Awash

"Mike*, move your boat away from the edge".

We were standing on the dock at the Inwood Canoe Club not long after low tide. At that point in the cycle there's maybe a foot of depth there. On a spring tide cycle, the water between the dock and the shore is even more shallow. Dipping a paddle in always nicks mud on those days.

I'd spotted a large barge heading north under the George Washington Bridge. It was a beautiful day, the kind of spring day that starts cool but warms quickly. The barge was red and very pretty against the dull brown walls of the Palisades. There was some beautiful bow wake rolling away from it.

I knew it would take a few minutes, but that wake would reach us, and when it did, the dock would buck a bit.

He did as I instructed, pulling his boat in about a foot from the dock and putting his paddle into the cockpit. We went up the ramp to the deck and talked with our friends about our outing.

A little less than ten minutes later, we saw the waves rolling in, gentle swells further out, curling and breaking as they hit the shallows. Pretty soon our dock was bobbing up and down like a carnival ride, and water washed up over the edges, wetting it about a foot in.


*Not his real name.

Waves Punch Back

One of the phrases I use to describe sea kayaking is, "we punch holes in waves". While most of the time it's more accurate to say that we glide up and over waves, or edge into them and let them roll underneath, when it gets choppy there are plenty of times when the bow will just poke right into an oncoming wave, like a knife into a balloon.

Yesterday, paddling the trail from Inwood down to Pier 96, some headwinds kicked up some nice waves for a bit. Sure enough, the Argonaut punched right through them.

One one wave though, I watched the water run up along the foredeck and ramp up the slope of the cockpit - splashing right into my eyes. So, I won't be taunting the water any time soon. It fights back.