Winter Jaunt

I went on a little jaunt with my good friends Val Storfer and Johna Johnson on Saturday. While the air temperature was 26 F, there was little wind, and it was sunny. We went across the river to Morris Canal and back.

Johna wrote a great writeup on her blog - which is a great blog in general, full of amazing kayak adventures the likes of which the cowgirl only aspires to. We'd all been off the water a while, so a little trip like this one was perfect.

Here's a little video I slapped together.

When we got back, we found out hatches, lines, and spare paddles covered in ice - potentially a problem had we needed o use any of them. I'll be doing a little research on how to better prepare for icy conditions. Cold water is once thing, but ice is a whole 'nother element to content with in winter paddling.

Mixin'

The last trip I ran out of the shop was a mixed group. What happened was, a couple who had a gift certificate from mom signed up for a trip, and then a visiting Norwegian signed up as well. I was the only guide on at that time so we put them both together.

Not for nothing but the girl half of the couple and the Norwegian had similar-sounding names, so at first we thought they were the same person.

The Norwegian's experience warranted a Tiderace instead of a Chatham. The thing about Norwegians is, they know what cold water paddling is and they're generally a cut above the typical turista. Mind you, they aren't always amazing paddlers, but they are generally competent paddlers.

So we went across. The couple was a little nervous but after their first wake wave settled in. One was a bit slow, so I kept them all together as we crossed the Hudson. We arrived at Morris Canal, paddled in a bit, and I pointed out the sights before turned around back.

Going back was a bit slower owing to less current. We did stop a couple of times to outwit traffic - the least of which was a large cruise ship which we let pass before even beginning to venture out. On the way back, following seas made for some nice faux-surfing for our Norwegian friend.

It was a simple trip, but it's easy to forget how fantastic simply being out in the lower Hudson can be for our clients. Everyone was amazed, seeing the city from a completely different angle. This is particularly true for people from out of town. They've getting a vacation, and an unusual paddling destination!

Safe Passage

My cab driver looked down the street incredulously, then stole a glance n the rear-view a me.

"You're going to work?"

"No."

"Where you going?"

We were approaching the end of Dyckman Street, basically 200th street in Manhattan, dead-ending at a large restaurant with a small marina. Overhead ran the Henry Hudson highway; behind us, the street had petered out into one-man automotive detailing and the edge of Inwood Hill Park.

It was four in the morning.

"Kayaking."

?

"Paddling. In a boat, a small boat."

A quizzical grimace.

"On the water, I'll be in a boat on the water."

"Won't it be cold?" I think he was worried about me. Why was this woman asking to be dropped off at the end of the local "alcohol alley" in the dead of night?

Heck, I was worried about me. Despite a newly paved path and lighting, the two hundred yards from Dyckman to the boathouse can be sketchy at night. I was laden with gear; I held out my key and eyed every shadow until I was safely locked in the boathouse property. I was worried less about nautical hazards than terrestrial ones.

I was invited to escort an expedition paddler in to the city. Doctor Deb Walters was paddling her boat from Maine to Guatemala to raise awareness for the Safe Passage program. A mutual friend had planned to join her and escort her in, but he fell ill, so it was on me to represent NYC expedition paddlers.

The plan was for her to paddle in from City Island, across the upper East River, and then to Pier 40. Originally they'd go through Hell Gate and then down the lower East River, rounding Battery and paddling against a knot and a half of current to Pier 40, but I put forward the idea of paddling through the Bronx Kill instead, and then up the Harlem and down the Hudson. Besides, that way she'd get to see the Inwood Canoe Club, and we picked up some other paddlers with us for the second stage.

By the nature of the tides, that meant I needed to be on the water by 0445. I made it - rousting a fellow club member who was cot-napping in the boathouse to meeting someone very early in the morning - leaving in the dark, on my own, for points south and east.

The Argonaut at Night - Blurry as its Paddler.

The trip down the Harlem was uneventful. There was nearly no wind, and while it was cool, my new fleece-lined paddling top and the workout of paddling warmed me up quickly. The water was glass-smooth. Even in the dark,  could make out the reflection of a lost basketball floating on the water, lit only by the ambient glow of the city.

One of the lifting bridges of the Harlem.

As I went along, I approached an odd hour: I could look left and see sunlight, or right and see nighttime. I came to the entrance of the Bronx Kill, and paddled through, stopping on the far end to rearrange kit and sip some coffee while I watched the sun formally rise.

Starting across the upper East River, coffee in hand.

