An Accidental Jamboree

It isn't often that I get together a trip with people who have never paddled with each other before. This past Sunday, when I got my friends Kayak Dov, JJ, and TA together, it wasn't until we were on the water that I realized while they've all paddled several times with me, none of them had paddled with each other.

On the other hand, everyone kind of knew each other - JJ has blogged extensively, and Kayak Dov is an accomplished expeditioner with his own paddle blog as well. TA is fast becoming one of the more accomplished paddlers in the Inwood Canoe Club.

No strangers here, only friends who've not yet met, came to mind.

TA working the Avocet.

We set off from the Inwood Canoe Club, our goal to arrive at Baretto Point in the Bronx. It was only two weeks ago that Kayak Dov and I cartopped there, and we saw a dolphin a bit further east. This time though, no cheating. We were going to paddle all the way there from our home base, and back.

The weather was nice, sunny and warm, though the water was still quite cold, in the lower 40s F. In the days before, we'd all discussed what we would bring or wear in anticipation of the cold - and then it wasn't especially cold at all. I wore my usual cold water layup (Kokatat BaseCore and OuterCore, with a heavy sweater), and while I was a little warm, I wasn't suffering for it, and comfortable when the wind picked up.

A wee water break near 145th street.

Passing under yet another bridge.

Playing peekaboo with the Pace.

The ride down the Harlem was familiar and uneventuful, and took much less time than expected - only an hour and a half. We cut through the Bronx Kill, pausing to take in the view and practice a little landmark-to-chart orienteering, before proceeding north in the main channel, looping between the Bronx and North Brother Island.

Through the kill.

And right on out. Amtrak RR runs over this bridge.

My favorite view in the city: looking East from the Bronx Kill.

Looking to the right, the Hell Gate Bridge in the distance.

Here, I was able to regale fans who'd not previously heard my tour-guide spiel about North Brother Island. The highlights are captured in post I wrote about the first time I came out this way.

Barge headed south through the Gate.

North Brother Island just behind it.

As we curled around the channel, our destination was just out of sight, tucked behind a pier. The wind picked up and we were more exposed than we had been in the Harlem river, and in short order we were blown to the little cove, where we landed and said hello to the locals, who were out enjoying their park.

Snake-like hoses.

The final mile.

Passing the stacks.

Passing a tug tied up.

Looking past across the water, we could make out the Manhattan skyline in the distance, the Empire State Building, Freedom Tower, the Hell Gate Railroad Bridge . . .and about half a dozen kayaks coming towards us.

Two Groups, Once Landed.

Who were they? We wondered about different groups, narrowing down who had the ability, equipment, and proximity to make this trip without having come the same way that we had. My guess was North Brooklyn Boat Club, located back in Newtown Creek. I was right.

Well, this was becoming one of the best kinds of paddles - meeting others on the water. Same passion, different path, so to speak.

Baretto Point in the Bronx, Manhattan skyline in the distance.

I was a little surprised that there was hardly anyone in the group I knew. I recognized one woman, who'd come in as a customer while I was working at New York Kayak Company; I'd replaced a gasket or two on a drysuit. Everyone else was new to me though. They were a fun bunch, and there was sharing of tea and cookies, and comparing of paddling notes.

Shortly before we were going to leave, consensus grew to have the group depart as one big group - ten paddlers in all - and retrace our route back through the Bronx Kill. So, off we went, following some discussion between the leads of various groups.

"Hey, Julie, guess that makes you the trip leader!" Ho ho, ho ho no no no. Ten people is too many for one person to manage. I was up front and a bit of a "happy puppy" talking to people, but relied on the leads in the other group to keep eyes out, and most of my group had extensive shepherding experience. The only real clear direction I had to give was for one or two people to come in a bit from the channel to ensure a DEP ship that had cast off from a nearby dock had plenty of room to get through.

Setting out, homeward bound.

JJ checking out that barge up close.

Once we were in the kill, We pass through to the end - our timing was off for a whitewater feature that shows up. With a parting of the ways, our group headed north up the Harlem while our new friends headed south.

Ten paddlers through the kill.

We took our time heading back, partly because we had more wind against us than expected. The current grew in our favor as though, so it wasn't especially taxing. People sometimes get pie-eyed when I talk about paddling for two or three hours at a time, but with a group like this, we had plenty of conversation - telling old paddle stories, riffing on current events, remembering what parts of the river used to look like, and so on.

Passing Yankee Stadium.

Passing Marble Hill station.

So, it seemed that in no time, we were crawling back through Spuyten Duyvil, the Henry  Hudson bridge and Columbia C in plain sight, the Palisades in the distance.

Passing under the Henry Hudson Bridge.

The water near the railroad bridge looked especially feisty, with confused seas sending brief spouts of water several feet in the air. I took a brief ride out there, in my newly acquired boat, a Tiderace Pace 18 (details to come). I found the Pace likes the rough stuff almost as much as the Gemini SP does!

Kayak Dov said his goodbyes and paddle over to his put-in in New Jersey. The rest of us headed back to Inwood, unpacked and cleaned our boats. We each talked about the amazing dinners we had prepared, well-deserved after such a robust paddle.

All's well at sundown! A barge passing as we packed.

And so came to an end, another pleasant day on the water.

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.

Maine

I spent all of Memorial Day weekend in Maine, living in a tent and paddling all day. I'd go to sleep shortly after sundown, and rise shortly after the sun came up.

I caught a ride up with VB and JJ, of Wind Against Current fame. JJ and I participated in a skills seminar while VB would take off early in his Feathercraft and come back to be quizzed about where he went. Lots of islands, generally, and in some cases astonishing distances.

We got a late start on Friday, hitting lots of holiday weekend traffic out of the city and all the way up to Boson, nearly. After that, things thinned out, and we plowed through New Hampshire and on up to Maine, driving down a series of country roads to the AMC's Knubble Bay camp, arriving at midnight. While there was a cabin to stay in, we opted to set up our tents in order not to disturb anyone - only to realize the next morning that nearly everyone was staying in their tents.

What followed were three days of paddling experiences I'd never gotten before, under John Carmody, a highly rated coach based in Booth Bay, and his assistants, including Carl Ladd, John Ozard, and Caroline Zeiss. I'll post about each day shortly. It was a great experience.

Curiously, it was all women as well, except for some of the coaches. We also had a broad range of skill and experience levels, a few 3 Stars in their, but also people who primarily paddle flat water.

When it was all done, I threw all my stuff into a fellow paddler's automobile and caught a ride to the airport, where I rented a car, bumped to an SUV gratis, and drove to NYC, arriving around 1 AM. I am convinced I would have made it by midnight if I hadn't gone on a quest for a lobster roll. It was worth it. I showered, slept, and got up early the next morning to trade out the car for another to drive to my New Jersey office.

Anyway, good times. The season is most definitely upon us.

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.

Your Guest This Week

Over at Wind Against Current today you'll find a guest-post by yours truly, covering my evolution from being a member of the public to the Kayak Cowgirl.

There are some photos up, and some lyrics to one of my favorite trail songs.

I've been a fan of Vlad and Johna for years now. Their adventures have inspired me to chart some of my own mad schemes, and pursue the skills necessary to make them happen. Since I started working down at Pier 40 this summer, which is where they paddle out of, I ran into them a couple of times, and got to know Johna on my recent night circumnavigation.