Safety Patrol

So I embark herein on a somber post, one I've been ambivalent about: what can go wrong on the water.

Nothing terrible's happened on any trip I've been on, but a number of local headlines have brought the subject up. Recent back in July, at least.

For the good and the bad, all you have to do is subscribe to the US Coast Guard Twitter feeds. For example, this one from mid-March, near the Tappan Zee Bridge. The water was still very cold, and anyone unprepared was not going to fare well.

More recently, a paddleboarder disappeared off the coast of New York. Although it's worth pointing out that,  in some cases, people are found.

Even non-kayaking events give one pause. Sometimes planes crash on the Hudson. They don't always end this well. Recently a WW2 fighter-bomber crashed while preparing for showing off Memorial Day weekend.

So what's a paddler to do? When these events cluster together, it's hard not to think that this is a dangerous sport, and one should be careful at all times. Flat water, perfect weather, always file a float plan, never far from shore.

But, that's kinda boring.

It's easy to look at most of these stories and observe, "there were inexperienced, or poorly equipped, or poorly trained people who had no business being in those conditions at that time." Then you read something like this.

A trained and registered guide, with two clients, caught off guard by a strongly-winded storm, capsized in cold water, and two of three dead.

There's probably more local knowledge that I can't glean over the internet. The point is, it's not always the misguided idiots on a lark who suffer catastrophe.

It'd be too easy to wrap up with the familiar caveats: always check the weather, always go out in a capable group, have multiple means of summoning assistance. A proper trip, even a simple one, involves contingency plans that mimic disaster recovery plans; the most audacious expeditions have redundancy approaching the Apollo program in depth.

It can happen anytime. A medical emergency, a badly placed log that hits your head when you capsize while reaching for some snacks in your day hatch. Or maybe you just forgot that one thing, that one step, that makes a difference.

It's pointless to live in fear; it is the human condition. We can only take steps to address it.

Shepherding - Club Trips

The last time I wrote about shepherding groups, it was in a commercial context. More often, intermediate paddlers will find themselves in the role of shepherding trips with their clubs, which can introduce different dynamics.

Why Are We Going?
I've belonged to a couple of different clubs in New York City, and paddled with people from other clubs as well. One question that is rarely asked, and answered even less frequently, is, "why are we going?"

Clubs that rely on volunteer membership will use trips as rewards to their volunteers. Special trips for volunteers only, which are not open to the public or general membership, allow volunteers to feel like their efforts are appreciated, and give them perhaps their first set of bragging rights. Volunteer trips can also be training trips, putting the volunteers in more challenging conditions than usual, and using teachable moments to practice the skills they are expected to have when running the clubs regular programs.

Clubs that are more collegial - for lack of a better term, where members are more or less equal in status and simply band together as an organization for the mutual operation of activities - trips are very much social, and the goals of trips may vary with the leadership of the club. Trips can serve a number of functions, from providing opportunities to less experienced members to socialize and learn from more experienced members, to providing programs, or at least evidence of activities, to ensure club growth. For example, "members X, Y, and Z went on a twelve mile trip to the island and back, so aren't we a cool club?" Additionally, as with clubs operated by volunteer effort, trips can serve as training exercises.

Relationships
Unlike commercial or walk-up programs, clubs ongoing relationships. The same people, more or less, show up for any given event. What this means for the club is largely up to the club, but for those in shepherding roles, it's an opportunity for coaching and sharing knowledge. With a formally qualified or not as an instructor, shepherds can give their flocks insight into what they're doing and why, building the strength of the club and widening the base of qualified leadership - a great way to avoid being the only people anyone ever asks to lead a trip!

The flip side to the relationships in clubs is that some paddlers may respond differently to various members. There may be a friendly rivalry, or a grudge about a trip that happened months or years ago, that makes someone not take direction well, or only take direction from certain people in the club. These kinds of issues are more social problem than paddling problem, but it's good to be aware of how they can affect a trip.

