For Sale: 2002 Valley Argonaut

For Sale: 2002 Valley Argonaut sea kayak in fibreglass layup.

This is essentially a high-volume Valley Aquanaut. Accoutrements include mounted deck compass, foot-operated pump, and attach points in all hatches and the cockpit.

All hatch covers and deck lines have been replaced within the past two years; the skeg cable has also been replaced and works flawlessly.

I've paddled this all around New York City, tideraces in Maine, surf in Ocean City NJ, and in the placid waters of Barnegat Bay. Couple of patched glass spots but cosmetic damage only - this boat is tight.

This has been a great boat and I'm a little reluctant to let it go, but it's too large for me. This boat deserves a meatier paddler who will take it to sea. Available for showing and paddling by appointment in Inwood, Manhattan, New York City, contact jkmccoy (a) gmail.com .

A Walk Around the Block

I was ready to cancel it the night before. I drafted one email, then another, then another.

Let's go. We shouldn't go, sorry to say. Let's meet in the morning and decide.

The weather had been off and on all week. Saturday was meant to be beautiful all day but turned spooky in the afternoon, while some other friends were on a circumnavigation. Sunday was meant to be terrible, but the morning was nice enough that at the shop we took four clients out to the Stature of Liberty and back. Leading into Monday, there was a keyhole of good weather that moved forward, then back, then not.

Thunderstorms. Chance of rain, High humidity, hugh dew point, high temperatures. I crash-coursed synoptic weather reading just to get a glimmer of hope.

The morning of, the skies looked to be clearing. The predicted weather improved. We met at the boathouse and agreed it was on: a Labor Day circumnavigation.

Paddling Past Midtown.

There were four of us: IL, BP, ST, and myself. BP and ST are strong paddlers but new to sea kayaking, and had not circumnavigated before. To me, these are always more fun with people who have not done it already.

Approaching Lower Manhattan.

We sped down pretty quickly, leaving Inwood at about an hour to an a hour and a half after low tide at Battery. We made the distance in about two hours, with minimal water breaks along the way.

Jersey City in the Distance.

One skillset I bring to the Inwood crowd is familiarity with the traffic at midtown and below. Near Inwood, there are no ferries to speak of, and only the occasional barge or ship, and sometimes a Circle Line or similar vessel. Midtown and below, there are plenty of water taxis, ferries, and recreational boats, not to mention tugs and ships, especially in the harbor itself.

The bigger the vessel the easier it is to avoid a problem. Just stay out of their way. They won't change their course much.

Miss Liberty Departs Battery.

As we came around Battery, we went a little wide so that it wasn't a blind corner. This kept us away from the seawalls as well. We were remarkably blessed with little traffic, and a nearly windless day of smooth water. We waited for a couple of water taxis to pass, and then asked Miss Liberty when she was leaving.

"Now," she said. We waited by Pier A while she took off for Liberty Island.

Governors Island.

On a different trip, we might have ventured around Governors Island, but not today.

Paddling Past the Tourists at Battery.

Rounding Battery, we passed the Statue Cruises, but little else, until we saw the Staten Island ferry. People were still disembarking, so we radioed that we were passing astern. We made a ferry crossing to Brooklyn and got out at Pier 5 to take a pee break, enjoy the sights, have a snack, and talk to some folks we know. Pretty soon though, we got on our way.

Eastward . . .er Northward Ho!

I'd expected our most interesting water to be at Battery. Instead, as we passed under the Manhattan Bridge, a passing water taxi kicked up a bunch of wake that got reflected off a seawall, and suddenly we were in the chop! It was beautiful, shaking us about, up and down, as we paddled forward past Wallabout Bay and the Brooklyn Navy Yard.

Lower Manhattan from the East.

Miss Piggy!

As we passed the Navy Yard, this Army Corps of Engineers ship came out. A friend of mine says she is called the Miss Piggy and lays docking barges for the NY Waterway taxis.

