Winter Mitsuwa

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

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

Clearing the deck.

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

Shuffling to and fro.

Mister Cowgirl readies his steed.

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

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

Finally ready?

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

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

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

Our landing at the beach.

Happy Holidays!

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

Nom !

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

From parking lot to Manhattan.

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

Happy holidays to all !

An East River Adventure

"Do you want to go paddling?"

This was the regular call of my good friend Kayak Dov, an accomplished sea kayaker and instructor, an all-around adventurer. Truth was, I'd considered it earlier in the week. Sunday was a beautiful day, and I hadn't been on natural water in a while. But, it was predicted to be windy, and the water was cold, and I had a lot of chores to do.

I dithered a bit, and then said yes. In short order we'd worked out a cartop plan to try someplace new: Baretto Point Park, in the Bronx. The New York Times writes about it every couple of years; as the South Bronx crawls forward in its on-again off-again development plan, the fact that there is a rather nice little park on the shores of the upper East River, and "urban oasis", is somewhat astonishing, over and over and over again.

It's even a destination I advertise as a place to take clients, though so far the only takers petered out before we even got to Randalls Island. From Inwood, it's an all day trip, but in this case, we were starting at the park, planning to paddle east before the current turned southwest.

"What is this place," asked Dov. "It's like the kind of neighborhood Batman's villains would hang out it. He's not wrong. After driving out on various highways, we found ourselves on a service road running parallel to an avenue that was running alongside an elevated highway. Then we took some streets that crossed tracks and veered south to a land of warehouses and semi trucks. We were in the armpit of the South Bronx. No one came here unless they had to.

Fortunately that meant parking was easy, though we had a lengthy portage to the little beach itself.

Getting orientated.

Dov took a couple of bearings and we identified some landmarks. The upper East River bends a bit and expands and contracts along its length; it's a much better place for practicing orientation and learning how deceptive the land can be when viewed from sea.

We set out eastward, passing a DEP ship (the Red Hook) tied up at a pier next to the park, and then on past Hunts Point.

Kayak Dov, in his Rebel Ilaga.

The East River is used for shipping, mostly barges, so we kept our eyes out for vessels coming and going. In short time, we were caught up by this little tug, pushing what seemed to be a golf driving range.

Dov guessed that it was a garbage scow, and the fencing was to prevent garbage from being blown into the water. I hate to say it but I think he might've been right about that.

Tug on the East River.

The tug passed us, and then seemed to be getting closer. We realized that she was turning in towards shore, which seemed odd, until we realized she was probably heading up the Bronx River, which emptied into the shallow bay on our left.

After she passed, we kept paddling. I figured we'd get out to the Throgs Neck, perhaps farther, before turning back. Suddenly, Dov exclaimed, "did you see that!"

"What?"

"A porpoise, or maybe a dolphin."

Maybe, I thought to myself. I scanned the horizon. I didn't see anything, but it was certainly possible. After all, one or more whales were sighted in the Hudson river last fall. And, it wouldn't be the first time a dolphin was spotted in the East River.

I got out my phone (which has a lifejacket of its own) and watched while Dov floated out into the channel.

Then I saw it!

We played a game of gopher for a few minutes, looking here, then there, telling each other where we'd spotted it. I started recording video, clips of a minute or so at a time, hoping to catch it. Eventually I did, but just a few times.

Dolphin Surfacing.

Eventually, I put together this little clip, which gives a better sense of the search.

Eventually, we didn't see him for a while. A barge was coming out and so we decided to clear the channel. I paddled to the south, thinking it was marginally closer, sheltered behind a large rock. This put us at the northeast corner of Flushing Bay, so we came up with a new plan, something fun to do from the water in Flushing: watch the planes land at La Guardia airport.

La Guardia Airport.

Kayak Dov Stylin' and Profilin'.

Watching the planes land.

 On a clear day, you can see planes landing.

Another touchdown.

We didn't loiter too long, not wanting to overstay our welcome at the very end of the runway.

