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.

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.

Irene

So today we are expecting Hurricane Irene to hit NYC. Technically tomorrow, Sunday between 2 AM and 8 AM, but effectively today, as we prepare for the coming storm.

As part of my volunteer work with the Downtown Boathouse, I rode my bike down there to help move bats around. We are certain to have at least a little flooding of the boathouse, and if it is severe enough then the park authority will open the main doors to allow the water to flow through the building. Because of this, we moved boats off the lower racks, and moved other stuff up off the floor. It's like a big, communal garage, and like everyone in the region, we had to prepare.

For myself, I was a little uncertain. With all the warnings and advisories, I felt like I already have what I need: flashlights, food, water. I live in Washington Heights, so I'm not concerned with flooding from storm surge. But am I really prepared?

I think so.

Sunday

Sunday was a long day.

I volunteered with my kayaking club to support the NYC triathlon. Basically swim support means we go out in our kayaks and prevent the swimmers from swimming out into the open river or swimming into the sea wall. They're so focused on moving forward, they get off track easily.

This meant I got up at 3 AM. I was out the door by 3:30 to get to the 79th Street Boat Basin by 4. Less than an hour later, we were on the water, lining up and watching the sun rise.

The first wave came through a little before six. There were two clusters, a large group and then a smaller group. Altogether, it looked like a serpent roiling through the water, or perhaps two giant hands twisting their way through the river. These guys were fast. These were the professionals, competing for a $100,000 prize.

After that came a series of swimmers. They got less serious as they went on. We were instructed to call out to the swimmers the direction they should head, i.e. "Swimmer! Left!" or to point with our paddles. We could even bonk them with our paddles if we needed to. The first guy who ran into my boat didn't pay any attention and ran right into my side. "Swimmer, left," I gently cooed. "What? in your bloody canoe?" he scowled. Swimmers in the back half of the race apologized as if they had reached too far in front of me at the grocery store. "Sorry," they would say, and then bob in the water aiming their goggled eyes across the waves, looking for the way out.

A man had a heart attack and died. I didn't see that. There were many reports of jellyfish stings. I did see them. They look like giant muffin wrappers in the water.

Afterwards we took our boats back to where they belonged. I stayed at our spot on 72nd street even though we weren't opening. It seemed pointless to put the boats away. I turned away all walkups except one: Doris, a woman in her nineties who comes by early morning every weekend to paddle. When i told her we weren't opening until noon she was crestfallen. I let her go out - and she stayed out for over an hour. I hope someone will put me in a boat when I'm that old.

After that, I ran back and forth between 56th and 72nd running errands, then walked all over the upper west side looking for a bank, for stationary, and finally for lunch. It was hot and muggy, humid and in the  90s, brutal weather.

I met my friend TM and we went downtown to see if we could find the waterfalls. We  got out at Wall Street and walked over to South Street Seaport. We were able to see the falls under the Brooklyn Bridge, as well as a set out on Governor's Island. TM's work relocated downtown, so he took me to some of his favorite spots in Battery Park.

After walking through Battery Park we came upon the Staten Island Ferry Terminal. Behind it was the old terminal, now renamed the Governor's Island Ferry Terminal. It has a neo-rococo look, with several flags hanging out front. Only a very small space is devoted to the terminal. The rest is being refurbished, and this summer is host to an art installation by David Byrne. Because of something to do with the incomplete renovations and the ownership of the site, we had to sign waivers in order to see the exhibit. I've never had to waive my rights to see an art installation before.

The installation itself was interesting but underwhelming. An old organ has been wired to different sound effects in the building that replicate the industrial sounds of its former life.The space itself was far more interesting, one of those derelict urban spaces that reek of history and assert that they aren't through yet. Gangways for the ferry, stairs over water, and a giant brick waiting room with a dirty skylight were all on display. It's the kind of urban space I like to find.

After the terminal, we had another encounter downtown, this time with a French-speaking violinist busking for change. TM gave him money, and I thought we were through, but the man insisted that TM pose as if TM were the fiddler and the man was putting money in the case. I took pictures, then I took on the role, holding the violin to the man's exacting specifications. TM took pictures. I sent one to my father, who played violin as a child. He pointed out that I was holding the violin wrong.

Next, we hopped on the JMZ line to go up to Delancey. There was a restaurant I wanted to try in the Lower East Side. The Chambers Street station and the Delancey Street station were very interesting. The first was large and expansive, but somewhat ill-kept. The second was far more brightly lit than I remembered, and had a weird arrangement with the intersecting F line.

We walked over to Avenue C - Losaida - and sought out the restaurant. We never did find it, so we settled for Esperanto, a charming little bistro with a reasonable menu. I had appetizers - a wonderful chayote salad along with some friend potato-cod balls. TM had the house chicken, rich with coriander. Desert, a warm brownie with molten chocolate inside was wonderful. I only regret we did not try their drinks.

All along our day, the weather was brutally hot and muggy. It drained the life out of us. We kept on sunblock, and even with it on TM was a shade darker by the end of the day than when we started. We drank gallons of water every change we had. For myself, this was all on top of having gotten up at three in the morning. I thoroughly enjoyed our day, but by the time I got home - around nine - I was ready for it to be over.

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Hot

Is it hot in New York City this week? Let me put it to you this way: it's not even 9 AM and the temperature is already 92 degrees.

Over the weekend, when I went to my kayaking spot around 9 AM, it was already in the 80s and there was a low haze, like a warm fog, that hung across the park and the river.

There are no changes predicted for the week. I am wearing all of four articles of clothing plus my sandals. I'd wear less if it was work-appropriate. Time for the summer dresses.

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