Guthrie Family Reunion

Tonight I went to a concert in Central Park, the "Guthrie Family Reunion" - Arlo, his daughters, grandkids, and assorted others. They sang some of their own songs, but mostly Woody Guthrie songs, since he would have turned 100 yesterday.

I grew up with a lot of these songs. It's hard not to, being born in Oklahoma to a music teacher. Those songs, that sound, the sentiment behind the lyrics. I re-purchased an album of Guthrie/Ledbelly songs that we had in the eighties, and more recently, downloaded some Guthrie songs off eMusic. It puts me in touch with where I come from.

It was a good concert. They are all good players, with good patter between songs. I've actually be surprised there hasn't been a larger revival of Woody Guthrie music given the current economic climate. An Occupy flag flailed periodically in the crowd; sometimes, some weed would drift over from behind, but otherwise, it was pretty tame.

Kayak Cowgirl

Gonna come right out and say it - new blog at kayakcowgirl.blogspot.com. This will be the home of kayaking-related posts going forward, allowing this blog to settle back into my general lie blog . . .which has been overtaking by kayaking lately.

Contrary Conditions at the GWB

Sunday, after my Saturday paddle out to the Narrows, I spent some time with the other club I'm a member of, the Inwood Canoe Club.

I went out with Mark and Steve when the current was just past max ebb. The wind was blowing north, so as you would expect, there were some fun waves as the wind pushed against the current.

Of course, this also meant that coming back was a little more challenging. We hewed to the shore to stay out of the current. However, coming around the rocky point below the Manhattan-side tower of the  bridge, I got caught in a bizarre situation: sizable waves pushing from the west and south, while the current conspired to slurp me back out. I was literally paddling in place despite some very strong forces pushing me in three directions.

I dug in my spurs and powered through. It took more than a little effort, but I got past the eddy line and continued paddling up. I have to say, these conditions were rougher than anything I experienced in the harbor. This belies the reputation of the upper reaches of the Hudson being as smooth as a glass lake.

Where the Buoys Are

On Saturday, I paddled out to the Narrows with two other women. It was a mostly gorgeous day, and turned out to be a great trip.

The Narrows is the stretch of water between Brooklyn and Staten Island, crossed by the Verrazano Bridge. It is the boundary between the lower and upper harbors. Past the Narrows, you're practically at sea, with Long Island out to your left, and Sandy Hook far south on your right.

From where we launch at 56th street, even with a strong favoring current, it's a three hour trip each way. It also traverses the harbor of one of the world's busiest cities, so a fair amount of planning was involved. It was a hot day, so we used plenty of protection against the sun (sunscreen, hats, rash guards) and brought along plenty of water.

The trip is best thought of in three stages each way: From Pier 96 (56th street) to Morris Canal; from Morris to Staten Island; along the coast of Staten Island to a long beach known as South Beach just below the Verrazano. Each stage would take about an hour, and we'd follow that route there, with the reverse on the way back.

Elizabeth and I set out around 11, just short of max ebb. We met up with Val at Pier 66 (26th street). With the strong current, it only took us ten or fifteen minutes to get there. Val was already on the water, so after greetings and going over the plan, we crossed over to Jersey and made our way towards Morris Canal.

Morris Canal is a relatively wide waterway on the Jersey side of the Hudson. The Colgate Clock - a large mechanical clock on the ground, visible from Manhattan - is near the front. Directly across from the Battery, the canal is between Liberty State Park and some housing developments in New Jersey. It shelters a marina and is a popular destination with our crowd. This is a fairly straightforward paddle, on water we know pretty well.

Below Morris is the NYC harbor. As one might imagine, it has a lot of traffic with no clear lanes. The waters are crisscrossed with water taxis, personal motorboats, sailboats large and small, the Staten Island Ferry, and smaller ferries that transport people to and from Liberty and Ellis islands. Additionally, the underwater topography changes, and when combined with all the traffic, there are a lot of unpredictable currents and wave patterns.

It isn't as scary as it sounds, but it does require awareness - of other boats and their intentions, of wind and water conditions, and of the potential hazard you might present to others. Conditions can be handled with training - keep a good brace ready and be prepared to power through the waves. Traffic is mostly predictable for the big ships - ferries move along the same paths, and water taxis have known destinations. 

It's surprising how quickly one arrives at Liberty and Ellis. If you have only been there as a tourist, or seen them from the shore, it's not clear how close, yet how far they are from the city. They are practically in New Jersey - which means from Morris, they were just a few minutes downstream from us. 

