Saturday morning we woke up relatively early and optimistic that today the gods would bless us with enough of a breeze for us to spend the afternoon sailing the Hudson on the 27-foot Tipperary.
With wind only a slight possibility; our secondary salvation would lie in the hands of our mechanical brother-in-law Sven who was diligently working on the 1982 diesel engine. Sven is a first generation German American, and second generation Hudson sea farer, with a hard working attitude and do it yourself pride. If he can’t fix it, it can’t be fixed.
I’d never been sailing and Victoria’s first sailing effort also on the Tipperary, needed a reset. So if things worked out we would be boarding Captain Sven’s ship sometime in the early afternoon.
As it turns out, neither the gods nor our gregarious brother-in-law were up to their checklist task. But curious to see the boat and learn a little – even if only moored in 8 feet of stinky debris filled Hudson run off – we drove down to the Chelsea Yacht Club.
Once there, we were welcomed aboard to the clean scent of Clorox and a sweaty Sven feverously completing last second scrubbing. We all grabbed a beer and headed to the deck to relax and soak up some sun.
As is customary for all new crew members, I was required to be “Big Black Dick”ed. Big Black Dick rum is produced in Jamaica and is a favorite of tourists visiting the island, due likely to its name. For this same reason, many boat owners at the Chelsea Yacht Club have adopted it as an initiation ritual.
We chilled for a bit before Sven and Cindy (Victoria’s twin) convinced us that there was a worthy excursion only an hour north. Here I must diverge a bit to explain a key conversion ratio known only to New Yorkers, who manage life in a more condense, less time-based manner. You see, when a New Yorker says this is only x miles away, you can take this to heart, but when they express their travel proposal in terms of a timeframe such as this will take “x hours”, you must understand the conversion factor of a New York minute which means…
… Two hours later, after loading up and making our way over the highway, through a crowded college town and two different parking lots, we made it to Minnewaska State Park, and man was it worth it! The trees were blushing red atop the rolling hills of Kerhonkson, NY and reflecting in the mirrored finish of the lake. I think it’s more important to let the pictures do the talking from here on out!
Special thanks to Cindy, Sven, Sydney and Sebastian for spending the day with us.
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