The Tides at Sandy Hook

"Both your boats make a neat sound," said Mister Cowgirl. "Like a wssshhhhh".

He was talk about about me and Bob, me in my Tiderace Pace 18, Bob in is Rockpool Taran. Both fall into the category of Fast Sea Kayak, though I guarantee you Bob was the faster of us. I'm still getting the hang of maximizing the Pace.

We were camping the weekend at Sandy Hook, organized by mutual friend MM. we were a diverse group over the weekend. MM and I arrived Friday night and set up camp, along with two women on the beginner side. RK and Bob showed up the next morning, but skipped out on Sunday.

Basically, on Saturday I paddled out with the boys to play in the tidal race around the tip of the hook, while MM stayed with the beginners. On Sunday, MM and the mister joined me to the same location, but earlier in the tidal cycle and not as long. We all wanted to get home in time to clean up and put away.

Along the way, we spotted a couple of ships - the Perry was at a US Navy resupply pier.

The USN Robert Perry, a resupply ship.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USNS_Robert_E._Peary_(T-AKE-5)

The Weeks BE Lindholm, a dredging ship.

http://www.weeksmarine.com/equipment-division/equipment-details/be-lindholm

Saturday
The tidal conditions around Sandy Hook are quite interesting. Basically, on the ebb, water is moving southeast from the New York harbor, but laterally past the hook from Raritan and Sandy Hook bays. near the channel markers on the northeast corner of the hook, the convergence of currents forms a lumpy wave train falling back against the current as it ebbs to the east. The result is a washing machine that you can either plow through with the current, or power through against the current.

Before those conditions set up, we ventured around the hook and tried surfing in on what little swell we could find, but it was remarkably tame. The RK and the mister did some surfing in forwards, backwards, and bongo onto the beach and then sliding back out, until the tide dropped enough that the surf became dangerous. On the last run, Mister Cowgirl took several attempts at getting back out into surf, getting chewed up and spat back onto the beach before finally succeeding in breaking through.

When we returned to the tiderace, we took a few passes through it. Holy Hannah, did I bring a knife to a gunfight.

Normally, for rough water play I paddle my Gemini SP. Short, rockered, and double-chined, the Gemini revels in lumpy and confused seas. The Pace, while stable and capable, likes to go straight and fast. It's maneuverable, but really prefers organized water - waves from one direction, currents from one direction, and a driver who can keep on course between the two. That was not what was on offer here.

Instead, as I entered the end of the wave train, paddling against current, I found waves impaling themselves on the bow, crashing over both after quarters, swallowing and regurgitating the boat as I plowed forwards. I dug in and paddled harder, not just forward but keeping my hips loose and a brace handy. Eventually I got near the end and slid towards the eddy line, where I made a U-turn to come back around.

Coming back through, I found myself moving faster, this time with the current, but still crashing into confused water piling up against me from multiple directions. This wasn't a clean tiderace, with a train of wide waves falling back against the current. It was supremely messy, waves piling up at multiple angles to the flow. It was mad, it was brilliant.

yet, from outside the train, it wasn't terrifying. A wide boil near the buoys at the end, or on the opposite side of the wave train, it was clearly interesting water, but limited in its area of effect. Once in it, I felt surrounded by confused seas, but I had choices - to draw out at the sides, or let myself flush out.

We took several passes through the race, and after the last one, boy was I tuckered. By that time I was more exhausted than scared, more effort paddling against current than staying upright. We landed for lunch, chatting with a man and his dog who'd been admiring us from the beach. After that, we launched and paddled back, encountering the rest of our group and paddling casually back through Sandy Hook Bay.

Here's a video I put together.

Sunday
Sunday was a short day, with a smaller group. RK opted to spend time on the beach with his non-paddling significant other; Bob had gone home the night before, and the beginners had packed up camp early as well. That left just MM and the mister and myself, and none of us wanted to be out late dealing with end--of-weekend traffic.After packing up camp and kitting boats, we only spent about three hours on the water.

They were totally worth the effort.

First of all, after paddling out of Sandy Hook Bay and to the north of the hook, we saw dolphins. Not just one or two, or five, but two distinct groups of at least eight each. Maybe more.

The motorized boats near us started maneuvering to better see them, and we saw their fins splash splash then disappear, then reappear somewhere else entirely and splash splash before dropping underwater again.

I saw two break off from the main pod and swim towards me. And, best of all, one blew his spout right next to me, while I was conveniently in the middle of turning my camera back on.

