Short and Sweet

A Beautiful Day. That was the phrase nearly everyone I ran into said as I considered where I would paddle. People at the boathouse, coming in from their own trips, all said that, and eve non-paddlers on my flight path the the boathouse said the same thing.

When Mister Cowgirl and I drove up to Maine a week earlier, we thought the drive was pretty but that more was to come. Sure enough, by November 4, the trees across the river on the Palisades had exploding with autumnal color.

For years, I admired long trips. Anything less than 8 miles or four hours was "boring". With the tidal currents around New York City, it's easy to cover over a dozen miles in just a couple of hours, timed just right. Paddling out to the Throgs Neck and back (just under thirty miles round trip) or from Manhattan to Sandy Hook and back (about thirty-nine miles)? No problem - that's the goal. Getting kitted out for much less than that is. . . well, is it worthwhile?

This particular day, I was faced with a conundrum. I only had a couple of hours available, and the current would be ebbing all morning. I didn't want to journey too far south, but didn't want to be out late.

Behold, the color!

I decided ultimately on a short paddle, across to the Palisades, then north against current, then across to Spuyten Duvil, into the Harlem a bit, and then back.

To the Cliffs
I set off to the Palisades, and ran a little experiment to see just how far south I would drift with the current if I kept my heading true. The results were not quite as dramatic as I expected, but I did drift about half a mile south in the fifteen minutes or so it took me to cross. There was a bit of extra drift as I waited for a powerboat to cross my path.

Closer to the New Jersey shore, I crossed and paddled close to the Adirondack, a sailing tour ship operated by Classic Harbor Line. the passengers took pictures of me as I took pictures of them. I gave chase, and I think with a bit of effort I would have at least kept pace. I didn't want to, however. I was right where I wanted to be: Ross Dock.

The Adirondack, George Washington Bridge in the background.

Ross Dock is a large, square park sticking out of the Palisades, just north of the George Washington Bridge. It's not a dock in a conventional sense: it's a park, a big square jetty sticking out form the Palisades. The river is quite shallow to the north and south, and at this extreme tide, mostly mud flat. I noodled around the nooks and crannies, waving at people looking over the wall, before I started paddling north.

Ross Dock

To the North
As I paddled, I kept close to shore in order to fight as little current as possible, but not too close because it was quite shallow. Quartering waves, maybe two or three seconds apart, rolled in from the northeast. They weren't challenging, and I remember thinking I'd been in much bigger waves and conditions the weekend before, and I sort of went on autopilot.

That proved to be an embarrassing mistake. In short order the waves got a bit taller and stronger, and before I knew it was was washed up on the shore, alternately bracing into the waves and leaning towards the large pebbles of the glacial moraine that is, basically, the river valley. I may as well have put the boat up on blocks, not sitting in water of any depth, and the waves were too short to get enough flotation to push off.

Eventually, I pushed with my hand against a rock, feeling some strain as the wave pushed me in, and that dropped the stern just enough that I could push back into water. Up on the walking path, I saw a bit of relief from a man who seemed about ready to call 911. I wasn't in danger, merely inconvenienced, but I can see how the laity might not be able to distinguish between the two.

Back on course to the north.

Overhead, I saw a Coast Guard helicopter soar over the George Washington Bridge, dropping low, lower than the highest trees and buildings on the Manhattan side of the river. I wondered its mission; to fly so low was unusual, and I thought perhaps the worst, a person found in the water. I didn't seriously consider they'd be looking for me. The helicopter banked, crossed the river, and disappeared over the cliffs to the north.

I continued onwards. I soon came to Englewood Boat Basin, waving at people on shore and keeping a better distance from it. I paddled past the entrance to the little marina there, then found a little eddy to stay in while I finagled a snack our of my day hatch.

Englewood Boat Basin

A fighter jet roared overhead, louder and lower than most planes. Suddenly, I heard its engines increase, and when I looked up again, I couldn't see the plane.


Return Crossing
At the north end of the boat basin, I found a little eddy to hang out in while I finangled a bit of snack and decided on my next move. I decided to take a long ferry glide over to Manhattan.

Looking North.

Normally, when kayakers talk about a ferry glide, it's in a whitewater or moving water context, maybe a few dozen yards. The Hudson River where I was paddling is just shy of a full nautical mile wide.

That said, I do what one would usually do: I picked two points in the distant, one closer that the other, and tried to keep them lined up. In this case, two water tower enclosures on different buildings in the Bronx.

At that distance, it's hard to see how fast you're moving compared to the shore, but once I was within a hundred yards or so of Manhattan, it was easy to see how quickly I'd drift south if I didn't take a pretty sharp angle. I speed up, kept my course true, and shortly arrived just south of Spuyten Duyvil.

I went through, and passed into the Harlem River.

The Harlem

The current was just beginning to change, and wasn't hard to paddle against. I went up past the Henry Hudson Bridge and took a poke at Muscota Marsh, part of Inwood Hill Park.

A poke at Muscota Marsh.

I went s bit further. At a low tide, the "marsh" is really a muddy flat, so I kept to the left and decided to see how far in I could get. I talked a bit with a woman walking her dog.

