Rockaway Point

Wow. It's been weeks since I posted last, though I know I've paddled since. I was so taken aback that I went through my calendar, weekend by weekend. It did this that weekend and that on this other weekend, and sure enough, except for a short trip out to enjoy my new boat (the Pace 18), I really haven't gotten out. I took a class in early May, and that was nice, but for weeks afterwards, weather kept me off.

Well, I made up for it this past weekend.

For Memorial Day weekend, I reserved camping at Bennet Field. This is my third time camping out here. In fact, I was here last year as well. Just like last year, the nearby Sebago Canoe Club held their season opener, including some interclub racing that I participated in (3rd, 2nd, and 3rd place BTW, in 100m, 400m, 800m sprints).

Also just like last year, on the Sunday after, DR and I set out for some surfing - only this time on schedule, and to great reward.

We set off from the old sea plan ramp, paddling south as military helicopters took off and set out for Manhattan. It was Fleet Week, after all.

Hangar B.

Helicopter taking off.

Helicopter flying away.

Our paddle out was mostly uneventful. We had more and more current as we went along, and while the day was partly cloudy, visibility was good. We avoided some pleasureboats, mostly setting out to go fishing, as we went under the Marine Parkway-Gil Hodges Bridge. We crossed south to the Rockaway side, then continued westward past varied beaches, mooring yards, and piers.

DR taking in the view.

Looking North.

Passing R10.

Our basic plan was to paddle out to the end of Rockaway Peninsula. We'd gotten some tips from the Commodore of the Sebago Canoe Club. West of the shipping channel was a very shallow area the broke incoming swell and, in some parts, formed a little island at low tide. We would come to call that place "Bird Island", because when we got out there, it was little more than a bald beach in the middle of the water, with various gulls on it.

To find it, we'd looked at a chart and seen it was just southwest from a range formed by the G7 and R6 buoys. So, we'd paddle out to those buoys, then cross the channel. The current would be ebbing, growing in strength at that, so to avoid getting taken out to see, we kept in from the channel.

However, as we paddled along we saw R10 (pictured above), then R8, and then . . .the end of the line. No more buoys, just the day marker mounted on the end of the jetty, the very southernmost tip of Rockaway Point.

Hmmm. Well, there were some big waves coming in, so yours truly paddled out to see what they were like. In hindsight this was probably unwise. The waves were tall and short-period, too short to surf properly. I ended up cruising in towards the rocks of the jetty, which was part of my plan: paddle the weaker current back up. The tidal current was ebbing, which meant that in the even of something going awry, I'd be carried out to sea, and more importantly, into the swell that wasn't already being broken by the jetty.

Also a larger sport-fishing boat came over and positioned itself at the end of the jetty. Fishermen love to get where fast current is whipping fish by like on a conveyor belt.

In any event, I completed my survey without misadventure, and came to the conclusion that we'd be better off finding our originally planned surf zone.

We landed for lunch on a pocket beach and orientated ourselves on the chart. We could see our quarry. It just wasn't near any of the buoys we'd planned for.

Here is a snip of the chart downloaded from NOAA May 31, 2017. The red X is approximately where I noodled in the big water, and the blue box is our approximate Area of Operation for the remainder of our surfing. Squint and you'll see that the last red buoy is R8, not R6, as indicated on my Maptech chart.

We landed at a beach not far north from the jetty, so our closest referents were the day marker on the jetty and G5. Based on landmarks to the north, we fixed out position and checked it once we launched, by paddling up to R8.

Location and theory confirmed, we set out to enjoy the surf.

Approaching "Bird Island".

As you can see, there is no island charted, but it does get quite shallow, and there is a spot that comes above the surface at low tide. It's bigger than the chart would have you believe, and forms a broad eddy, particularly on the western side. We found it very easy to surf in, ride the eddy up the western side, come around, and then paddle with current down the eastern side.

For that matter, in the surf zone, the current was weak enough that it was easy enough to turn around and paddle back into the surf, then ride it in.

For the birds.

Coney Island in the distance.

We surfed, and surfed, and surfed and surfed. Farther out there were bigger waves, closer in, smaller waves. We had set out near the end of the peak ebb, so the waters calmed as the afternoon wore on.

One phenomenon that we both experienced, no matter what we did to edge or trim, was that we'd get continually cocked to the right while riding a way. In some spots, there were clearly two wave systems intersecting, and one would take you off the other. At one point, it seemed like I was getting weathercocked, as the wind picked up. We tried trimming forward, backwards, edging left and right. Mostly we were just able to manage coming off the wave early and circling back to try again.