Second, we found the tiderace at an earlier state in its cycle, still interesting but not quite as frothy. It was more surfable, and we took turns riding in towards shore, breaking off before getting near fishing lines and the beach.

We paddled on back around the hook, riding little waves. The Pace in particular was brilliant at picking up these little rollers, and I was coasting most of the way with just a bit of sprinting. I was able to better practice staying on a wave, speeding up and slowing down to match the wave's speed.

No Strangers Here

A variety of new acquaintances was the theme of our Labor Day journey. I brought along two friends from my paddling club, but most of the paddles we were with that day were new to us. "No strangers here, only friends who've not yet met", goes an adage posted in many fine pubs.

The trip was put together by my friend JK, one-half of the dynamic duo over at Two Geeks Three Knots. She's working towards her British Canoeing Sea Leader award, which requires a logbook of trips led or assisted in varying conditions. She had along a couple of friends, some paddlers from her local club, as well as the three of us - myself, KW, and GH.

Together we loaded three boats on the Saab "paddle wagon" and drove up to Mamaroneck, NY.


The overall trip plan was to paddle from Horseshoe Harbor in Larchmont to Great Captain Island, which is part of Greenwich, Connecticut. That distance was about eight nautical miles each way, which in  itself wasn't a concern. However, the prospect of Force 4 - 5 winds in the afternoon, coupled with expected end-of-holiday traffic and boat logistics for our team, meant that our group opted to put in at Mamaroneck, literally next door to another paddling friend (AD) who might have joined, but backed out having gotten home late the night before.

The three of us unloaded the car, kitted out the boats, and soon enough we were on the water.

KW in a Current Designs Sirocco.

GH in the other Current Designs Sirocco.

I brought along my Tiderace Pace 18. Since I repaired the rudder, and since we'd be on a longer journey in more open conditions, I wanted to get back in it and re-familiarize myself with its performance and handling.

We paddled out of Mamaroneck Harbor to look for our friends.

Cormorants Drying on a Rock.

Off in the distance, we saw a group of kayakers approaching from the southwest. About half a dozen, and as they approached I was certain I saw AB's distinctive bright yellow blades. We paddled over and discovered . . .they weren't the pod we were looking for.

It turned out that there were another group of friends who had put in earlier in Mamaroneck, on their way back from their own wee journey. We knew some people in common and will get back in touch that way. The sea provides many thing, including new paddle partners!

After that encounter, we played around a rock for a bit until we sighted another pod in the distance. Catching up with them, we found our group! JK and company, making their way to Parsonage Point, where we waited to hear from AD and made introductions.

There were A and L, a couple transitioning from recreation kayaks to sea kayaks; A, in a fancy wooden racing-style kayak that was painted black and red; B, a familiar face in her brilliant Valley Avocet LV, and AW, a member of JK's club.

The day was warm and sunny, with clear skies. Once we determined AD wasn't going to make it, we rounded the point and made our way towards Rye Playland, a seaside amusement park in Rye, New York.

A brief sip and then we're away.

Modern Kayaking. 'Gram it!

We took a brief spot on the beach at Rye Playland. We were able to talk over and use proper restrooms, which was a pleasant surprise for those of us expecting more of a field stop.

A and his fancy wooden racing kayak.

At this point both A and AW took their leave and returned to Larchmont. Those of us remaining saddled up and rounded the next headland to begin the last leg of our journey.

Our next major concern was harbor traffic. Greenwich has a lot of recreational boating, and with it being the last major holiday weekend of the summer, we kept our eyes open for volume of boats as well as poor piloting. For this here New Yorker, the idea of "boat traffic" meaning recreational vessels and not commercial vessels was an unusually concept. Not unheard-of, but still not what initially came to mind.

Great Captain Island has a working lighthouse on it, as well as a salt marsh in the middle. It's essentially a city park for the town of Greenwich, and a regular destination of the Two Geeks.

An egret stalking for lunch.

Great Captain Lighthouse.

The Two Geeks are actually friends with the keeper. Until a few years ago, the family lived there year-round, but after Sandy they've taken to wintering on the mainland. When they made the move, their daughter spent an entire year being sick near-constantly, until her immune system caught up with all the other kids.

As it happened, B's husband and son had sailed up in their sailboat, and anchored in the lee of the island. Her son and his friend swam ashore for lunch, but an attempt to ferry her husband in on the back deck of her boat resulted in a capsize and shuttling back from a fellow mariner.

After lunching on Great Captain and resting up, we set out again, passing the sailboat along the way and saying hi to our friends.

