The Original Spuyten Duyvil

Edited to Add video and a note: the "Johnson Island" cut came about decades after the original canal. 1/1/2018

A curious map turned up recently on the internet - a map that shows the original flow of Spuyten Duyvil Creek, aka the northern portion of New York City's Harlem River.

Since this is right in the Cowgirl's backyard, I thought I'd share this and try to explain what's different, as well as expound on some of the more picayune aspects of New York City history.

First, the old map. Along the left edge runs the Hudson River, and along the right edge, the Harlem (it even says, "Harlem River". The squiggly shaded bit connecting them is the original flow of the creek. Light portions below it are Manhattan, above are the Bronx.

The "Scene of the Disaster" is an artifact of the image, and beyond the scope of our needs. The image comes from an article on a rail disaster there in the late nineteenth century.

The Map.

What was done, a bit over a hundred years ago, is actually pretty simple. Follow the river with your eyes from the Hudson to the Harlem.

See that peninsula jutting down from the Bronx? That was cleaved right about at the three-way intersection, forming two tidal mudflats where the river used to be, and the cliff where the famous Columbia "C" is painted.

See how on the next, larger peninsula jutting north of Manhattan, there are two narrow inlets on either side? Well, they cut through there to connect them, and then filled in the part of the creek the flowed up north of there. This is the area known as Marble Hill, in "The Bronx" but technically part of Manhattan.

You can sort of make out Marble Hill from the following Google Earth snapshot:

Marble Hill today.

On the north side of the river, left of the bridge, that neighborhood that's sort of bounded in a circle? That's Marble Hill. Technically it's part of Manhattan and residents there serve Jury Duty in Manhattan (seriously: the judge will say "residents of Manhattan and [zip code of Marble Hill]").

And that's that. The goal was to create a shipping canal so that vessels could go from the Hudson to Long Island Sound without the trouble of heading around the Battery.

And that, as they say, is that. It's a good bet that the Cowgirl and friends could have taken the old route down to Hell Gate and back, and it might have been more interesting. All the same, we're happy for the modern route. After all, how else would we get to practice dodging Circle Line and Classic Harbor Line vessels?

Update January 2018
A couple of years after I wrote this post, a member of my club found the following video, which does a much better job of describing where and how they cuts were made. It turns out that where the Columbia "C" is came much later than the original project. The video also describes the early challenges of the creek and later canal in much more detail.

Sunrise to Throgs Neck

Four. 4 AM. 0400. Four o'clock in the morning. I set my alarm for this, on a weekend, because I managed to convince a couple of friends that a sunrise paddle to the Throgs Neck bridge would be fun.

It's a trip I've made before. I made sure to apply the lessons learned from that trip. We'd take nearly four hours to paddle out, have a one hour layover, and paddle back.

The thing was, to get there we'd have to leave at 0545. At that, we didn't get going till 0600, making our way in short order up the Hudson, through Spuyten Duyvil, and then down the Harlem.

The morning sky.

The Hamilton, Washington, and High bridges.

High bridge has the scaffolding off!

We took a little jaunt through my favorite new shortcut: the Bronx kill, along the north edge of Randalls Island.

Moving right along.

We don't have caves for NYC paddling, but we do have overpasses.

Under the rail and pedestrian overpasses.

And now the upper East River.

I've started using the appellation, "Upper" East River to distinguish between the East River that runs alongside Manhattan and the East River that separates Queens from the Bronx; these are connected by Hell Gate. For most NYC paddlers, the East River is just a little stretch to pass through on a circumnavigation, or perhaps a path to Hell Gate or the upper harbor.

In our case we were heading out past the Brother islands, Rikers Island, Laguardia airport, the Bronx-Whitestone Bridge, and ending at the SUNY Maritime college next to the Throgs Neck bridge.

The upper East River is a great place to teach chart navigation. For one thing, there's a great deal of variety in charted objects, from landmarks to channel markers, making it easy to triangulate position and practice orientation. For another, the current is generally mild but noticeable, and there is enough enough fetch that it's easy to demonstrate a ferry crossing. I didn't teach a proper class but I did show my paddlemates how to figure out where we were and where we were going.