Break over, I paddled out, between the Brothers (North Brother Island, and South Brother Island). I wasn't in a hurry. The tide was against me a bit and Dr. Deb was paddling in. I stopped and listened to shipping traffic while sheltering from the current in a small eddy behind a marker.

Marker at South Brother Island.

One barge was coming in, and another was going out. A small sailing vessel, Plover, about a 30 footer, went through the Brothers and on towards the Gate. They all talked to each other - including the incoming barge who overtook Plover and asked her to kindly sail aside as they passed through Hell Gate.

Once things settled down, I paddled around North Brother, then over towards Hunts Point, where I watched a DEP boat depart to the east before I paddled out towards the shallow bay that leads to the mouth of the Bronx River. It was around then I made out a shimmering in the distance, later two sticks, then two paddlers. The radio crackled.

"This is kayak Safe Passage, Safe Passage. Is that you Kayak Cowgirl?"

"Affirmative, coming to you Safe Passage."

We paddled towards each other, meeting up about halfway between Randalls Island and the Bronx-Whitestone bridge. I met Rick, her fellow-paddler who had put in at New Rochelle to paddle with her to NYC and take out at Inwood.

After water and a brief rest, we turned back the way I had come, staying towards the Bronx side of the East River, rounding the Brothers and heading back to the Bronx Kill.

Returning; Hell Gate Bride, Freedom Tower in background.

We went back up the Harlem river, with me playing tour guide. I even pointed out the Harlem River Lighthouse. You'll have to visit yourself to see it. Eventually we passed the three sisters of High, Washington, and Hamilton, and then passed Peter Sharp, rounding under the Broadway Bridge to the henry Hudson and Spuyten Duyvil.

The Henry Hudson, Spuyten Duyvil, Palisades beyond.

A mile later, we stopped at the Inwood Canoe Club, where she took an extended break and a photo. Inwood's not far from some decent bathrooms, food, and a nice view of the Palisades. For me this would be more or less the halfway point of the day.

Rick F, Dr. Deb, Cowgirl at Inwood Canoe Club.

For the route to Pier 40, we were joined by fellow Inwood club member AA, and a visitor, LB (Tahe Marine, amazing roller, something like 15 hand rolls in a row while we took a break later). In short order we set out into the ebbing current, making quick time to the GWB, Riverbank State Park, Harlem, and the upper west side. After that, we had ferry traffic to contend with - nothing terrible but a lot of listening on the radio and sprinting forward as needed.

We found ourselves ahead of schedule - which was bad for a dramatic entrance. The media had been alerted to an estimated arrival time, and we were early! So, for the last half mile or so, we more or less just drifted in, until we resumed paddling to make a proper entrance.

Dr. Deb approaching Pier 40.

Once we arrived, there were about thirty minutes of interviews - mostly Dr. Deb, but also AA, who is bilingual. Most of the media were Spanish media, and so he translated and told his version of events en Espanol.

After that, we unpacked. AA was going to paddle out to Staten Island with her after the weekend, and her boat was laden with expedition supplies and gear. Once we unloaded and stored everything, her boat went in the fleet room at New York Kayak Company (where I teach and guide), and after a quick lunch LB and I paddled north again, splitting up just after the GWB to return to our respective put-ins.

It was a remarkable paddle, both in itself and as part of her larger journey. All in I put the miles at 38, maybe 39 charted, and even with current assist that's a lot. Factor in the early morning start and I was beat by the time we got back. I had dinner, went to work the next da, and headed out to the next adventure - but that is a tale for another post.

The Coach

The best, most consistent advise I've gotten from nearly all of my paddling instructors is: work with as many coaches as you can. Take what works and discard the rest. Learn not just paddling but teaching, organization, and communication styles. Teaching paddlesports is a bit like being a rodeo clown - you've got to be entertaining but also capable of ensuring the safety of others when things go awry.

So, I was surprised when, as I was taking my Sunday morning class out, one of the head coaches at the shop introduced me to a Brit, I'll call him G, from the UK. G is a multi-discipline coach at a county paddlesport center. The guy does this  for a living. On top of that, having started in the British (BCU) tradition, any coach from the UK automatically gets at least demigod status here in the US.

"He'll be joining you on the water."

"Do I need to do anything special? Am I being evaluated?" My local coaches have been known to spring surprises on me. My paranoia is not unjustified.

"No, just do your thing. He's there if you need him."