Sidling up to the Beagle.

At this point, "the slog" began. Truthfully it wasn't terrible, but it was a journey into a F4 headwind the grew to F5 by the end. We took quartering sees most of the way along, and with the tide level running out, found new rocks and squirrely patches of water. The wind was offshore, which on the one hand made it stronger, but on the other hand blew us towards shore. Seas were 2-3 feet, and the wind just made everything feel slower and more challenging than it actually was. I could look to shore and tick off the landmarks and know we were making good time, but the wind, man . . .that blew.

The Pace did alright. On our outbound leg I was pretty speedy in relatively flat water, and as wind-driven waves appeared I got some good downwind surfing in. On the way back, however, that sleek performance racer took a lot of effort to keep true. I'd weathercock a bit, and the plumb bow would bite into the water and make turning a chore, even with edging. The rudder wasn't much help either, since the back of the boat was lifted out of the water as often as not. It was all manageable, but it took a lot of management.

Paddling along the coast.

As we rounded one headland and then another, we came back into Mamaroneck, and with a final push against the wind, came around into the harbor.

And then it was quiet, quiet except for the rumble of a cigarette boat riding in, followed by a couple of small pleasure boats, all presumably seeking refuge or ending the holiday just as we were. We paddled to our beach and hopped out, making our goodbyes.

JK and B would continue on back to Larchmont. I shuttled one of A&L back to get their car, and they took out in Mamaroneck with us. We were so sheltered form the wind in the harbor that you wouldn't have know it was F5 SW on the sound. In short order we were dry and laughing and talking about other trips, and it was 80 F and sunny. We were truly in a different world than the sea.

After all that, we drove back to our boathouse and unloaded. I did have a minor mishap on the way - one of my bowlines slipped free from its hook. The hook is gone but the line remained, necessitating a roadside stop to untangle it. Otherwise, the ride back was uneventful.

We had our usual adventure moving boats back to our boathouse. With the local restaurant in full effect, we parked at the head of the bike path leading to our boathouse, and made our way past incredulous drunks and SO LOUD MUSIC before dropping everything on the deck for a quick rinse.

Overall, this was a good trip. The distance (the short leg, from Mamaroneck) was great for a day trip, the destination had its own charms beyond the paddling, and even the stiff winds on the return provided interesting seas and an opportunity for some of the newer paddlers to build confidence in conditions.

Pace 18 Rudder Repair

A few months ago I bought a used Tiderace Pace 18, model year 2012. It's a brilliant boat - though long, it edges well, and I hardly ever need the rudder, but it's been nice to have when I do need it.

Unfortunately, while the boat and mechanicals are in overall great shape, after a couple months of use, I found myself unable to retract the rudder from the cockpit. This had been working just fine, and is normally done by pulling on a rope with a toggle on it.

A jam cleat holds the rope in place when the rudder is up, and gravity takes care of deploying it when I need it down. To bring it up, I just pull the rope, and the SmartTrack rudder system comes right up. Everything was fine, until it wasn't.

It took a couple of examinations to determine the problem, and ultimately it's easier to show before I try to explain.

This is what a good rudder assembly is supposed to look like. Note the arched piece at the top.

Good Rudder.

This is what mine looked like. In fact, you can't see from this angle, but it looked more like two offset half-arches. In this photo, you can make out a white fracture line where the plastic was already starting to bend.

Bad Rudder.

Before we get into the assembly/disassembly process though, there was a minor detour in getting the right part. Essentially, you can't buy just that little arched piece. You don't have to buy an entire ne rudder kit (nearly $200), but you do have to by the control sub-assembly.

When I first ordered it, I said it was a Tiderace Pace with a SmartTrack rudder system. My friendly regional kayak parts supplier  (Tom) sent me a replacement - and only after taking it apart did I notice that the Pace uses a "compact" sub-assembly, and by default I'd gotten the "original". 

They're kind enough to print it right on the tin, so to speak.

Compact vs. Original

I thought I might make it work, but even the mounting bracket is a different size - off just enough that you can't mix and match.

Thankfully, Tom was able to find the correct part and send it to me. We managed to overlap each other's efforts to - at one point I wrote SmartTrack asking about the right part, and had some correspondence that went something like this (I'm paraphrasing).

Kayak Cowgirl: Hey there, I'm looking for the correct rudder assembly a 2012 Tiderace Pace 18. I asked my friendly region kayak parts guy to help me out, but thought I'd ask around as well.

SmartTrack: Oh yeah, Tom contacted us already and we shipped it to him. 