The weather had been predicted to be cloudy and overcast, improving with the day. We had winds 6-10 mph out of the ENE, giving us a decent headwind and waves to paddle over on the outbound trip.

At one point in our journey I overheard a Coast Guard cutter repeatedly hailing an outbound power vessel, and later something about letting an NYPD boa out of Flushing handle something. I realized we were very close to part of Laguardia Airport and had just skirted the shore of Rikers Island, NYC's main prison facility. I hailed them.

"This is kayak three,  we just want to make sure we're not the cause of any trouble out here."

"No, ah, kayak three, we're not aware of any local law enforcement activity in your area. Just be sure to observe charted security zones and shipping regulations."

Or, something to that effect.

The skies improve.

Along the way, we spotted what seemed to be part of a submarine being towed out towards Long Island Sound. Which prompted the questions: who buys these things? How are they assembled?

Sub Assembly Required.

As we approached the Throgs Neck, we could make out a vessel I didn't see last time - the Empire State, the training vessel for SUNY Maritime College. It was moored next to the college, right next to the bridge. We crossed, and paddled alongside her.

Approaching the Throgs Neck.

The Empire State.

There is a small beach between the bridge and an old art deco building on campus. There we saw the remains of some wildlife - or maybe living wildlife in the case of the turtle.

Horseshoe Crab.

Turtle.

It turns out it was cadet induction day (or something like that). We saw quite a few of them marching up to what amounts to their parade ground, where they would salute the colors and then move on to wherever they were directed next.

This is where we stopped for lunch - well, second breakfast. We took a brief peek in the fort, but mostly sat watching the water, and or boats and the gently receding tide. Fishermen in small recreational craft drifted by.

Cadets on parade.

We only had about an hour. I was very specific about this, since the last time I made this trip, my friend and I got caught out behind some very strong current in the last mile of the Harlem river. I budgeted two hours each for the East River and Harlem river legs of the trip - a little generous for this group, but also allowing for conditions, gabbing, and gear dickering.

As I explained to the group, our departure was driven not by conditions where we were, but by where we would be near the end. We needed to be exiting the Harlem by one hour after low tide at Battery, or the end of our journey would be a bit of a challenge.

The time came to leave, and we set out under the bridge, returning along the north, or Bronx, side of the river. The wind died down pretty quickly, and it even got a bit sunny and warm, so we just had to paddle. We made good time, and took a short detour to peek at the mouth of the Bronx river, the only freshwater river in New York City.

The Way Home.

We went 'round the Brothers, veering to North Brother and then crossing the channel again to the Bronx side. Once back in the kill, the boys took a short break, and then we continued on.

Back in the Bronx Kill.

The Harlem was uneventful, remarkable only in that we were passed by no commercial traffic - just a couple of jetskis, and recreational craft, remarkably polite craft at that - they all cut their engines to produce no wake. We waved a a small crowd of people hanging out from a large housing complex. The shouted "ole!" as we passed by.

Our timing worked out well, we managed to be half an hour ahead of schedule, which is better than being half an hour behind. By the time we passed the Broadway bridge, we were content to drift, paddle a bit, drift, and so on. Once on the Hudson, I took a little roll, mostly to cool off, but also to practice and give myself a little victory move before we went in.

I ought to mention that I tried out a new bit of kit, some paddling clothes I picked up at the shop. I got a short sleeve top and a pair of shorts, and both are basically an inner lining of a warm, quick-dry material, and a waterproof/windproof outer material. I wore it bc I expected the wind to bite a bit more, and wanted something that could block the wind when I was out of my boat.

I'm happy to say this stuff was warm and I was downright toasty on the Harlem legs of the paddle; I appreciated it on the East River legs, when my buddies were pulling out their jackets. There's a dry cag on sale from the same manufacturer, and I think I may get it as an interim step between my paddling jacket and drysuit.