I took pictures. I've been here once before, on a trip to another destination not quite as far south. It's nice to have a picture of such a well-known landmark that I took myself.

As we continued south, we entered a long stretch of water between Liberty and Staten islands. This was the patch I worried about the most, not because of traffic - this area is mostly a parking lot for barges - but because there are no easy places to pull in and take a break. We could stop and drift, or raft up together and take a water break, but there would be no getting out of the boat, or sheltering in from adverse conditions. If the harbor had "next rest stop five miles" signs up, this is where they would be.

Our next major decision was how to cross the flight path of the Staten Island Ferry. The ferry is a large orange ship that crosses between Manhattan and Staten Island on roughly half hour intervals. It does not stop on the water; for our purposes, it cannot stop. There are typically two in motion, one in each direction. Fortunately, unlike water taxis, they tend to move in the same path over and over. Find that path, cross it safely, and they're not really a problem.

We spotted one ferry on its way out to Staten Island. We had seen its sister pass earlier, so once it was clear, we paddled out into the main channel. From there, we followed channel buoys down to the Narrows, with smoother water and no traffic to speak of. We came across a cargo ship moored in the channel, and wisely went around it before the current could push us into it.

By this point we were in sight of Fort Wadsworth, an old fort on the Staten Island side of the bridge, complementary to Fort Hamilton in Brooklyn. Both are now part of Gateway National Park. 

We paddled on, coming up under the bridge and around its western tower. We could see the beach, scraggly at first, but then beyond a short spit, stretching towards a proper boardwalk in the distance.

Our next decision was where to land. We wanted bathrooms; "nature" was an option, but real bathrooms couldn't have been far off. There were some buildings near by that looked abandoned. The boardwalk looked promising, but was farther down than we wanted, and in any case surf landings are prohibited at swimming beaches during the summer. We spotted some people sitting next to a large inflatable canoe, and aimed for a spot near them.

We popped our skirts - the spray decks that keep us dry, charged in, and jumped out. With that, the first half of our journey was complete. We had arrived at South Beach.

Elizabeth and I walked to the boardwalk to freshen up. It was a longer walk there and back than we expected, but a welcome stretching of the legs after sitting in our boats for so long. When we came back, we found Val had made acquaintance with our inflatable-boat neighbors. We had lunch, swam a bit in the surf, and rested. 

Val got the younger of the two men with the inflatable boat to try out her boat. He was the other man's son, and in less than an hour she had taught him how to do a wet exit and allowed him to paddle her boat up and down the shore for about thirty yards.

At the Narrows, the tide starts to change sooner than at the Battery; the flood tide was noticeable by three. In fact, while we were swimming, we noticed an acceleration of current carrying us towards the bridge. We weren't so far out that it was an issue, but we realized it was time to go in and start packing up.

We were back on the water shortly after four. Now, the next phase of our adventure began.

Conditions were different. For one thing, the sky was cloudy, not with storm clouds, but simply high-flying puffy white clouds that screened the sun for a bit of welcome relief. The tide was higher, and rising, changing the nature of some of our landmarks. We noticed that the moored ships we had passed on the way out were now facing south, against the incoming current. Finally, there was also a steady westerly wind.

With the flooding tide and the steady wind, the net effect was that we were generally being carried north and east at the same time. Heading north was fine - that is after all where we wanted to go - but the wind affected how we approached obstacles such as moored ships and barges.

These things are known as strainers. When current runs against a fixed object such as a moored ship or a pier, it can pin a boat or even pull it under. It's not a pleasant situation to be in, so we wanted to give everyone a wide berth. With the wind as it was, that meant we were paddling out into the channel when we otherwise might have headed back to the west a bit. We had to be a bit more aware of traffic, and had to paddle a bit harder to the west in order to stay on course.

Around this time, cruise ships were starting to depart the city. Altogether we saw three. The first one was approaching the bridge not long after we had left; the last one was rounding the Battery as we were approaching Liberty. The second one was, shall we say, a little more exciting.

We saw this one from a distance. We anticipated its path to be, like the first, well to our right. However, it appeared to be pointed towards our left. As we watched the horizon, we figured it couldn't keep going in that direction within running into some moored barges that we ourselves were planning to avoid. 

Yet, the ship was not turning. We then thought perhaps we were in it path after all, and decided to paddle east, towards Brooklyn. Once we got going, however, then the cruise ship turned.

Cruise ships are big. As big as the Staten Island Ferry is, cruise ships are many times bigger, and like the ferry, they do. not. stop. They can barely turn, constrained as they are by underwater topography and landmarks such as the bridge. So our question was: were we going to pass in front of the ship (unwise) or back-paddle to our earlier spot, hoping that wasn't the path?

