Hell Gate

"Let's go kayaking on Sunday."

That was all Kayak Dov's email said while I was away camping at Sandy Hook last week.

Sure, I thought. A quick look at the tides showed we could go out to the upper East River, or farther north on the Hudson.

A few days later, he was asking about Hell Gate.

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Hell Gate is an infamous part of New York City's waterways, mentioned in publications and in fiction well before the twentieth century. The local geography has changed, mostly by the hand of man, but it is still, essentially, what it has been since it was first charted by the Europeans: a narrow constriction about one mile long, connecting the upper and lower segments of the East River, and a place where tidal waters move from Long Island Sound to the harbor or New York City.

At peak, the tidal currents there exceed five knots, and it makes a very sharp turn around the corner of Astoria, Queens. Furthermore, Roosevelt Island bisects the East River immediately south of Hell Gate for over two miles; if you miss the turn, you're going to drift quite a ways. It's also a commercial waterway with barges and ships, as well as recreational boating, and on the particular day we went, the East River between Manhattan and Roosevelt Island was closed off for security related to the United Nations.

The entire area is hazardous for all mariners, not just paddlers, and continuing to the modern day. The water moves fast, the channel is narrow, and it requires expert piloting in a very short period of time.

We found pretty easy street parking at Hallets Cove. In the annotated screen capture below, Hallets Cove is the nook in the bottom, with the yellow dot. Our general course was to paddle against weaker current along the eastern side (yellow line); on the return, Kayak Dov ferried out to Mill Rock, went around it, and then up the western side, and then back (orange line). I stay and worked out in the eddy that formed where the lower and upper yellow lines separate.

The Area of Operation.

I've paddled past Hell Gate on various circumnavigations, and through it once on another circumnavigation. Dov's been here rarely but wanted to check it out. This was very much a study session for us both, to learn and experience what's going on here.

First we set out.

Smart choice: helmet!

The RFK Jr (Triborough) and Hell Gate bridges.

The Hell Gate Railroad Bridge.

The Hell Gate RR bridge is somewhat vaunted, and at the time of construction was the longest steel bridge in the world; you can read more about it at Gothamist and Old NY. She has a sister bridge in Sydney, Australia.

We had put in about an hour after the start of the ebb current; the peak would be around two hours later. Hell Gate's currents are like a light switch, rather than a dimmer switch; one chart I have shows the slowest currents in either direction being two knots. All the water from either the harbor or Long Island Sound is trying to move through this narrow constriction. It doesn't have much patience.

We made our way along the Queens side, keeping as close to the shore and in weaker current as much as possible. It wasn't until we'd come around Hallets Point that we really had to make effort against current. After that, there were two or three spots where we'd shelter behind some obstruction in the water before powering through the tidal stream shooting by. After some work we got to the little bay of Ways Reef, which has a large apartment building overlooking it.

Kayak Dov: Ready Player One !

We passed along various people looking at the water from Astoria Park.

Onlookers.

And then we were on to the main event: finding the waves in the tidal race !

Surfing and Ferrying.

Avoiding traffic!

Skyline Princess.

We kept our radios on, me on 13 and Dov on 16, except for the brief period when we separated and we kept in touch on 68.

I'm not an authority, nor do I speak for any regulatory body, but I will say that I find channel 13 much more useful than 16 when in the working harbor. This is the channel that working captains will announce their movements and communicate with each other on. In particular, at Hell Gate, with its blind corner and swift currents, hearing a vessel announce that they are "eastbound, through the gate" or "at the brothers, westbound through the gate" gives me enough  of a heads up to get clear of the waterway.

Kayak Dov, racing the tide.

Not long before the peak  current, Dov decided to ferry out to Mill Rock, a small island that more-or-less marks where the current splits south to the East River and north to the Harlem River. While intimidating, it is possible, and the distance is less than three hundred yards - but it's a pretty intense three hundred yards to ferry against.

I've done it once before, when I took a trip with friends that put us behind the ebb when we wanted to go north. Back then, I hadn't had much experience in strong tidal currents - that was before my trips to Maine. It's a good trick to have in your back pocket, once that my friend Vladimir Brezina has written about in good detail as well.

I was finding the local eddies more interesting, so at this point Dov went out to Mill Rock, and then around it and attaining on the western side of the gate, while I read the water and tried to figure out where the eddy proper started and ended.