For example, I led a trip of a small group of experienced paddlers once on a circumnavigation of Manhattan. Two a history of racing and tended to keep too far ahead of the main group until I talked to them. Another was an skilled but slower paddler who dropped out earlier rather than deal with the forced march pace of the lead paddlers. Another paddler, as new to the group as I, kept steady but shared some of the concerns I had in keeping the group together and making decisions about when to stop and when to move on. We talked about it at the end, but along the way it took a while to figure out how to herd even this small group of cats.

Club Development
Regardless of the purpose of club trips, they all serve to develop the club as an organization. Unlike commercial trips, or walkup programs, there's a good chance that the people who come along on a club trip will come again, and again and again. The paddlers learn not only to be better paddlers, but to work well with one another. This makes for a stronger group, and that is never a bad thing.

Shepherding - Commercial Groups

We've hit that point in the winer season where I can take the time to write about some of my experiences in the summer. I did a lot of shepherding - trip leading, assistant trip leading, taking students out for their first time on the river. Because there are different dynamics depending on the context, I'm splitting them up by the circumstances, whether commercial, club, or just out with my mates.

In a commercial setting, there are two factors that aren't present in other settings. First, you never know who is going to walk through that door. Second, you're providing a service in return for a fee, so there is a contractual relationship to the trip.

When I say you never know who will come through that door, I mean anyone can show up. Unless they are clearly going to be dangerous to themselves or to others, you've going to take them out.

Most people are OK. People who decide to try kayaking, and are willing to pay for it, are generally self-selected to be healthy, moderately fit, and willing to put themselves in a novel and dynamic environment.

A few people walk up to that line, and someone, either a friend or their own bravado, convinces them to step over it, and once on the water, they need some attention. Maybe they're afraid, and you need to reassure them, or just keeping near them. Maybe they lack ability, and are going to be the slow boat that needs lots of coaching, or a tow. Maybe they're just oblivious, and having so much fun that they don't pay attention to danger, coming too close to a pier, too far out into a channel, or just plain horsing around.

We ha one couple from Canada who we took across the river and back at the shop. A husband and wife, both had some experience, the husband more than the wife. The wife kept asking why we didn't have bilge pumps for every single boat, which she said was the law in Canada (we had two for our four boats, and those of us leading the trip are trained in rescues). On the way back, the wind picked up and we had some chop. Her hands were tight and she only looked straight ahead, never turning her body. Her husband was far more comfortable in the swells, and had a smile hidden in his beard, like a dog hanging his head out the car window.

Another challenge is that it's possible to end up with widely disparate skill levels. There were at least three trips I was part of where we had one very skilled paddler, typically some Norwegian or Swedish badass who just wanted to try some urban paddling, and then we had two to five regular folks, in one case a second date and n another a group of buds celebrating a birthday. In these cases, we gave the skilled paddlers a longer leash but kept within communication range, and on the way back, one of us would go with the advanced paddler to get in whatever they wanted - speed, play, some wee beasties - before we landed with the main group.

The commercial part of these trips is rarely problematic, if you're clear about expectations up front. If someone pays to paddle out to the Statue of Liberty, they're going to want to see the Statue of Liberty nice and up close. If your group is too slow, you'll have at least one disappointed customer unless you find a way to get them there and back (in the particular case I am thinking of, we did). If you are foolish enough to guarantee certain outcomes, without language about skill level, sea conditions, and safe judgement of the trip leader, then you're setting yourself up for a bad conversation.

In one example, someone took out a commercial trip to circumnavigate Manhattan. Normally, this is about an eight hour trip. They got a late start, they got the tides wrong, they took someone who simply did not have the ability (and had to be towed three quarters of the way) and on top of it all, the weather was terrible, rainy and cold. It took them fourteen hours to complete, and while the clients were polite in their complaint, they did complain to the owner.

