Captain’s Log

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Our Final Push North

Once we rounded Cape May, the trip changed completely. After the slog of clawing our way out of Delaware Bay, suddenly everything felt easy again. We settled onto a deep reach under just a reefed jib, sliding north at eight knots with the boat balanced and the miles finally melting away. Everything felt right with the world.

That night we sailed up the Jersey Shore. B watch spent most of their watch off Atlantic City. The novelty of the bright lights and giant Ferris wheel wore off quickly. By the time C watch came on deck for mid-watch we were off Surf City and the quieter stretch outside Barnegat Bay. Dawn found A watch abeam Ocean Grove. It’s always interesting to quantitate the milage Geronimo covers overnight — we had eaten dinner off Cape May and by breakfast the next morning we were approaching Sandy Hook. It may seem like we travel slowly, but for us it was an efficient night sailing.

When B watch took over again the city came into view. First came the Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge, looming out of the haze. Then, little by little, the skyline emerged behind it. Henry was on morning watch, and his excitement about approaching New York was contagious. As we passed through the Narrows we woke the rest of the crew, and soon everyone was on deck taking in the chaos and energy of New York Harbor. Ferries, tugboats, tour boats, fishing boats, and cargo ships all seemed to be racing somewhere important. Geronimo, meanwhile, just kept moseying along at our own pace as we made our way to the anchorage off the Statue of Liberty.

Once on the hook our view was incredible. Lady Liberty off the beam, Manhattan rising behind us, ferries constantly throwing wakes through the anchorage. It was noisy and rolly, but worth it.

Rain rolled in not long after we dropped the anchor, so we retreated below for grilled cheese and tomato soup before settling into a quiet afternoon. Some of the crew disappeared into bunks for naps while others read or peeked out from the dodger, hiding from the drizzle and watching the harbor traffic go by. Later, once everyone resurfaced, we played games belowdecks. I introduced the crew to Bananagrams, which instantly became the new obsession aboard.

Dinner that night was a full production. Mr. Brown and Lucy went all out with chicken parm, and to top off the day — and celebrate his return home to New York — Henry baked another batch of his chocolate chip cookies.

The next morning we were up at 0730 for a visit from Henry’s dad, Chris Goodman. He arrived bearing bagels and lox for the crew before taking the boys and Mr. Brown out for a quick fishing trip. Collin managed to land a giant striper while Henry caught one considerably smaller. Before long, though, it was time to get underway to catch the tide through Hell Gate.

The morning started foggy, though it gradually burned off as we motored up the East River. We joined a procession of tugboats all timing the passage for slack water, threading our way under the Brooklyn Bridge, past Roosevelt Island, and eventually through Hell Gate itself. Maddi took the helm for the first stretch, then Henry stepped in as we passed Roosevelt Island so he could wave to his mother and grandmother from the wheel.

By the time we cleared Throgs Neck, the excitement had settled a bit and the crew broke into watches. Off wated headed below for schoolwork while others resumed their competitive Bananagrams tournament.

Once clear of the East River we set sail, spending a peaceful hour close-hauled in a light breeze before deciding it was time to make some miles. We started the engine and continued east to the quiet anchorage at the head of Cold Spring Harbor. Since it was Mother’s Day, we headed ashore for quick phone calls home followed, naturally, by ice cream. Back aboard, we wrapped up the long day with fried rice for dinner.

The next morning we were up early for the thirty-mile crossing of Long Island Sound to Connecticut and the anchorage off Mr. Brown’s childhood home. It was an easy passage — some sailing, some motoring once the wind gave out. Outside New Haven we hove-to briefly to rendezvous with one of Mr. Brown’s old teachers from The Sound School, who came out with students aboard the school runabout to say hello. That evening we anchored off Sachem’s Head, and Mr. Brown took the crew ashore for a walk down memory lane.

This morning we are underway again, headed for Dutch Harbor on the west side of Jamestown. There’s wind and rain in the forecast for the final days of the trip, so the plan is to get close to Newport and then play things by ear for the last few days. We are nearing the end of the voyage and going to make the most of these last few days together on Geronimo in Narraganset Bay.