Hullo at Muscota Marsh.

Looking in to Inwood Hill Park.

After that, I turned around, paddled back through Spuyten Duyvil, and then on down to the boathouse.


The Parting Shot
On the way back, I paddled up close to the Mon Lei, an old sailing boat that was bought by the owners of the restaurant La Marina (it's in the background). It's been moved recently, and later a friend of mine who's been working on restoring the ship posted a video of her being towed to her winter quarters.

The Mon Lei was once owned by Mr. Ripley of "Ripley's Believe It or Not" fame.

With that, my tour concluded. There was a lot I saw in just a couple of hours paddling - and altogether, I paddled maybe four or five nautical miles. See? Not all great trips have to be epic in duration or conditions.

Spring into Activity

Summer is here, at last, the rains have subsided and the air is getting warmer. As we climb into the back half of June, I find myself wondering - jimi-nee, is it really over three months since I blogged anything?

Previously, on Kayak Cowgirl:

The pool programs finished up. For the second year running I've taught at the winter pool program operated in Dobbs Ferry by Matt Kane at Prime Paddlesports. I had a good range of students, from beginners to improvers, working on everything from basic forward and turning strokes to re-discovering their roll. I came to look forward to those Sunday drives up the parkways, with one or more boats on my car.

I paddled on a very windy day with Kayak Dov in Jamaica Bay, in March. I don't have any photos handy but, I recall Dov saying he wasn't looking for conditions, but rather wanted to scout the area for an IDW he was teaching. We arrived on a day with F5-F6 winds, overcast, and a very strong ebb tide rushing past Bennett Field. We took a look-sea and decided, "hey, why not?" It was a fun, if robust paddle.

April was kind of a wash. Literally. It rained a lot, (shocking, I know), and was windy, and overcast, and just generally not a pleasant month for paddling. According to my paddling log, I got out once, with some friends out of Inwood to Mitsuwa market..

Then in May, Mister Cowgirl and I took a holiday to Scotland, the isle of Skye, where we paddled with a certain famous sea kayaking coach . . .but that will be a bit before I finish writing. Over the two days we paddled, we played in a tidal strait called Kylerhea, and paddled around some skerries near Armadale.

Yours Truly, so happy to help carry boats.

Posing on the water near Armadale ferry.

Literally just happy to be here! Near the Glenelg ferry.

The ferry in that last was fascinating to the Mister and myself. The paddling was quite nice too! And yes, I got some tips from the famous sea kayaking coach.

It's been non-stop since then.

At the "Sebago Season Opener" interclub racing event Memorial Day Weekend, I placed first in the Womens 100m! Third in the 400m and 800m. This was all in a field of three.

Ribbons for All!

What can I say, I'm a sprinter. Though, actually, in past events I've usually done best in the 400 - the 100 warms me up, and the 800 I just peter out on the return leg.

Then there was a whitewater trip with Mister Cowgirl and friends. We paddled the upper and lower Esopus, near Phoenicia, New York. These are Class II rapids, with a couple of Class III features along the way. I paddled the lower half last year; this year, I did the whole thing.

Kayak and Mister Cowgirl, together on the trail.

My WW Canoe friend LB, finishing some rapids.

A Bald Eagle.

The weekend after that, I took some boats out to Long Island to demonstrate. Rebel Kayaks. These are performance boats in the Greenland style - popular with rollers and other traditional skills enthusiasts. Kayak Dov sells them in NewYork and New Jersey.

The Paddle Wagon with a Husky on top.

Plus, I got to paddle a bit in a Long Island harbor and catch up a group calling themselves "Small Craft Advisory" .Rough water and surf enthusiasts!

Finally, just last weekend, I taught a class at Lake Sebago, hauling four boats there and back, borrowing two more, and teaching a great group of beginners some of the fundamentals of paddling, bracing, and incident management.

Ducklings, all in a row.

So, now you're caught up! I promise to write more about my trip to Scotland, which several people have asked about. I expect to paddle whitewater again this weekend (June 23) as well. And, for sure, the summer really gets into gear by July, starting with the Hudson Valley Paddlesports Symposium July 6-8.

Winter Mitsuwa

I recently paddled with some members of my club to Mitsuwa market, in Edgewater, NJ. It's a popular mid-range destination for our club, about four nautical miles each way. Timing with the tidal currents makes it a pretty easy trip. The trick was, this was in winter, December, a day after a significant snowfall.

I've mentioned it before, paddling there solo a couple of years ago.

Clearing the deck.

With temperatures in the 30s F, water about 50 F, everyone was wearing drysuits. At least one member was wearing one for the first time in actual conditions, and a couple others were relatively new to drysuit and cold water paddling. The wind prediction was on the high side - broaching F4 from the west - but turned out to be milder, and more from the south.

Shuffling to and fro.

Mister Cowgirl readies his steed.

We also had sunshine on most of the journey, so after layering up to meet the predicted wind chill, several of us found ourselves warm, in some cases overheating.