As we headed back, we fought a steady headwind. The wind had changed direction and grown in strength to its predicted Force 5. Fortunately the tidal currents turned in our favor, as the water started to slurp towards the black hole that is Hell Gate.

In short order we crossed under the Instrument Landing Pier and then crossed back to the Bronx. I say, "in short order" but it actually felt like quite a bit of work, one stage at a time: to the pier, to the channel, across the channel.

Fortunately the wind was an onshore one for us, and we had a pretty easy paddle back to the beach, surfing in some waves kicked up by a nearby barge.

It's not an NYC paddle if you're not close to traffic!

Before turning in, Dov let me try out his Ilaga - it's an amazing boat, one the tracks true but responds very, very well to edging.

It was a beautiful day, if somewhat cold. The water temperature in particular is still quite chilly, and if not for our pogies, our hands got numb very fast.

The upper East River is a neat place to paddle. There's much more variety of shoreline than along NYC's Hudson coast, and the dynamics of traffic and wildlife are unlike anywhere around Manhattan. Whether paddling there or cartopping to put in there, it's a worthwhile destination.

In particular, you can get this view pretty easily.

La Guardia, the Manhattan skyline, a jet plane.

Sometimes, it doesn't take much to prompt a great day at sea.

Winter Bluebird Day

Mr. Cowgirl's new drysuit came in, and we were itching to try it out on the water. Fortunately, yours truly had been organizing a day trip for that very weekend, and so we set out early in the morning for the Inwood Canoe Club.

Our plan was to head out to North Brother Island, or Randalls Island if we were running late.
No one else could make it, so it was just the two of us, and after kitting and fitting, we set out: up the Hudson to Spuyten Duyvil, down the Harlem, through the Bronx Kill, then out around the Brothers.

Passing Fort Washington.

A cooler hat near Swindlers Cove.

A curious structure atop a barge.

There were several signs of new construction along the Harlem, in particular the waterfront of Roberto Clemente Park and, in the South Bronx, new buildings and the refurbishing of old buildings.

In just under two hours, we arrived at the Bronx Kill, turning left to head down it, and saw a newly-built, not-occupied building on the Bronx side, and a fancy pile driver on Randals Island.

Pilin' for what?

The eastern end of the Bronx Kill is one of my favorite waterborne views in the city. I've been here at sunrise, watching pink clouds turn to orange and then yellow, and on overcast days when the entire world might as well be the sea between Queens and the Bronx. Even on a day like today, however, sunny and bright, the breadth of the view was amazing.

Mr. Cowgirl takes in the view.

What lies beyond?

We had a quick snack of cashews and raisins, as we took in the traffic.

First, there was a large barge being pushed southbound to the gate (Hell Gate, that it - we were just north of it). Then we saw a small barge emerge from the gate and head, curiously, between the Brothers - an unusual route because it's narrow and about a third as deep as the main channel around North Brother Island.

But then, we saw an even more interesting sight, and overheard a securite on the radio: a Rheinauer tug pushing a barge up from the gate, with another tug right by it. About half a mile behind it was another barge.

We decided to head north along the Bronx shore, wait for these two vessels to pass, and then look to make our crossing where we wouldn't be in a blind corner.

Ships go in.

Ships come out.

But then, we saw what the first two tugs were up to. The captain announced he'd make a "left wheel" about 400 yards, and what he meant was that we was making a U-turn between North Brother and the Bronx, and his fellow tug acted to push the vessel sideways.

This kinda made sense because, while we were close to slack tide, there was still some current, and for a barge to be pushed from one end would have made a very difficult turn-in-place. So, the second barge pushed from the side, helping her pivot to face south, and then get pushed into place in order to dock along the Bronx shore.

As this was starting to happen, I radioed the skipper, paraphrased as follows:

KC: Rheinauer, Rheinauer, this is Kayak Two just south of you, across from the Brothers. Capain, do you need us to move?
Tug: Who is this, Kayak Two?
KC: Yep Kakak Two. Near the Bronx Kill.
Tug: I don't see you.
KC: [waves paddle]
Tug: Oh, there you are. No you're not in my way, but that one coming from your right is headed there.
KC: OK, thanks. Over and out.

