus station, back to Morehead City, Osprey, and continuing the adventure.
