Nobody Likes You, Michael
I'm going to apologize in advance that this post doesn't have many pictures. I blame Michael. We left New York City on a clear day and went down to Sandy Hook, New Jersey, which is a large bay with mainland New Jersey on one side and a peninsula state park on the other. Wednesday was our last warm day, and we were determined to use it, so we anchored in a little cove just inside the park. We dinghied ashore and spent a few hours walking along a misty beach, picking up sparkling seashells of deep blues and spirited orange, and dodging fishing lines of old men who have nothing better to do on a Wednesday afternoon than sit on the beach and fish. (In case you couldn't tell, I'm making up for my lack of pictures with unnecessarily flowery language.) We hiked inland as well, exploring little copses of trees dotted with real cacti and empty beer cans, checking out tiny crabs in patches of tall grass, and avoiding park rangers when we discovered the sign at the end of the ...