I was surprised at how far the eddy extended from the shore at Hallets Point. There is a day marker mounted directly on the shore itself, and even about thirty yards out, taking a transit between that marker and the southern end of Mill Rock, I was actually drifting upstream. Eventually I'd reach the end, spot a line of bubbles, cross over them, and shoot downstream . . .until I hit the eddy line again. It was like being on an endless conveyor belt, and I practiced my sea kayak eddy turns and peelouts.

Meanwhile, I kept an eye on Dov as he attained the opposite shore, and on traffic as it came and went.

The biggest concern on the latter front was a large boxy vessel named the Rockaway that hewed very close to the Queens shore, because even the big boats do what we paddlers do, using the currents to their advantage. As she passed I held position, waiting for her to clear my bow so I could get away from the shore before the four-foot wake she was kicking up could push me on some rocks. She was maybe fifty yards out from my position, and I'm pretty sure I made eye contact with the bridge crew as I gave them the Big OK.

Other than that - there were some recreational boats that came through. A DEP vessel, and the Classic Harbor Line Manhattan, who went up through the gate, turned around, and came right back.

The funniest thing was the radio traffic. Because of the UN security zone, everyone had to go east at Roosevelt Island, and over and over I heard recreational boats asking the Roosevelt Bridge to open. At one point, I heard the USCG handing over support of a vessel to the NYPD Harbor Patrol - a vessel that only a few minutes earlier had been pleading for the bridge to open.

Expert skippering is what the gate and its waters require.

Classic Harbor Line.

Patrol boat . . .on patrol. Hallets Point on the far right.

After Dov returned from his sojourn around the gate, we played a bit around the eddy line. Dov'd just come back from an expedition that included some white water runs in sea kayaks. We practiced edging our boats down-current and using bracing turns for support while crossing an eddy line. It's a skill I teach in Inwood at a couple of spots when the Hudson is at peak ebb, but at most it's only half the speed of the gate at peak. On the Hudson it's a neat trick; on the gate, it's a much more noticeable result.

We made our way back down the eddy current, making friends with a couple hanging out on the shore. We noticed that we were actually having to work quite hard to make our way back, even though we were practically out as far as Roosevelt Island. This makes a little more sense looking at a map, but at the time was very surprising !

We made our way out to the northern tip, Blackwell Light, and said hello to a cyclist there. Shortly after, we ferried in the Hallets Cove, and called it a day. As we unpacked Dov explained the currents in terms of math - he'd actually worked out the graph himself once using calculus, and it's basically a vertical curve at the start and end of the cycle. We took turns minding boats while fetching cars, packed up, and drove off. I kept my paddling clothes on - changing on a city street wasn't something I wanted to deal with.

I tend to build confidence incrementally - gathering information, marking it out, and then returning. This trip was very successful for me in that I learned where the "safe" zones are at Hell Gate. If I were teaching or guiding a trip here, I know at least a few areas I could use to corral the group, to stage passage, or to simply practice some skills. It's not a place I would take beginners, other than at low current speed and then only as passers-by. But I might make a trip through the gate, on its own or as part of a larger journey.

Hell Gate is a place to be respected, but not necessarily feared. It's an intriguing place, with contradictory currents and non-trivial river traffic, but not entirely off-limits to paddlers. I will definitely go there again.

Recently

I've had some extra time on my hands this past week, and took advantage to get away and do a bunch of sea kayaking. Each trip deserves its own post, but I'll be unpacking and cleaning and organizing photos etc, so for now here are my top three recent events:

1. Seeing a sea turtle on the way out to Romer Shoal.

2. Paddling in 3 foot (and larger) wind-driven waves by the Tappan Zee bridge.

3. Exploring the eddies, nooks, and crannies of the eastern side of Hell Gate.

Details to come, proms!

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.

A Weekend of Paddling

I managed to get quite a bit of paddling in this weekend.

On Friday, I got early release from work and headed up to the boathouse, where I took the Argonaut out to the wastewater treatment plant in Yonkers. For a short break, I tried this maneuver:

On Saturday, I helped take a couple of clients out of Pier 40 down and around Liberty and Ellis Islands. it was a little interesting because there were a bunch of cigarette boats tooling about for a race further up the river. In the afternoon, we worked with a client who is going for his BCU 2-star later this summer. Mostly drills, and then a paddle up to Pier 66 and back.

On Sunday, I led a circumnavigation of Manhattan with a small group. I did the planning and organizing, and on the water whipped the group together. We had an easy rounding of the battery, and a lot of current up the East River, and then we agreed on an early crossing of Hell Gate.

