The Frozen Hudson

Along the cold Hudson River somewhere in upstate New York.

On my way back to Boston after a lovely month in New York, we went through the Lincoln Tunnel and, for some reason, back over the George Washington Bridge. I looked over at the Hudson River, the love of my life, and it was strange seeing ice there. It made sense that the Hudson would be frozen upstate, but I never think of it happening in the city-proper. I think I could also see the plane somewhere along the midtown seawall, too.

Floating the Apple

Mike Davis of Floating the Apple.

Rain Rowing

This is what rowing in the rain on the Hudson River during early morning looks like. Imagine how it feels. That's the Bronx across the river, just so you know.

Sunset at the Village Community Boathouse

Late summer.

Hudson River Rowing

I just wanted to share some rowing pictures because I haven't been in a very writerly mood lately.






This picture was taken on an earlier excursion to Maxwell House Beach (also known to Pier 40 folk as Playa de Hoboken). We found this abandoned boat that we wanted to take back with us, but there was a hole. Still, it was a cool looking boat.

Village Community Rowing

Today is (finally) the grand opening of Village Community Boathouse (formerly of Floating the Apple) at Pier 40! At West Houston Street and the Hudson River, the rowing season will start at 5:30 p.m. or 6:30 p.m.

Let the rowing begin!

Soon Enough...

With spring in the air, I can almost feel the bobbing waves of the Hudson. Almost.

Berger's New York: A Frozen Hudson

Remember in The Day After Tomorrow where people walked on the Hudson and through the mouth of the harbor in search of someplace warmer? Yeah, and how you also thought that couldn't happen in real life because of the salinity of the Hudson? According to Meyer Berger's column, the Hudson used to freeze over all the time:

***

January 19, 1955

A group of middle-aged gentlemen in town got talking about the weather the other day and how modern winters are sissy periods compared with those they passed through in youth.

One stubborn fellow insisted that in 1918, when World War I was on, he and a whole group of small-fry from Ninetieth Street walked across the frozen Hudson to a point on the New Jersey shore--Fort Lee he thought it was.

The talk swelled to uproar at the bar, one faction holding that there has been no bank-to-bank freeze below Yonkers in modern times, though such a phenomenon was common in the seventeenth, eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.

Newspaper files show that a munitions worker named Fred Gabay crossed on the ice from Hastings in Westchester to a point on the New Jersey side in a free-up on Jan. 2, 1918. The same file indicated a Hudson River freeze-up just five years earlier but didn't say how far down it came.

The files also showed a photograph, published Jan. 13, 1918, showing Dr. Lee de Forest, the inventor, and Miss Nancy Mayo crossing the Hudson opposite 230th Street, New York City.

Edward Rindwood Hewitt of Gramercy Square, son of Abram Hewitt, who was Mayor of New York in 1887, remembers that the Hudson froze almost every year around that period, mostly about February.

It sticks in his mind, he says, because he and the other silk-stocking kids used to sail-skate from somewhere around Yonkers down to Manhattan's upper reaches. They did it year after year.

Mr. Hewitt, pushing 90 down, recalls clearly that one winter day in 1875 it was the East River that froze, and probably both rivers. That freeze is fixed in his memory because the cash boy for his grandfather, Peter Cooper, due at the office in Water Street that morning, didn't show up until mid-afternoon.

It turned out that ice had stopped the East Twenty-third Street-Greenpoint ferry, so the cash boy had come down the hard way. He had walked from Cooper's Bushwick glue factory to Greenpoint, then to the Manhattan shore and all the way downtown without wetting his feet.

The last ice-up anyone could remember was during the record cold of February, 1934, a bitter depression year when the thermometer only once struggled above freezing. By that time, though, river traffic was so heavy that there was no shore-to-shore ice bridge, only heavy floe accumulation.

***

That would've been so amazing to see. I need to get over to the Hudson when it snows, because I've never seen it like that before.

Bits: Linking Westchester and SF to NYC via Path & Ferries, Dining Over Graves, Magdalen Island, Broken Elevator Woes & Israeli Operations

1.