Sure enough, the right part arrived a day or two later, not to mention an earlier email from Tom.

I'd been dreading taking this apart, because the mechanical complexity of rudders kinda scares me. However, replacing the part pretty easy. First, since I'd taken it apart previously, when I had the wrong part, I already knew what to do. Second, even that first time, since the control cables and pedals were fine, all I really had to do was detach the control cables from the sub-assembly, and change the foil from one to the other.

The cables are kept on with a simple pin and cotter pin arrangement. The pin goes through the wings of the sub-assembly and a round attach point on the cable, and the cotter pin holds it in place.

Controls Assembled.

To take them apart, you have to carefully (very carefully, if you're working over a plank-decked floor directly over water) take the cotter pin off like a key ring, then pull the pin loose.

Once you do that, removing the sub-assembly is as easy as pulling out the long vertical pin, which you can make out in the first pictures.

I also had to move the foil - my only replacement part was the sub-assembly that the rudder foil sits in. That was pretty easy. Another, larger cotter pin holds in place an adjustment knob that fastens on the opposite side, sandwiching the arm of the sub-assembly.

It's pretty neat. It turns out the spring is adjustable. With the adjustment knob on, you can tighten the coiled spring pictured below, to add a little pop to your deployment.

Ultimately, the hardest part of this whole process was threading the deployment cord through the new part. You can see above that the end of the cord gets tucked in a hole, tied off in a wee knot. To thread it, I had to undo the knot, and that took some pliers and an f-tonne of patience. I have a marlinspike knife, but doubt even that could have gotten in to such a tiny knot.

Annnnnnd . .. that was that. Once I threaded the deployment cord, I tied a new knot and threaded it into the foil. The blad was mounted, the sub-assembly was mounted, I put back the control pins, and tested a couple of deploy/retracts from the cockpit. Perfect. Like butter.

I can't want to paddle the Pace again. I've been favoring the Gemini, which is better for teaching, but I've got some journeys planned that will definitely be Pace-perfect.

Fishers Island Sound 2015

I know I'll go again. I wish I could have spent more time.

Fishers Island is a long, narrow island about two miles off the Connecticut coast, northeast from the north fork of Long Island and part of NewYork State, even though it's technically farther away from it.

There's a lot of lore about Fishers Island, but we weren't there for the island. We were there for the sound!

At the eastern edge of Fishers Island sound, the underwater hydrography is such that water coming in (westward) with the tide ramps up rather quickly, about forty to sixty feet in less than an eighth of a mile. Additionally on the days we were there, there was a steady Western wind blowing, making for great wind-against-current conditions.

D, K, and CC taking a wee break.

Several folks had gone out on Friday. I had to work, and so drove up Friday night for the Saturday play. This turned out to be the most challenging day we faced.

The challenge was the wind. Not only was in in the Force 6 vicinity (25-30 mph with gusts to 35), it changed direction. As we tried to surf down wind, our boats would get cocked and the direction of the waves would change. I felt comfortable in the conditions - big, lumpy water, waves three or four feet high, sometimes taller - but trying to surf was pretty tough. We took a break on Ram Island for lunch and to figure out what to do next.

The Break on Ram Island.

We decided to split into two groups. There were over a dozen people all in, so each group had more than enough for safety's sake. One group would continue surfing downwind and work out a shuttle to get back to cars. The rest of us would paddle into Mystic harbor, then up the river. We were expecting to meet a couple of friends of mine who were driving up Saturday and putting their boats in far up the river.

Among our Fleet, a Rockpool Taran.

We expected the latter trip would be the easy one, since no one was paddling against the wind. However, the wind shifted to come from the north (making this a veering wind rather than a backing wind, weather nerds), and so we slogged against a northerly headwind for about three quarters of a mile.

The Slog.

Over the radio we heard the other group announce they were quitting their plan and would sort an alternative. Our leader directed us to head up the river, and he'd go back for a car to shuttle us back.

An HV paddler struggles against the wind.

That's the kind of weekend this was. We were in a dynamic environment and had to work out alternatives to our various plans.

We rounded a corner and started to find shelter from the wind. Our contingent had spread out with varying strategies for the wind. One paddler in particular struggled, in a new boat and a bit fidgety with kit. Once in the harbor though, the wind was no longer ridiculous but merely a nuisance, now coming at the quarter but greatly reduced by the town's structures. We paddled up and met our friends, who were happy to return and avoid the adventures we'd had coming in. The rest of our journey was a scenic trip through the harbor town of Mystic, Connecticut.

