Ferries: A Love Story
The ferry Seastreak glides across New York Harbor, bringing our sleepy family home after a July 4 outing to Sandy Hook beach in New Jersey. Off to the left, a seagull skims the water, its speed momentarily matching ours. To my right, the towering Parachute Jump at Coney Island glows red in the late afternoon sun. Moments later, the Statue of Liberty fills the windows, so close we could practically tug on Lady Liberty’s robes.
It’s a busy day on the harbor: jet skis, sailboats, shipping tankers, a massive Royal Caribbean cruise ship. I went on a cruise once. Once was enough. I jet skied once, many summers ago. It was fun until the thing ran out of gas, leaving me bobbing helplessly in the middle of Michigan’s Grand Traverse Bay. Another long-ago summer, I took sailing lessons in the deep harbor of Baltimore. Harnessing nature’s force to navigate the waves brought me, briefly, into spiritual communion with our seafaring ancestors, but after my two free lessons I declined to join the pricey sailing club. No, the vessel for me is the one I’m on — not too big, not too small, humble and utilitarian. A ferry.
Ferries are, hands down, my favorite mode of transportation. (Take heart, monorails; you’re right up there in second place.) I love the Seastreak’s blue plastic seats and reflective metal strips across the ceiling. I love that ferries usually have tables, where you can play cards or spread out the snacks and drinks you either brought with you or purchased at the bar, which ferries also usually have. And I love their democratic moxie: Out there among the yachts and luxury liners and speedboats, ferries proudly ply the waters as public transportation, a communal resource available to all for a modest fare. If I’m on the fence about an excursion, tell me that it involves a ferry ride and say no more. Ferries make the ride to the fun part of the fun.
They say it’s all about the journey. And, boy, is it ever when that journey is on a ferry. I’m sure the San Juan Islands in Washington state are lovely no matter how you get to them, but ferrying through the archipelago of tree-covered islands mentally prepped me for our stay as no plane ride could have. In New Zealand, I soaked in thermal pools, helicoptered to the top of a glacier, and hiked across lava flows. But my strongest memory of New Zealand involves just sitting — on the ferry between the north and south islands, one of the world’s great crossings. Three glorious hours with nothing to do but settle back and drink in the beauty of Cook Strait, a world away from worries and cares.
It’s not just me. In other people’s travel stories, ferries nearly always bubble to the top. When friends returned from their honeymoon in Argentina, the first thing they gushed about was a ferry they took from Buenos Aires across the Rio de la Plata to Colonia del Sacramento in Uruguay. Hong Kong’s ubiquitous ferries were a highlight of my brother’s trip there.
I associate ferries mainly with travel and sightseeing, but in many places they’re an economic lifeblood, serving as daily, and sometimes the sole, transportation for millions of people. In Hong Kong, for example, ferries are the only way to get to the Outlying Islands, such as Lamma, Cheung Chau, and Peng Chau. My own city, New York, has substantially expanded ferry service in the past few years — not without some controversy. Still, New York ferries are projected to carry 11 million passengers by 2023, many of whom will be commuters.
Another day this summer, a day that would go on to be the hottest of the year, ferries came to our rescue. We were at a family brunch in Yorkville, a New York neighborhood we rarely go to. When it was time for us to head back to Brooklyn, the heat and humidity were apocalyptic. The very thought of descending into the blast-furnace subway made us wilt. Then my husband’s cousin piped up: Why not take the ferry? My heart leapt. Did you say ferry? There was a landing just a few blocks away, on East 90th Street, that I’d never known about. Moments later we were in an air-conditioned cabin, zooming down the East River, refreshed by the sight of the sparkling water around us. At Wall Street pier we transferred to another ferry for the short hop to Brooklyn and made the final leg by bus, above-ground all the way. Home again, home again, thank you ferry much.