One final bit about commercial shepherding, which isn't exclusive to it, but more of a factor than elsewhere: people misrepresent their abilities. In my experience most people don't, because they're new to it. In some cases, people understate their abilities. because if you've been in this sport long enough, you get tired of braggarts. However, the problem people are the ones who know just enough to try and bull their way in . . .to some unknown purpose. They may try to parlay some lake experience and a single trip on Long Island Sound into representing themselves as a se kayaker, or they may have heard of braces and reverse sweep strokes and "back deck finish" rolls, but from YouTube or books. Worst, they may say that are BCU 2 Star or ACA Level 4 paddlers based on a course they took five years ago without much paddling since.

What I've learned to do is interview heir experiences. Have you paddled before? Where? What were the conditions like? how high were the waves, how strong was the wind? How long were you out, how far did you go? And so on. Watching their behavior as they answer is as telling as the answers they give. I'm not saying you need to be a lie detector, but based on their confidence, and how realistic their answers seem, you can get an idea of how prepared they actually are for a trip on the water.

Randalls Island

Last weekend I led a group out of Inwood to Randalls Island. It was a sunny day, well into Autumn, but the weather and tides worked out for a pleasant little jaunt of nearly nineteen miles round-trip.

First, we paddled past Spuyten Duyvil, in batches of two or three at a time, collecting in the nook on the other side, before heading under the Henry Hudson.

The foliage in Inwood Hill Park is still lovely to behold.

Then we paddled on around, past the Broadway Bridge, past the MTA railyard, past Peter Sharp Boathouse and the trio of High, Hamilton, and Washington bridges.

We were a group of eight, with a range of skill levels and paddling experience. Shepherding a group like that can be a lot of fun because of the variety, but as the trip goes on, there are choices to be made as the more experienced paddlers want to push the envelope, but the less experienced ones are content to have simply gotten as far as they have. Trip management is about people management as much as possessing the technical skills to meet any challenges along the way.

For example, by the time we got to Randalls Island, there were a few who wanted to explore Bronx Kill, while we had also talked up a small marsh on the western edge of the island. Randalls is big - nearly a mile long - and a couple of our paddlers were getting tired by the time we even arrived. We checked out the Kill and then went on the the marsh, the tired paddlers heading out first with me, while the rest caught up later.

They had had fun at a small rapid in the kill, trying to paddling pack up it. As the tide level goes down, it goes quicker and more shallow. I told my whitewater buddy about it. I'll have to check it out myself sometime.

Once in the marsh, we made it as far as we could go, spiraling in to the interior.

We were near Icahn Stadium, which can be seen from the Triborough Bridge, now known by its new name: the RFK Jr Bridge.

To get into the marsh, we had to paddle under this pedestrian overpass.

Once in, the contrast between the urban and natural - well, tended - environments is stark.

I am trying to get in the habit of group photos.

On the way back, we had one tired paddler. Two of us stayed with us while the rest went ahead, not getting too far ahead. We finally stopped and took a long rest, and when it was time to go, everyone, without prompting, seemed to let the tired paddler go ahead, and we went a ways while the current picked up, making the ride back pretty easy.

Once past Spuyten Duyvil, we caught some headwinds against the current, giving us some fun waves, not too big, but just enough for a taste of adventure.

Night Circumnavigation

I was invited by one of the coaches at the shop to come along on a nighttime circumnavigation of Manhattan. "Bring all your kit," he said. "All my kit will be off-limits". He further hinted that there would be some testing of trip management abilities.

Little did I know. "Welcome to Leadership Hell," he said when I walked up. Oh boy.

The first thing I had to do was fill out a bunch of trip planning data: high water and low water at various points around the city, the lunar cycle, water and air temps, and a plan - when we would hit certain places. I already knew the trickiest one would be Hell Gate - we'd want to get there in the narrow window when the tide changed and was at its weakest. Here, I made my first mistake.

"This is clockwise," said our lead. "Not counter-clockwise."