"Inwood-Westchester Greenway Link Planned" from Inwoodite

This pathway would connect upper Manhattan to my definition of upstate New York (or Westchester, same thing) and allow for access across the Henry Hudson Bridge, a bridge I've had the pleasure of rowing under twice. And they're improving/creating more bridges over the Harlem River

2.

"Cross a Continent by Water to Another City by the Bay" by Patrick McGeehan, from the New York Times

With the impending contract closure with Circle Line Downtown, California-based Hornblower Yachts is joining the mess of traffic along New York Harbor. These different boats will or already have journeyed to New York from varied distances: New Orleans, random places in New England and most notably, San Francisco.

That lucky boat, the Freedom, left San Francisco Bay last month and has yet to travel through the Panama Canal to its eastern goal.

Both McGeehan and the chief executive of Hornblower, Terry MacRae, had wonderful, water-related (anyone know a better word for that?) quotes that I just have to put here:

MacRae: [Referring to the scheduled arrival] In the ocean, anything can happen.

...

This is not the Freedom's first oceangoing tour. Before its stint taking visitors to Alcatraz, it ferried summer-vacation crowds to and from Nantucket. It made the long haul from Nantucket to San Francisco Bay in April 2006, Mr. MacRae said, so it has proven its seaworthiness. "It's been in the ocean its whole life," he said.

3.

"Indian Eatery Features Graveside Seating for 'Good Luck'" by Sam Dolnick, AP by way of the New York Sun

What's interesting about this restaurant in western Indian isn't its food or even its service; instead it is the location, more specifically, where it is built over, which, in this case, is on a Muslim cemetary. Customers sit right next to scattered gravestones throughout the restaurant.

And really, all that matters is:

Customers seem to like the graves, which resemble small cement coffins, and that's enough for him.

4.

"An Island in the Hudson, Plundered in Search of Indian Artifacts" by Anthony DePalma, from the New York Times

I'm pretty sure I've gazed longingly at Magdalen (a.k.a. Goat) Island during MetroNorth trips. And now, after reading this article, I want to go there. Rock shelter? Right on the Hudson? People who go there illegally anymore (I'm all about that--still holding onto my Bannerman's Island dream)? Possible buried goods?

5.

"At Bronx Court, Elevator Woes Slow Justice" by Leslie Kaufman, from the New York Times

Now that's just fucked up.

6.

"Israeli Forces Move Into Gaza" by Steven Erlanger, from the New York Times

What pisses me off about this is that the Israeli troops claim to be performing "routine" operations "to disrupt rocket and mortar assults" along the border. Come on, seriously, am I supposed to believe that?

The Outside World

The combination of watching Stand by Me at Kayley's a while back and taking the train between Cold Spring and Beacon, retracing our walking adventure around Dennings Point made me miss camping. I wish it wasn't so cold outside so we could wander the woods with a hand-drawn map again.

Josh and I went back to Selkirk a couple of weekends ago. For the sake of adventures, we decided to go visit Kaaterskill Falls, after deciding not to hike the Catskills for our lack of ice gear as Rob suggested we bring. After getting lost and being misdirected quite a bit, we finally found the stream from Kaaterskill Falls, but no actual waterfall. We parked the car in a little offset from the road, climbed over the railing and and slid our way towards the water. What fascinated me were the icicles. I wished it were summer because I know the water would've felt nice. We jumped from rock to rock, trying to get as far up as we could. Then we went back and warmed up in the car. Despite the cold, it was fun and something I needed.



Recently, I looked through my rowing pictures and I realized how much I missed it. Once spring rolls around, I plan to fully utilize the warm weather and everything I learned from the past year: camping, hiking, rowing, just about everything.

I want to explore Bannerman's Island, however illegal it might be. Rob and I talked about this during dinner at his house last weekend and he said that we couldn't use a Whitehall; we'd have to take a smaller boat, like a kayak, but that doesn't allow for many people. I need to think of something else. Or some way to work around that...

In the meantime, I'll dream of faraway tropical places and New York in the spring.