Paddling up the Mystic.

An unusually named boat.

Paddling under a coutner-weight bridge.

On past lovely homes.

When we arrived at our destination, our trip leader presented us with hot chocolate and in short order we loaded our boats onto vehicles. We drove back to the parking lot where we'd put in, and then back to the house we were staying at.

The house is worth mentioning. It's a large house, owned by a family and rented out to groups like us, or graduation parties, or weddings. I arrived very late the night before, after everyone had gone to bed, and the street address proved to be around the corner from parking. The afternoon was my first chance to really assay the place.

We all pitched together for dinner, pooling money for some fine salmon and steak cuts, and salad, and baked potatoes. I chopped garlic for garlic bread. Despite our shortened day, we were all hungry - these calories were all burned easily, replacing the old and ready to fuel the next day.

Sunday was more enjoyable. Winds were still in the Force 4 range, gusting to Force 5, but the direction remained consistent. We started in Stonington - a historic town with a speed limit of twenty miles per hour - and this time paddled out farther lunching on the northeastern tip of Fishers Island itself.

But first, we were in the chop. This was tremendous. It took some doing, but I did manage to catch some waves and ride them for a bit. I practiced starting my sprint before being fully in the trough - some advice I got was that with a shorter boat I needed to start sooner.

I did take a dive though - while looking where I wanted to go, according to one observer I was on top of a wave, went for support, and found none, so I capsized. I managed to roll up though, and felt rather chuffed about that.

Latimer Light - Halfway There!

A brief respite in a windbreak.

We had rougher, bigger water between the lighthouse and Fishers Island. It was still great fun, but the waves had a shorter period and after a while I felt like I was just managing big following seas - the waves riding up under me and passing me before I could gain much momentum.

Then I saw it: a flash of white, and cries of "boat over!", just about twenty yards ahead of me.

The waves lifted the boat in and out of sight. Another paddler got to the boat but the casualty was separated from it, floating further back. In hindsight, the current was carrying him towards me but the wind was blowing his boat away from us. I got in and provided support while his boat was emptied.

I tried to get closer to that vessel but we eventually decided it was easier to bring the boat to me. I then supported the rescuer while he supported the casualty's boat, all while bobbing in three to five foot seas. In short order we were on our way.

We continued surfing, working our way south, and then we landed for lunch.

Lunch on Fishers Island.

I have to mention this Rockpool Taran. These are well-regarded boats, but very rare in the US. It's like finding a right-hand drive Triumph.

I learned here that a friend of mine I'd invited was not having such a great day. She was game, but the conditions were strong enough that she'd capsized a couple of times and spent most of the session on shore.

On the way back, we ferried against the wind, no longer with the current against it. If we hadn't ferried we'd easily have been blown out of the sound. We got to the lighthouse, took a break, and then continued on.

There were two more capsizes with subsequent rescues. With one of them, we decided to tow the paddler, and yours truly served as support while two others formed an I-tow. I clamped in my contact two as without it, the larger waves pushed our boats apart, and meantime we were bobbing up and down in these immense seas. We did this about three-quarters of a mile, until near shore, and we landed and everyone got out.

Lunch.

All but one that is. There was one unaccounted for, until we spotted him near the far end of the inner side of the breakwater. We still don't know if that was on purpose or not, but he paddled in, and we were all glad to have everyone in.

These were an exciting two days at sea. They were certainly a challenge, but this was a great bunch of people, and qualified for the conditions as well. I certainly got my first taste of big water, lumpy water, and I want more. I am reminded though of an adage one of my coaches is fond of:

"The sea will often give the test before the lesson."

I Dined in the Ruins of an old Missile Battery

Every girl knows her first time should be special. The weather should be beautiful, rose petals should line the way, and someone more experienced should take her hand.

That is how I finally got to Sandy Hook, as a day trip with my good friends at Wind Against Current, JJ and VB.

I'd been wanting to go for quite a while, and even had a camping trip planned last year, that was washed out by the weather. JJ & VB do this trip regularly, and had one planned already. The weather was predicted to be near perfect - by my standards at least -  sunny with little wind.

So, beautiful weather and good company. I was off to a good start.

We left Pier 40 early Sunday morning, leaving the embayment by 0745. JJ and I both paddled Tiderace boats (me in an Xcite, she in her Xplore-S) while VB paddled his trusty red Feathercraft. With little traffic so early in the morning, we quickly went past the Battery, over the shoals of Governor's Island, and on into the upper harbor, past sleeping giants, moored and at rest.