 

 

 

From Hatteras to the Delaware Bay

We had a mellow rounding of Cape Hatteras. The wind backed off not long after we passed Cape Fear, and we motored through most of the night until a few hours beyond the cape. Mr. Brown and B watch were on deck to wave at the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse and keep an eye on traffic, as plenty of boats were taking advantage of the calm weather window to make their trip around the cape. By afternoon a southerly breeze filled in. We dropped the main and sailed under jib alone, hugging the shoreline to tuck into a bit of lee as we worked our way toward the Chesapeake Bay. The boys were on dinner and once again went with a tried-and-true favorite: pulled pork sandwiches.

As the sun went down, we approached the Chesapeake Bay and A watch suddenly had plenty to do. Tugboats, a cable-laying operation, and uncharted weather buoys kept us busy on our evening watch. Lucy and Eden traded off steering for the four-hour watch while I bounced between the cockpit and the radar/chart plotter below. Around midnight, during the handoff with B watch, we crossed over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel. Henry looked over the rail trying to spot the headlights of cars racing beneath us through the tunnel below. Beyond the bridge lay a field of anchored container ships for B watch to weave around as we continued into the Chesapeake Bay.

C watch faced a new challenge with the morning light: endless strings of crab pots. Thankfully the sun was up by then and they stationed a lookout on the bow to help guide the helmsman through the maze. Jamey left an impressively squiggly track on the chart plotter that watch, entirely thanks to the pots. By the time A watch returned to the deck, the breeze had nearly vanished. With the current turning against us, it wasn’t long before the engine was on and we were steadily making miles toward our anchorage at the mouth of the Patuxent River.

We dropped the hook around 1600. Though the water felt considerably colder than our last swim call back in the Bahamas, the crew was still eager to jump in. Most people jumped in and climbed right back out, but Colin and Henry lingered, treading water while everyone else rushed through showers before stretching out in sunny patches on deck to warm back up. Later that evening the breeze built enough for Mr. Brown to break out his wing gear. Karen and I made apple pie to use up some fruit that had been kicking around for a while and the students settled into study hall. Maddi was cook that night and, with sous chef Eden, put together a chicken curry. Warm apple pie with whipped cream afterward made for a pretty excellent dinner, and we were all excited by the prospect of a full night’s sleep.

The next morning, we got underway before breakfast for the 30nm run to Annapolis. A southerly breeze let us make good progress under jib alone. The morning was gray and blustery, with occasional showers, though it cleared by early afternoon just as we arrived in Annapolis. We had a dock reserved for the night, and hot showers were highly anticipated — though not before giving Geronimo a much-needed freshwater rinse. We had taken plenty of spray on the trip up from Charleston, and even the earlier rain hadn’t managed to wash the salt away.

Clean and excited to be tied to a dock, the students squeezed in an hour of study hall before we headed into town in search of pizza. Annapolis has a charming downtown, and the students enjoyed wandering along Main Street before we all regrouped for ice cream and eventually made our way back to Geronimo for the night.

The following morning was dedicated to laundry, study hall, and a quick reprovision. By noon the last clothes had finally emerged from the dryer and we got underway once again, continuing north up the Chesapeake. We had another 30nm to go to the Sassafras River, a peaceful anchorage that set us up nicely for transiting the Chesapeake & Delaware Canal the next day. It was glassy calm and we motored the entire way. The upper bay becomes very scenic, with massive white houses and manicured lawns rolling right down to the shoreline. By 1800 we were settled at anchor. Henry and Mr. Brown got to work making burgers for dinner. They made a mess of the galley in the process, but the burgers were delicious.

That brings us too today. We woke at sunrise to make the most of the daylight and catch a favorable current through the C&D Canal. The transit was easy. With the current pushing us along, we averaged nearly 9 knots, slipping beneath six bridges and out into the Delaware Bay before we knew it. The scenery became noticeably less charming after that, and we’ve spent the rest of the day motoring south down the Delaware bay. We briefly tried sailing, but the wind was fickle and eventually shifted directly onto our nose. Once we round Cape May and turn north, we should have much better sailing.

  • 2026 Spring Break
North Towards Cape Hatteras

We spent four days in Charleston, which felt like a natural intermission in the trip. The Bahamas were behind us, and the push up the East Coast lay ahead—we were just waiting on the right weather window.