Early Morning New York Harbor

I don't really feel like writing today, but I just wanted to share this gorgeous photo I stumbled upon by way of Gothamist (who also featured some of my photos, woohoo):

[Photo by Matt Semel, via flickr]



The little island to the left is Liberty Island. New Jersey is in the foreground, with Brooklyn on the left and Staten Island on the right. That bridge right there is the Verrazano Bridge. Here, the Hudson River feeds into the Atlantic Ocean, which stretches on and on in this picture. All those little black spots on the water are boats and barges. How wonderful.

Touching the River

My beautiful boat at entirely accessible and regular rowing destination Maxwell House Beach in Hoboken, New Jersey.

The view from Roosevelt Island is gorgeous—midtown Manhattan just across the way, the 59th Street Bridge, the tram and the rushing East River. This is New York City at its finest. Sitting on the steps before this panaroma is awe-striking, the juxtaposition of the urban with the natural. But there is more to this scene than just pretty pictures. Dividing the city and the river are railings, lots and lots of railings. There is a sense of detachment. You can look, but you can't touch and all I want to do is feel the water beneath my feet.

There are no railings up in Selkirk, Poughkeepsie and Ossining. I could walk over to the Hudson, sit on some rocks and feel the waves lap on my legs. The coolness of the water touching my skin was soothing.

Where are these places in New York City? Thinking about it, there are barely any. Rob has a website (not sure if he updates it now) all about New York City beaches. There are a few, such as Valentino Pier in Red Hook and Hallets Cove in Long Island City, but it feels like there should be more.

There are pushes for more access, though.

According to New York Construction (which I stumbled upon by way of goingcoastal), the city, working with other agencies, is building an extension of Harlem River Park, from 139th to 142 Street. Wonderfully enough, this is one of the few, if only, parks in New York City that allow for actual water contact:

"...offer[s] visitors...water access-points that will allow people to dip their feet in the water and load canoes and kayaks."

Rowing in the Harlem River is completely different from rowing in the Hudson and East Rivers. Up there, you're less susceptible to currents and, at least for me, it's an area I don't know too well, so the views are gorgeous.

And then you have plans like for the East River Esplanade where there is no interaction with the water; the same goes for most of the proposed plans for my beloved Pier 40.

We don't need more retail space—New York is already filled with that. We don't need another Seaport. Forget all the barriers. What we need is a return to simplier, natural things, like accessible shores.

Camping at Denning's Point

Beautiful sunset-colored views from Denning's Point.

Since I've been camping with experienced campers and I've been wanting to get away, I decided to take charge and organize my own trip. After getting three other people—Josh, Sarah and Tyler—to come along and picking our location and game plan—Denning's Point by way of the MetroNorth and walking—and we were off.

Originally, I had planned to catch the 8:51 a.m. train out of Grand Central Saturday morning, but after Josh reminded me about the party we were attending the night before, I changed my mind. Sarah, Josh and I met at the clock at Grand Central at noon, with plans to catch the 12:51 p.m. train out to Beacon. Tyler, who was running late, just made the train. The trip was off to a perfect start.


The way to Denning's Point.

Arriving at Cold Spring at 2:15, we exited the station and looked for the best way onto the tracks without attracting too much attention to ourselves. Reaching the end of the parking lot, we slipped through the end of the fence and walked through brush until we reached the open space of the MetroNorth railroad tracks. We followed the main tracks and then continued onto what seemed to be an abandoned line that headed to our right.


Making our way to the Hudson.

All I had to direct me was the map Rob drew for me, pointing out how to get to Denning's Point via railroad tracks and where our proposed campsites and a creek lined with abandoned factories. Somehow, we made it to Denning's Point, with a sign about no winter camping greeting us. Making a left, we found ourselves off the trail and along the coast. Though the views were gorgeous, we had to duck through low branches with huge bags and step gingerly on slippery rocks. After walking this way for a while, we finally reached our camp site. Granted, it was the second of the two Rob pointed out to us, but this site was better because it avoided the wind.


The view from our campsite.

