The Tides at Sandy Hook

"Both your boats make a neat sound," said Mister Cowgirl. "Like a wssshhhhh".

He was talk about about me and Bob, me in my Tiderace Pace 18, Bob in is Rockpool Taran. Both fall into the category of Fast Sea Kayak, though I guarantee you Bob was the faster of us. I'm still getting the hang of maximizing the Pace.

We were camping the weekend at Sandy Hook, organized by mutual friend MM. we were a diverse group over the weekend. MM and I arrived Friday night and set up camp, along with two women on the beginner side. RK and Bob showed up the next morning, but skipped out on Sunday.

Basically, on Saturday I paddled out with the boys to play in the tidal race around the tip of the hook, while MM stayed with the beginners. On Sunday, MM and the mister joined me to the same location, but earlier in the tidal cycle and not as long. We all wanted to get home in time to clean up and put away.

Along the way, we spotted a couple of ships - the Perry was at a US Navy resupply pier.

The USN Robert Perry, a resupply ship.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USNS_Robert_E._Peary_(T-AKE-5)

The Weeks BE Lindholm, a dredging ship.

http://www.weeksmarine.com/equipment-division/equipment-details/be-lindholm

Saturday
The tidal conditions around Sandy Hook are quite interesting. Basically, on the ebb, water is moving southeast from the New York harbor, but laterally past the hook from Raritan and Sandy Hook bays. near the channel markers on the northeast corner of the hook, the convergence of currents forms a lumpy wave train falling back against the current as it ebbs to the east. The result is a washing machine that you can either plow through with the current, or power through against the current.

Before those conditions set up, we ventured around the hook and tried surfing in on what little swell we could find, but it was remarkably tame. The RK and the mister did some surfing in forwards, backwards, and bongo onto the beach and then sliding back out, until the tide dropped enough that the surf became dangerous. On the last run, Mister Cowgirl took several attempts at getting back out into surf, getting chewed up and spat back onto the beach before finally succeeding in breaking through.

When we returned to the tiderace, we took a few passes through it. Holy Hannah, did I bring a knife to a gunfight.

Normally, for rough water play I paddle my Gemini SP. Short, rockered, and double-chined, the Gemini revels in lumpy and confused seas. The Pace, while stable and capable, likes to go straight and fast. It's maneuverable, but really prefers organized water - waves from one direction, currents from one direction, and a driver who can keep on course between the two. That was not what was on offer here.

Instead, as I entered the end of the wave train, paddling against current, I found waves impaling themselves on the bow, crashing over both after quarters, swallowing and regurgitating the boat as I plowed forwards. I dug in and paddled harder, not just forward but keeping my hips loose and a brace handy. Eventually I got near the end and slid towards the eddy line, where I made a U-turn to come back around.

Coming back through, I found myself moving faster, this time with the current, but still crashing into confused water piling up against me from multiple directions. This wasn't a clean tiderace, with a train of wide waves falling back against the current. It was supremely messy, waves piling up at multiple angles to the flow. It was mad, it was brilliant.

yet, from outside the train, it wasn't terrifying. A wide boil near the buoys at the end, or on the opposite side of the wave train, it was clearly interesting water, but limited in its area of effect. Once in it, I felt surrounded by confused seas, but I had choices - to draw out at the sides, or let myself flush out.

We took several passes through the race, and after the last one, boy was I tuckered. By that time I was more exhausted than scared, more effort paddling against current than staying upright. We landed for lunch, chatting with a man and his dog who'd been admiring us from the beach. After that, we launched and paddled back, encountering the rest of our group and paddling casually back through Sandy Hook Bay.

Here's a video I put together.

Sunday
Sunday was a short day, with a smaller group. RK opted to spend time on the beach with his non-paddling significant other; Bob had gone home the night before, and the beginners had packed up camp early as well. That left just MM and the mister and myself, and none of us wanted to be out late dealing with end--of-weekend traffic.After packing up camp and kitting boats, we only spent about three hours on the water.

