Black River

I'm a little behind in blogging. Here are some details on a trip Mr. Cowgirl and I took with our mutual friend, EY the "canoe girl" a couple of weeks ago, in mid-April.

Mr. Cowgirl knows EY from whitewater paddling, where she's more likely to be paddling a C1 instead of a kayak. Anyone who can do with one blade what the Cowgirl has learned to do with two is pretty impressive.

On this day, however, we took it easy and explored a stretch of water one might normally overlook - and drive past without a second thought: the Black River, in New Jersey.

Putting in.

We'd been fuzzy about our weekend paddling plans. The weather was predicted to be amazing, and while I checked the tide tables and wind for sea ideas, the mister kept on top of reported river levels for whitewater opportunities. Everything was coming up dry, and we were considering some lake or interior waters, just to be out, when EY called and suggested the Black River.

The Black River.

The River is pretty far out in New Jersey, nearly as far as the Cowgirl's current day job. We drove out on I-80, continuing past Parsippany and I-287, to take route 206 south a ways, eventually coordinating with EY a couple of potential ideas: one to put in at one spot and shuttle from another, the second to put in and take out at the same place - a dirt parking lot at the end of a trail, maybe 150 yards portage to a low bridge with a small mud pile we could put in at.

And we're off!

We observed there was some non-trivial current: not enough to be a problem, but enough that we'd be moving noticeably if we didn't paddle. We opted to go against the current, figuring we could come back with it. This mean leaning low to pass under the bridge, and later, we encountered a second bridge (which was route 206) that we couldn't pass under. So, we went back, with the current, floating as much as paddling.

We'd brought the Grumman canoe along instead of kayaks. Someone has posted online about hosting a trip later, and had said short boats only. We're happy to say our Grumman 17 worked out quite well!

Dare we go there?

Yes we dare! Actually the return.

Duck!

EY took plenty of pictures and posted them. Also kept track of mileage and our route.

Paddling is full of 'grammable opportunties!

Looking ahead.

Mr. Cowgirl.

As we made our way down the winding river, we crossed first one and then another beaver dam, getting speed to beach halfway over it, then taking turns getting back in to complete our madness.

We saw a lot of birds - mostly red-chested blackbirds, I forget their exact nomenclature. EY spotted an egret.

Where's EY?

Clouds have rolled in.

At a couple of points we decided to see what the panorama mode on the cameraphone would do if used while the canoe was moving.

WhoooOOOOooo.

Like a visual Theremin.

The weather was the most interesting part of this trip. Being mid-April, we were still concerned with water temperature. I even brought my drysuit. However, the air temperature was over 80 F and sunny, so I just wore base layers - rolled up for comfort.

I'm glad I wore them though, and that I had a jacket. Later in our trip, the wind picked up and clouds rolled in, and we even got a spattering of rain. I put on the jacket just to block the wind. Yet, by the end of our journey, the sky had cleared and it was warm again. We'd come full circle, weather-wise.

Consider the lilies.

Dam it! Beavers.

Eventually, we came to a beaver home. We couldn't spot beavers, though we did watch for them. We swept gently by and proceeded just a little ways further, before turning around.

Anybody home?

In revisiting some of these pictures, I keep expecting the Blair Witch to pop up. Aye the moors. . .

There's EY!

A fallen tree.

On our way back.

As we came to the end, we all remarked on what a fun find this little river was. None of us had been especially ambitious in paddling plans - we were all in a mood for something chill, and that was exactly what we got. A remote area, a little wildlife, endless and changing vistas: all of this was in just a couple of hours paddling, less than a 90 minute drive away. 

Bon Voyage

A post on a Facebook group for Hudson River paddlers caught my attention: a woman, Margo Pellegrino, set out from Newark for Chicago. After a layover at Pier 66 in Manhattan, she'd be heading north, and: would anyone care to join her?

Kayak Cowgirl here, free time on hand, paddling out of the Inwood Canoe Club.