Looking across, we could see the flat factories of Newburgh against the foliage of the rising mountains behind it. In the foreground, the Hudson lapped at the sand beach beneath our feet. Rocks provided the perfect sitting place. We were surrounded by plenty of firewood. There was a little nook that led up the trail that became home to our tents, despite the ground being uneven, we made do somehow. Setting up our tents took a while, because the purple "party tent" was huge, had no stakes and weren't sure where all the sticks went through, but it was done. After unpacking and repacking the backpack, we were off to explore.


The factory.

First stop: abandoned warehouse near the beginning of the trail. To get inside, we made our way through an opening in the fence and through thorns, taking it like the brave souls we were. Inside, the factory's first floor was basically empty—with the exception of tagged walls, plants and a hanging rope in the middle which Tyler made use of by swinging around and climbing up. After exploring the rooms filled with debris, our attentions wandered to the staircase outside. The entrance to the staircase was locked, but we decided to climb into the staircase by way of broken windows. Alas, we couldn't get into the second floor because of another locked door.


Pile of logs.

Outside of the factory, there were many, many piles: bricks, logs, bigger logs, rusted metal, random machinery and packs of fertilizer. Heading east after looking through the piles, we found ourselves on the MetroNorth tracks again. Going south, we eventually found our way to what I assume was Fishkill Creek. Rob said there were more abandoned factories along its shores, but we weren't up to it. Instead, we sat atop a jutting block of metal and looked at the marsh and foliage under the sunset-soaked skies.


Sunset over Denning's Point.

Since it was getting dark, we headed back to our campsite and started our fire. After a shaky start, the fire burned bright and strong. Josh started cooking our dinner: cheeseburgers, and Tyler provided our beverages: beer, and we had water from before. Talking, eating and smoking, we kept the fire going until around 10 p.m. where we doused the fire with the Hudson and off to bed we went.



Now, I'm not normally a paranoid person, but the combination of being out there alone without anyone else, all the noises of nature and a little indulgence earlier makes me extremely suspicious. Among the rustling of the leaves and lapping of the water, I swear I heard something brush by. My first thought was, of course, a crazy man with a knife, maybe that man with the poodle we kept passing by the day before. Josh heard the same noise and I made him go check, with the headlamp and knife, but he couldn't find anything. On the beach the next morning, we found animal prints. Later on, Sarah saw a deer wandering up the trail.


Animal prints. See, I'm not crazy!


Pouring out the apple-coffee.

We celebrated the morning with a breakfast of slice apples on bagels and apple coffee (Tyler's invention). Packing up, we headed out to our next adventure: (possibly) Breakneck Ridge and the Cold Spring MetroNorth station.


Hudson thinkin', with Bannerman in the background.

Thus began our railroad hike. We passed by Fishkill Creek again, found a dead goose, wondered at Bannersman Island a.k.a. Poppell Island (the next site of an upcoming adventure?), explored a pipe, tried stuffing the huge sleeping bag in an abandoned suitcase with no luck, threw and kicked rocks into the Hudson and became accustomed to the hissing sound of the rails before the trains passed by.


Breakneck Ridge stop.

Finally, we reached an overhead bridge where a man told us we were at Breakneck Ridge. We sat by the makeshift platform (the stop is used primarily for hikers such as ourselves) and decided what to do next. Being too tired from our trek so far, we decided to continue onto Cold Spring.

That hike seemed to take forever. We seemed to pass by more people—hikers from Breakneck I guessed—and soon the 9D joined the railroad tracks. Because we assumed the parking lot up ahead was the Cold Spring station, we left the tracks and our feet felt the kiss of smooth pavement. To our dismay, however, it wasn't the station, but the Stony Point State Park instead. We still had awhile to go, but at least we were near Cold Spring.



Walking through Cold Spring, I could understand its appeal—small town village with cute stores and streets—but I couldn't understand why we passed by so many tourists. After walking towards the Hudson and walking through an underground passageway, we finally, finally reached the Cold Spring station, just missing a train, but it didn't matter.