Most circumnavigations are counterclockwise. Basically, they are easier to figure out. Circumnavigations are fairly simple but must account for a lot of complex current dynamics. I worked out a decent counter-clockwise circumnavigation  earlier this summer. Here I was, being asked on a moment's notice to work out a clockwise one.

So, I did.

The basic plan was this: We'd leave between 1900 and 1930, paddle up with the current pretty quickly, stopping at Pier 96 and 125th st for rest before moving up to Spuyten Duyvil. Then we'd paddle along the Harlem, take a short break at Peter Sharp Boathouse, and then go through Hell Gate exactly when it was at its most hospitable, and then cruise down the East River with tons of current, rounding Battery, and then fighting a bit of current back to our starting point at Pier 40 - Houston, for the non-nautical.

Next, our lead had me and another coach introduce the trip. We were the trip leaders. We met our paddlers - all hand-picked by the lead for their ability, but mostly new to us. Some local kayaking starts but most I was meeting for the first time:

JJ, of a certain well-known paddling blog.
HKM, an acquaintance of hers.
D, a whitewater guy who works in the shop.
TJ, with whom I've paddled with before.
W, and M, one an ACA 4 Instructor and the other his assist.
J, a club member.
V, who also works in the shop and who I've also paddled with a couple of times.

My assist was JN and the lead was WP. All in, eleven people, one of the largest groups I've managed and the one of the largest group of experienced paddlers I've paddled with. Not only was I being tested, there was an audience of experienced people in front of me. Kayaking Kognoscenti, as it were.

I went around the room and asked everyone to introduce themselves and tell briefly about their paddling experience. I asked about medical issues, questions, concerns, and went over the basic plan. After that, we finished kitting out boats, and launched, a little late around 1940.

--

We paddled up as the sun was setting; it was dark by the time we go to Pier 96. I was trip leader for this first leg. The usual shenanigans took place.

Leaving.

Basically, the lead went around and got people to be alternately: the slow paddler, the fast paddler, the disappearing paddler. I later he had some more elaborate tests in mind, including a mass capsize at Pier 66. I was already doing a constant count of people, and stayed in the rear letting my assist leader. How many times did I count? Two, three four five, there are three more, there's nine, ten, and I'm eleven. When I came up short, I counted again, the looked around if I was missing anyone.

For the slow paddler, I coached better paddling technique. For the fast paddlers, I asked them to dial it back, usually complementing their ability. Within this scenario, that generally worked.

HKM attempted a roll, flubbed it, recovered with an extended paddle roll. . . .I thought he was my first "capsize victim" but no. At one point, we had to stop together to wait for a couple of water taxis coming out of a terminal. Later, after assessing the course of one vessel, I was entranced by a large barge passing on the opposite side of the river, and lost track of one of my paddlers. I delegated responsibility while I chased him down.

We overshot Pier 96 and so didn't stop. Once about that, we didn't have any traffic to speak of, other than a large party boat well north of us and cruising north. People wanted to take a break, so I settled on the small dock at 125th street - near the Fairway in Harlem.

While there, we took water, some snack, and I had a final question - TJ is hyperthermic, what do you do? At first I heard that as hypothermic, but no, hyper-thermic, overheating - what's the easy solution? Fluids, cold water, maybe a bow dip to cool off.

Approaching 125th Street.

Passing Riverbank State Park.

We continued on - I was no longer "trip leader" and was now simply assist. Thank goodness. In the next leg, we paddled with lights off.

Now, this is unusual, and strictly speaking breaks regulations, however:

 1. it was a full moon. There was a lot of ambient light.
 2. we were next to Manhattan, there was a lot of ambient light.
 3. we stayed out of shipping channels.

As we moved forward, we crossed under the George Washington Bridge, aglow in light. Now we were in familiar territory, near the Inwood Canoe Club, my home turf. We paddled on, in the night, past the Palisades.

