Watch Hill Campsite, 5/21-22/2005

As I drove up to the National Park Service ferry parking lot in Patchogue on Saturday morning, all the gates were closed. I turned my car around and saw a young woman struggling to open one of the gates. Before I could get out to help her, she had jumped back into her SUV and was gone.

I drove in, parked, and started to unload. Then a maintenance person came up to me and asked me how I got in. I told him about the young woman in the SUV. He said that the parking area was closed and that his instructions were to close the gate behind him. "Wait a second," I said, "what about the 10:15 Fire Island ferry?" He replied, "What ferry? There’s no ferry today."

I suggested that he call the National Park Service to find out whether the ferry was running. He hesitated but then pulled out his cell phone and called. Fortunately, the rangers at Watch Hill confirmed that I was right, that this was the first day that the ferry would run. Whew!

I was the only person from Campers’ Group on the 10:15 ferry. When I got to Watch Hill, I was greeted by an old friend and former Campers’ Group member Myrna. There was only one difference: today Myrna was wearing the green uniform of a National Park Service ranger. At last, I knew someone in the "power structure."

Myrna directed me to the concessionaire who was running the campground. It was her first day too. She informed me that the individual sites were $14 per night and that there was a two-night minimum. I informed her that there had never been a two-night minimum in previous years and that it would have been almost impossible for me to get to Watch Hill on Friday night because no ferries were running. She accepted my argument and only charged me for one night.

Six other campers arrived on the 12:30 ferry. I helped them set up and we decided to take three more sites. Fearing that they would get hit with the "two-night minimum" policy, I accompanied them to the marina where the sites are rented. Sure enough, the employee of the concessionaire tried to charge them for two nights. I again pointed out that the ferry wasn’t running on Friday night and he called over the woman who I had negotiated with a few hours earlier. She confirmed that my friends only had to pay for a single night.

We ate lunch and headed out to the beach. The temperature was in the 60s and the ocean was much colder. We got our feet wet and then retreated to our beach blankets and played Scrabble (I won). After a few hours, it started to drizzle (there was a 30% chance of rain according to weather.com). We packed up and headed back to our sites. I made dinner (pasta with garlic and oil) and my friends made reservations at a restaurant in Davis Park, one mile west of Watch Hill. At the appointed hour, we all followed the boardwalk to the restaurant and ate a lovely and expensive meal.

Suddenly we heard a drumming sound on the roof of the restaurant. Rain. Buckets of rain. Only a few of us were prepared for it. We asked our waiter for garbage bags and fashioned shiny new raincoats from them. And we ate dessert slowly. By the time we were finished, the rain had mostly stopped. In fact, the moon (almost full) and some stars made a cameo appearance. We walked up the boardwalk that overlooked the beach to see the moonlight reflecting off the ocean.

On Sunday morning, I made breakfast and my companions returned to Davis Park for another overpriced meal. As we started to pack up, it began to rain. So we packed faster. Everyone except Ken made it to the ferry dock in time for the 1 o’clock ferry. But now the sky was getting lighter and the rain had almost stopped. They all took the ferry back to the mainland, but I stayed.

And clear up it did. I took a long walk along the beach. First I went to Davis Park where I bought a $7 turkey sandwich for lunch, and then I walked east several miles past Watch Hill. I saw seagulls, two or three people, and a couple of Suffolk County police vehicles. There were signs warning me not to disturb the plovers, an endangered species. And I saw waves. Lots of waves.

Not wearing a watch, I hurried back to Watch Hill fearing that I might miss the last ferry. My backup plans were to either walk to Davis Park and catch a later ferry or to stay another night. However, I returned with plenty of time to spare. Ken joined me on the ferry back to Patchogue and told me about his kayaking trip (he owns a collapsible kayak). I’ll be posting a slideshow soon with the pictures he took.

David Levner