How Hiding from a Hurricane Can Really Lead to Lots of Growth (w/ Pics Sailing Through NYC)
⛵︎ Logbook 8/24/25: 68 days into our global sailboat odyssey
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Ahoy fellow explorers,
When nature intervenes on our best laid plans, there is some aspect of it that makes life very simple. We know who’s boss.
While coastal sailing, we look in our toolbox for options within our control, like putting out smaller sails or finding a protected cove while the weather blows through. We don’t give up. We try to have fun. We continue making forward progress one way or another. But we take every reasonable precaution to avoid catastrophe from high winds & heavy seas.
That still doesn’t mean it’s always easy or we’ll consistently be happy about it.
Last week, we anchored across the bay from New York City and closely monitored Hurricane Erin gaining strength in the Caribbean. It was still days away from us. The forecasts said we had zero chance of Erin making landfall nearby. But no matter what, the winds & seas would get rocky. Our anchorage had a little jetty protecting us from the northerly winds & waves, but it would still be an awful defense from what was brewing in the Atlantic. If we wanted a more comfortable — and potentially safer — week ahead, we’d need to find a better place to ride out the storm.
On Tuesday last week, we made a move.
We had already strolled through NYC on foot, but we hadn’t yet passed through the city on our sailboat. So, we decided to find some protection from Erin after getting an up-close look at the buildings, bridges, and NYC population from the water. The only hurdle was that the forecasts for the next couple days showed rougher weather than we prefer. We’d need to sail through 20 knot winds and 4-foot waves in the waters dividing New Jersey and New York. We knew we could do it, but it’s always intimidating — especially because the weather models have consistently underestimated Mother Nature this summer.
But this was our window and we took it.
This week’s Logbook is about continuing to forge a healthy relationship with Nature aboard our small sailboat, particularly as new liveaboard sailors. It’s about adding more tools to our toolbox. It’s about savoring the gorgeous sights of human-made skyscrapers and other structures in NYC (plus lots of amazing pics of us sailing through it). And it’s about needing to make the best of some rough days while waiting out a storm and getting to the other side.
If you missed last week’s Logbook, check it out here for free:
This week I also published:
An essay about our journey as a same-sex couple refitting our sailboat for 1 year in North Carolina and then sailing through the conservative South (available here).
An incredible interview with about her journey selling all her possessions in 2017, exploring the world as an artist on a tight budget, and her amazing resolve to keep going (available here).
If you’re already a paying subscriber, I want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your subscription will continue to fuel this project, sustain the adventure, and help us keep sharing with you all for years to come.
NOW:
Here is this week’s Logbook:
We sailed through NYC and had the most unique views of the city imaginable: We got million-dollar views of the Statue of Liberty, One World Trade Center, Brooklyn Bridge, Empire State Building, Rikers Island, and more. Tons of pics included below.
Riding out the storm (the internal storm, too): We made it to a protected cove in Long Island and hid until Erin passed by. I also learned a major lesson about my own mental health.
1. We sailed through NYC and had the most unique views of the city imaginable
By the time we left our protected anchorage in New Jersey and pointed our sailboat at NYC, we hadn’t sailed in 7 days.
We got to explore the joys of city life and all that came with it over the previous week. Food, ice cream, art, people, and fresh-water showers. We loved every second. After all, we don’t live on a sailboat because we don’t enjoy the culture & conveniences of city life. We adore it. And we also appreciate the perspective on the world by going without. But I won’t lie: it’s always hard to break free from all those luxuries ashore. It feels sticky.
The impending hurricane was finally the kick in the butt we needed to move.
Setting sail, the plan was to pass through NYC in the East River, squeeze between Manhattan and Brooklyn, hang a right when we passed Queens, and then swing around Long Island to an area we decided would be best to wait out the winds, waves, & potential storm surges from the hurricane offshore.
And that’s what we did.
To get there, however, we’d need to get through a tough environment.
We needed to sail across the Lower Bay in those strong winds & rocky seas that I mentioned earlier — plus, me at the helm. It was a bit challenging because I needed to keep our heading with waves bashing against our back corner. Also, we needed to time our entry to the mouth of the East River, because the current could be 5 knots against us at some points in the day as we moved into Long Island. That would mean that we’d basically be running in place if we didn’t time it right.
But we cruised across the bay and it was a blast. We had our smaller headsail out, called the working jib, and only a portion of the mainsail lifted, so that we didn’t get overwhelmed by the strong winds. It was the perfect amalgamation of speed & caution—just the way we prefer it.
We got an instant reminder of what we love about this lifestyle and the days we get to sail. It’s thrilling. It’s beautiful. And we’re constantly reminding ourselves what’s possible when we keep pushing forward.
As we entered the city, we kept the engine off as long as we could, but at one point the currents got a bit too strong and the winds had died down. We were no longer moving at the pace we needed to get through the East River before the currents picked up even more. So, we fired up the engine with gratitude.