Each of these deserves its own writeup, but where's the time to write when you can paddle every day?

Easter Weekend Paddle 2013

"On Easter, I paddled to the Gates of Hell."

That was the line I wanted to use, the joke I wanted to make. I also wanted to try going through Hell Gate, the straight of water between Randalls Island and Queens. It is a narrow spot, where the current typically clocks at 5 knots, sometimes a little higher. It is a rocky area, with multiple islands, resulting in multiple eddies and vortices. I used the word squirrelly a lot yesterday.

Two friends came along, folks I've paddled with several times before. AW is an experienced woman, not much older than I am; AA is a guy, about my age, and while relatively new he'd picked up a lot of skills fairly quickly. We've all gone on long trips, and agreed a trip to Hell Gate would be a great way to kill a day.

There
I timed the trip to leave at a hour before max flood at Edgewater. Ideally, we would have left wo hours before, but it's hard to get people together that early. In such a small group it was easy to press forward and make up for lost time. After paddling up and into the Harlem, we were approaching the Broadway Bridge within fifteen minutes, Peter Sharp fifteen minutes later, and ultimately got to the Triborough/RFK Jr bridge abou an hour and a half after we started.

A cruise vessel passes on the Harlem.

We talked briefly about exploring the Bronx Kill, but since we have all been there before, we decided to proceed down along the edge of Randalls Island. This was an interesting series of sites. Randalls is a sort of sports and concert park for the city, with los of fields and greenways. There was some sort of sporting event going on at Icahn Stadium. There were people walking and biking on a path at the edge. On the Manhattan side, we saw the Harlem Costco, and worked out that the pedestrian bridge to Randalls is at about 110th street.

Costco on the right; about 110th Street.

As we approached the lower edge of Randalls, in short order we found ourselves at Mill Rock, an island that is essentially a big pile of rocks populated by birds, used as a bathroom by birds and passing kayakers alike. We held position for a bit, deciding what to do: go through Hell Gate, go across to Hallets Cove, or go down and around Roosevelt Island, a long, narrow island that splits the East River into two for about two miles?

Roosevelt Island
We decided to circmnavigate Roosevelt. It's pretty, it's interesting, and while the current would be against us slightly as we went south, we figured it would be with us as we rounded the lower tip and came north again.

I recall when planning this trip, thinking this would be an interesting idea, but that also it would eat a lot of time. Once we were there, however, a quick head check made me think we'd just be losing shore time when we stopped for lunch - that is, we'd get out, eat, and leave sooner than planned.

As we made our way down Roosevelt, we saw interesting things on both sides of the river. People were walking and biking, and sometimes wave at us. There were these interesting metal sculptures in the water; made to face the island, we couldn't make out what they were, but they seemed to be metal cartoon figures, similar to what's at the 14th street station on the A train. We saw the bow of a ship protruding from the island, sculpted as part of the land. And, of course, on the Manhattan side we saw Midtown East, most notably the UN. We could see as far south as the Freedom Tower in lower Manhattan.

AW paddles past sculptures.

AA along the Roosevelt shore.

At the southern end of Roosevelt Island are two incongruous sights. One is the old hospital complex, a charred-looking empty shell of buildings abandoned long ago and cordoned off from the public. The other is a memorial complex, fairly new, to FDR; an eight-foot statue of his head is in a walled chamber. We caught a glimpse from the water. As we rounded the tip, we saw tourists and day trippers taking photos of the city vistas to the south.

We paddled up the eastern channel, but after about a quarter mile we realized the current had changed sooner than we expected. It have been against us, flowing north, on the way down; now it would be against us, flowing south, as we paddled north. This was a problem that would only get worse.

We performed a ferry crossing - paddling up river as we crossed, in order to counter the current's effect. That was challenging, and then once across, we have to hug he coast of Queens in order to get to Hallet's Cove, where we stopped for lunch. We passed over and along many large rocks, and as the water drained, we got more careful about avoiding them. At one point a wave dropped my boat onto a couple of rocks, and I teetered, but was able to move off when the water picked me up again.

Lunch
Hallets Cove is a small beach in Queens, next to an outdoor sculpture museum. It's immediately around the corner from Hell Gate, across from Roosevelt Island. It's a common rest stop for waterborne adventurers, and after beaching, we had a quick lunch and chatted with a woman who had brought her kids down to play at the water's edge.

Loading Dock in Hallet's Cove.

