The Seastreak

with Captain Gordon Young

August 25, 2014

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Paula Murgia suggested that we ride out to Sandy Hook on the ferry from Manhattan,

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but I had no idea that we would be aboard the Seastreak, a huge, multi-hulled ferry that I have admired and feared since starting the Tide and Current Taxi in 2005.

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We wanted to go chat with the captain, but the doorway to his cabin looked uninviting,

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and two attendants said that it would be impossible to visit ‘the bridge’ at any time.

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When I am out in my little boat, this ferry is the scariest thing on the East River. It is very fast, and something about the double hull makes a dangerous wake.

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The Seastreak seemed to devour the water behind her, and we watched the wake fill the entire river from bank to bank.

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Up on deck, the ride was smooth and flat. There was something wonderful about being aboard the biggest thing in the river, because in the Tide and Current Taxi, I am usually the smallest.

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We were ready for a day at the beach, but the rest of the passengers were coming home from work.

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This would be an amazing way to commute. I imagined the stress of the day slipping away as we watched Manhattan shrink in the distance.

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When we reached top speed, the sound of the engine was incredible, and we left behind a wake that must have been over a mile long.

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In no time at all, the city was a speck on the horizon.

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Just then, the attendant we spoke with earlier found us. The captain had agreed to let us onto the bridge! We would be able to look around and ask questions, but there was just one rule: no pictures.

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“That’s ok.” I whispered to Paula, “There must be some pictures of the deck online that I can use for my blog.”

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Paula snuck one with her phone just in case.

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Captain Gordon Young had a confident and easy demeanor. He spoke about the ferry like the loving, faithful husband of a capricious wife.

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This boat is one of the oldest in the entire Seastreak fleet, and Young is one of the only Captains qualified to drive her.

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We passed an East River Ferry, and I told Captain Young about my problems with wake from ferry boats. “The East River is no place for small boats.” He said. But he also reassured me about the Seastreak’s capability to watch out for smaller craft. Much more so than the drivers of East River Ferry, who he shrugged off as novices.

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Up ahead, two jet skis were heading straight for the Seastreak. “Sometimes they don’t realise how fast we are going.” Said Young, and he eased back on the throttle. The jet skiers spilt up right before we crossed paths, cutting within 10 yards of the Seastreak.  They were playing in the steep wake of the boat.

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Gordon Young dropped us off in New Jersey and headed back to Manhattan for the rest of his shift. It was going to be a pretty good day, he told us. His shifts are shorter, now that he is a senior captain and agrees to drive the older boat.

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Thank you Captain Young, for a great view of the harbor and some important navigation tips!

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It was going to be a good day for us, too.

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We had our bikes on board and we set off explore Sandy Hook.

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This thin peninsula was hit horribly during hurricane Sandy,

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but as a ‘barrier spit’, it may have protected the land directly west from a worse fate.

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We stopped at the Spermaceti Cove Lifesaving Station.

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It was built in the 1800’s to house the ‘Beachmen’ hired to save ships in peril along the treacherous Sandy Hook (said that sign).

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Everything about Sandy Hook was different than the Rockaways, just a few miles east.

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The beach was made of beautiful, uniform pebbles,

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and long, evenly spaced waves curled down the peninsula.

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There is something wistful about swimming in the fall, at the end of a sunny day,

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like all the summers of your whole life are coming to an end.

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We made the most of it,

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and biked back in the setting sun.

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Back at the ferry landing, we could see the headlights of Seastreak coming to pick us up;

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the last ship home.

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This time we sat out on the front deck, and we could feel the air coming off the water, much warmer than the first chilly night of fall.

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It was like the water didn’t want summer to end either, and was holding some of it in there for us.

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“We could do this a few more times before the summer is really over.” I told Paula.

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But we haven’t been back.

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