Whatever You Do, Don't Look Back.

We went onwards. It's a shame that the East River is the shortest leg of the tour. It's kind of interesting, and not a part of the waters around Manhattan I get to paddle in often.

Paddling Along Queens.

The East River gets short shrift sometimes compared to the Hudson. It's not as wide, it doesn't go as far, and the industrial history of Queens and Brooklyn mean that for a long time, it was a dirty, fast-moving mess. Now, it still is, but less so, and pockets of revitalization dot the shores opposite Manhattan and the FDR Drive.

Lower East Side.

Queens, Plissken-style.

You Take the Good, You Take the Bad.

Eventually, the United Nations building looms, marking 42nd street, and the start of Roosevelt Island - a narrow two mile needle of land in the middle of the river. The western channel is faster, but we wanted to stop in Astoria before proceeding further.

Skerrey Times at the United Nations.

What's That? Empire State Building? Let's Have a Cookie.

Around here the humidity really started to get to me. It was 86 F with a dew point in the low 70s. I drank more water, wet my hat, and managed as best I could, but it was going to get worse after lunch.

World Trade Center.

Weather Rolling In.

Gantry Plaza.

The downside of urban renewal is that some things go away. This PepsiCo sign, for example, is scheduled for demolition. It's a great landmark from the Manhattan side. Apparently it's an eyesore for the new development behind it in Queens.

Pepsi Cola Hits the Spot. Just a Nickel, Not a Lot.

At last we pulled in to Hallets Cove - a broad nook under the corner of Hell Gate in Astoria. There are several ways to run this trip, and this stop is a common one because of the problem everyone faces: the Harlem and East Rivers run in opposite directions, and after riding the flood up the East River, your choices are: cross and paddle against the Harlem, or wait until the Harlem starts to change directions and then cross. Most people do the latter.

The Barn at Hallets Cove.

What we paddled: a Valley Skerrey, a Valley Argonaut, a WS Tempest 170, and a Necky Chatham 16.

Photo 1.

Apparently I am the only one who brings a camera on these trips!

Photo 2.

We waited about an hour and a half, having lunch, using the loo and getting coffee at a local diner, resting, talking. We were feeling good though, and the weather was very calm, so we thought, "why not go through Hell Gate?"

Turning to Hell Gate. Pedestrian Bridge to Randalls in Distance.

None of us had ever been. Hell Gate generally refers to the waters we would pass through, but Hell Gate proper is a narrow straight running north to the east of our position. It's a constriction, and as water passes through it based on the tides, it cane get very fast, up to five knots. It is also very uneven, meaning there are boils and vortices on a good day; on a bad day it may as well be the waters off Tierra del Fuego.

A Passing Barge.

On we went, under the RFK Jr (nee' Triborough) bridge and then the Hell Gate Bridge. I was a little odd to realize that just a couple of weeks earlier I'd been on a train crossing via the latter.

Into the Gate!

Hell Gate last just about a mile. With the current and conditions, it was, frankly, more like Heck Gate. There were some boils and vortices and weird eddies, but nothing terrible. After Hell Gate Bridge, we looked ahead and behind us, and once traffic was clear, crossed to Randalls Island to veer into the mouth of the Bronx Kill.

After Hell Gate, We Bronx Kill.

On through the kill we went.

Coming About.

And then on out, to the familiar waters of the Harlem., where we paddled at slack to Macombs Dam Bridge.

Counting Bridges.

The tide eventually turned in our favor near High Bridge.

High, Washington, and Hamilton.

A Short Break.

After a short break, we let Circle Line and Harbor Classic Line (not pictured) vessels pass us.

Circle Line.

Under the Broadway Bridge and into the more scenic part of the Harlem. This stretch was more properly Spuyten Duyvil Creek, until it was blown up, expanded, and made proper for 19th century shipping.

Under Broadway.

Past the Marble Hill station, in a neighborhood that is still technically part of Manhattan even though it is not an island and not part of the island.