We made the most of the pause. There was good food, plenty of sleep, and time to explore the city and surrounding area. With Wi-Fi on the dock, you may have heard from your students more than usual during this stretch.

On our third day alongside, we picked up rental cars and drove out to Magnolia Plantation and Gardens. It was a beautiful spot—highlights included a walk through the swamp, with alligators, turtles, and nesting egrets, herons, and anhingas tucked into the brush. We toured the plantation grounds as well, visiting the main house, slave cabins, and old rice fields. On the way back, we stopped for a late BBQ lunch and made it out to Folly Beach for a walk to the Morris Island Lighthouse and a wander through the beach town.

The next morning was more academic. Students checked in with Karen—some are impressively close to wrapping up their coursework, others are still chipping away, but everyone is making steady progress. That afternoon we headed to the Charleston Aquarium, where the massive two-story ocean tank held our attention for a long time. Sharks, loggerhead turtles, and plenty of fish—many familiar from our time in the Bahamas—drifted past. The Sea Turtle Recovery Center was another standout, with several turtles there being rehabilitated for release.

On the way back, part of the crew managed to convince Mr. Brown to detour to a music shop. After pooling their money, they emerged with a new guitar that now hangs in the midships head. The rest of the group opted for one final grocery run, mostly to top off our fruit supply. This group loves apples and berries. Back at Geronimo we made preparations to depart the following morning at slack tide.

Departure day came in grey and drizzle, but we got off the dock regardless, moving back out to our anchorage off James Island. We waited there while the last of the squally weather passed through. Eden cooked up breakfast sandwiches while we stowed the boat and got ready for sea. By 1000, things were improving. We set the main and headed out—and were unexpectedly escorted by the Blue Angels, practicing overhead for an upcoming airshow. A pretty memorable send-off.

We sailed briefly, but the wind soon came on the nose and we settled into motor sailing. After a few hours—and a lot of weather-checking—we committed to the 150nm hop to Cape Fear. It wasn’t a perfect window, with some headwinds early on, but conditions eased overnight and we made steady progress across Long Bay, arriving at the Cape Fear River entrance at first light the next day.

Eden, Lucy, and I were on watch for the approach. Lucy was especially excited to see Bald Head Island from the water—a place with strong family ties for her. By 0730 we were anchored off Southport, and the boat went quiet as everyone went back to bed for a well-earned sleep in.

We reset the day mid-morning. Henry was the first up and hungry, so breakfast got underway: rice bowls with egg, bacon, avocado, soy sauce, and chili crunch—an excellent call. After chores, everyone was eager to stretch their legs ashore. It was windy and cold (by our standards), but that didn’t stop us from visiting Flava’s ice cream shop. Coffee was a priority as well, and after some debate, Southport Coffee Co. won out. There was also a fair amount of time spent in the market acquiring some questionable souvenirs.

Back aboard, Collin went big on dinner—ribs, cornbread, Brussels sprouts, and salad—a full commitment to Southern cuisine before pushing north again.

We got underway this morning to continue our push north. It’s been breezy coming out past Cape Fear—currently on a close reach making about 8 knots under double reefed main and jib. A bit sporty, but manageable, and expected to ease as the day goes on. The crew is handling it well—some off-watch and sleeping, others in the cockpit, currently singing “Baby Shark” into the wind.

From here, the plan is to keep moving toward the Chesapeake. Ideally, we’ll round Cape Henry on Tuesday, then pick our next anchorage based on weather and how far we can reasonably push that day. This part of the trip is dictated by timing the weather—we’ll see what the forecast gives us. The broader plan is to sail up the Chesapeake Bay, through the C&D Canal, down Delaware Bay, and then out for the final leg back to the Northeast.

The Voyage to Charleston

We were up early Wednesday morning, getting ready for our passage to Charleston. Collin got breakfast going—scrambled eggs and bagels—and before long we were underway. It was still windy. We set a double-reefed main and a deep reefed jib, and Geronimo came alive, cruising along at 7 to 8 knots across the banks toward the Tongue of the Ocean.