I left around 0730; Margo had launched from Pier 66 about an hour earlier, against what was some pretty fierce ebb tide. To her immense credit she'd gotten nearly to Mitsuwa, the Japanese supermarket in Fort Lee, by the time I met up with here just north of the ferryboat Binghamton.

Along the way I stopped to say howdy to the crew of the USCG Ridley, a cutter that appeared to be tending a buoy. I didn't have my radio with me so I paddled close and hollered, but was waved off by someone in the conning booth. I suppose they don't like unknown vessels pulling up to close, but the crew seemed friendly enough.

It was a good thing Margo came up the NJ side of the river, because guess what? Fleet Week, the annual gathering of military vessels in NYC, started up, meaning there was a 500 yard security zone in midtown. If she'd stayed in NYC she would have had to go to the middle of the river, where the current is strongest, to avoid the zone.

Checking In.

We paddled for a bit - hard, against the current, though it was weakening. We waited for a tug pulling two barges to pass and then crossed the river, ferrying a bit, then continued north along the Manhattan side. Shortly after passing under the GWB, the current eased up, and we ran into a fellow paddler from the Inwood Canoe Club, Mac Levine, resident paddleboarder out for her morning routine.

We stopped at the Inwood Canoe Club so Margo could take a short break and view the grounds. We got out at the club's new dock - built by club members over the past month or so,  and only floated into service two days earlier - and took a look around. Margo's paddling an outrigger canoe, and the club's heritage includes canoe and kayak racing. We talked a little shop, but just a little.

Margo is heading to Chicago, heading up the Hudson, planning to paddle via the Erie Canal to the Great Lakes and on over to the windy city. Previous expeditions include Miami to Maine and Seattle to San Diego. You can follow Margot on Twitter @slowpaddler and you can read about this project in particular here.

A Day of Everything and Nothing

I needed a day off. On the one hand I love planning grand paddling adventures, and a friend had organized a circumnavigation. However I have one of my own planned later this week, and I wanted a day of no commitments. Saturday was that day.

In the morning I went out with some friends on a trip organized for our club. We didn't go terribly far - about three miles each way - but when one paddler expressed interest in a canoe, I volunteered to go with. We paddled a Penobscot 17 there and back, switching from back to front at the halfway point.

That's right, the Kayak Cowgirl paddled a canoe. I had to learn canoe for my 2 Star, and practice it a bit downtown. A lot of kayak strokes come from canoe. It's like the Middle English of paddlesports.

After that journey, most paddlers left, but a couple wanted to practice rescues to qualify for special privileges in the club. I stayed and shepherded that a bit. The candidate passed, and then she and her beau left.

My friend and I got lunch, and snacks for the circumnavigators who would be coming through later. When we got back, the sun was shiny so we ate lunch in the shade - but by the time we finished our sandwiches, the sky was cloudy with no sun in sight.

Some visitors came by with kids, and after I finished some minor gear tweaking I got in my boat and did some tricks.

After that, my friend - canoeboy - got in a kayak and we practiced edging and leaning, and turning on edge. Then he spotted me on some rescues. Still gotta work on on my right-setup roll, but my re-entry and roll works. I can't wait to try it in a drysuit.

To polish it off I did some scramble rescues, as we tried things we've seen other people attempt and fail at, and some things that should fail but, bizarrely, work. Thoroughly soaked, I landed, got nto dry clothes, and cleaned up before going home.

I love nothing days. They have the most variety.

To Piermont

I paddled to Piermont and back with some friends, two in sea kayaks, the third, self-named canoeboy, in his trusty single canoe.

We got a very late start, over an hour after our intended departure time. It was also a hot day. Paddling up the Hudson felt like effort, though we made decent time. We'd all had somewhat long weeks and just wanted a simple paddle, nothing elaborate, no paddle-to-the-maddle effort. That's pretty much what we got.

Near Alpine marina, I took a roll to cool off, and also demonstrated with MD a paddleshaft Eskimo rescue. B, an experienced canoeist and outdoorsman, was paddling a sea kayak sans sprayskirt. He's strong, and quick, but still learning the finer points of sea kayaking.