The End In Sight.

Eventually we came back out to the Hudson, almost where we started, at the opposite end of the day.

Hudson.

Unlike a certain well-known mass circumnav, we did not have a landing party. However we were met by a man in a mask.

Club member LL, wearing a mask he found floating in the river. Now how'd that get in there?

Welcome, Travelers!

All in all it was another great trip. It was only my fourth circumnav, and just the second time I planned and organized one myself. It was a strong group, and two hadn't done this before. I love seeing new eyes on a familiar route.

After discussion with the group, I tried a couple of things that I had not done before. First, we landed at the still-new Brooklyn Bridge Park, on a small beach near Pier 5 that I only learned about recently. Second, we went through Hell Gate. Now that I know the tides a bit better, I might consider variations on that plan, such as taking a detour out into the Upper East River.

Boat Handling

After two weeks away from my own boat, I was pleasantly surprised at how well I can maneuver it.

I paddle a Valley Argonaut, a discontinued model which is essentially a high volume (HV) Aquanaut. It is, plainly, too big for me. When I get around people who know boats and tell them what I paddle, they all state, or ask, "isn't that a little big for you?"

It is, but I've learned to manage it. I can edge that boat very well, and it turns well on an edge - and only on an edge. Turning without an edge makes it a one-boat parade, marching across the water in a long processional arc.

So yesterday I spent some time getting familiar with it. It takes effort to hold and edge, especially when stationary, but it does take an edge well. On the move, I was able to make very tight reverse stern rudders, turns in place, and carving turns. Even simple edging with a forward stroke works well.

It's a bit of a relief, because I'm not nearly as proficient doing this with the boats I paddle at the shop downtown. The Montauk I settled on last year is gone. I do pretty well in a Force Cat 4, but I've decided to try making a Tiderace Xcite my go-to boat for teaching and guiding.

I can roll the Argonaut as well. I made easily eight attempts, and got them all. Admittedly in a couple of cases I needed to brace up after my hip snap, but the roll is there - and the Argonaut is a lot of boat to roll.

I've considered selling the Argonaut. Having been in better fitting boats it's really tempting. However, now the urgency is off. It's not a terrible boat. It's a camper, it's a Lincoln Town Car. May be a bit big, but it's totally manageable.

A Bridge Too Far

I had an idea to go north. I am trying to get myself into the habit of open-ended trips, loading up my boat to support all contingencies and adapting my plan to suit conditions. That said, I wanted a long paddle, to see just how far I could go. I figured I would head for the Tappan Zee Bridge, and stop short if I needed.

The original float plan was a little aggressive. High tide at Battery was 1300 on the dot, which meant I couldn't really get going before 1100 without fighting more than a little current. It also meant that I'd be arriving back at sundown, or later.

High Tide 1300
Low Tide 1900
Wind predicted to be 9 mph from the east.
1100 Depart
1200 Yonkers Water Treatment Plant
1300 Private Buoy
1400 Tappan Zee Bridge
Layover
1530 Return
1700 Piermont Pier
1800 Private Buoy
1900 Spuyten Duyvil
1930+ Inwood

I was looking forward to this trip all week, and packed and ready early, so I was on the water by 1025. A friend of mine had left earlier on a shorter trip north and I hoped to catch up with him, eddy-paddling as much as I could up the eastern side of the Hudson River. I never saw him - turns out, he crossed and went back down on the other side.

I made good time, hitting my first two waypoints at the same relative time (+1 hour, +2 hours) as my original plan. The day was beautiful, near-clear blue skies, a warm sun, and playful breeze. I passed some barges parked above Englewood Marina. There was hardly any other traffic on the way up.

In short order I was in Yonkers, then Dobbs Ferry, and then territory unknown to me. Most of the trips I've made up this far have been on the western side of the river. Here, I learned a lot of little township names, marking my way by train stations where I could see them: Greystone, Ardsley-on-Hudson, and so on.

