Showing posts with label Bronx Kill. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bronx Kill. Show all posts

Saturday, August 12, 2017

Baretto Point August 2017

It was another week of watching the weather: would it hold? Would we have our window?

Predictions of one system after another came and went. Eventually, Saturday looked like a day of officially a chance of thunderstorms, but unlikely. My confidence was bolstered by my fellow kayak blogger at Wind Against Current telling me about a trip she was considering.

The day would be muggy and overcast, but we were a go! I took four other members of my local paddling club, mascot "Turtles" out to Baretto Point, in the Bronx.


If you don't know the area, basically our club is located on the Hudson river in Inwood, the northernmost part of Manhattan, New York City. we would go down the Harlem river, cut through a narrow creek separating Randalls Island from the Bronx, and paddle a couple of miles past the Brother islands to land at a small beach.

My Companions - fellow Turtles KW, IC, VT, and GH - all picked their boats, kitted out, and after a short briefing, we were on our way.

We paddled against a little current on the Hudson, finally getting some assistance once in the Harlem.

Paddling the old "Spuyten Duyvil Creek".


VT reflecting a perfect pose in an Avocet.

Proceeding towards High Bridge.

By now, the Harlem is pretty familiar. Please, read the rest of my blog to see how much. It's a narrow canal about seven miles long, with a lot of bridges. Most of the bridges passed under on a circumnavigation of Manhattan are on the Harlem river.

On our way down, we saw a small boat crossing the river back and forth. As we approached, we feared the worst - but it turned out to be a surveyor ship! Just taking measurements.

Proceeding down the Harlem.

After arriving at the Bronx Kill, we encountered our first set of challenges. Seems I was a little aggressive on timing the tides for this trip, so se soon ran aground in mud. I hopped out of my boat and was able to drag my fellow turtles to deeper channels, but in short order we encountered a more robust obstacle.

About a third of the way into the kill is a narrowing of the passage that forms some nice moving water features at certain tidal cycles. Now, though, it was too low to paddle - and too rocky to drag. We all got out and lifted boats over rocks.

Our second portage.

 
Very low water.

That wasn't so terrible, but I began to worry about the end of the kill. The first time I came out here, we'd come to a drop where the creek dried up. Sure enough, we had one more portage ahead of us. At the small pedestrian bridge connecting the Bronx to Randalls Island, we hopped out and had to carry the boats the farthest distance yet - about twenty yards to water we sort of walk-paddled over.

KW saw a small crab scurry away. We'd disturbed his little spot!
Our third portage.

A familiar portage.

Well, that chore done, we gathered up at the end of the kill and faced our next challenge - crossing water between us and North Brother Island. There was no traffic, nothing on radio or visually, so crossing was straightforward - we attained with current, then ferried over towards the old power plant.

 
Onward past North Brother Island.

North Brother Island.

The old ferry terminal.

Passing a marker.

We proceeded clockwise with the current, until we were in a good spot to cross to Baretto Point. Our goal was just to the east of a barge that held a swimming pool, and we aimed for the barge - apparently named "The Floating Pool Lady".

The Floating Pool Lady

We got a lot of friendly waves from the lifeguards and swimmers, until we tried to land. Suddenly the lifeguards were yelling at us, saying there was diesel on the rocks, it was slippery, we couldn't land there.

That's new. And weird. But, not implausible. Fortunately, I'd spied another little beach-like feature a little further down - a pebble beach below the high tide line. At the low tide we were at, we had a decent-sized spot for lunch.

Narrow Beach.

I knew the tide would be coming in while we were lunching, so I had everyone move their boats up to the highest point short of climbing rocks. It was a good thing, too. In the photo above, we'd been there about half an hour - an when we landed we'd had another eight feet or so of shoreline.

The wreck.

There were lots of interesting things on this beach - including half of this car, missing its drivetrain. I had to wonder, where was the other half? All the big pieces must have been pulled before it became a beach relic.

We also had a good view of the Manhattan skyline, an the bridges and islands between us and our home island. We watched as thicker clouds rolled in from the south - a portent of the humidity we'd feel on the way back. It got breezy enough that a couple of Turtles put on jackets.

Watch the clouds roll by . . .

Time for group photos!

Turtles.

Turtles and K.C.


As the tide rose and we approached our return launch time, we got in our boats and hit the water. The current was a bit against us, but not for long. We paddled hard past the southern end of North Brother island, where I checked on a familiar landmark: a TV an chair on the water's edge.


A familiar sight.

We came back towards the Bronx Kill.

Back into the Bronx Kill.

We saw something in the water that we hadn't seen earlier. It wasn't moving with the current, so something held it in place. It was near our former surveyor-friend's work area . . .but also near some construction. Perhaps it was some detritus that came loose and caught something beneath.

Not moving .  .  .not her earlier.

Sharing the waterways.

There was little traffic the entire day, but not entirely devoid of traffic. The Manhattan II, and a Circle Line boat near the end, were the only commercial vessels we encountered. Several pleasureboats, and from our lunch spot we saw a barge. Otherwise. . . not much.

Passing Yankee Stadium.

We didn't hear any ball-playing.

We made our way back up the Harlem.

Rounding back up the Harlem.

We were friendly to the passers-by.

VT had an evening date, and we realized she'd be set behind schedule if she went all the way back to the boathouse. Fortunately, she lives at 218th street, so we dropped her off at the Columbia dock in the Harlem, and I towed her boat the remaining mile or two home.

The Henry Hudson Bridge.

We saw some boys jumping off the cliffs in the Bronx into the river. This is a time-honored tradition, somewhat famous from early Leonardo Dicaprio film, "The Basketball Diaries", as well as a documentary here and  NY Times article there. This was the first time I saw it live, though.

Keep in mind, these kids have to cross railroad tracks and then climb this cliff. It's not for the faint of heart! We heard taunting from across the river.

Boys dare-jumping.

So much culture. . .

So apparently, there's a vessel called "Naval War College", and whoever was piloting it that day referred to the Spuyten Duyvin bridge as "railroad swing bridge".


The Spuyten Duyvil Station.

Onwards towards the Palisades, we passed the Spuyten Duyvil bridge and felt a welcome wind on the Hudson. Most of the Harlem had been muggy and stuffy; the breeze freshened us up.

Approaching the Palisades.

In short order, we arrived back at our boathouse. We unpacked, cleaned up, and made our goodbyes. Of course we'll nearly all be back the next day to volunteer with our club's public program! But all the same, it was a good trip, at just under 18 nm roundtrip. Good on my fellow paddlers - all women - for making it out that day.



Monday, April 3, 2017

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.