So of course, I proceeded to nearly ignore him the whole time. I couldn't think of how to introduce someone who I hadn't properly met. I did have an aside with him at one point to explain/apologize for my use of the environment - the wind was stronger than the current so I moved where we were practicing. Then, I struggled to find a way to manage two neophyte paddlers who barely had control of their boats for about an hour. Thank God the conditions were flat.

After the class, he joined us for lunch and after some chitchat about the local paddling scene, I got some good feedback from him. It echoes what I've been told before, but I got more affirmation of what I got right.

I was very organized, he said, and made good use of games. Overall the class went well. He suggested more discovery, even in the beginning - give them a problem to sole without any instruction, or pair them off with my assistants to ask questions, but my assistants can only answer yes or no. We also talked about the particular problems I had with each student: one just was not going to sit up straight, and the other was so worried about capsize it hampered his ability to learn. Matching boats to people is turning out to be one of the most important things an instructor can do!

Afterwards, we went for a short paddle. It was low tide when we left, and we only had a couple of hours, so basically we paddled north against a spring tide (a supermoon spring tide, I might add) to the Intrepid, an old aircraft carrier docked at 44th street that has been turned into an air and space museum (they have a space capsule hanging off the side). There is another paddle shop there, and we took a break before practically flying back with the current.

I got some good additional feedback there. I was telling him I was learning new games to try, including one called Follow My Leader, when *splash* -

"Uh oh," he said. "Your assistant's in trouble."

This particular assistant has been learning to roll, and practices whenever he can. Unfortunately he decided to do this about seventy yards out, and failed. He came out of his boat and I gave him an assisted rescue.

We tried some more rolls, and critiqued both his and mine. Then, it was time to go in.

It was a good opportunity to get some feedback from another highly rated coach. I've worked with a couple here in the US but they are few and far between. This guy was succinct and very clear, but also very positive. His coachismo, as I call it, was present but not overpowering. He had very specific points but did not belabor them. I felt like I learned more in half an hour of conversation than I have learned from days of paddling with certain other people.

The Old Men and the Sea

Teaching at the shop, we get all kinds of comers: young, old, couples, singletons, professionals seeking escape from the 9-5 grind, hipsters looking some something even more obscure to do. So, there's a bit more variety than when I teach in club settings. In the case of this past weekend, I had two students for our level one course. R was 60. P was 78.

Whenever you start a new student, especially beginners, it's a good idea to get their goals. R was simple: self-taught, he wanted to learn proper technique. P was a little hard to believe: he was going on a weeks-long trip to Alaska in two weeks, which inlcuded a four-day kayak camping component.

"Have you ever paddled before? Kayak? Paddleboard, canoe, even surfing."

"No."

Oh boy.

So from an instruction perspective, these two presented a couple of challenges. Both were new, and on the bigger side. P was so tall I put him in our widest boat, a Necky Eskia, which while stable also tends to track very, very well - meaning I had to teach him how to stop early on. R was not as big, but on the tall side. I took a chance and put him in a Chatham 17, my go-to fits-everyone boat. However, his experience was with wider, more stable boats, so while he fit the boat, he was not confident in it. This limited his torso rotation.

We managed to step through the class. I was a little nervous because a well-credentialed BCU coach was visiting on holiday and sat in on the class. He was very nice, not interfering at all, occasionally paddling off on his own, and he gave me great feedback at the end. Still, I was a little nervous at first, even though I wasn't being formally evaluated!

Since it was high tide when we started, I had us on the south edge, but the light wind from the north proved more of a factor so I moved us to where Pier 40 blocked most of it. Highlights, from my perspective, were that I had more activity and less of me talking - and at that, I probably still talked too much. However, using my assistants, in short order I had them paddling around the embayment in circles, then lanes, and then figure eights. I felt like I got the hang of demonstrating and then sending them out while I evaluated them, and then gave them individual and collective feedback.

P had a habit of leaning back all the time. Even when I got him to understand the value of sitting upright, I'd have to remind him. R understood things a bit better, but was nervous about capsizing. He also had shades and a mustache that made him hard to read. He was actually friendly and open to instruction when I talked to him, but at first he looked like an impassive drill sergeant!

Near the end, we took a little jaunt out around the Holland Tunnel blower towards Pier 26. The students got a taste of the river. R was willing to do a wet exit, which is optional at this level. We went back, and he capsized and I rescued him. Then we went in and called it a day.

The nice part: I got a tip, which I split evenly with my assistants. Also, one of them opted for a private lesson with me specifically. That was gratifying.