All in all this was a good trip, and an improvement on how I did it last time. It's not a hard trip but the distance make it something for experienced paddlers. I'm working up some variations - going deep into Flushing Bay, or landing at nearer shores. It's nice to know my understanding of tides isn't totally off.

Hours later, after we're off the water and all our boats and gear have been washed and put away, I was walking to the subway station past a bunch of restaurants serving brunch. I scanned the skies, reading the clouds as I had so much earlier in the morning, as if I were still at sea.

I'll look forward to the next!

Independence Day

Inclement weather kept people away from the boathouse today. As far as I can tell, only two people went paddling besides myself.

In the morning I did some work on my boat. The main thing is filing down the gel work on a repair from last year: fiberglass bandages over some spider cracks. I had the color and gel and took care of that earlier this year . . .or was it last fall? In any case it cured kinda rough, and was big enough that I waited to buy an orbital sander to assist with the labor. That's kind of its own story; the repair is looking better but still in progress, so more about that later.

I left to grab lunch and watch a World Cup football match, returning in the evening. It rained in the afternoon all through the walk over to the boathouse, and I figured at the least I'd just enjoy working on some trip plans with the garage door open, a pleasant view of the Palisades to keep me company. However, but they time I got there, I could see clear skies and sunshine slowing making their way eastwards to Manhattan.

That did it. I got out my kit, ran my fingers along the repair to check it, and took a little trip. I went up to Spuyten Duyvil as the current spilled out of it; a stiff breeze made the conditions there more interesting than usual, and my boat go cocked sideways to the current. I straightened out, then paddled in and took a look around the conditions, making mental notes for teaching purposes.

After that, I went back onto the Hudson, now ebbing more strongly. A large ocean-going vessel with two cranes on it sped by, kicking up strong wake abetted by wind and curent; I plowed over some 3-foot waves. Fun! Then I set out towards New Jersey, keeping an eye on traffic. There were some sightseeing boats, as well as as a tug steadily making its way up. I thought better of my plan and went down to show off some moves at the Tubby Hook pier.

The little tug turned around - I saw the strange sight of a tug and its towed barge drifting sideways with the current. I thought she might moor but she did not; went south with the current.

I cleaned up, locked up, and that was that. Happy Independence Day, United States!

Misty

Last Sunday I took a couple of newer paddlers in my club on a trip to Peter Sharp Boathouse. It's a nearby destination, but as we are truly in Autumn now, no less interesting. 

We got a bit of a late start, off through Spuyten Duyvil and past the Columbia C, their boathouse, and under the Broadway Bridge. By then the current was against us, but nothing terrible. We paddle on, passing another kayaker heading the opposite direction, having put in at Liberty State Park to do his circumnavigation. We waved, chatted briefly, then went on our way.

There was very little wind, so the water was flat. It was a great opportunity to teach how to read current, pointing out places where it hit objects and flowed around, forming small eddies. By staying close to the shore we were able to make good progress, until we landed at the beach of Swindler's Cove, had lunch, and got some passers-by to take our photos.

Turns out they were neighborhood lads, retired guys who had grown up in the area and then moved out, surprised to find the park and the people (us) so much more hospitable than either had been in the seventies and eighties.

The way back was easy - the current was with us, and growing stronger. Meanwhile, a fog had rolled down the Hudson River Valley, and we looked forward to a sublime journey.

Sure enough, the still waters and thickening fog made New Jersey nearly invisible. I'm very happy with the above photo, of TS, perfectly reflected in water.

Coming around the corner from Spuyten Duyvil, KH's boat was a sharp contrast, clearly meant for summer climes.

Anytime we looked west, or north, it was clear there wasn't much out there, perhaps the Hounds of the Baskervilles.

We did make it home, but it wasn't easily visible. The tower of the Cloisters looms over the trees, and closer, the boom of a barge laying new pilings near our club can barely be seen.

Spuyten Duyvil

The other evening after work I took a short trip up and through Spuyten Duyvil. I'm making a methodical study of our local waterways for places to teach and practice, and the tides were such that I would get a good glimpse of the Duyvil around max ebb on the Hudson. I learned a couple of new details.