We chose the latter option, and I'm glad we did. I'm not great at gauging distances but I'm reasonably certain we were within 100 yards of the vessel by the time she passed, maybe a long city block away. Now, I've been that close to cruise ships before on the water - but from behind, as they're moving away from me. "That stood my hair on end," said one of us.

As we paddled across the harbor, the wind would pick up, and then die down again. We realized we were much further east in the channel than we had been coming out. We spotted some channel buoys and headed towards them. We crossed the Staten Island Ferry lines again, and then followed buoys up to more familiar territory. 

As the wind picked up intermittently, I found my skeg to be useful in the half-down position. Without it, my boat tended to weathercock, which is to say that I'd get turned by the wind, in this case, in the opposite direction I wanted to travel. with the wind coming at me from the side, having the skeg halfway down kept the wind from  turning my boat and allowed me to gradually turn into the wind - a much more favorable position. 

Elizabeth fared a little worse. Her boat is very light, and while it's short enough to not catch a lot of wind, it takes less wind to weathercock. She dropped her rudder to use as a skeg. That helped a bit, and eventually we passed Liberty, passed some more ferries, and got into the Hudson.

Once there, things were much calmer. For one thing, there was almost no traffic, aside from a motorcycle gang of jet skis that bore down on us like a loud, angry fishing net. The wind died down, leaving us just the current, which carried us like an express train towards out final destinations.

Val got out at Pier 66. Adjacent to a popular outdoor restaurant, it was like we dropped her off at a party. We passed a public trip out of 66, a sunset paddle program of the (mostly untrained) public.

Elizabeth and I continued north, past a couple of ferry terminals, the Intrepid with its now-shrouded space shuttle, and the now-empty cruise ship berths, until we turned in to our embayment at 1906 hours, just a few minutes after our anticipated return time.

Our public program was closed for the day, but some of our friends were there. We talked about the trip, washed our boats, and watched the sun set across the water.

It was an awesome trip. I look forward to many more.

Ferryboat Binghamton

One of the regular sites I pass when I paddle north is the ferryboat Binghamton. It's a retired ferry, former restaurant, national historic place, and now a wreck, just south of Edgewater Marina.

For years, the river folklore was this: It was an old ferry that was retired, used as a restaurant briefly, and then gutted by a fire, laying mortally wounded in the water ever since. That's the basic truth, but the full story is much more interesting.

I culled most of the details from Wikipedia; librarians be forewarned.

The Binghamton was a steam-powered ferry, one of the first roll-on/roll-off style to plough New York Waters. Built in 1905, she was one of six that carried traffic across the water in New York City. SHe was built for the Hoboken Ferry Company, and spent most of her time ferrying passengers from Hoboken to Barclay Street in lower Manhattan.

As alternate methods of crossing the mighty Hudson were developed - the Holland Tunnel, the George Washington Bridge, the Lincoln Tunnel - ferry service diminished, and the company ceased ferry operations in 1967. The ferries were put up for sale, and a local developer bought the Binghamton to set up as a restaurant near Edgewater.

Unfortunately those plans did not come to fruition, due to delays and difficulties dredging the berth and getting the boat in position. Therefore, the Binghamton was sold to another developer seeking to turn her into a restaurant, and after some renovations, she operated as such for more than twenty years. In 1982, she was added to the National Resister of Historic Places.

Here is where another interesting story intersects: Nelson G. Gross: state assemblyman, US Attorney, Nixon crony, convicted felon ad, eventually, manager of the Binghamton.

By his late twenties, Gross had obtained a divorce from his first wife, maried a Guggenheim heiress, joined the local Republican Party, and been elected to NJ General Assembly. He supported Nixon in the Republican primary, and following his victory, Gross worked in various government and Party positions until, after losing a run for the Senate and working as an appointee in the State Department, he returned to private practice.

Shortly after Nixon resigned, however, Gross' role in the election of NJ Governor Cahill was investigated, and he was sentenced to two years of prison for, basically, campaign finance fraud, and after serving six months, he was released in 1977, whereupon he  managed a real estate business and the Binghamton restaurant.

In 1997, Gross was kidnapped, taken to the bank to forcibly withdraw money, and then murdered and dumped. Three young men from Washington Heights were convicted of the crime, one of whom had been a busboy at the Binghamton. Two were sentenced to thirty years, while the third got 17 as part of a plea agreement.