A Little Here, A Little There

Been taking it easy, no big trips these past two weeks, though I've been itching. Have had a couple of clients at the Pier 40 ranch, and the instructors got together with teaching assistants and did some rescue practice on a windy Monday evening.

Boy howdy there was a big temperature difference between Monday and Thursday, when I went out again at Inwood, and then again on Friday, when I paddled with some mates towards Ross Dock and back. There's an impressive standing wave the appears near the Little Red Lighthouse, underneath the GWB, at about Battery High -2 Hours. Doesn't last long though, I'll have to hunt it down.

I took a group of Turtles (Inwood Club Members) out. One capsized but was capably rescued by another. Too much edging was too blame. But is there ever too much edging?

Sunday I taught an impromptu rescue course to about six turtles. It was short, so we only did assisted rescues, including the rear deck and heel hook. Also did some contact towing, and of course, and all-in rescue. We did have one gentleman abandon his boat in favor of his wife. I fetched it with my contact tow. Man that thing comes in handy.

With the holiday weekend coming up, and City of Water the weekend after, I expect plenty more fun little trips soon.

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.

Surf City

Last week, the night before I went to Piermont, I went along on another trip with some friends downtown.

JT Paddles to Jersey City.

For weeks I had wondered what "Surf City" was on the shop's trip calendar. Of course, I learned earlier that week when we took clients, but still, I kick a kick out of Surf City: it's a waterfront pub, not surfing in the slightest sense.

Tracy heading down current. Cruise ship and fireboat in the distance.

So, half a dozen or so of us set out on a friendly trip to Surf City. We left Pier 40 at low tide, moving quickly down and across the river. It's not far, perhaps three miles, with the current doing most of the work.

JT observes some sunfish.

As we paddled in to Morris Canal, we saw a quartet of small sailboats moving in formation, parallel, then in a line, then whirling in a line.

Warming by the Fire.

Surf City has a gas-powered fire pit. We took it over, ordered food and drinks, and settled in.

A Tall Ship.

My camera doesn't capture night shots well, but I did get a couple: an unusually tall-masted sailboat, and lower Manhattan from across the way.

Kayaks at the ready, Manhattan in the background.

There were steady winds from the southwest, and as we headed back, they kicking up a steady following sea. By the time we got back to Pier 40, a steady surge of waves was carrying us in. One to two feet high, we surfed in - surf city after all.

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.

Robbin's Reef

Robbin's Reef is a lighthouse near the southern end of the NYC upper harbor, north of Staten Island and next to New Jersey. Friday night (in August, I'm posting this late), I paddled with some friends out to it after work.

We left at 6 or so, and set out with a fair amount of current taking us down. We crossed the Hudson, headed south past Morris Canal, through some chop by Liberty, and onwards. At one point in our crossing there was some monster wake - 4 or 5 feet at least - to glide over; that was fun.

Once below Liberty, the water actually chills out a bit, and we simply paddled south-ish across Jersey Flats. The sun was going down, and I managed to capture this shot - I took many but only a few came out right:

That's T, of T, V, and I as a team.

We paddled back, against some current, and as the sun set we stopped to put on lights. We paddled past Liberty at night, with a brilliant view of lower Manhattan, all lit up along with Liberty. My shots of these were terrible.

As we paddled back, in the dark, we managed the usual conditions - in the dark. At one point I noticed a wall of blank approaching us. "Guys," I said, "Wave coming broadside." Sure enough, we went up and down as the darkness passed us.

I've only been out that way once before, and far too east to have noticed Robbin's Reef. Its last keeper was a woman, and her name was given to a local Aids to Navigation vessel that services in the NYC area. It's a fascinating little stop in an otherwise-crowded harbor, and I hope to see it again.

Practice, Practice, Practice

All the major coaches were at the dude ranch this morning. There was a lot on the schedule - a river trip, a trip to the Statue of Liberty, a kayak class, an SUP class. However, clients failed to materialize for half of these activities, and so I was nicked by one of the senior coaches for a practice trip to Morris Canal.

The highlights? As usual, a bit of role-play,with me as the trip leader bringing across two paddlers at the top of my ability to teach. I caught some major helicopter prop wash, which was awesome. I paddled deep into the Morris Canal, and got some clarification on some stern rudder techniques and cros-bow rudder practice - not to mention tips on group management, trip leading, and finding lessons to teach on the way.

The key point to the first is that as a coach, or instructor, I have to tailor my style to my students' abilities. Most of my instruction has been to new paddlers, but dealing with somewhat experienced paddlers is a completely different style. There's less micro-management, and the teachable moments are completely different.