Getting on the crowded train, Josh, Tyler and I made ourselves comfortable on the floor while Sarah sat in the seat across from us. We took naps and anticipated our next meal: McDonalds, which we ate as soon as we got out of Grand Central. Our stomachs filled with well-earned Angus burgers and French fries, we departed home.



Thanks to Rob for: helping me pick out the location, showing off his cartography by drawing me my extremely trusty map, lending me his backpack, stove, fuel and pots, opening Pier 40 for me at the last minute and just general helping me out. Thanks to Josh for helping me buy everything, figure out the food situation, cook and help me carry stuff. And thanks to Adam and Sam for lending us tents, sleeping bags, headlight and knives.

Check out our route here.


The trusty map Rob drew me.

Rowing to Alpine & Back

The lovely Quixotic rowing under the George Washington Bridge.

Under brilliant Sunday afternoon blue skies, rows and rows of white, pristine clouds, and the sun shining at just the right angles and intensity, three Whitehall Gigs sailed and rowed their way back to Pier 40 after a journey up north and a night’s rest at Alpine, New Jersey.


Rowing in The Quixotic.

Led by Rob Buchanan, on Saturday, October 13, we rowed up the Hudson to Alpine, New Jersey where we spent the night at the Alpine Picnic Area/Boat Basin (with permission, of course). For some, this trip echoed an earlier mission this past summer when we helped bring three boats from Croton Point to Pier 40 for the FISA Row Around Manhattan event. The Magnus resides in the boathouse as a result of that trip and it was one of the boats we took on our adventure, along with the Quixotic and the Alex Murphy.

Although we were set to go with fourteen people, only twelve showed up. Since we planned on taking three boats, we divvied up the crew into groups of four. Ideally, you want five people in the boat—four rowers and one coxswain, a.k.a. the leader. We lacked full power, but we went ahead anyway. Luckily, the Magnus was already equipped with a self-steering device that Rob himself put together, so that crew had it a bit easier.


Setting up the sails at Fort Washington Park.

Heading out at around 10 a.m., we stopped just before the George Washington Bridge at Fort Washington Park for bathroom beaks and rigging up the sails. Ever since I fell in love with rowing, I’ve wanted to sail in the Whitehall gigs, especially because I’ve never been sailing before. Sam, Rob and Frank put up the sails—placing the mast, setting up the halyard, affixing the sails and away we went.


First time sailing in The Quixotic under the George Washington Bridge.

This trip marked The Quixotic’s many firsts—first overnight adventure, first endeavor past New York City, first over-10-mile trip (rows around Manhattan don’t count) and its first time sailing. Anne and I, along with Rob as our teacher, built The Quixotic in the first Lang on the Hudson class and we were so proud and happy to officially break The Quixotic’s sailing cherry. Granted, it took us forever to actually get to Alpine because the tides were against us, the skies were overcast and it was difficult picking up the winds. In the end, after we reached Alpine, it didn’t bother us too much.


Around the campfire.

At the Alpine Pavilion, there was a wedding reception and our boats added that romantic touch. Sam and I spoke to the bride and groom, who, along with their wedding party, posed with the boats, and other various guests. After thoroughly enjoying ourselves with food and many, many drinks, we wandered around the area, taking pictures and talking. Eventually, the campfire/grill was set up and dinner was served. With full bellies, we sat around the fire and talked about life and all that stuff.


Climbing the Palisades.

After a cold night’s sleep (which will never happen to me again), we awoke to another golden morning. With a quick breakfast and a reminder to return by noon for shove-off, we explored Alpine.

First stop was the Kearny House, which, to our dismay, was closed. When we weren’t able to find any way into the building, we went hiking. After staying on the trail, we strayed off. Suresh and I parted with the group but eventually caught up. We met up at the ruins of what must have been a manor overlooking the Hudson and decided that our goal way to climb up the Palisades and find either a WaWa (I’ve never been to one) or store so Derek could buy cigarettes. The non-path was rocky and steep but the eight of us managed. When we reached the highway, we walked south until we saw a Citgo to our right. Derek bought his pack while we bought drinks and snacks. Since we had about thirty minutes to head back and we were having no luck with trying to hitch a ride back, we followed the actual trail down to the Hudson.