As the water got more shallow, I began to feel its effects. Even on the smaller waves, I found my boat starting to plow into the sand. We started experiencing breaking waves - not huge pounders, they were still 1-2 feet, but breaking nonetheless. It was one of these that finally put me off balance into a capsize - in about two feet of water.

I tried my roll, a couple of times at least. I even stopped to try figuring out if I was coming up on the correct side of the wave - pretty sure I was. But, by the third attempt. I realized I was reaching over the top and not getting the support I needed, and my shoulder was dragging on the sand, so I exited, and there I was, standing on a sand bank in the surf off Rockaway Point.

A couple of thoughts went through my head, while I held on to my boat, keeping it downstream of me. First was, I know in whitewater we're not supposed to stand up - but while the waves were relentless, they weren't worse than any shore surf I've stood in. Second was, should I self-rescue? But in my estimated I thought it was a good opportunity to try an assisted rescue in bouncy water.

DR didn't think so. He was worried about bumping into me - and in hindsight, that wasn't an unrealistic concern. He also comes from a whitewater background, where the better play is usually to let the casualty wash out down stream - although in these conditions, neither of us was sure if "downstream" meant the bird island or the lower harbor.

Instead, what I did was swim my boat out of the surf zone, and form there we did a conventional assisted rescue.

Problem solved, we surfed another forty minutes or so, basically running out the clock until the tide was a bit further past slack. We'd ride the flood in to Jamaica Bay - the opposite of our ride out.

Taking a break on bird island.

Cruise ships and more, in the distant Ambrose Channel.

Far in the distance, we could see ships coming in and heading out along the Ambrose Channel. We could even make out West Bank light and Romer light, two of the lighthouses that mark the treacherous shoals of the lower harbor.

Our route back was more than a bit of work. The predicted F3-F4 winds were on the higher end of that scale, primarily headwinds as we paddled towards the bridge and under, and then as crosswinds while we paddled north. Fortunately the tidal currents improved in our favor, so as we might have been paddling slower, the currents made up for it.

The wind also chilled us a bit. We'd felt a bit overdressed in various layers of neoprene earlier in the morning, but were glad to have multiple layers now, as well as paddling jackets. Once we landed, DR got to break in my fancy Kokatat storm cag; he reports it was very warm and kept him comfortable while we packed up kit and boats. I was wearing my Reed Chillcheater dry cag, and once onshore had some rain paints on to keep the wind off.

Overall it was quite a fun day. I've been meaning to check out this surf spot for a while, and I learned a lot very quickly. I think in the future I'd time it differently, and it's certainly not an environment for beginners, or even improvers who do not have surf experienced. Like most of NYC, there is a bit of traffic to manage. It's also a bit of a schlep to get to. All that being said, it is a fun place to play, and I hope to go back.

The Winter Troupe

It was cloudy, nothing but clouds overhead, with predictions of 100% rain in the afternoon. "Cats and Dogs," said the trip leader, "this afternoon all hell will break loose." We planned to be back before then. With almost no wind, today was going to be a good day for a trip north, practicing skills along the way. This was a trip out from the shop at Pier 40, with two clients and three coaches.

We left about two and a half hours after high tide at the Battery, meaning we'd have mostly slack on the way up - a good way to gauge un-assisted speed of our students.

Just north of Pier 40, on the right edge of photo.

Paddling north was fairly uneventful; it may not have looked like it but it was a brilliant day. With almost no wind, and little traffic, we could practice some of the more fiddly stokes, like hanging draws and draws on-the-move.  Our clients worked on edging and bow rudders.

Sauntering past Pier 76, or about 36th street.

It was a relatively warm day for winter - air temperatures in the high 40s. The water temperature was 47 - cold, but not terrible to touch.

Nonetheless, we did not see a lot of riverfront pedestrian traffic, just a couple of fishermen.

Circle Line terminal, around 40th street.

On the calendar this was a trip to the Intrepid, NYC's retired aircraft that is now an "air/sea/space museum". The giant box on the deck is temporary cover for a space shuttle. I made my usual joke about it being the one with low miles.

The Intrepid, viewed from a kayak on the river.

Since our group was doing well speed-wise, we pressed on to Pier 96, only a few blocks further north, past the cruise ship terminals.