First, as one would expect, a strong current is a great time to see the Duyvil in action. Just west of the railroad bridge were patches of short standing waves, an expanding fan of eddies, and overall strong current. I used my typical approach, using a little cutout nook just south of the railroad bridge that is sheltered from the current, to get right up to the line.

Turning in to go against the current isn't difficult but requires a little finesse, edging away from the current while sweeping to take it straight on. Then, strong forward strokes and sweeps are required. I like to stay to the right so that a short burst lands me in a small sheltered area just below the railroad bridge.While incredibly shallow at low tide, it's still protected from the environment, and a good place to take a short break, and to collect a group if you're with one.

Second, the current in the Harlem itself before the bridge isn't terribly overpowering, and even beginner paddlers could cross it with little effort. This is good to know, because as it happens, the area on the north side of the Harlem, between the railroad bridge and the Henry Hudson bridge, was actually very still, making it a good place to practice even through the ebb current was nearing its maximum rate on the Hudson. Even better, according to my charts, and a little paddle sounding, it's deep enough to practice rescues, and maybe even rolling.

Spuyten Duyvil, from Google Maps

In the picture above, the bridge on the left is the railroad bridge, with the Hudson to the left of it. I approached along the edge of the shore and burst under the bridge into the U-shaped bay on the bottom, then paddling across to the shore on the upper side of the picture.

The little bay on the south has been a good place to practice maneuvers, rescues, and rolls, but it does get shallow - part of it becomes a mud flat. Knowing I've got another area to use is good to know - although, it's less protected from the channel, so I'd want to keep an eye out for traffic.

For more on the history of Spuyten Duyvil, check out Forgotten NY's article. Apparently there was a fire on the bridge a couple of years ago.

I think the Duyvil might also be a good place to practice rough water work, as long as we are mindful of traffic and inform the bridge operator ahead of time.

A Foggy Paddle

I paddled this afternoon with two members of the Inwood Canoe Club. One is one of my regular paddling buddies, and the other was up an an ACA assessment. The air temperature was in the high 60s, low 70s, very humid, with dense fog most of the day. Unlike yesterday, it never burned off, leaving our area - northern Manhattan and the Palisades - shrouded in moor-like tendrils.

This was one of those days where I did not bring my camera, but at several points wished I had. It was in the boathouse, and I had just put a fresh battery in it. I just figured I'd be too busy to take photos.

We paddled north a bit, to Spuyten Duyvil, and considered going in. Along the way, we saw a soccer ball fly into the water, followed shortly by a young man climbing down to retrieve it, though it was clearly too far out. I paddled over to the ball, scooped it up, then tossed it back.

We'd seen a large ship coming up the river earlier. As she grew closer we realized just how big she was - and right down the middle of the river. We typically see barges far to the New Jersey side, which is technically an anchorage. I looked up our behemoth visitor; she's a Bahamas-flagged oil tanker, the Afrodite:

Later, we over heard radio traffic warning her skipping that "about a hundred" kayakers were near the Tappan Zee Bridge. I'll be asking what that was about.

Rather than go into the Duyvil, we waited for a south-bound barge to pass and crossed the river to an area just north of Bloomers Beach. There we tried a couple of rescues, then landed on the beach for a snack lunch.

I had a little distance from my friends as I checked the chart, and when I looked up I saw some them perfectly framed against the Palisades, with just enough fog to look mysterious. Color really pops in humidity, and our always-beautiful playground was all the more pretty in the mist.

We saw three outriggers set out from Englewood Marina, just south of Bloomers Beach. As they set out across the river, I overheard radio comms warning the Spuyten Duyvil bridge operator of human-powered watercraft heading their way. One of the outriggers came towards us, and we recognized them from their visit earlier this summer.

We proceeded south a bit. By now the ebb current had picked up. We looked both ways, then set out across the river, heading straight across, knowing the current would take us south a bit.

So that's at least three photos I missed: the ship, my friends, and the outriggers. Who knew such a short paddle, in our neighborhood, could be so interesting? I have got to stop taking out area for granted.