"A" watch was on first. Maddi, Henry, and I had the deck, enjoying a gorgeous, fast sail across the Great Bahama Bank. By the time B watch took over that afternoon, we were threading our way between Conch Spit and White Bank, then passing west of New Providence into deep water. Off the bank, the sea state increased 3 to 5 foot waves, making for a lively ride.

Despite the conditions, Eden—on dinner—put together an impressive fried rice meal as we rolled along through the bigger seas. We gathered in the cockpit for an all-hands dinner, bowls in hand, watching the sunset as we sailed a long in the blue water.

Late that evening we passed south of the Berry Islands and slipped back into a lee, the seas calming noticeably. We continued through the Northwest Channel and back onto the banks. A few squalls rolled through overnight, but by morning the clouds had cleared and we were making excellent progress west of Grand Bahama Island, entering the Gulf Stream.

After that first squally night, the crew settled into the rhythm of passage-making—stand watch, sleep, eat, repeat, with the occasional bit of schoolwork mixed in. Cooking got easier as the wind eased and the sea state mellowed. The second night, A watch made pasta with red sauce and kielbasa. By Thursday night we were motoring, making 8 to 9 knots with a boost from the Gulf Stream.

On watch, we passed the time spotting Portuguese man-of-war drifting by and scanning for flying fish. We were rewarded with a few pilot whale sightings as well. The afternoon heat brought saltwater deck showers on the bow. B watch cooked dinner, serving up pulled pork sandwiches with pickles and slaw, a fitting prelude to Charleston.

We made landfall early the next morning. The Arthur Ravenel Jr. Bridge—looming high above the otherwise low South Carolina coastline—was the first sign of land, its lights blinking on the horizon in the early dawn. We entered the busy Charleston Harbor channel, bucking a few knots of current and the wakes of recreational fishing boats speeding out toward the breakwater.

By 10 a.m., we were anchored off James Island, calling U.S. Customs to clear in. We had made the 560nm passage in just over 3 days. We spent a few quiet hours at anchor, resting, watching the harbor come alive with daysailers and karaoke boats, and waiting for slack tide before heading into the marina.

Once docked, we turned to the usual post-passage routine—giving Geronimo a thorough washdown and freshwater rinse. Then it was time to stretch our legs.  After afew days at sea, the smell of gardens and blooming foliage very welcome. We walked along the Charleston waterfront to the Battery, then wandered inland in search of ice cream. We found our reward at Off Track Ice Cream and made our way back to the boat. Maddi was cook for dinner and leaned into a “healthy” theme—bowls with quinoa, greens, avocado, roasted chickpeas, and excellent meatballs courtesy of Eden. Everyone turned in early, eager for a full night’s sleep.

Our first day in Charleston was a Sunday, and we enjoyed into a slow morning. Karen made brunch as the crew gradually surfaced. By 11, we were gathered in the cockpit for quiche, sausage, waffles with berries and whipped cream. After phone calls home, we headed into town to explore.

The group had an hour to wander—coffee, shops, and a bit of exploring—before regrouping for the day’s educational outing at the Charleston Museum, America’s first museum. Founded in 1773, it offered an eclectic mix: early American history, natural history (including an impressive giant ground sloth skeleton), and even an Egyptian mummy.

Afterward, we headed to Rudy Royale for dinner. The fried chicken did not disappoint, and the staff kept us entertained with riddles and conversation starters that had the whole table engaged.

This morning, Henry made breakfast sandwiches before we settled into a solid study hall session. The crew put in a focused (mostly) three hours of work, catching up after the passage. Karen and I slipped out for a grocery run to Publix, returning just as concentration began to fade.

After putting everything away, we headed back down town for the Spring 2026 Charleston Scavenger Hunt. Both teams gave it a strong effort, but the girls came out ahead thanks to a few lucky breaks—including running into a St. George’s alum, Jack Bolton, at a coffee shop, and recruiting some very helpful locals. The guys struck out on alumni sightings at Chipotle but did manage to score some cool patches from the police and fire departments.

After the prize ceremony, we celebrated with another stop at Off Track before heading back to the boat.

Over the past few days, we’ve logged more steps than the rest of the trip combined and are thoroughly enjoying our time in this beautiful city. For now, we’re waiting on a weather window for the next leg and will likely spend another day or two here before moving on towards Cape Hatteras and beyond. 

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