We kept the sails up so that we could harness the winds the best we could (i.e., motor sailing).
And it was quite a sight to behold.
Sailing under the Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge into the Upper Bay
First sights at NYC from Chérie
Sailing under the Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridges
Up the east side of Manhattan
The sailing crew*
*The boat cat was asleep down below. I’ll get pics of her next time!
Through Hell Gate Bridge
2. Riding out the storm (the internal storm, too)
It can be frustrating when you turn your life completely upside down to live on a sailboat and you’re still not feeling constant sunshine.
After we got to our new anchorage in the Long Island Sound, we were well-protected from Hurricane Erin. We found a spot in Port Washington, New York, far enough from other boaters and land that we didn’t worry about swinging around in the strong winds over the next couple days. We let out 120 feet of anchor chain in the 15-foot-deep waters, which would help our anchor stick deep in the mud. We checked the forecasts each time they updated to make sure we didn’t need to adjust anything. Then, we tried to get comfortable for 3 nights until Erin passed.
But I wasn’t feeling super great on the inside. It was cloudy and we saw high winds, but that wasn’t the reason. It was something else.
Sometimes I hate to say it, but even when pursuing my dream life, I’m still a human living a full range of experiences & emotions. And I still have severe bummer moments.
I went through one day totally doubting my life choices. I was bummed how much of living on a sailboat is merely waiting for Mother Nature to abide. I wasn’t feeling nostalgic for my old life so much, but I was frustrated by lack of routines, like regular exercise, and little in-person community. I felt stuck. We had already exceeded our Starlink data limit for the month. I had run out of my beloved Oreos. I wasn’t sure in those moments how to feel better.
The truth is that even though I’m mostly loving my life on the water, it’s still a huge undertaking to learn how to thrive. We’ve only been full-time on the sailboat for less than 10 weeks. I’m still establishing healthy habits and support systems.
But then, I got some hope.
I realized that some of the solutions will be counter-intuitive and will require experimentation. I’m going to need to get better at forcing a routine, including more community. I’m going to need to get out of my comfort zone. There will come a day when I need to knock on someone else’s boat to say hello. Even though I’m shy about this stuff, I know I’ll need to do it in order to sustain this adventure. And I know I’ll get better at all this with more practice.
I also decided to give myself more grace. I’ve made enough big changes in my life to know it takes time & effort to build a healthy & balanced life again. I’ve moved to five new cities in my adult life. Each time, it was just me and my husband, Corey, and we’d need to build our routines and community all over again. In my experience, it can take 6 months or longer to settle. But it was always worth it.
The project of finding fulfillment never ends, but it’s also part of the adventure.
Over the following days, the outer bands of Hurricane Erin would hit us, but the winds never got over 25 knots, which is loud but nothing we hadn’t experienced before. The cove was well protected from the storm surges and waves. Following my bummer day, I made massaman curry with tofu (a favorite); I read my books (Moby-Dick and My Curious Life by
); we watched a couple movies (Midnight Run, which I had never seen previously & loved, and F1: The Movie, which was fun but not great)*; and I slept well.As the sun rose in Port Washington on Friday, the hurricane had officially passed, and I started to feel great.
We inflated the dinghy and went into town. It was the first time I had been to Target in months. We had some amazing ramen & Japanese fried chicken. We had these marvelous ice cream sandwiches from a little shop in town. Corey had been spending the previous couple days exploring his future work-related endeavors besides sailing, and it was so beautiful to see him light up about it as he shared with me.
I remembered fully that I’m also part of nature. My plan is to be happy all the time, but that’s just as unrealistic as expecting sunshine all the time. The temporary blues that I felt the previous day was completely normal as a human — even one pursuing his dreams. Life was still simple in that way.
And now, it’s sunny again, we’re leaving today for our next adventure, and we will continue making forward progress, one way or another.
*We happily splurged for more Starlink data at $1/gigabyte.
Until next time,
—Cory Vinny
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One of the biggest lessons I think you'll learn on the boat will be humility. I'm not implying you're not humble, but there is a difference in your life now; you are very much at the mercy of nature on a sailboat. You are learning first hand how little you control you have, how flexible you must be. It is teaching you a different kind of resilience.
I take from reading about you that you're the type to grind it out - you're made of tough mettle. You put your head down and just get at it once you decide that's what you want. I'm very much the same. I married a sailor (ships, not boats though) and from him I've learned you can't always just power through, sometimes you just have to wait, to watch, to BE- very zen like. It's humbling to realize one is at the mercy of forces larger than one's self (I'm not religious; I mean nature), and there is a beauty in acknowledging that. There is an awe-some ness to it.
Fair winds, my substack friend!
"The project of finding fulfillment never ends, but it’s also part of the adventure."
Love this line.
Another immersive, entertaining post following your adventures. But it's not just the sailing adventure it's also the self-discovery you share along the way. Don't be too hard on yourself. Sic Sursum - Sail On!