I practiced landmark navigation, comparing what I saw with my chart. I found this to be really useful. I could see where I was by identifying landmarks on the chart. I could figure my aggregate speed by finding another landmark about a mile away and timing how long it took to paddle it, and also estimate how long it would take to get to a point by applying what I thought was my speed, +/- what I thought the tides were.

Onward I went, gradually realizing just how far I was headed. This was an open paddle, right? I wasn't dedicated to the Tappan Zee. I was just heading "north". But the bridge was right there. I was almost there.

Have I ever mentioned I am terrible at estimating distances? This was another thing I worked on. I could locate myself on the chart, and see how far I actually was from a landmark, telling myself, "that's how far a mile is".

Onwards I went. There are a a lot of neat little towns on the east side of the river - I don't know why my friends prefer the western side. But now I was opposite Piermont Marsh, a regular day trip for us, and soon north of Piermont Pier - into the "Tappan Zee", a sea, as the Dutch called it.

Passing under the bridge, I surveyed the various barges working to build the "new " Tappan Zee Bridge. I imagine that when it's finished it will be interesting to pass through, given a wider path over the river. As it turned out, President Obama made a speech with this bridge as a backdrop, a speech about infrastructure investment. No one asked why anyone ever though building a multi-lane highway bridge at the widest point in the river was a good idea. NYS lore has it that the governor at the time did it so that he had a key piece of infrastructure, just outside the jurisdiction of the multistate Port Authority, through which he could hand out patronage jobs.

Anyway.

Now I could see Tarrytown Light - just another mile or so. I could write about it, but someone else has done a better job. Around the corner was a beach, where I landed for lunch.

While there, I rested, and several passersby came along from a nearby park. A man with a camera walked past. Two fisherman went by; I would see them later having climbed out on the rocks of the lighthouse, catching a small fish after much effort. Some children came by and dipped their toes in the water, daring each other to drink it. None of them did.

The most interesting visitor was a Russian man, a big middle-aged bear of a man, who sat on a stump contemplating the water. He took off his shoes. He took off his socks. He took off his shirt, and then his pants! Now comfortably clad in only his skivvies, he waded into the water. He sat, soaking in the 44 degree water quite a while, before emerging and donning his clothes again.

I had marked the tide when I came in, and eventually noted its slow decline. Time to leave. I packed everything up, and set on my way.  Heading out was pretty straightforward, but below the Tappan Zee I ran into a steady headwind. It would keep up for nearly two hours straight.

I rarely curse the weather. Sometimes I beseech it, like asking the water to talk to the wind and tell him to stop being a jerk. In my cosmology, they are siblings, sister and brother. But this wind would not stop. I muttered under my breath. I argued with the wind. The wind would stop when I stopped paddling and pick up again when I did. Finally, I yelled at the wind before hunkering down and jus slogging through, muddling along until the current picked up and I got some nice little waves to play in on the way home.

I got back at 2000 or so - just a little later than planned, and not bad considering that after my head start, I fought headwind for two hours on the return. MH was waiting for me. He paddles evenings and had already come and gone, but stayed bc he noticed I was out "north" a bit early and hadn't come back yet.

I was tired, but not exhausted, not hypothermic or hypoglycemic or any of that So we caught up, and I washed up. We saw two kayaks go by and only learned later who they were. My inspiration, on a trip I aspire to!

All in all it was a good trip. I took a chance, paddling along so far so early in the year, but the worst I expected, and encountered, was wind, and even that was more annoying that terrible. It was a bonnie day, and I proved to myself how far I could go. I do need to improve my long-term paddling posture, but I ate well and planned well. Which, life doesn't always cooperate this handily but it's nice when it does.

Goulash

I've had this jar of Hungarian-style goulash in my freezer for months. I made it back in November, jarred it, and had it in doses in the early winter. Once, I took some on a paddling trip, and it was great. Ever since then, this jar has been staring at me, insisting, take me with you. I'll be a warm meal on a chilly day's paddle.