Sailing and rowing the Magnus.

Back at the beach at Alpine, we prepared and we were off. I switched to the Magnus and sailed. Because I couldn’t steer and hold the sail, Rob steered from the stroke position. Sailing was wonderful, especially when the wind picked up and I felt the powerful push. We made a stop at Englewood Basin for paninis. Then we rowed and sailed the last leg back to Pier 40 as we talked about poetry, camping, and mountaineering and enjoyed watching The Quixotic.


The gorgeous boat we built.

With the pink-and-orange-tinted skies above, we cleaned the three boats and all headed our separate ways home. Well-spent weekend. Very. Check out Rob's write-up for more.

Cleaning the boat.

Brooklyn Rail: The City From a Rowboat

[From the latest issue of the Brooklyn Rail. Check out the amazing spread at the end of the article.]

The City From a Rowboat
Exploring the Rivers
by Nadia Chaudhury


Rowing in the Hudson River during a row around Manhattan.

From a not-so-quite distance, New York City looks peaceful, tiny, and conquerable. Instead of riding around in the leisurely and loud Circle Line ships that frequent the waterways of New York, I am grunting with my fellow rowers, pushing and pulling our way through the messy tides of the Hudson. We are literally right on the river in a Whitehall Gig, a 25-foot-long rowing vessel. With three fellow rowers and our reliable, all-knowing coxswain at the stern I am experiencing New York from a different angle—from the waters.

Rowing in New York City sounds impossible. In this city where grids of sidewalks, streets and subways guide us through our everyday lives, it’s easy to overlook the fact that New York is, in fact, surrounded by water. At most points the city’s residents are literally blocked from the water by fences or by harsh, jagged rocks.

There are four rowers to a boat: the stroke, two engine rowers and the bow rower. The stroke rower dictates the speed and length of the oar stroke and the rest follow. Then there is the coxswain who, in addition to steering the boat, leads the boat by telling the rowers when and what pace to row.

Rowing under the Brooklyn Bridge during the FISA Row Around Manhattan tour.

Whitehall Gigs were rowboats used to taxi people back and forth between boroughs and to larger ships. It is thought that they received their name because they were sent out from Whitehall Street, which used to rest on Manhattan’s coast before the city extended the island with landfills.

Groups like Floating the Apple and East River CREW (Community Recreation and Education on the Water), promote greater access to our city’s waterways. The two non-profit organizations show anyone who happens to wander by their respective boathouses the ins and outs of rowing in the Hudson, the East, the Harlem and the Bronx Rivers. All for free.

Philip Yee is a familiar face to those who frequent Floating the Apple’s boathouse at Pier 40. As a volunteer, he sees himself as the activities and Pier 40 operations coordinator.

“I kind of expanded with the program,” Yee says. “When I first came down here, it was originally Wednesday rowing and it basically consisted of about seven people.”

Launching from East 96th Street for the 5 Borough Ramble.

On the other side of Manhattan along the East River, Mary Nell Hawk acts as the ad-hoc program director of the East River CREW. Hawk is also the vice president of the organization’s board of directors and helps with the curriculum for the group’s educational activities.

Moving uptown, she felt she needed to do something. She was already in touch with Yee at Pier 40 and she could see the East River from her apartment window. “It didn’t occur to me to even think about getting on the water.” It wasn’t even a thought for her until she read an article about groups like Floating the Apple and East River CREW who, working with City Council member Gifford Miller, were searching for increased waterfront access for smaller boats.

With St. David’s, their boat, East River CREW looked for a boat house location on the east side. After some searching, the Parks Department gave them a strip of land at 96^th Street where they soon installed a davit, a mechanical arm used to put boats onto the water, and obtained a storage container for the boat and other supplies.

“Rowing the East River versus rowing the Hudson became a big deal for us,” Hawk says. “We felt that the East River is what joins four of the five boroughs and even Staten Island if you want to, but everybody touches on the East River. This year we’ve made it our focus to row to other boroughs as much as we can because we have the access.”

Landing at the Italian Gardens, near the New York-New Jersey border.