JJ and a barge, Verranzano in the distance.

I've been this far a couple of times, but only once along the eastern side. After Governors, we kept left, past Red Hook, and on down to the Verranzano Bridge, where JJ showed me a handy little beach to know about in case a trip goes awry.

Along the way, at various points the water was alive with jumping fish. It was like a rainless storm, plop plop plop, I'd stop to look but only saw the water, not the fish. As the morning warmed and the sun came out, it was downright magical.

Then we saw birds flying in. It was morning still, time for the breakfast crowd.

JJ about to cross under the Verranzano.

Below the bridge, we waited for some acquaintances, two chaps who put in at Liberty State Park. One was a friend JJ & VB knew from the Water Tribe community, and the other was his friend, paddling a wooden CLC kit boat he'd assembled himself.

Paddling along the Belt Parkway.

We set off,  paddling past Gravesend Bay towards Norton Point, our company of five, talking about boats and adventures on the water. Close calls, with nature or sometimes law enforcement, as well as mutual admiration of boats and paddles.

Our friends decided to stick with their original plan to paddle to Dead Horse Bay. They rounded Norton Point and set off towards the east, as we confronted the lower harbor and the miles before our destination.

Now, Voyager.

"See that low haze of beige," said JJ. "That's Sandy Hook. It will seem far away for a long time."

She was right - but it was great! Here I was below the Verranzano, paddling across the lower harbor, exposed to the open sea, making a proper open crossing at last.

Along the way, we spotted a few unusual sights. We saw these oddly angled objects that, at a distance, looked like a fellow paddler about to make a high angle forward stroke, or perhaps a bow rudder. On closer inspection they were just markers of some kind.

We also saw roses, or at least, rose petals. First just a few, then, at one point, a cluster.  A good omen?

"My money's on either a wedding or a burial at sea," I said. But then we saw a partially deflated Happy Birthday balloon near a pile of stems and petals.

I used the crossing to practice some of my navigation skills. Since I was in a borrowed boat I only had my hand compass, but I'd look at, say, West Bank lighthouse far in the distance, then another landmark or a buoy, and triangulate my position to see where we were. I got pretty good at guessing what the next object would be.

As we paddled, we saw more fishing boats - mass charter boats with a ridiculous number of fishermen hanging their rods out. It didn't look like much fun, for the fishermen or the fish.

We did see rose petals scattered along the way. The more we saw, the weirder it got.

Our course was unusual in that we went farther east than JJ and VB normally go. Whales had been sighted the day before off Romer Shoal, which we were paddling directly over. However, while we saw plenty of fishermen, we saw no whales. We later heard they've moved over to the Rockaways, farther to the east than we would go.

We wound up just north of Gunderson Beach - the nude beach - and paddled in the eddy back westward, up and around the point. There were tons of private boats out fishing, plenty of people enjoying the sun, with a little bounce from the waters coming in. We threaded past them, clearly an odd sight to some. Where had these kayaks come from? There was disbelief from one fellow when we told him Manhattan.

Osprey repurposing of ranging tower.

Once we rounded the hook, our water was nearly flat water paddling. With no wind, and no current, we slogged through the midday heat. For the first time that day, I started to feel a bit warm in my paddling jacket.

VB on flat water, bored out of his mind.

We paddled to just short of Horseshoe Cove, landing on the outer edge of one of its sides. We pulled the boats up to the high water line, then unpacked and climbed up for lunch.

Our landing zone.

Sandy Hook has a ton of history. Among other things, there was once a Nike air defense battery located there. The Nike system was an early anti-aircraft system intended to shoot down enemy bombers. Now, they're just runs, low-slung bunkers that almost look like post-modern housing, overgrown with sand and shrubs.

That was where we ate lunch.

Old Battery. We lunched atop one like it.

While JJ and VB chatted, I did a little recce and saw some land-based fishermen, all mounted on the crumbles ruins of the missile battery overlooking the sea. I saw some dead fish parts here and there - bait, or unlucky fish? And then I saw the oddest sight.

A row of rose petals, aligned with the high water mark.

After lunch, we stepped into the marsh behind us, and looked for fiddler crabs. These little guys live in tiny holes in the mud. If you stand still for a minute or two, they creep out, but if you move or make a sound, they scurry back to their holes. It must have been mating season because the males tried to hook up by standing straight and waving their big claw. It was rather comical when viewed at a distance, if you could make out four or five of them at once, swaying back and forth.

Fiddler crabs in their natural habitat.