I finally did.

Yesterday I paddled to Randalls Island. I made the decision late, having had several options and new constraints. What I really wanted to do was paddle north on the Hudson, perhaps as far as Piermont Pier. However, the tides this weekend made that impractical without a later return than I wanted, and additionally strong winds, withs gusts up to 30 mph, were predicted. I didn't want to go south.

I headed north our of Inwood, with some wind at my back but nothing terrible. I popped under Spuyten Duyvil and literally went back and forth, thinking of where I wanted to go. I decided Randalls because if the winds did kick up, there wouldn't be as much fetch.

Heading down the Harlem was very straightforward. I knew it would be flowing my way by then, and the markers went by quickly: Peter Sharp, the High Bridge, Yankee Stadium, and so on. Since I don't know the lower half very well, I took notes of possible emergency egress points: there are some rocky shores where an ambulatory but sick paddler could get out below High Bridge, and Macombs Dam Bridge has wide steps leading up out of the water. The Manhattan-side greenway between 125th and 145 has some new caged riprap, but also "eco steps" separated only by a fence from the sidewalk. These are good things to know when running a trip along these waters.

I took a peek at Bronx Kill. I arrived at just over an hour before Battery high water, and the water here was very, very low. A small island had appeared at the mouth of the Kill, and not too much further in was a wider island with birds walking on it. The water was shallow enough that my paddle tapped mud easily. I considered going through the Kill, but backed out because I was more interested in seeing the south shore of Randalls.

Below the RFK bridge, no far from a small barge sticking out from Randalls, I saw an unusual sigh:  dinghy with two women. I didn't get their names, but one of them had built the boat! They'd put in at Randalls, and while there weren't affiliated with a club they mentioned some work with the North Brooklyn Boathouse. In a refreshing sight, both were wearing properly fitted PFDs. So many people I've met on the water don't have basic safety in mind.

I continued on, planning to peek at Hell Gate. In short order I spotted Mill Rock, and hugging the Randalls coast, I came around the southern edge. The water was flat though certainly moving. I watched a ship chug in against the current. I decided to stay closer to shore since I didn't want to g into a fast moving shipping channel that I didn't know very well. Turns out, that was a mistake.

There is a triangular area that sticks out from Randalls where the water is very shallow - 2 feet MHW. Conveniently, there is a pile of rocks at the point of this triangle, marking the channel for ships. I thought I could pass over his area, being in a kayak. However, as I got closer, I saw a line of breaking waves.  Not Good, I thought. Can I handle breaking waves? Sure, but why were they breaking. Were they rocks? I wasn't sure. I paddled backwards to give myself time to think, then decided to turn to and ferry glide to Randalls.

I paddled back, against the current, and landed at a small tidal beach for lunch. I pulled out my lunch, put my PFD and paddle up on the seawall, and then spotted a Circle Line ship passing Mill Rock.

That ship was kicking up some beautiful bow wake. A lot of bow wake.

Bow wake coming towards me, and the water was shallow.

I grabbed the front toggle of my boat and one deck line, dug my feet into the beach and kept clear of where my boat would get carried. Sure enough, a series of waves arrives and wrapped around my ankles and lower calves, and cocked my boat up the beach while I held onto it.

Now, these weren't violent waves. They weren't dangerous. However, I didn't want to have to swim after my boat. When it was all done, I looked for a patch that was still dry, and carried my boat over there, nestling it between some rocks to keep it safe while I sat on the wall eating lunch.

The Argonaut nestled on Randalls Island.

No other vessels came by. I enjoyed a nice view of Manhattan, on a sunny day, thinking about my approach to Hell Gate. I'll do it one day, but with friends and warmer water. I had about an hour to kill, so I rested and digested, rather pleased with myself. Oh and the goulash? It was very good, along with some crackers and peanut butter, and of course hot tea.