Passing below the George Washington Bridge.

As we approached Spuyten Duyvil, I recognized a familiar problem - we were far enough out in the channel that we risked overshooting the Duyvil. I volunteered to lead us in, and headed towards the shore. "Follow me!"

Trouble is, folks didn't. Instead, they aimed at the railroad bridge. I was aiming about 50 yards south of it. As I looked behind me, I saw this long loop of kayaks extending northwards.

I called out; I blew my whistle for attention; I even held my paddle up in the "on me" signal position. A couple of folks moved; eventually everyone caught up, though some had to paddle back south a bit. I took a minute to explain my brief plan, one I've had to convey to novice paddlers a few times in the summer.

Basically, the Harlem and Hudson rivers connect perpendicular to each other, so going from one to the other means you're usually changing from current in one direction to current perpendicular. I advised everyone to paddle forward in line with the Harlem, and to keep to the right as they passed under the bridge, since the Hudson would be pushing them north a bit. Behind the railroad bridge is a small bay that is great for collecting people.

No problem. Everyone went in, I went last, and after a quick count we continued on our merry way.

Passing Under Broadway Bridge; Bronx shopping center on left.

I like the upper part of the Harlem. There's a lot of parkland on the Manhattan side, and it's narrow with high walls, and the Metro North railroad running along the Bronx side. In addition to Peter Sharp Boathouse, there's also the trio of High Bridge, Hamilton Bridge, and Washington Bridge, and a little further down, a view of Yankee Stadium.

We stopped at Peter Sharp for about half an hour, taking a bathroom break and time for serious snacking. We talked boats, and experiences. For a bunch of strangers we all got on well through our mutual interest in sea kayaking.

Departing Peter Sharp.

As we left, our lead announced that the leadership training portion was over, that "everyone is who they are", no longer playing trip roles. He was now the trip leader. Also, we were free to put lights back on now or later, but required after Hell Gate.

Ah, Hell Gate, a tricky bit of water that I have come to respect. At its easiest, on a circumnavigation it requires a bit of ferrying to cross. Last spring, I got a small group in a bit of a jam wherein we had to cross it at its near-strongest - ferrying across, missing, and then powering through about 200 feet of strong current to get to a spot of quiet west of Mill Rock. What would it be like at night?

Before we got there, we had another challenge: we were behind schedule, and the current in the Harlem turned against us, getting progressively more difficult from High Bridge down to Hell Gate. It's at this point that we started to have one genuine - not a training exercise - fatigued paddler, I'll refer to as FP.

We did some coaching on his stroke, and when I worked with him he seemed alert and mindful, just tired. Our hope was that once below Hell Gate, when we'd have a lot of current with us, he'd be able to coast a bit and recuperate enough for the trip round Battery.

The group wanted another bathroom break at Hell Gate, so we dropped into a little nook at Mill Rock. Mill Rock is a small, rock-pile island shaped like the letter Y. We were in the top 'valley' of the Y. It took a bit of effort to negotiate the contrary currents. As the upper East River hits Mill Rock and Manhattan, all kinds of currents are created, resulting in strong eddy lines, boils, and vortices.

I actually climbed out of my boat. I pulled up next to a large, slippery rock, found some footing, and managed to clamber out to find a place to pee. So, yeah, I can say this: I've peed on a rock above Hell Gate in the light of a full autumn moon.

We didn't stop for long. Exiting our little nook was a little tricky. By now a strong current was passing laterally above Mill Rock. The result was that as soon as we poked out, our boats were immediately cocked to the left. Our lead advised us on it, and we had no issues, but it was pretty disturbing to watch, and exhilarating to experience.

After that, there were a few minutes negotiated the contrary currents. I was in the middle, so I could see from the boats ahead of me what to expect, and eventually made out some of the eddy lines. Once we were below the northern tip of Roosevelt Island, things were OK. We had fast current, but it was much more consistent. We were passing the United Nations by 0215.