"We're crossing now," I said. I put out a short securite just to let everyone know our intentions, and we headed towards North Brother, the first tugs making their little turn maneuver, and the other one I'd spotted adjusting course clearly to its port - that is, towards where we had just left and not where we were.

I don't mean to belabor radio communications, but when they work they can save a lot of grief and uncertainty. I'd rather ask someone what they're up to than guess. I also have to say, tug skippers are among the most professional and straightforward I've dealt with on the radio.

After we crossed, I announced we were done and would be out of the channels, and said thanks to the captains, and got a "thank you" in return. Fuzzies on the Radio!

Our Rheinauer friend completing her maneuver.

A short break. Manhattan in the far background.

At this point we started around North Brother Island. I've been out this way a couple of times before, in 2012 and 2015. (OMG, have I really been blogging about kayaking that long?) So I'll recap succinctly by saying it's one of the most tragically-storied islands in NYC, Typhoid Mary and General Slocum, abandoned ruins, not allowed to land.

The old plant.

"Ruins" on the chart.

The old ferry dock.

The caretaker's house.

Channel marker 9.

Bird Sanctuary

"It's one of the spookiest islands," said Mr. Cowgirl - right as a bird of prey's piercing shriek let loose across the cold, hollow water.

The bird screamed again, and again, and we spotted it: a hawk, maybe a falcon, perched in the empty branches of the island's trees. Top left-ish of the following picture.

Where's the bird?

At this point we joked that if we were in a horror movie, the audience would be screaming at us to paddle faster. But, you know, in horror movies people can't know what to do. What if paddling faster just meant a jump-cut to use paddling into a shark's mouth?

Also, zombies may not swim, but they can wade.

We continued on our way, clockwise, coming around the southern side. Here we could take in the view of the famous Hell Gate bridge, as well as Manhattan, in the distance.

 New York City: a nice place to live.

I was also please to see something still standing, which I spotted back in 2014 on a trip out to Flushing: A tv and chair. "An Eames Chair," speculated the Mr.

What I like about the following photo is the doubt-reflection of the kayak's tail end.

Hmmmmmm........

In short order,  we set out our return, observing our tug friends were where we left them. The wind had picked up just a little bit, and veered a but to a more westerly direction. Where we'd been a tad too warm on the outbound leg, we were now just right - and when we stopped for a quick bio-break in the Kill, we got shilled right quick.

Farewell North Brother. Our Rheinauer friend heads home.

We were in the Bronx Kill at a time I've rarely been at, early enough in the tidal cycle that there was still some depth, but late enough that there was a strong eddy at the spot where it becomes a rapid. We played a bit with some peelouts and eddy turns.

At one point, a sizable wave train stood up. It was starting to disappear by the time I snapped this photo, but was quite fun - especially since it popped up while we were trying reverse peelouts !

Love Train. . .Freight Train . . .Wave Train.

The paddle back up the Harlem was uneventful. At Spuyten Duyvil, we tried playing with the eddy currents there as well, but they weren't quite as well-defined as in the Kill. After five hours out, with only a short shore break, we were ready to head in, where we cleaned up and put away - but not before encountering Inwood's resident paddleboarder on the water, and another club member who'd just come back from paddling to Yonkers.

Nuclear Kayaking.

I do like this last image though. The entire day was very sunny, so many of my photos had intense lense flare. Add onto that a wet outer lens cover, and I can assure you that there are many more surreal photos in the Cowgirl's library than you'll see online.

We stopped by for a pint at the local pub where our fellow club member was having a get-together with friends (birthday and welcome-to-the 'hood). When we got home, we both were ready to crash out - suddenly our all-day paddle caught up to us physically.

North Brother Island is one of my favorite places to paddle to, even without getting out there. I hope I'll get out there more often.