They were totally worth the effort.

First of all, after paddling out of Sandy Hook Bay and to the north of the hook, we saw dolphins. Not just one or two, or five, but two distinct groups of at least eight each. Maybe more.

The motorized boats near us started maneuvering to better see them, and we saw their fins splash splash then disappear, then reappear somewhere else entirely and splash splash before dropping underwater again.

I saw two break off from the main pod and swim towards me. And, best of all, one blew his spout right next to me, while I was conveniently in the middle of turning my camera back on.

Second, we found the tiderace at an earlier state in its cycle, still interesting but not quite as frothy. It was more surfable, and we took turns riding in towards shore, breaking off before getting near fishing lines and the beach.

We paddled on back around the hook, riding little waves. The Pace in particular was brilliant at picking up these little rollers, and I was coasting most of the way with just a bit of sprinting. I was able to better practice staying on a wave, speeding up and slowing down to match the wave's speed.

Sandy Hook Launch

MM is a friend of mine who lives in Monmouth County, basically the stretch of land from the I-95 corridor over to Sandy Hook. She's outdoorsy and athletic, into things like winter camping and biking and climbing and hiking. She's also a surfer, in the board sense, so while we met in a kayaking instructional class, she's always talked up how we should try some surf sometime.

So, last Monday, I drove all the way down to Sandy Hook and met her in one of the parking lots on the ocean side, to survey the scene. Sandy Hook is a long spit pointing almost straight up towards the NYC harbor; it receives a lot of swell on the ocean side, and has a protected bay side, albeit with a lot of fetch. It's a short walk from one side of the hook to the other, so paddlers have their choice: ocean side or bay side.

I've launched from the bay side before. I've heard of people launching on the ocean side, but it's challenging. First of all, along most of the short, the water level rises quite sharply; you can even see this standing on the bank, where a gentle slope of dry sand abruptly dives into the water. The waves are therefore a bit dumpy, and hard to get into the water at all, let alone paddle against.

On this particular day, the other challenge was a steady F4 wind lingering from the previous day, pushing with swell, to create some short period waves (5.2, 5.4 seconds) with wave height of three to four feet. Put this together with the dumpy characteristics, and what we saw was constant rollers cascading just past the shoreline, washing up, and then falling out to be recirculated by the next wave.

MM knew a spot near a jetty though. Also, the shore extended out a bit, so the break was farther away, and while we were still watching foamy hills come up to the shore, it wasn't quite as intimidating.

Here, take a look for yourself.

We decided that the surf zone was, at best, going to be more work that it was worth: it was short, and there wasn't a lot of runway to come off a wave before landing, and coming out again would be a lot work, even assuming no out-of-boat experiences. So, we decided to "circumnavigate" the Hook to the bayside, what MM and her local buddies call a "reverse hooker".

As we proceeded north-ish, we took steady wind abeam, along with swells. You can get a good idea of wave height at about the 2:10 mark in the video above. Generally 3-4 feet, with occasional 5. There were moments when we couldn't see each other, so we kept close.

As we came around the hook, we paddled over a large bank known as the False Hook. As the tide was flooding in, there wasn't as much action there as we hoped, but we had some current and small swell as we paddled past the channel marker.

The entire day was sunny and brilliant, and we could see for miles: ships coming in from sea; the skylines of Manhattan and Jersey City; Romer Light, just two miles away, even the bridge connecting the Rockaways to the rest of Queens.

The bayside had much flatter water, though by no means still. We paddle along the now-familiar shore, past Horseshoe Cove, landing at a small beach that was literally across the street from where we parked. We washed up and had lunch, and that was our day.

Sandy Hook is an interesting place to paddle. It's far to get to, and once there, specific features can be a ways off from paddling. All the same, it's proving to be a good place to go to work in conditions that are hard to find in NYC.

