It didn't take much convincing for us to leave Cape Lookout after seeing the forecast for North Carolina which showed a low forming south of our position. The prediction was that it would probably turn into a hurricane and come into the anchorage. The near term near term forecast north of Cape Lookout was 5 to 10 knots with seas of 1 to 2 feet. How could we resist? We headed out towards the Gulf Stream where the sea temperature went from 21.6c (72f) to 26.6c (81f) and the north flowing current added up to 5.3 knots to our SOG (Speed Over Ground). As the sun set at 8.10pm and the moon rose at midnight, it was very comfortable taking 4 hour watches with so much light. Maynard prefers the 8pm to midnight watch and I enjoy the post-midnight watch so we were immediately comfortable with our sleep patterns. Both of us found we had much to do so the watches flew by in no time. North of Cape Hatteras the Gulf Stream heads away from the US coast so we were about 80 miles offshore which is fine if you don't think about it too much. Invest 91L was now declared Tropical Storm Bonnie and it crossed the coast near Charleston, South Carolina, went inland then north and reformed and spun over Cape Lookout. It must have been looking for us.
During our trip, we saw a pod of minke whales, a Northern right whale and several families of dolphins. Occasionally we would see ships and cruising vessels but mostly it was a very lonely trip. On the second night when I was due to take my midnight watch during the changeover, I could see that the moon was just a small orange sliver. Now that we were back out of the Gulf Stream, the temperature of the water had plummeted to 13.5c (55f). I stuck my head out of the bridge door and saw clouds of mist swirling on the starboard side of the boat. It was as if the heat of the engines on the starboard side were mixing with the cold air and were engulfing us in an eerie fog. Being at sea on dark nights on a large vessel takes a steady mind but for some reason that particular night, the cold water and the mist and darkness made me very uneasy. Maynard immediately said he would do a double watch if I could do the same during daylight which of course I agreed to. It was light again at 4am so I was soon back on deck and Maynard was able to rest easy until 11am.
Off the Long Island coast, we both encountered fishing fleets with dozens of boats moving in completely random patterns. Weaving in and out of these guys took lots of concentration and the shipping lanes leading in and out of New York added a fair amount of excitement. I saw one ship many miles away that was on a collision course for a long time. Maynard was in bed but had always told me to make decisive moves which show the other vessel my intentions. It is often the case that ships are on collision courses ie 500 ft or less CPA (Closest Point of Approach). I like to know well in advance which way they're going and how long to 'impact' so I find their AIS information on the chart plotter and instigate a vector so I can decide whether I need to make any adjustments. At times, it's not for the faint of heart, I can tell you. Even though we've cruised for many years, one has to be fully alert at all times. If I have any doubts, I always call Maynard and this way, he can sleep better. We have so much information at hand these days with radar and AIS that it's much easier than when we sailed across the Pacific in 1998 and stuck our heads out of the cockpit every 15 minutes to see if anyone was around.
In past seasons we've anchored at Sandy Hook, New Jersey but this means we have to negotiate the Staten Island ferries and mayhem of New York. It was easier this time to stay out to sea aiming for Montauk Point at the far north-eastern end of Long Island. On the afternoon of the third day after going through fog patches, we passed the Montauk Point Light where the wind was funneling at 28 knots. We anchored in a quiet bay south of Montauk near a town called Orient. We'd done it. Bonnie had kicked us out and sent us a long way north. We'd just taken Vanish nearly 1,000 miles, 3 nights and 5 days at sea with 1 stopover by ourselves. It was now time for a few days of rest and reflection.