As addictive as it was to play peekaboo with the fiddler crabs, eventually we had to load up to catch the current back. We returned largely the way we came, not as far east, but to the eastern end of the hook's point, before venturing out and letting the current move us west and north.

Radio marker just north of Sandy Hook.

Not too far from Sandy Hook, we could already see the fruits of our efforts. Even five or so miles away, we could clearly see that we were moving sidewise as we looked towards Coney Island. We nosed out a bit and committed to paddling northward in what is probably the longest and most relaxed ferry glide I've ever made, eventually ending up immediately east of Romer Shoal horn. It used to be a full-fledged lighthouse, but is now an empty shell with an automated foghorn.

Romer Shoal horn, with VB before it.

The wind picked up, and that was annoying because my boat had a broken skeg, so it was all paddle and edging to keep straight. I managed to keep the Parachute Jump at Coney Island as a heading until we got to where the Ambrose Channel - the major shipping channel into and out of NYC - turned north-ish, and after that it was less effort to move forward with the current, leaving me with more effort to keeping the boat straight.

Celebrity Cruises Summit, bound for the sea.

While there had been no major vessels on the way out, as we headed in, we saw one pass behind us in Sandy Hook Channel, and as we saw one container ship leave the city and three more came in - and two more after we passed under the Verranzano and were in the upper harbor. We also saw two cruise ships depart.

As long as we kept to the right of the red cans, I was happy.

Maersk Iowa, bringing in goods.

We made our way back the way we came, along the eastern edge of the harbor. The harbor was more alive now than before - still plenty of fish jumping, but also barges moving, along with the big container ships moving in to the Kill Van Kull. A couple of tugs crossed our path at different points, from Jersey Flats to Red Hook, or Gowanus. Also, the Staten Island Ferry was more active, and we saw a couple of runs as we made our way across the harbor. Fortunately, our timing was such that we were ready to cross from Governors to Battery right after one of them landed at Whitehall.

Still a ways to go: Jersey City to the left, Manhattan Center, Brooklyn right.

All in all, it was a great trip. I was feeling it near the end - with the wind, the way in was harder than the way out. But, from Battery onwards, it was "just another day at the ranch," the kind of trip we run with even the most basic clients. As we paddled into the embayment, we surfed some waves coming in, and then JJ and I did victory rolls - spotting each other in case we flubbed, of course, but we both made our rolls.

I kinda regretted it while I unpacked my boat and washed it up. Even with my dry clothes on, I was a little chilly in the wind. I took a hot shower at the shop before putting on street clothes and a jacket. I kinda stood out at dinner, with all the regular folks dressed for a nice summer day.

Home.

To know I can paddle that far, and in at least he low end of the spectrum of conditions out there, is a great feeling. On a more practical level, to have simply been there, and be able to associate actual experience with data on a chart, is huge. Now I know what five miles looks like, and what I should expect when navigating - as well well as what to be worried about when visibility is lower. There's a lot of fetch - in stronger winds, we would have had a completely different paddle.

Sandy Hook is a destination with all kinds of fun history, and a pleasant place to visit in its current state. It's a moderately challenging trip from NYC, and one I hope to make again, and again and again.

Circuit Ridin'

My good friend AW dropped her boat off earlier this year at New York Kayak Company for some much needed repairs. As the combination of weather and schedules cleared up, we made plans for some of us to paddle down there from Inwood, meet her, and paddle back. It's a long, lonesome paddle, and now that spring is here most of us don't need much of an excuse to go on a trip.

Trouble was, with the weather we had Saturday, we had to put off that trip, and AW was busy Sunday, so she couldn't make it. However, the Cowgirl has a bevy of paddling friends, one of whom was hankerin' to get out on the water Sunday, what with the beautiful predicted weather. My good friend and fellow NYKC ranch hand SS agreed to meet us at Pier 40 and paddle AW's boat back.

IB and I met at Inwood, running a little late, departing at 1400, about 1h15m past Battery Low. We might have left sooner, but would have had to wait longer to turn around for the return. As it was, we made excellent time, about 1h50 minutes, and all in spent about an hour killing time before we left.

On the way down, we saw a curious sight - a Circle Line boat that passed us kept unusually close to the Manhattan shore below Riverbank State Park. We also spotted a beautiful Spanish training ship, the white-hulled, four-master Juan Sebastian de Elcano, moored in a berth near the Intrepid.