The first East River CREW row this season was the Cinco de Mayo row. “We rowed to the Bronx River where the Bronx River Alliance was doing what they called a ‘flotilla’ of 75 canoes down the Bronx River. We joined them at the newly opened Hunts Point Riverside Park,” said Hawk.

Floating the Apple is affiliated with schools and programs throughout the city with rowing and boatbuilding programs. Among those in the past were the Graphic Arts and Communications High School through their ROTC program, Stuyvesant High School and Harbor School. With the City As School, students actually received gym credits for rowing.

“The youth program legitimized us in the sense that otherwise it would be just a bunch of old folks sitting here in our own club,” Yee says. “Getting youth involved is very invigorating and it gives us a sense of community.”

Schools programs, including Eugene Lang College at the New School University’s Lang on the Hudson and BMCC’s Now, take advantage of Floating the Apple’s facilities. In Lang on the Hudson, students build a boat to add to the program’s collection and learn about the New York Harbor. With BMCC’s program, students combine science and language arts with rowing. This past summer they studied Homer’s Odyssey on the water.

Out in the Hudson, along with an experienced Floating the Apple member, beginners get a sense for the waters by rowing around the basin at Pier 40. Those up for the challenge venture north or south of the Pier 40 and the more experienced traverse the river to New Jersey, whether to Frank Sinatra Park or Maxwell House Beach (known also as the Playa de Hoboken), a small strip of sand where another boathouse is opening up.

The sight of a Whitehall in the river is still a spectacle to many. Motor-boaters gawk as they sped by; people walking along the coast take pictures; passengers on the commuter and tourist ships wave.

Using the davit at Pier 40.

Hawk describes one instance where East River CREW was asked to take one hundred high school kids, one by one, on the water. “So we had two groups out on the boats and three groups on land. I’m out on the water and all of a sudden I’m hearing all this police sound and someone had put in a 911 call. Since then we’ve been calling the Harbor Unit.”

As wonderful as being out on the water is, it seems as though there should be more legal waterfront entrance sites. The water is a public area and everyone should have access to it, but this isn’t always the case.

During a summer outing, Floating the Apple crossed over to a cove in New Jersey and rested alongside a dock in front of a restaurant. While relaxing our arms, a uniformed man came up to us. “You’re not allowed to stay here,” he said from down the dock. We said we’d only be a couple of minutes and left soon afterwards.

“They’ll just limit the access points as to where you can get out to the water,” Yee said of the Parks Department. “The only way you could have gotten out to the water was to own a boat, rent a boat, which was expensive, or you could take the Staten Island Ferry back and forth.” Yee claims that what they are doing at Floating the Apple and the Downtown Boathouse, a kayaking shop next door to the group’s pier, is “giving people the opportunity to go out on the water and enjoy the water because the water’s for everybody.”

Landing boats at the East 96th Street boathouse.

There are ways to get around it, though.

“When I first graduated from college [in 1976] I did have one friend who had a kayak and he and I would come near here,” Hawk reminisced, referring to the waterfront on West Houston Street. “There was the ruin of this elevated highway that you could walk under and over this road. Then there was one place in the railing where a piece of debris had fallen in the water like a sort of step-down. So you’d put the kayak down and crawl through.”

The moment you experience being out on the water, it’s hard to resist its call. You’re bound to venture out there time after time.

“Once you’re on the water,” Yee said, “it’s an incredible feeling that I could go somewhere and feel like I’m outside the city and not really leave the city. In the 90s the parks got crowded, so this is the last open space in New York.”

From inside the boathouse at Pier 40.

Pier 40 offers free rowing on Tuesdays and Thursdays in the afternoon until dusk. Check eastrivercrew.org for East River CREW events.

Nadia Chaudhury is Layout Editor for the Rail and, among traveling, writing and taking pictures, is a rowing and waterfront enthusiast. Check out her blog at mysticchildz.blogspot.com

My amazingly designed spread, by yours truly:

A Jaunt Through Upstate New York

Walking through Selkirk.