I saw that the tide was gently creeping in, and decided to leave earlier than planned. I've be against some current, but things would get easier, and I'd get back to the boathouse in time for a phone call I needed. The paddle back was uneventful, and sang plenty of trail tunes to keep myself entertained (and, to practice). Singing while paddling isn't the easiest thing to do, what with the physical exertion and all.

Left my pogies on the paddle.

Oddly enough, the most challenging part of the trip was the last leg. As I came under Broadway Bridge, it was clear there was a strong wind coming off the Hudson. As I paddled further, it became a massive headwind. I knew I was moving forward, with the current and by looking at the shore, but it felt like I was paddling into a wall. I crept forward, keeping an eye on Spuyten Duyvil. What was this wind doing to the water past the railroad bridge?

The short answer was, nothing terrible. There was some chop, but nothing I hadn't experienced before. I slipping under the bridge and bounced up and down for about five minutes. Fortunately the wind changed direction so it wasn't coming quite abeam, and not cocking my boat much. It was slack water, so I still had some work cut out, but getting home was no problem.

As I approached, I saw the garage door of the boathouse wide open, and after landing, caught up with some fellow club members who were doing some work. I unpacked, washed the Argonaut, and changed clothes.

It was a good day on the water.

Gelcoat Repair

Over a year later, I finally got on some gelcoat work for my boat.

The background is that last year, my boat took a couple of bonks on the nose, cracking the gelcoat. I had a local shop put some fiberglass bandages on it, and those have held well. I shouldn't have to do anything more, but it's a cosmetic issue that's been bugging me.


Here is what it looked like before.

With a similar, but longer would up front, which I'll get to in a bit.

I started by masking the area off, with masking tape and then blue painter's tape.

After cleaning the area with acetone (formerly classified as a neurotoxin, according to one friend), I started sanding away with 220 grit sandpaper - a tad shy of the 300 someone had recommended.

Eventually I got it mostly smoothed out.

I would end up doing the same for the bow wounds - similar, but a little more awkward given their proximity to the front hatch (which, I should add, has been bone dry this whole time). I also had to unfasten the deck line grommets.

I filed that down as well. then I got to the gel coat part.

Here is where I was very fortunate, and my patience paid off. I had actually contacted the manufacturer of my boat, Valley Sea Kayak, about matching the color. Valle is based in the UK, and there are regulations against shipping gelcoat by mail or in luggage. However, the pigment is OK. As it happened, I had a friend living in Scotland last year, and I was able to get a sample of the gel pigment shipped to her for free - and she brought it back in her luggage!

This is a major win. If you research gel coat repair at all, color matching is the hard part. People will mix different proportions of standard colors to get just the right shade of yellow, or red, or even "off white" as can be had. Here I had the same pigment used by the manufacturer to color my boat. The only concern I would have would be the saturation of the color.

My mixing tools: gel coat, pigment,, utensils.

I won't go into the details of gel repair - there are better videos and articles than I have time to write. Suffice it to say, I had clear gel that I mixed with pigment. Once satisfied with the amount and color, I added hardener and applied using a brush.

If I ever do this again, I will use foam brushes, not hair brushes. I found myself picking hairs out of the applied gel, and then having to smooth that out.

Once applied, I taped plastic warp over it. I ought to have done a better job smoothing it out: the gel hardens in the form it takes.I'll have a lot of sanding to do.

So the next day I came back after the gel had cured. I am mostly pleased with the results. The blue is a bit stronger than the rest of my boat, but at this point I think that may just be because the rest of the boat has over twelve years of weather (and a recent muddy trip to Piermont Marsh).

With the masking removed, the patched areas look pretty good.

  

I spent an hour or so sanding, now with finer grain paper - 400 and 600. I think it will take quite a bit more work, and I'm considering buying or borrowing an orbital to get it sorted. I'll post more pictures when it's done, but for now, I'm reasonably pleased with the results.