Despite his retirement from politics, gross' wife continued to be active in the Party, and she served as a member of the US delegation to the United Nations. His daughter published a memoir about his murder in 2007.

So - yeah. A lot more history than some crappy little ferry falling apart on the river. The Binghamton is over a hundred years old. She was an innovative vessel for the time. She served well as a restaurant, and was touched by a locally notorious political player and, sadly, crime victim. Her colors - the red white and blue - betray a more festive spirit the is belied by her current condition. If anyone can pony up the money to save her and fix her up, I hope they do. Till she succumbs to the elements, she'll always be a pleasant site on the water.

Skeg Repair

Today I did something I've been talking about doing for a while - I repaired my skeg cable. I had help from XL and Yim, along with consultation from Louie and Mike. As always, everyone at the boathouse had an opinion.

What's a a skeg? A skeg is a retractable fin on a kayak. It helps straighten the boat out against the wind. There's a lot of debate about skegs vs rudders, and whether to have steel cables or simple drop ropes. In my case, the boat has a steel cable connected to a control knob near the cockpit, allowing me to put it in any position while I'm out on the water.

Here is a good explanation of what a skeg does:

http://www.atlantickayaktours.com/pages/expertcenter/equipment/skeg/Skeg-1A.shtml

Unfortunately, one of the first things that I did was kink the cable. The cable passes through a sealed tube on the interior of the boat and attaches to the skeg. You can't see it in the photo above, but basically it goes in to the upper edge of the skeg, and a screw holds it in place. One day, I came back and pulled the boat out of the water with the skeg fully extended. The weight of the boat pressed down, and the steel cable bent. It was hard to get a picture, but basically all the dame was done in the last three inches.

To replace it, I had to buy a new cable, then disassemble the control mechanism, remove the old cable, slide the new cable in, and re-assemble the mechanism.

For reference, I have a Valley Canoe Products boat. Not all skegs are built the same. I have to say, after working this one, I like it. It's used in other brands, with slight modifications. Also, my boat is ten years old, and may be different from the curent models.

Here is the control know. Forward, brings the skeg up; back lowers it. I can rest it at any position in between for alternate effects.

What took me a while to understand is the the metal rod that I can see is a hollow and movable part. The cable threads through the rod, and the knob actually presses down a screw through an opening in the rod to press against the cable itself. The knob moves not only the cable, but also the rod around it. The rod protects the cable and helps keep it aligned.

We wanted to mark the neutral position of the knob prior to removal. I'm not sure that was necessary, but you do want to know where the rod ends, because then in the up position, the cable cable only go so far forward.

Here you can see the rod with the knob removed. The knob is held in by a screw with a 2.5 mm (or 3/32) allen head. Thanks to Louie for figuring that one out!

Here is the knob.

This is not the clearest shot, but it does show just how badly kinked the cable was.

After this I'm sorry to say we go so into it that I neglected to take pictures. XL and YIM helped figure the cable length and position. XL cut the cable - it took a couple of practice attempts on the old, and two attempts on the new, but we got it right.

To summarize

Remove control knob.
Pull cable out.
Remove cable from skeg.
Remove control rod.
Cut new cable to match.
Attach new cable to skeg
Feed old cable through, including through control rod - this takes some doing as it transitions a bit entering the control rod.
Ensure the cable is placed correctly, ensuring the up and down positions.
Tighten down the control knob.

Windy Jaunt

Saturday I took a short trip with Mark, another volunteer. He has a folding boat (that, admittedly, he does not fold much). We decided to meet up earlier rather than later to try and catch some current north before it petered out and turned south.

We left shortly after the public trip. Our original plan was to go over to Jersey, and pass them, and basically chart our own course in parallel to them, but a steady breeze from the north made paddling up real work. We also wondered if the current changed early, or that we were in slack at least.By the time we reached the marina, just 20blocks from where we started, we found we would drift backwards if we stopped paddling.

At the marina, we admired this pretty ship, the Avalon.

And Mark took my picture. We'd traded cameras - me with his, him with mine - so we'd have cpictures of ourselves on our own cameras. So narcissistic!

 Up in the mooring fields north of the marina, we stopped and said hello to a couple of families who had sailed to NYC. The first (not pictured) was a French family taking two years off to sail. They had come here from France in their ship. At least, that's what they told us.

We caught up with the public trip, and paddled with them for a while. We can't resist helping out, or giving pointers. We caught up with a mutual friend who was with the trip. At one point, the assistant who was in the lead asked me to check on an orange boat coming up in our rearview. Turns out it was a paddler named Fiona, furiously flying up the river in an orange boat with a white strip drawn at an angle. She passed us and disappeared into the distance up ahead.