Being the girl who considers Westchester upstate New York, I've never really ventured north past Croton Point (Niagara Falls doesn't count). So when Josh offered to take me to his hometown of Selkirk, New York, I literally jumped at the chance.


Bear Mountain Bridge by way of the Metro North.

Taking the MetroNorth to its last stop in Poughkeepsie (where Westchesterites believe true upstate New York starts) was enthralling because while I've read about the Hudson up there from Boyle's book, I've never really seen it. Going past Bear Mountain Bridge was nice because it brought back memories of my first camping trip.

In Poughkeepsie, Josh and my friend Kayley were waiting for me. From Poughkeepsie, we drove approximately 70 miles back to Selkirk because it was cheaper than taking the Amtrack all the way there.


Hudson River and unknown bridges in Selkirk.

Selkirk is in the middle of nowhere, which isn't necessarily a bad thing—it's just something I'm not used to. You need a car to get to and from places, and once in a while, this can be nice. After we stayed up all night watching random TV shows, Josh and I trekked through chained fences and overgrown with his adorably playful dog Kiara. Our destination? The Hudson River (of course) next to an unknown freight bridge and yacht club. Watching the sunrise here was gorgeously calm and perfect.

I wasn't tired at all.


Downtown Albany.

Then it was back to the house to wake Kayley up, take quick showers and then we were off to explore some part of upstate New York. Our original plan was to find the Lake Tear of Clouds, the official source of the Hudson River but being in the depths of the Appalachians and only a weekend to do so, we decided to save it for next time. Instead, Josh took us on a tour of upstate, driving us past downtown Albany where I judged it solely based on its architecture and the signs prohibiting bike-riding and horseriding in the streets and driving along that wonderful river. Driving through Troy, we found ourselves near Peebles Island, which became our next destination.


Peebles Island, the Hudson and the Mohawk (I believe).

Peebles Island is at the junction of the Mohawk River, the Hudson River and the Erie Canal, situated at Waterford, New York. Parking the car next to what appeared to be an empty-factory-or-warehouse-now-converted-to-offices, we crossed over the clean-cut North Bridge to see what's there. We didn't find much--just people maintaining their boats, older gentleman wandering around with his camera and a much older man tanning on his boat. To indulge our wilder-sides, we crossed the bridge back and wandered down to the river. We walked as close to the shore as we could, but sometimes, the bushes blocked our ways. No matter, we sauntered our way, climbing over fallen trees and examining abandoned garbage. We found upstate creatures—daddy long-legs, toads and lots of spiders, Kayley's favorite, haha. We reached the end of the river (I'm not sure which, I'm thinking it was the Mohawk) and weren't able to continue on because of the dead end. After sitting around and throwing rocks and logs into the water, we climbed to the top of the cliff above us and walked back to the car.


The end of our path.

Later, that night, we watched Superbad at an Albany supermall with Josh's high school friends. Already hyped for the movie because of the magnificently amazing Michael Cera (who I already declared as my pretend awkward boyfriend—watch him in Arrested Development and Superbad and you will understand why), I wasn't disappoint. Though the film was more geared towards high school humor, Apatow's humor still translated. Best scene? Cera attempting to have sex with his high school crush and everything he drunkenly mumbled ("Samsies!").


Saratoga Lake.

After Kayley left, Josh and I spent Sunday at Saratoga Lake, where we rented a boat. Rowing on the lake was a big change for me since I'm more used to the currents of the rivers (especially that crazy Hudson River), but it was a nice change. The leisurely row was perfect since the skies were cloudy yet the air was humid. Sometimes, the sun would break through, making for a nice picture.


First-time driver, baby.

Then, in the parking lot in between Josh's middle and high school, I drove a car. Finally. After 22 years of never being behind the steering wheel, my unlicensed and un-driver's-permitted self learned how steer a car (kinda like steering a boat) and drove around in circles, speeding up when I dared to. There were two little girls riding around on their pink bikes, so I was sort of scared about killing them, but I didn't.

And then, after stopping at Josh's home, it was back to Poughkeepsie and the Amtrack back south to New York City.


Selkirk skies.