Pier 96 Embayment.

We took some water and took in the view before deciding to head back. By the time we were heading out, a thick fog had rolled in, and hose with lights switched them on.

Then came the rain.

Rain.

It came hard, pelting our boats and even the water rather loudly. I pulled up the brimmed hood of my drysuit. The rain wasn't bad; wind would have been worst. It lasted about ten minutes, and both the rain and the fog rolled away by the time we were past the Intrepid.

Tailgating, Kayak-style.

On the back we had our students practice edging and using edging to steer their boats. One of them had a habit of stern rudders to keep straight, and the other would do a sort of reverse-sweep/pry move that just completely killed momentum. Edging is a great way to make course corrections on the move, while still propelling the boat forward.

Actually, edging is good for a lot of things. That is just one of them.

Almost back.

When we got back to the Pier 40 embayment, we didn't go straight in. These guys are signed up for a rescue class later this winter, so we're taking as many opportunities as we can to let them practice. That requires a victim, and so the trip leader (who is also the head coach) asked me if I was prepared to get wet.

Well, I had been on the fence about attempting a roll, but sure, this cinched it.

We picked a rescuer, and I did a roll. The water was noticeably cold, and when I came up, I needed a moment to let the ice-headache effect wear off. It's only going to get colder, and I have a goal of rolling in the Hudson at least once a month this year. I'm building up a tolerance.

With that out of the way, I capsized and exiting the boa. My rescuer came over and performed a pretty decent rescue, talking me through a heel-hook. At one point, hanging on to the stern of his boat, I made a semi-faux grimace at the cold to one of the other coaches, but indicated I was OK. I have learned that its better to float my entire body on the surface. Among other things, the water is warmer than five feet below!

After talking though improvements he needed for the rescue, we had that student go in and the other rescue him. The main note for both was paddle management, and also boat control - using deck lines to dump, right, and put the boat where it needs to be for the rescue as quickly as possible.

I'll tell you, speed is key when the water is cold.

I went in one more time for the lead instructor to demonstrate a good rescue. After that, we were done - a good thing because I was ready for hot tea.

Rescues and Shepherding

This past weekend was a fair amount of rescues and instruction. On Saturday I taught a small rescue class at my club. 

It was small because, I think, the weekend before was pretty intense - the boathouse was in use nearly twenty-four full hours. People needed time off. Also, I gave short notice - just a couple of weeks - grabbing an increasingly rare open slot on my summer paddling calendar. Altogether I only had three students - which made it a cozy class!

This was good, because I was trying something new - a hybrid class on shepherding and rescues. I've decided this doesn't work, at least not for a day class. Even at three students I had to shortshrift both topics. I'll have dedicated sessions for each from now on.

I started with shepherding. I like that term better than trip leading, because I've seen too many people take trip leading into trip bossing. Sherpherding also connotes the actual responsibility of any journey: these are your charges, and you are responsible. Put another way, one of my coaches with a police background used a phrase from that part of his life: there are wolves, and there are sheep. A shepherd's guide is to protect the sheep - although most of the time the 'wolves' are the elements - wind, water, etc. 

So we talked about CLAP (Communication, Line of Sight, Avoidance, and Position of maximum effectiveness). I used some simple props in the class to talk about various scenarios: what positioning would work, how to communicate and hand off problems or potential problems, and so on. One of my students is keen on radio communications, which are often impractical for paddling since you need two hands to paddle and one to use the radio. Line of sight, group awareness, and environmental awareness are more valuable than a radio in most situations.

Then, I handed out random secret roles and we went on a little journey, where each of the students was trip leader in turn. We had the fast paddler, the lost paddler, and the sick paddler. The last of these was so convincing that the trip leader though he was actually sick! We paddled north from Inwood into the Harlem river, coming back as the tide turned against us. I demonstrated belt tows and contact toes, including hand-on-deckline tows. I had the students try those as well.

Then, we did rescues. I started with balance exercises - sit legs out, then on the back deck, paddle around a bit, then get back in. Then we did scramble exercises: only one had trouble, and the rest commented on how a scramble was much easier than expected. 

We relocated to the north side of the river, which worked well in terms of depth and being very sheltered from the current, as well as river traffic. A Circle Line boat roared past us, creating little relative wake, and we had the depth we needed to capsize and rescue. We did paddle float rescues, both back deck and heel hook, and after one student had trouble securing her paddled, I demonstrated holding it against the coaming and using weight to help keep it secure.