Sandy Hook

I found myself graced with some extra time off recently, and decided to squeeze in a camping trip that had fallen by the wayside: Sandy Hook, part of Gateway Recreation Area.

I've been here before - "another time, another paddle", so to speak. A couple of years ago my good friends at Wind Against Current brought me out here, paddling from Pier 40 in Manhattan and back in a single day. This time, I'd be driving out and camping for a couple of nights, giving me ample opportunity to paddle here.

For those unaware, Sandy Hook is a long spit pointing north off the coast of New Jersey, nearly directly at the Narrows between Staten Island and Brooklyn, where the Verazzano Bridge sits. It's far south of the "lower harbor" and practically the last bit of land one will see before the Atlantic Ocean. As you can see in some of these photos, it's practically the end of the world.

It's exactly the sort of place I was in the mood for.

Looking East-southeast, large ships approaching and departing.

The fringe of the world.

Manhattan and Brooklyn in the far distance. 

That said, I needed time off so I didn't plan as much as I'd hoped. I was alone, and there are quite a few shipping channels in the area to avoid, as well as moderately strong tidal currents. Instead of venturing far, I took in the details of the waters around the hook. I paddled perhaps a quarter-mile offshore to the ocean side, and two miles north to Romer Shoal Light.

An old Nike Missile bunker.

Housing any military brat would recognize!

I made two trips, on separate days. The ocean side of Sandy Hook ramps up steeply and results in dumpy waves, while the bay side is protected. Additionally, one of the better launch sites is very near the camp sites, about two miles south of the northern end of the spit, at Horseshoe Cove.

In both trips I paddled north past old missile batteries, the military installation which is now used by the National Park Service and US Coast Guard, and a long bit of strand on the northern tip.

As I passed one fishing vessel, I called out to ask his intentions - it wasn't clear where he was motoring to and I didn't want to get in his way. "See those birds," he said, pointing behind me, "that's where!"

Well, of course, I realized. The birds know where the fish are. That made it all the stranger the next day when birds swarmed to my vicinity and I couldn't make out fish below me.

Approaching the end of the spit.

A bit of a bounce.

A marker on the NW corner.

In the distance, the Ambrose Channel.

One little-known fact about Sandy Hook is that there is a major shipping channel that passes east-west right along the tip. I wasn't able to capture a picture nearly as dramatic as one the NPS keeps on hand to illustrate the point, but trust me - there is not much room from the beach to where large ships ply their way from the southern end of Arthur Kill to Raritan Reach and onward to sea.

In fact, the reason for this is that it used to be part of the original approach to New York. In the pre-Revolutionary period vessels would pass Sandy Hook, using Sandy Hook light to guide their way. I can't find easy reference to when the Ambrose Channel took hold but there were lightships marking it from the mid-eighteenth century onwards.

The seaside shore - from the sea.

A marker.

A vessel exiting Arthur Kill.

On the days I was visiting, the current was ebbing to sea in the morning and flooding in the early afternoon. This curtailed my choices a bit: I'd had the idea that I would make an open crossing to Staten Island, or to a lighthouse in between, and while I wanted to see the sea, I didn't want to spend hours out in it.

On the one hand I hoped to see whales, which have been sighted in the area between Breezy Point and Sandy Hook. On the other hand, there's also a great white shark that has been tagged and who has come back several times to visit.

I spent a lot of time trying to remember if that shark came in the early summer or late summer.

An Osprey - of the mechanical kind.

Looking north to Manhattan and Brooklyn.

Ships entering the Ambrose Channel.

I rode the current out around the hook, looking for a spot on the chart called the "False Hook". Based on the current patterns I had looked up, I expected some bouncy waves - and I found them !

I surfed a bit in the waves, attaining against current and avoiding both the fishing boats drifting with the current and the fly fisherman casting from shore. I found a pattern, using a range I took from local landmarks, where I could surf, drift, and buck around.