As far as the prop wash goes: there is a helicopter landing pad on the waterfront, in front of the Goldman Sachs building (appropriately enough). It's possible to paddle underneath that pier, which is topped with what is more or less just a metal grate, which allows air to flow. Our lead coach led us underneath, to a choppy area he likes to practice in, and I was passing directly below the landing platform right as a helicopter came in. Oh my God, it was like five seconds of intense weathercocking - all of a sudden my boat was being pushing sideways and downwards. I actually edged towards the spray, and when I came out, my left side was soaked and my right side was dry. It was an intense experience.

In the canal, we talked a bit about traffic, and did some more lessons and learning. We went back behind the marina, to where it becomes marsh before hitting a dead end. We paddled back and took a break for lunch.

We did have one client, a woman who had bought a boat and some kit but did not have a lot of experience. We took turns teaching and demonstrating techniques. I learned a little how to make kayaking seem fun. By the end though, the other assistant and I were practicing rolling and rescues. Turns out my forward sweep rolle is better than I thought.

It all flows out to the sea.

Rolling Practice

I took a shot at rolling practice this evening - solo.

What happened was, I went down to work at the Pier 40 ranch, but there was nothing scheduled, so I took the time to paddle north against max current a bit, and then practice in the embayment.

I spent a lot of time practicing my sculling for support and high brace, working myself up to try a roll. The first time in I always have to work up the will, but once I'm dunked, I'm like a little fish. So, after some procrastination, I set up, and went in.

I swung and I missed. I set up again and dove the paddle. I tried again and - what was this? The back blade seemed caught on something. It wasn't happening. I popped out and went into a paddle float self-rescue.

Damn.

I pumped water a bit, missing paddle buddy. The nice thing about having someone to practice these things with is that they can perform a bow rescue, or worst case, pull the boat out and dump the water. I did the next best thing: I went to a dock, got out and dumped water, and then got back in.

Back to basics.

One really great learning trick one of my coaches gave me was to start with an extremely high brace. Instead of a 360 roll, basically I go into the water with the paddle already in position; after hitting the water. I just pull myself up. I tried some non-extreme braces first, and then went in.

I got up, and went back in. I got up, and went back in. By now my paddle was so far out of position that all I could do was return to the standard, lean-forward position, and try an actual roll.

I came up. I came up. I had flubbed what I tried to do, and actually made it up. While these were very simple conditions, that is exactly what rolling is meant for: recovering when something goes awry.

I noticed two women who had been watching for a bit, so I paddled over to say hello. Turned out it was Johna, of Wind Against Current fame, and a friend of hers. "I saw you setting up and thought you would try that," she said. She congratulated me on my setup and execution, and we chatted a but more before they left, and I paddled around a bit.

I considered going in, but I wanted to try a proper roll. I did some more bracing, and then set up for a roll, and came up. Thrilled, wet, I looked towards the sky; it had been overcast all evening. The Floating the Apple people came into the embayment, in their might white-hulled gigs.

I did one more roll, and called it a day, thrilled that I'd been able to rolle consecutively, and on demand, even though I totally flubbed my first attempt.

Canoe

Another day at the ranch, working with the other coaches and assistants. We practiced paddling canoes, both solo and double.

I have to say, it's remarkable what one forgets when it is not practiced regularly.

My J-stroke was all wrong. I'd paddle out into the embayment at Pier 40, get weathercocked by a steady breeze from the east, and then be unable to turn or paddle against it. My C-stroke was even worse. While I did OK on the right, my brain just wasn't mapping it right to the left. I'd be thumbs-up and backwards.

Fortunately, through some instruction from the lead coach and by practicing with one of the other assistants, it started to come back to me. The wind would still 'cock me, but I was able to adjust. I got a a point where some edging and a C-stroke would get me where I needed to go.

Edging is different in a canoe. Unlike a kayak, you edge the deck into the opposing force, rather than the hull. That is, if I want to turn right, I tilt to the right, lifting the left side out of the water.

I also learned how much a difference trim makes. Even someone as light as the cowgirl puts the fore of the canoe four inches out of water when she sits in the back. Paddling solo, I sit in the middle, or ate least further forward.

By the end of the day, I was able to maneuver a narrow figure-8 course set up by our lead coach, around two pilings, and then backwards past a floating dock and two other pilings. It will take some work, but I think I will get the hand of it.