AW and Kayak Cowgirl.

AW and AA

"I don't like the looks of that," said AA. He indicated whitecaps hitting the Manhattan shore in the distance.

It was a beautiful day; the sky was clear and the air relatively warm - in the fifties. However, by now we knew the current had changed, and a steady stream of water would be flowing in from Long Island Sound, running at a quickening pace to the NYC harbor. This would only get worse.

We tried to figure it out. Could we ferry? Ferry crossing to Roosevelt, and from here to a spot on Manhattan that jutted out and offered shelter against the current? Or, maybe we could follow an eddy up towards Hell Gate, and ferry cross to Randalls, or Mill Rock?

We finished lunch and launched our boats. Full, rested, we were ready to take it on.

Hell Gate, and the Currents Thereof
The current flowing through Hell Gate peaks at over 5 knots. To put that in perspective, the most current we see on the Hudson is between 2.5 and 3 knots. A typical paddler can paddle about 3 knots. Do the math: at best effort, a typical paddler will be going backwards when paddling against the current.

Moreover, the current is not even in the area  There is a nice viewing spot at a park in Manhattan, in the 60s/70s, overlooking Hell Gate. You will be able to see areas where the current flows faster, or where the water is apparently flat. The underwater topography twists and shapes the currents into a maze of eddies and vortices that will spin the boat sixty degrees in a moment. These challenges must be navigated while trying to propel the boat in a given direction.

It's not for nothing that they call this Hell Gate.

The only good news was that those whitecaps were simply wind against current. When the weind died down, the whitecaps went away. The first thing we tries was to paddle northeast along the Queens side to see if we might be able to ferry there to Randalls Island. The main current was just yards away, and we could see it moving like na express train. While we were nervous about it, I think all of us would have been capable of paddling into it and riding the current.

One idea was to basically stern rudder our way towards Mill Rock, which in hindsight I still think could have worked. It would have been like climbing up a hill and skiing down to one side. However, we weren't sure what the overall picture would be like. We heading back a ways, to about the corner below Randalls on the Queens side.

At this point, I was nudging out to test the waters, and very rapidly had to decide whether or not to go. I wasn't far from Mill Rock. "I'm going! Watch me!" I shouted, or something to that effect.

Now I was in it. I was swept by the current but rapidly turned my boat towards i. I paddled. I paddled hard, and felt myself making some progress. Then I looked at the far shore. It didn't look like I was going anywhere except sideways.

I fount a flat spot, and began to realize that I was in a field of eddies and variable current. I could hop from one smooth place to another. Now, the smooth areas still had current against me, but less so than the more obvious areas. I focused on Mill Rock. Slowly, ever so slowly, I made way way to it. I saw a small eddy on the west end, and made for that. In short order, I was tucked in close to Mill Rock, holding on to a rock so I could survey the path I'd just crossed, and spot my friends.

They were specks on the horizon. Thanks to bight clothes, and clear weather, I could make them out. I raised my paddle to signal, and a few minutes later I saw them start.

At first, progress was good. They weren't getting any closer, but they weren't getting father away either. The crossed ever so slowly to Roosevelt. However, just before they got there, they started to recede, moving backwards. I couldn't see signs of distress, but they were getting farther away.

Come on, I thought. Just a little further. You can do it. I knew the conditions were already stronger than when I had paddled.

I spotted them again. They were in front of Roosevelt, but not getting any closer to me. I realized they were heading to the Manhattan side. They disappeared around a small wall that extends into the river. After waiting a few more minutes, I realized they weren't peeking back out.

I set out after them. We all hid behind that wall, holding on to a nook, lined up like a series of feathers.

Closeup of our attempts to paddle upstream. The yellow line ending at Mill Rock is my first attempt; the line that loops down by Roosevelt is AW and AA. The green line is the final sprint we accomplished to get on the other side of the current.

We talked about the conditions. "It was really enlightening how quickly you just flew down here," said AW. We talked about their crossing, and mine. I knew that all that current had to split north and south nearby - water coming in from the sound basically hits Manhattan, and flows north up the Harlem and south down the East River. If we could only get past this massive spout of current, I was certain we'd be on our way home. "Let me take a look," I said.

I nudged out from behind the wall. A large rock further up provided another eddy, and I was able to work my way up the wall. After that rock, the Manhattan seawall turned northwest, and I could see a wide expanse of smooth water. If only I could get around this rock, I thought t myself.