Most of us were, anyway. FP was far behind, and getting farther. One of the more experienced paddlers was with him, and our lead joined him. Eventually, we fell into one large group up ahead, and three of them behind, with a fourth in between. As we cruised down the East River, we delighted in the current but were concerned about FP.

Right about the time we started to turn towards an inlet at the Brooklyn Bridge, the other assist came in with a message, to hold up at Pier 17, otherwise known as the South Street Seaport. The stragglers were in the channel, catching tons of current, and caught up in short order. We landed at a small beach and got out.

FP was ending his trip there. He was utterly fatigued, and ready to give up. I'm guessing it was hard; there's a certain pride all paddlers have, but especially good paddlers, about quitting. There's no shame in it, but no one wants to do it. We agreed to tow his boat around Battery, while our lead's wife picked him up in a car and took him back to the shop.

We took a short break for water and snacks, then proceeded on or way.

By now the water was smooth, with little wind as we approached the Staten Island Ferry terminal.

There it was, the Staten Island Ferry. As I tell clients, "it's big, it's large, it's well lit."You don't want to get in front of it but it's easy to miss. Of course, the question was, had it just docked, or ready to leave?

We took a couple of minutes to sort it out, then decided it wasn't leaving.

Suddenly, our radios crackled to life. "Staten Island Ferry to kayakers, any of you got a radio?"

JJ and I fumbled for ours; she beat me to it. "Yeah, we're on."

"You guys mind holding up, we're about to depart."

"Sure," she said into the radio. "HEY GUYS! HOLD UP! STOP!".

We stopped, the back-paddled a little to keep from drifting forward. The orange behemoth moved forward, to our left, curving out towards Staten Island. Once it was clear, we kept moving, and saw men fishing off the Battery. Oddly, the tents for the Statue of Liberty ferries were lit up, though the boats were nowhere to be seen, presumably in their overnight homes at Liberty Marine near Liberty State Park. Americans - we like our liberty.

As we rounded Battery we slowed down, fighting the current in this last leg - though not as bad as it might have been, since we were behind schedule. We kept close to shore, popping out only to go around the ferry terminal at Battery Park City. After that, the blowers of the Holland Tunnel were in sight, signaling home, the lower edge of Pier 40's bay. We pulled in one by one, and I got out first, to assist others, including untying FP's towed boat.

--

Overall this was a good trip. Paddling at night was novel, as was paddling clockwise around Manhattan. It was a sizable group, and the first time I've ever managed (even if it was under supervision) a group of experienced paddlers this size. Newbies are one thing - they'll usually do what you tell them, but require extra supervision and instruction. Experienced paddlers can take light instruction, but need a little more guidance on when to tighten up. It was a good experience for me all around.

As near as we could tell, FP was hypoglycemic - low blood sugar. He's a skilled paddler, and did OK with extra caffeine and food, but would fade after a short boost. He was OK, waiting for us at the shop to put his boat away, and grateful for it all.

Some of the paddlers I only knew tangentially before were complimenting how I did, with of course some friendly advise on how I could have done better. I really appreciated our lead's feedback as well as JJ, TJ, and the ACA instructor. He even helped me on my cross-bow rudder.

With all of that, we unpacked out boats, washed them, and put them away, then piled all our gear in to take home (ultimately I left my clothes there on accident, thinking they were in my sea bag. I had a large sea bag as well as a nylon stuff sack). So much gear is involved in serious expeditions. You can get by without it, but when you need it, you'll miss it if it isn't there.

So, great trip, and a great opportunity. I'm sure I'll do it again some time, but for now, I'm still kind of astonished I did. When I woke up the next day, it felt like a dream - but I have photographs, and witnesses, and therefore, it was real.

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.

A Weekend of Paddling

I managed to get quite a bit of paddling in this weekend.