More importantly, I used my radio a bit, in part to allay IB's concerns about ferry traffic. Between Pier 96 and Pier 66 I made a couple of announcements, along the lines of, "Securite, Securite, this is kayak two, southbound on the North River, Pier 84" (or wherever we were). The North River is the old mariner term for the Hudson River, and it's how you'll hear other vessels refer to it.

While at the shop, I picked up a new neoprene sprayskirt, a knife (to replace one that decided to plunge into the Harlem), and some lines to secure hats and glasses. I talked shop with the desk help, caught up on gossip with SS, and got plenty hydrated - I was well into the middle stages of a head cold and needed to keep up my fluids.

SS took AW's boat about in the Pier 40 embayment. It's a different model than other boats she has paddled, but she's paddled plenty of the same make (Tiderace). We set out north, with less current than our trip down, and practiced the same radio protocol. At one point, we did directly contact a Circle Line vessel that we thought was pulling in to a slip we were paddling before, but the captain assured us he was parking a few piers up. Circle Line's got several places to park.

It was a beautiful day, and that was reward enough. Clear, sunny skies, and air temps that belied the mid-50s F of the water. We crested over ferry wake, and paused when a tender swerved in front of us while rounding 'bout to a parked crane barge. Once clear of midtown, we began the long trip alongside nearly endless Manhattan parkland.

One unusual sight was the KT Albatross, a large ocean-going bulk carrier. We spotted her from the Upper West Side as she passed, southbound, under the George Washington Bride, and like our earlier Circle Line friend, curiously close to the Manhattan shore. While normally I would have gone out in the channel for more current, I wasn't sure how long she'd stay so close to shore, so we kept near the outer line of the mooring field above 79th Street Boat Basin.

Onward we went, finding odd spots where standing waves belied unusual underwater topography. Eventually, we passed under the George Washington Bridge, past the red buoy, and onwards home.

It was a bonnie day, with good friends, and we did someone a favor. SS got to see the north, and all in, roundtrip it was a scotche over 18 miles. With current, we managed to return in about 2h10m.

Finally

I was able to get out briefly on the water - on actual coastal seawater conditions - Saturday. The whole weekend was beautiful, with air temperatures in the high forties. After the winter we've experienced so far, that felt downright tropical.

I went with my friend and fellow teaching assistant SS. We worked together at NYKC last summer and have kept in touch through the winter season. SS hadn't been out since November, and I'd only been out a couple of times since then, so we took it easy. we did a lap around the Pier 40 embayment before heading south towards Battery.

But first, quelle horreur, we discovered our favorite boats were no longer available. I'd taken to paddling an Impex Montauk near the end of the season, and she'd been in an Impex Mystic, perfectly sized for her petite frame. The Montauk was gone, presumably sold, and the Mystic had a note on it, to the effect that its new owner would be picking it up shortly for its new home in Maine.

Such are the hazards of relying on equipment that is not your own. Instead, I took out a yellow Impex Force Cat 4, and SS took out a Tiderace Xcite-S. Both were more than capable for our needs.

While the air temperature was warm, the water was not: last reported near 35 degrees Fahrenheit at the Battery, drysuits and layers were mandated. I took the opportunity to try out some new neoprene pogies, and I cannot say enough good things about them. They were excellent. They kept the wind off my knuckles and kept my hands warmer than they've even been in the winter. These particular ones had wide, stiff collars, making it easy to slip my hands in and out of. They were perfect.

We left shortly after the flood tide started. It wasn't strong enough to hold us back, but it meant that we would not get very far. To head out much farther past Battery would have been pointless, and a steady wind made us decide not to risk a river crossing. It was only 10-12 knots, but with gusts up to 30 reported, we were seeing some sizable waves, with whitecaps forming shortly after we returned.

We also experienced following seas, which were novel to SS. Following seas are when waves come from behind, moving faster than your boat. They lift the back of the boat, move underneath, and then lift the front of the boat as the wave runs on ahead. Then, the next one arrives, and the next, and the next, and so on. The effect is like stop-and-go traffic: the initial lift pushes the boat forwards, but then hits the breaks as it moves in front. It can also make for an unsteady feeling, as the boat may yaw (pivot sideways) unless a stern rudder is used to correct and hold steady.

We had this almost the entire way back. We took short breaks in South Cove, and later near Pier 26, before dotting out and around the Holland Tunnel blower. Before landing we spotted VB of Wind Against Current getting his boat ready to launch, and later spotted the other half of that blog, JJ, getting her boat ready. I am sure they went quite a bit farther than we did.

All in all it was a good paddle. It was a beautiful day, and we got a hint of spring even though it's still February and cold temperatures are predicted to return shortly.