The rock, however protective, also made things worse. The current rushing past it was incredibly strong. I tried it. I was, literally, moving backwards. I've been in some tough spots before, but this one, I knew I could not make it.

I tried this a couple more times, but to no avail. By this time, people in the park were starting to watch us. No waving, no hello, just watching us figure out a problem.

We decided to wait. The curent had to die down at some point, didn't it? I tried, and ried again. We waited about fifteen minutes, checked some online references. The current was still building to its max over the next half hour or so. We were going to be hear a long time. We texted a friend. We talked about going downstream to see if we could portage our boats. We only half-joked about turning the trip into a clockwise circumnavigation of Manhattan.

I decided to give it one more shot. If the problem was the current stripping past that rock, maybe I would have more luck past it - counterintuitively, in the main current. I dashed out past the rapid jet of water and began to paddle north. I paddled, I paddled . . . I was making progress. I passed the rock. I slowly nudged over north of the seawall promontory and towards a barge. I was looking for a ladder, a platform - anything to get out, or at least hang on to, to tell me friends what to do. No landing to be found, I called out to a man on the pathway.

"Can I ask a huge favor?" I gave brief instructions, and waited while he went and told my friends what I had figured out. I was in a good spot.There was some current, but it was manageable.The roar of Hell Gate was the the south. I had only mild current flowing down from the Harlem.

It took a while, but about twenty minutes later I saw AA and AW peeking around the corner. They were set back slighting when a Circle Line boat passed and gave off wake, but they managed to make it to me. Slowly, they made their way to me. We rafted up, and in a few minutes realized we were staying in place. No current. Perfect.

And Back Again
We rested quite a while. We were exhausted from fighting all that current. We all recognized how far we pushed out abilities, or at least our endurance. Our technical skills had not been especially challenged, but sheer strength, endurance, and fortitude certainly had been.

We started up the Harlem river, staying on the Manhattan side. The water was slackish, but as we progressed, we gained current - a good thing considering we would only gro more tired. We ook more frequent rest breaks than usual. As we approached High Bridge, our psychology changed. Beyond hat point, we were on familiar ground. We drifted a couple hundred yards. we paddled easy as we came to familiar sights: Peter Sharp, the 207th street railyard.

Well, almost familiar. The water level was unusually low - attributed, I think, to a recent Full Moon. The entire cove between Peter Sharp and the shore was a mud flat, something I have never seen. A wrecked old marine just north of there was so depleted that we saw parts of wreckage we'd never seen. Even a marsh that we know becomes a mud flat at low tide was astonishing because it was practically at eye level for us. Again, never before seen by our eyes.

As we rounded the corner past Broadway Bridge, we felt the current turn against us slightly, and so picked up the pace. As we came up under the Henry Hudson, we spotted another club member, MH, also an experienced paddler, in his canoe. "You'll be happy to know the Hudson current is strongly in your favor," he said. After chatting a bit, we made our way home.

He was right. By now we were coming up on max ebb, and once in the main current, we flew home. It was sundown, and we were on the dock just as the sun dropped below the palisades. We unpacked our boats and washed them in the twilight, noting that washing the boats after a paddle wasn't so bad now that the air temperature wasn't freezing. With Easter, spring is here, and what I used to think of as the paddling season is right around the corner.

After-Action Report
We all agreed we learned a lot on this trip. We also worked well together as a group. We were all concerned for our overall safety, communicated well, and settling on plans. There were a lot of ways that things could have gone wrong, and they didn't. Even unexpected events were handled well.

We agreed that a fuller understanding of the overall conditions would be better. There's a tendency in paddling groups to assume the person suggesting the trip does all of the planning and leading. While that's necessary in trips with "the public", it isn't so in group of experienced paddlers. We all know how to head charts, and currents, and there is no reason for only one or two people to look ahead of time at what the plan is.

My own add to all of this would be that Roosevelt Island, while worth seeing, probably ought to have been skipped. It added at least four miles and an hour to our total trip, and if not for that, we might have turned around before getting trapped behind Hell Gate. If I were to do this trip again, I would either go straight to Hallets, or through Hell Gate along Randalls Island with the current, or land at Mill Rock or Randalls.


View Easter Paddle 2013 in a larger map End
One of my goals this year has been to learn more about the Harlem and its interactions with the East River. I learned a lot on this trip. I have a newfound respect for the area and the challenges it poses. I think there are plenty of interesting things to do down there, and I would go again. I don't know I would do this particular trip again, and if so, I would time it very differently.