On Friday, I got early release from work and headed up to the boathouse, where I took the Argonaut out to the wastewater treatment plant in Yonkers. For a short break, I tried this maneuver:

On Saturday, I helped take a couple of clients out of Pier 40 down and around Liberty and Ellis Islands. it was a little interesting because there were a bunch of cigarette boats tooling about for a race further up the river. In the afternoon, we worked with a client who is going for his BCU 2-star later this summer. Mostly drills, and then a paddle up to Pier 66 and back.

On Sunday, I led a circumnavigation of Manhattan with a small group. I did the planning and organizing, and on the water whipped the group together. We had an easy rounding of the battery, and a lot of current up the East River, and then we agreed on an early crossing of Hell Gate.

Each of these deserves its own writeup, but where's the time to write when you can paddle every day?

Trip Leader Training

Today's work at the NYKC ranch involved trip leading practice. There were four of us, including our lead coach. We took turns leading a trip out of Pier 40, to about Battery Park City, then across to Jersey City. In each leg we played different roles, with focus on me and the other new girl.

I was up first. We talked about how to decide where to go. Current was flooding north, and we expected a weather system to move in from the south as well. Generally outbound trips go against the current, so as to have an easier time on the way back, especially if something goes wrong. I announced we would head south, probably not farther than Battery.

Our lead coach agreed and asked me to paddle out a bit so he could confer with his colleagues. The way coach and leader training works in these situations is, other participants role-play certain activities and attitudes intended to challenge the leader's ability to maintain the group. I knew that was what was being planned, and mentally prepared. I'll call my companions Winken Blinken and Nod, with Nod being our lead coach.

We set out. I asked Winken to take lead, and she never did; it wasn't clear at first if she was meant to be another assistant for me and Blinken and Nod were our clients, and I eventually treated her as a third client. She lagged behind, and I checked in on her, and kept Blinken and No from racing off.

Blinken kept racking forward, and I'd have to tell him to hold back. So did Nod, but he was on the opposite side as the other two, intentionally dividing my attention. Then, Winken started keeping up, but drifting out into the main channel of the river. I managed to keep the group together, and we pulled in near Pier 26 for an assessment.

We took turns, starting with me. I talked through what I saw, and what my concerns were, and I got it mostly right. the main criticism I took away was that I came off as a bit bossy - which frankly is criticism I've gotten before, and something I mean to improve on. Winken said that while I came across as confident and firm, I also seemed a little nervous, which was true. I was being assessed !

Next, we went across the river, this time with Winken as the trip leader. Now I was in on the conspiracy. Nod asked me to alternately race ahead and lag behind, while he and Blinken flanked and distracted Winken.

This was a little tricky because she put me on point to lead us across the river, aiming for the Hyatt hotel on the Jersey City waterfront. So, I left, I mean, I paddled as quickly as I could, outpacing the team. Eventually, she pulled me back, asking me to hold up for the group - so I did, even allowing them to pass, and then lingering behind. When she caught me out, I pointed to river tour vessel slowing making U-turns and said Iw as unsure about it. To be fair, Winken is new to these waters, so she might have actually had the same concerns.

As we approached the opposite side of the river, Nod brought our role-play to a close, and we rafted up in an embayment in front of the Hyatt to talk about how the crossing had gone. One thing that was different for her was that she got more involved in conversations than she needed to be, inhibiting her ability to manage the group. It's a touch balance, especially when running a trip with people you don't know - keeping a firm rein on a disparate group of paddlers, while keeping up a friendly patter so everyone is having a good time.

From there, we paddled back pretty easy. By then, the current was turning slack, but was still mildly north. We performed a ferry crossing, aiming for the inward Holland Tunnel blowers from about Pier 26 on the Jersey side. There was some light traffic heading south, but slowly, and we managed to avoid it.

Once back, we said hi to our friends as they finished putting the ramp in, unloaded, and washed up. As a bonus, we'd all been paddling Tiderace boats, which are amazing. I will write about them separately as I get more experience in them.