As the current strengthened I decided to work my way in, rather than drift out to sea. I really had to drive a bit to keep momentum. In short order I found my way crawling through the rip or the outbound current curling around the end of the hook. Then suddenly, I heard a THWAP!

I looked at my deck and went through a quick checklist: carabiner carabiner carabiner, bottle, pump chart camera. Everything was in place. Huh.

After paddler a couple more minutes I noticed a fishing line that was suspiciously close. I traced its path. It wasn't in the water - it was tied to a lure wrapped under my spare paddle!

Now at this point I should tell you that I have never had to cut a fishing line. I avoid them. I watch for fishermen, for their poles, for their lines. I've gone under lines when I've had clearance and couldn't get out farther. I've instructed others in the value of always having a knife for such contingencies, followed by a joke about only using my knife to cut fruit.

Well, here I was, confronted with a genuine entanglement.

I paddled forward and got some slack. That would allow me to grab the line and cut it. But, as I reached for my knife, the current carried me back, and I had to paddle again to retain position.

I kept paddling hard to get that slack back but it wasn't forthcoming. I motioned to the fisherman on shore to ask if he had shears. He didn't seem to understand me. It's at this point I saw that he was also reeling and keeping the line taught.

"No," I motioned and yelled, "Let it slack. I'll meet you on the shore."

He seemed to let the line loose and I was able to grab it and cut it. The lure stayed under my paddles and I was free - free to fight what was about 2 knots of current, with a bit of wind abeam pushing me to a very shallow beach.

I gesticulated to one possible landing point but then scrubbed it because I couldn't line up my approach well. I went past another point - and I am being very generous in defining a "point", as it was just a longer pile of sand separating one part of the beach from another - scattering seagulls as I beached and hopped out.

The fisherman came over. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't realize you were right there."

"No problem," I said. "Now you can tell your friends about the fifteen foot red fish you caught!"

See, the cowgirl is all about being friendly and not creating a fuss where there needn't be one.

"My grandfather was a fisherman," I said. "I know these lures can get expensive."

We talked for a bit more. His name was Paul, he was seventy, and if he was thirty, forty years younger he might try kayaking. He was a little surprised at it being a "sit-inside" boat, and also that I'd been out there. He struggled for the right word - I suspect he was going for "ballsy" but wouldn't say that to a lady. He settled on stamina. He admired my stamina.

Well, I admired it too. I hadn't planned to get out, but since I had I took lunch on the beach while I considered my next destination.

Break for lunch.

The water would be ebbing a bit more but subsiding and then flooding. I wasn't up to fighting current or going especially far. I settled on Romer Shoal Light - a place I've been to before,  albeit from another direction. It was about two miles straight north.

After packing up, I set out. Using first a nearby marker as a waypoint, and then the light itself.

On the way though, I overheard traffic on channel 13: two vessels heading out to Sandy Hook channel and then to sea. I looked west and could make out two vessels on the horizon. I wasn't worried about getting out of the way in time, as they were miles away and I was already near the far side of the channel, but I wanted to make sure then when they were near I wasn't going to drift or get blow to them, or look like I was going to cross paths.

Green Marker 7S.

Towards this end, when I got to my waypoint - "7S" - I held position. I wasn't anywhere near a place anyone would drive a boat to, and if I were, I'd hold out that they weren't likely to hit the marker.

This gave me an opportunity to watch the world around me - and listen too. A USCG Auxiliary crew offered to escort each vessel, one by one, clearing the path in front of them., and signing off as each vessel left the channel for open sea. I listened to a couple of barges work out a passing operation (on the one, they decided). I watched cormorants drying on the marker.

Once the first vessel had gone by, I resumed my voyage. After a few minutes paddling, I saw a sea turtle less than ten feet off my port bow! He was near the surface and I think I surprised him. He dove quickly while I reached for my camera. Sorry, buckaroos, no pictures, but trust me, he was as big as my spraydeck!

Always a (wo)man, always a city, always a lighthouse.

Romer Shoal Light.