The second, pictured here, was a catamaran flying the German flag. This man said he and his family had taken four years off in order to sail around the world. I asked about the Euro 2012 (football, not the currency) and he said he didn't really follow it. A German man who does not follow foosball? Shocking!

In both cases. Mark congratulated them on not having to go into an office job every day.

By this point, we were ready to go back. We kew the tide would turn soon, and we weren't going to get anywhere interesting before we'd have to turn around with the current anyway.

Ging back was MUCH easier. With the current, we practically did not have to paddled. We could have ster-ruddered our the whole way back. instead, we stopped in at 72nd street, and then paddled under Pier I and past some old rail-transfer terminal. I took Mark's picture here.

Back at the boathouse, I took some time to go over the Argonaut again. Mostly I was re-packing some new gear I bought, stringing lights and tying things down with some line I had bought. In any ase, before we went in, we got some nice shots of the Argonaut in profile.

Squall

Today was an exciting day on the water. Once again, I learned a valuable lesson about wind.

I paddled up to 72nd street with an experienced paddler I'll call Jermaine. With the current it's about ten or fifteen minutes; against, more like half an hour, and a bit of a slog. 

We were against, which is something I did yesterday as well, coming out around the sanitation pier into a truckload of curent. Thing is, once past the pier, you can move in towards shore and catch a break, even an eddy if you're lucky; we got clear and then got on to our final destination. 

Jermaine wanted to fix up some equipment we had up there. He'd brought along a box of screws and a hammer drill. So, I helped add an additional beam to a storage rack for vests. As we finished up, we saw dark clouds rapidly approaching from New Jersey. The wind was picking up and we decided to be on our way. We launched, paddled away, and got out to the current. Now, we would be going with it to head south. We'd be home in no time and miss the worst of the storm.

We saw lightning strike far down in the harbor, somewhere near Jersey City. Jermaine suggested turning around to tell the shop to close up; we want back to tell them about the lightning strike. "We know!" So we turned around and headed back out. I think our friends were surprised we were heading back out.

By now there were light but steady droplets of rain. That wasn't a problem. The problem was the wind. It was fierce and blowing from the west across the water. The result was that in the channel there were two conveyor belts: one moving south and another moving west. 

The wind was much stronger than the current, and I fought against it. Jermaine did alright; he actually passed under the pier. I was afraid to do that, because as hard as the wind was blowing, I was worried I'd get pushed up against the support pillars. A few years ago, someone tried that move in better weather and got knocked into the water. I figured i I could make it farther out into the channel, I could keep steady against the wind while the current carried me south.

That was not meant to be. What ended up happening was, I got to a standstill against the wind. Even skeg down. facing into it, I was getting blown back towards the shore. Only, the shore was much farther out in the form of a pier. The current was carrying me south. I was going to get caught in the supports of the pier and my boat was going to get broken into pieces.

That was my thinking at the time, at least. I manager to turn around and head back to the dock. At least the wind helped me with that, and as I got out of the channel, the current wasn't a concern.

I got out and helped them put things away. By now, the squall was in full effect. The tide was at max ebb; we could see a bit of sandy beach along the sea wall, and the wind kicked up waves that bobbed us up and down while we wrangled boats in a way that we could secure them with cable locks.

A bit later, Jermaine showed up, gave me a hard time for giving up so easily, then got out to help.

In the time it took us to get everything put away - about fifteen or twenty minutes - conditions changed considerably. For one, the wind died down to a breeze. For another, the rain stopped. By then, I was chilly, having got wet and then being pressed by a steady breeze. Jermaine asked if I was ready to give it another go. "Let me put on my jacket," I said, pulling out what is again my best kayaking investment this year short of the boat: a paddling windbreaker.

At some point, I did lose my sunglasses, probably while we were putting things away. I have to shrug about that - though I did buy them just last week. Ironically, they float, but there was no way I was going to find them by the time i noticed they were missing. They are my generous contribution to the Hudson river.

We launched, and got out into the channel. As predicted, it was a quick ride back to 56th street. Without the weather cocking us about, we were able to enjoy some long swells of about 18-24 inches, a gentle roller coaster of waves.

we got back safe and sound. By then, clear skies were appearing on the horizon. We pulled out our boats, cleaned them and put them away. I checked my phone: texts from the mister advising me to get off the water. I texted him back.

After that, the day was nice if breezy, at least till I got home an hour or so later. After that, two more cloudbursts ran through, followed by spots of sun. It's an interesting day weather-wise, that's for sure.