Games

I spent some time this morning at Pier 40, working with some of the instructors there to try out some games. I'll be assisting there this summer, and it was good to meet the team - including my old coach.

I arrived early, and as nice as it was, the regular paddling season felt right around the corner. I say "regular paddling" because at this point, I've paddled all twelve months in the year. But this morning was sunny, and relatively warm, and I could spy the Freedom Tower, the Statue of Liberty, and the Holland Tunnel blowers right across the way.

I pulled out my iPad and did some work - a little research, and a little email. Then, I caught a glimmer out on the river, and I watched until I was certain they were paddlers. They were very far out, but as they came closer, there were five, a group out of Valentino Park in Brooklyn, on their way into a weekend-long trip up the river.

My coach showed up, and talked to them - some he knew. We all talked about boats, and people we know, and paddling horror stories. For them, it was a pit stop, and as the rest of the crew arrived, they saddled up and headed out, while we pulled out boats and suited up for practice.

It's going to be a fun summer - like so many, too short.

Shop

Today I paddled from Pier 96 down to Pier 40 - that's about 56th street to Houston street on the Hudson river. I got a line on a guy at New York Kayak Company who might be able to mend a bonk on the nose that the Argonaut suffered a few months ago, and today I was finally able to connect my schedule to his.

Weather was alright - in fact Saturday turned out to be a pretty amazing day, considering it's October, and the weather earlier and later in the week has not nor is it predicted to be terribly charming. Water temperature is still in the high sixties, as is the air. I let early in order to get good current south, though a steady breeze encouraged me to put on my paddling jacket.

Normally, paddling south out of the embayment at Pier 96 requires heading out a bit into the channel, due to a 100 yard security zone behind the cruise ship terminals just below 96. While I was heading out there anyway, I saw an NYPD boat and what I thought was and FDNY boat. Now, I knew there were some events in the harbor this week, but I had only vague ideas of what they were. I wasn't surprised to see these guys, but I wasn't sure what exactly they were there for.

well, one of the boats came closer, and turned out to be a USCG boat. I Sometimes they just buzz by, but these guys were coming to me, so I signalled I was stopping, and then maneuvered to stay steady in the water.

"Where are you heading," asked the nice, young, well-armed man.

"Pier 40," I said.

He explained there was a 500 yard security zone at Pier 80, due to a Navy vessel berthed there. Now I remembered something about some US Navy ship coming to NYC, but I guess I'd thought it was going to stay in the harbor.

Now, the cowgirl has some acquaintances who bristle at authority, even well-armed authority, telling them what to do, and the cowgirl has some other acquaintances to whom large calibre automatic firearms are moderately intimidating. However, having grown up military, the cowgirl knows these guys are just doing their job, and bears no grudge. She learned a long time ago how to talk to soldiers on guard duty.

After figuring our where Pier 40 was ("Houston Street!" I hollered), they said they'd let me through but would shadow me. Fine. I figure they were a little bored, early in the morning, no one on the water except some chick in an eighteen foot kayak. Once we were at the end of the security zone, they signalled and I paddled on my way.

Shortly after that, I approached a ferry terminal near 38th street (I think). There was a ferry backing out. I came to a stop and raised my paddle. He did a weird three point turn, saw me, and headed out. I caught some pretty amazing surf off his wake, but just a couple of decent waves.

Making my way down, I passed Pier 66, home of Manhattan Kayak Company, New York Kayak Polo, and New York Outrigger. It's next door to the Frying Pan restaurant, a great place for a burger along with a nice view of the river.

By then, the blowers for the Holland tunnel were in sight, just below Pier 40. Pier 40 itself is a large building, so large that it tends to blend in as part of the shoreline - until you realize how far out from the waterfront it sticks.

It took about forty-five minutes to travel 56 blocks - not accounting for the extra time spent talking to the Coast Guard. I was early, but I saw the Downtown Boathouse's Houston Street program getting started. I pulled in and talked to the guys. A gust of weird blew a sun umbrella clean off its post, landing in the water upside down. Took some doing, but one of the guys managed to wrangle it back in using a sit-on-top kayak and some interesting paddling techniques.

A little while later I met up with the guy at NYKC. Good news is, he said it didn't look nearly as bad as my photos made it look, and he gave me several options, including one quite a bit cheap than what I'd been expecting. That repair will be a whole 'nother story. Once we settled on a deal, I looked around the shop and tried on some drysuits - also a different story - and went on my merry way.

Part two will come later this week after I pick up my boat. Stay tuned.