With that, we ended the morning session, and two of them left for the day. After lunch, I worked with the remaining student on various eskimo rescues. What was interesting with her was how turned round she would get. She would find her stability (my boat or my paddle)and somehow reach for it behind her, practically somersaulting the boat length-wise in the process. I got her to get her support in front of her, and also to use her hip flick more.

The best part for me was, near the end, I had her spot me on my own work - and I finally got a re-entry and roll. It needs work, but at least I know for certain that I can do it.

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.

Another Rescue

The cowgirl found herself involved in another rescue today, this one in the middle of the Hudson, with some additional challenges.

I led a group of five people south to Mitsuwa, an asian supermarket in Fort Lee. It was my first time paddling this distance with this group, and overall, it was a good trip, even including this minor mishap.

We were coming south from Inwood, and had almost completed crossing the Hudson below the GWB. We were at about 155th street based on the Manhattan grid. Suddenly, I heard one of our whistles blow. I turned around and one of our paddlers was in the water.

She was OK. She managed to hold on to her boat and her paddle. After some maneuvering, we got lined up to pull her boat out and dump the water from it.

The problem was, she was in a boat that had no bulkheads. A typical sea kayak has watertight walls in front of your feet and behind your seat, meaning that as long as the hatches stay closed, only about a third of the boat will fill with water. Her boat was a hand-crafted skin-on-fram boat - a wooden frame with a waterproof cloth sewed on. The entire boat filled with water.

This made the boat heavier and harder to lift out of the water. Even after we dumped it, there was still plenty left in it. On top of that, conditions were such that more water came in once we put it back in. We actually had to get her back out of the boat after the first time we got her in, to try and get the water out.

We did do that though. As rescues go, this took longer than usual, but it did work out. She was able to paddle farther on - against wind and current - and suffered no further mishap on the way out or on the way back.

It did push my knowledge base a bit. I've never dealt with one of these boats, and now I've got a better idea of what to do. First of all, it takes much more effort and time to drain. Second, the boat needs float bags. We were lucky this one didn't completely sink - the bags were only partially inflated.

Rescue

This cowgirl had to lasso one of her charges today. I had to actually rescue someone in current after they fell out of their boat.

In the clubs I'm in, we practice this. We practice assisted rescue and self rescue. We practice being the rescuer, and being rescued. We practice with sit-on-top (SOT) kayaks and deck boats - what most people picture as kayaking, where you sit inside the boat, usually with a spray skirt. Rolling is a kind of self-rescue.

What happened was: at 72nd street, the current was relativel strong. We communicated the boundaries of where we wanted people to paddle, and explicitly said "stay away from ships". One of the public had paddled out past the outer boundary and was headed - quickly, aided by current - to a catamaran moored at the southwest corner of the boundary.

As soon as I was about to tell him to come back closer, he hit one of the mooring lines, and went in the water, his boat upside down.


Now, two things: first, this is not in itself life-threatening, or leading to injury. He was wearing a PFD, and he was holding on to the boat and his paddle. The current was relatively strong, but this is the Hudson River, not some wild rapids. He was floating on an escalator, and we needed to get him out.


That said, once someone is in the water, it's kinda serious. You have to get them out, and get them under their own power. Until they are safe, you never know what their status is. They might have had an aneurysm, or something similarly sudden and debilitating. 


"Oh shit, " I muttered to myself, and hopped in our safety boat - a long, narrow scupper perfect for rushing to the rescue, tow bag in my lap.


When I got out there, I remembered all our practice. "Are you OK," I asked, and he said yes. I pulled alongside and told him to hold on to the boat, and then to hand me his paddle. Then I righted his boat. Then I held his boat and told him to kick his legs straight out and reach across to my boat. He did all that, and was able to pull himself on to his. I got him to turn so he was seated properly, and then got him back to the dock.


In all that - from the moment he went in, to the moment we were heading back - he had floated about 35 yards. That put him halfway to a pedestrian pier that he would have either passed under (safely) or passed by.


After that, I kept a closer eye on our charges, and hollered at them if they got anywhere near the edge, or near a boat. A couple of girls who were kind of larking, I pulled in for a warning and used him as an example.


It's an odd situation to be in - promoting the use of the waterfront for recreation, yet also teaching people to be respectful of it. It all worked out well, and it was nice to know I could pass when my skills were put to the test. It was not an emergency, but it could have become one.


I'm happy I was able to help.