On my way back, I spotted something dark and box-shaped deep in the water. It seemed to be moving of its own volition. I'm guessing it was my turtle friend, or a friend of his, or some other critter. Or, it could have just been a box.

Returning from Romer Shoal.

The next day, on my second outing, I had to pack up camp first and then set out. There was a bit more wind and I found very interesting waves near the northwest corner of the hook. Basically, as water flowed north and then east round the hook, the wind from the north kicked up some 3-4 foot waves with short period. I was able to surf a little but mostly, it was a place to practice boat handling in moderately rough conditions - turning, leaning, edging, moving and staying still. I wore myself out prematurely though and set back earlier than expected. But, I got some better photos of the bay side than the day before.

Old Housing, Sandy Hook Light visible.

Old bunkers.

Fort Hancock.

I paddled a bit south to pad out my ride, and saw some large floating things in the water. I think these were from the US Army Corps of Engineers for some rebuilding project or another. Cormorants and a few gulls favored them.

Cormorants I.

Cormorants II.

With that my time was at an end. I'd pack up, load the boat, and drive off, making one more tourist stop at Conference House, a home in Tottenville where Ben Franklin, John Adams, and Edward Rutledge met with the British to negotiate and end to the Revolutionary War shortly after the Battle of Long Island, and were at one point in danger of being arrested. They weren't, though negotiations failed, and the men returned and the war continued, but it's an interesting "what if" point in American history.

Sandy Hook's camping facilities are decent and the paddling opportunities are very open-ended. A paddler here must be a true mariner, with an understanding of tides, weather, and navigation, but with all that at hand it's a very interesting paddling environment. I'll go again - perhaps one day as part of a larger adventure.

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.

The Trip You Don't Take

I'm living in an alternate reality right now, imagining what would have happened if my and a couple of friends had pressed on with a camping trip we had been planning for weeks out to Sandy Hook.

What happened was, bad weather was predicted all week, and when it came down to it, lots of little thunderstorms were popping up west of the region, predicted to dot the back half of the weekend with rain, gusts, and electricity. The first two are OK, but the last is not acceptable. Besides, who wants to camp in the rain?

So there we were, at the dock, 0830 in the morning, and we decided to try a day trip instead.

We took off across the Hudson and headed south. We made good time, considering it was slack tide. We were at Hoboken in just about half an hour, when we decided to check the weather.

In its lovely monotone, the weather station told us - I paraphrase here - "severe weather watch in Middlesex, Passaic, and Morris Counties . . .Westchester and Dutchess counties . . .storms moving 15 to 20 miles per hour". We later heard from friends above the GWB that there was quite a downpour, and lightning in the distance. Looking up town, you could almost see a blanket of water enveloping the area north of 125th street, on both sides of the river. Yet, to the south, a ball of light was forming in the same humidity, sunlight relayed through tiny water particles.

We decided to turn back even earlier than we planned. We stopped at Pier 40, then paddled against the current back towards Pier 96. Along the way we caught some awesome tugboat wake, easily 3-4 feet, twice because there were two of them. They were on their way to the annual tugboat race (derby? It's more than a race.), which became an issue for us once we got to about Pier 84. The police, coast guard, and coast guard auxiliary gave us conflicting advice on how to go around it. Ultimately we ended up paddling up the middle of the channel, partly escorted by two very likely bored auxiliary crews.

We got back around noon, played a bit, then unpacked and washed. We compared notes with friends. Apparently there had been lightning further uptown, and some rain, ad more was expected all up and down the harbor area.

"Now begins the second guessing," said one of my friends.

"Now? I've been second guessing for the past hour," I said. "We better get some really terrible weather tomorrow to justify this."

And so, in some alternate reality, we did paddle to Sandy Hook, or South Beach at least, and we did camp, and see the sites, and admire the ocean. But here, in what I know as real life, I went to a friend's birthday party instead, came home and cleaned up, rested. The trip you don't take can be as exhausting as the one that you do take.