While we'd had several inches of snowfall the day before - incidentally, something I drove in briefly, making the rounds of various holiday parties - some was still on our deck, but mostly it had melted. We had "movie snow" decorating the cliffs and trees, but otherwise the water was indistinguishable from any other day of paddling.

Finally ready?

We did spot snow falling off the George Washington Bridge, as it was plowed off, way up high. We could see it streaming in heaps to the water below. That was kinda neat.

Five of us set out. Along the way, we met up with AA, another club member who'd been supporting a swimmer out for a photo shoot. That is, someone swimming in the water, without anyof our fancy thermal protection, near the Little Red Lighthouse, for about half an hour, just for the sake of some photographs. We were amazed. AA came over and said hello, but opted not to join us - he'd worked late the night before, and went back to get some shuteye.

We proceeded, and I found my first navigational challenge. This trip is easy enough to handrail, but one of my favorite marks is no longer in place: the Ferryboat Binghamton, a historic ferry later turned floating restaurant, abandoned years ago and long since demolished by hurricanes Irene and Sandy. Last summer, plans were finally executed to remove the old lady from her mooring, so I took a few minutes to figure out where we needed to go - past that wharf, or farther and around that long pipeline pier? It was the pipeline pier.

Our landing at the beach.

Happy Holidays!

We landed and secured our boats, then went into the market. I had a hot pork and noodle soup.

Nom !

After about an hour, it was time to return. We took in a good view of Manhattan across the way.

From parking lot to Manhattan.

It was a great trip. If you want to see the on-water portions, check out my video with a lil' holiday music set to it.

Happy holidays to all !

A Race with Improvers

I taught a fun class near the end of September, taking students down to a little tiderace that forms under the George Washington Bridge, right here in Manhattan.

I called this an an improvers class, as everyone had some experience sea kayaking, but wanted to develop their skills a bit. The tiderace was just a bonus feature to practice against.

First, we practiced near Dyckman street, in the last bits of ebb tide, working out the fiddly bits.

A wee bit of practice.

Then, we headed south, towards to bridge.

Sally forth!

On the way.

I've mentioned the GWB tiderace before. In a post from last year, I described it a bit of a trip Kayak Dov and I took.

At the start of the flood cycle near the bridge, a wider body of water starts flowing past Jeffrey Hook, where the Little Red Lighthouse sits. Furthermore, if you look on a chart, it's clear that the hydography has a steep, banked curved in the long bay south of the bridge. The effect is that a large volume of water gets squeezed and accelerated at the hook, and the surface water piles up and back over itself. As these waves form, they appear to fall, bizaarely, back towards to flood current. As the effect builds you can actually surf upstream, and if some sizable wake arrives from, say, a passing barge, you can ride some dumpy waves in excess of 1m in height. It can be quite exciting.

For these students, it was a safe, low-consequence environment to gain confidence in somewhat rough water. What I like about the area for instruction purposes is two fold. First, there's a sizable eddy just north of the hook, making for a safe spot to retreat to or observe from, as well as a "ski lift" effect to make multiple runs practicing peelouts. Additionally, since it's a flood current, in the worst case, swimmers and boats and kit will all float back towards where we started.

Getting a taste.

Perfecting a stance.

We did have one rescue. Towards the end of the session, we did get a bit of wake that vaulted the wave heights to 1-2 feet from behind us. I shouted a heads up to my students, reminding them to keep momentum and either ride the wave or let it pass under. One was indecisive, and capsized. I was able to recover him, and called the rest over to the eddy. As a group we decided to end the tiderace portion of the session and practice rescues, with the current carrying us back to our starting position.

Taking a pumpout.

Enjoying the scenery.

Observing others.

I really enjoyed this session, and was happy to have a sizable group for instruction. It's an area I am constantly learning more about, and having a group of students with different goals and abilities pushed me to develop my coaching ability - focusing on one or two things at a time for each participant.

At the end of the day, we were treated to a weather system moving in, some potential precipitation crowding out our sunny day.

Farewell to the Bridge.

I hope to do this again next year - maybe more than once.

Baretto Point August 2017

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

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

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


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

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

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

Paddling the old "Spuyten Duyvil Creek".

VT reflecting a perfect pose in an Avocet.

Proceeding towards High Bridge.

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

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

Proceeding down the Harlem.

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

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

Our second portage.

 

Very low water.

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

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

Our third portage.

A familiar portage.

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

 

Onward past North Brother Island.

North Brother Island.

The old ferry terminal.

Passing a marker.

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

The Floating Pool Lady

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

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

Narrow Beach.

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

The wreck.

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

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

Watch the clouds roll by . . .

Time for group photos!

Turtles.

Turtles and K.C.

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

A familiar sight.

We came back towards the Bronx Kill.

Back into the Bronx Kill.

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

Not moving .  .  .not her earlier.

Sharing the waterways.

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

Passing Yankee Stadium.

We didn't hear any ball-playing.

We made our way back up the Harlem.

Rounding back up the Harlem.

We were friendly to the passers-by.

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

The Henry Hudson Bridge.

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

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

Boys dare-jumping.

So much culture. . .

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

The Spuyten Duyvil Station.

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

Approaching the Palisades.

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