Radius Drysut

Kayak Cowgirl and her trusty ol' Expedition drysuit, and Mr. Cowgirl in his fancy new Radius - Kokatat's top-of-the-line model that uses what they called SwitchZip, to zip together the top half and bottom half.

The zipper has to be fully seated before starting the zip. That can prove a bit tricky. Once started, though, it goes around and seals very well.

It takes a steady hand.

Once the zipper has come all the way around, the round knob clasps over the nut, then screws down tight to seal the zipper.

Sealing the zipper.

Compared to the more typical front-entry suits, this arrangement gives a smoother chest, and certainly makes "relief" much easier !

The suit has some other well-though-out touches. The hood is removable, secured with three velcro straps that weave under cord around the neck. The hood also has a side-mounted flap that snaps shut to cover the face, or snaps back to open it up. The neck area can open up for venting - not open to the interior of the suit, but essentially a fold of Gore-Tex over Gore-Tex in case of ice buildup. The suit's top and bottom have an extra flap of GoreTex to fold over the zipper, secured with velcro, so that when they are worn separated, the zipper is protected. Self-draining pockets on both arms and one leg complete the cargo layup, although oddly there is no chest pocket, as I've seen on the Expedition and Meridian.

All in all Mr. Cowgirl is happy with the drysuit, in particular the flexibility of SwitchZip - Kokatat already makes a compatible Anorak that zips on to the pants, so for low-risk touring, that might be preferable, in order to let out some heat. The removable hood was a key selling point, as his primary paddlesport is whitewater, where he doesn't want a hood.

First Paddle of the Year

I paddled today with my good friend Kayak Dov, first time on the water for each of us since the odometer rolled over on the anno domini. The area got a pretty decent snow earlier on the weekend, and temperatures were still in the twenties F when we set out, but the day warmed, and we had a pleasant "paddle to nowhere" kind of day.

An Icy Dock.

I set out from the Inwood Canoe Club, crossing the Hudson river to meet at Englewood Boat Basin, but was almost immediately hailed by Dov on the radio that the road was closed, so he was putting in further south. That worked out well - the current was already ebbing, and would be most of the day, so I changed course and more or less floated down to where we met up.

Washington Heights.

At a lower tide, Dov was forced to wade his boat out across a mud flat about twenty-five yards, to get to water deep enough to paddle in. That mud'll come off!

Jersey "flats".

We set out north, figuring we'd attain against the current until we were tired, or cold, or both. This part of the NYC waterways is right along the majestic Palisades cliffs - beautiful, steep parkland full of woods and paths and little structures.

On our way!

As we went along, we (actually, Dov) spotted some deer running through the woods. With the winter foliage, there wasn't much to hide them. We came across them twice, and it seemed like they were scurrying away from us - as if some waterborne predator could somehow catch them.

Housing with a view.

Englewood Boat Basin.

The day brightened up, an the wind picked up a bit from the south, giving us some fun little wind-against-current waves to play with. Further north are several "fingerling" piles of rocks forming little headlands to pass, and we found some pretty strong eddy currents behind them.

Henry Hudson and Spuyten Duyvil bridges in background.

I stopped to nosh. Here we have some disagreement. Dov prefers to eat a hearty meal and paddle with few stops. I'm partial to that idea, but I like breaks, too. I snacked on some sausage and banana bread, along with some hot tea.

While I did, the wind picked up from the south against the current,  and we got some little footers (waves). I hastily packed and we surfed up river a bit.

Heading up the river.

One fun thing we noticed was how uniformly the snowline and icicles ended at the high tide mark. It was like someone cut along with a laser in a precise, straight line.

An even shoreline.

Our best find, however, was a frozen waterfall! We could hear water rushing behind it, and up close could makes out little streams behind and through the ice.

Frozen Waterfall.

Frozen Dov !

The complete waterfall.

And . . . thaaaaat's all, folks. We turned around about a mile and a half short of Alpine, rocketing back with the current, and I peeled off at Englewood to ferry across to Inwood. It was a grand day out, and a great start to a new year.