 
We continued on, running into a lone kayaker who had put in at a park in Yonkers but was not with the Yonkers club. We saw birds of prey circling high over the landslide. We started running out of current and moved closer to shore to catch what little eddy we could. Then, near the fancy homes just above the Italian Garden, we saw a ginormous bird take flight from one tree to the next. He was gorgeous and brown.

Onward we went. The boys really like to push themselves, and while we knew we wouldn't make it to Piermont pier we decided to paddle as far as we could before returning to the Garden for lunch. We did pretty much just that, enjoying a beautiful sunny summer day.

After lunch, we launched and set out, well rested and well-fed.The wind picked up considerably from the southwest, and pretty soon we had some chop. Fun for sea kayaks, a bit soggy for canoes and open kayaks.

B and canoeboy were very fast and pulled well ahead of MD and I. We ventured farther out into the channel a few times hoping to get some current assist, but had to judge that against the stiff headwind. Eventually, we were so far behind we decided to just go out to play - with the wind on current, there were some 3-4 footers coming in, and we rode up and down, and through, and across most of the way down.

Eventually, our fun came to an end. We saw a barge approaching in the far distance, and went closer to the eastern shore - the conditions tended to push us out, so we wanted plenty of time to make it in. Around the time we got to the Stairs for Nowhere, our friends rejoined us and we made it down without issue, plenty of current carrying us home.

Old Home Movies of Tubby Hook

I had a opportunity to see a compilation of home movies made in the Inwood area of Manhattan, shot in the 1930s. It was at a party held by the Inwood Canoe Club. There was plenty of footage of the club's waterways, an area known as Tubby Hook.

It was fascinating. We've all heard that the area was a busy, thriving waterfront, but here we saw motion pictures of a long row of boathouses, docks, and even the old ferry terminal at the end of Dyckman. For that matter, there was footage of the George Washington Bridge being built - at some points just a long cable, with the roadway not yet complete. As bucolic as the area is today, it's hard to imagine it was once as busy as the waters further downtown.

The array of vessels is astonishing as well. Not only was there a decent-sized ferry, but there were sailing canoes, speedboats, naval warships, seaplanes taking off and landing, along with tugs and barges as there are today. The mighty Graf Zeppelin, Germany's grandest dirigible, floated over the Palisades.

There was footage of ice that could just as easily have been taken yesterday, or last month. A couple of guys went out in a canoe in a slurry; one even climbed out on a slab of ice, and another fell in the river wearing street clothes and a wool coat. In a way it sort of puts to shame my trepidation about paddling in the ice floe, but also kinda validates everything I've ever taught and been taught about the cold water safety.

The funniest part was the narrator, with an old-fashioned New York City accent and vocabulary ("New Joysee", "schlub") and blunt commentary (" I don't know what this is, it's boring, my father liked boring things, I dunno").

The film is well worth a watch, and will be playing this Tuesday at Indian Road Cafe around 730 PM.  For details view the following link.

http://myemail.constantcontact.com/EVENTS-AT-INDIAN-ROAD--1-31-2-6.html?soid=1102084407457&aid=8p1D9iJKAnY

Other Boats

I spent some time working on the Argonaut today, subject for another post, and so to meet my paddling needs I took out another couple of boats: "Baby Blue", a Sawyer canoe, and a fell club member's Boreal Design Ellesmeere.

The canoe was fun, larking about in front of some friends. The paddles I used were alternately too short and too long for proper canoeing, but I managed to get about. At one point I switch to a kayak paddle. I noodled around a bit, eventually tying it to a bolt and climbing out on a rail while our ramp was being refurbished.

The Ellesmere was a dream to paddle. it's a hard-chined boat, and I could totally feel the difference. Putting that boat on an edge, it would stay there. I could park on my side. Turning was so much easier than in the Argonaut, and so much more stable than other "shallow V" or soft-chined boats.

That said, the Ellesmere has an ocean cockpit. While it's something I've been meaning to try, it was harder to get in and out on the dock. I'm not as worried about ejecting if I need to, but still, I tok it easy.

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.