July 16, 2007

I went to New Jersey this weekend, and I did it without a bridge or a tunnel. The place where I take kayak lessons periodically does little guided excursions on the Hudson. They didn’t have anything planned for Friday but the instructor was looking for an excuse to get in the water and I was agreeable to just improvising: following him around and going where the conditions seemed to allow.

I had only been in a kayak twice before, having taken two 3-hour fundamentals classes, but I had been hoping to do my first river crossing. Greg, the instructor checked his tide chart and it didn’t seem that the current should be too bad, so we set out: Greg, two teacher’s assistants and another kayaker more experienced than me.

We paddled uptown a bit; I’m not exactly sure how far. The going was pretty easy and I was pretty comfortable in my boat, so we turned and headed across river. Someone had once theorized that crossing the Hudson would be like playing Frogger, and he was right. We’d go forward for a while, then pause to let a tour-boat go by. We’d go forward, then pause for a yacht. Forward, then pause for a ferry. Getting across to Jersey was actually relatively easy and I was feeling really good, periodically remembering to look back at the incredible view of the skyline from a vantage point I’d never seen before.

We pulled up in front of Frank Sinatra Park in Hoboken and casually paddled south a little, enjoying the view and avoiding the fishing lines of the anglers on the railings above us. From here it started to get a little tricky.

Greg wanted to get us below the ferry terminal before we headed back across. The ferry terminal was pretty big, though, and traffic in and out of it seemed to be pretty regular. It was kind of like video games from my childhood: when one ferry went past, it was safe to lunge forward because it meant there wouldn’t be another coming for a little while. One ferry came out, another pulled in to the terminal, their wake hit us sending water over the top of my kayak; we started forward.

“Let’s pick up the pace,” Greg called out. The teacher assistants pulled forward. I was paddling my heart out but lagging behind. “See if you can speed it up,” Greg called. I dug in, trying to remember to use my core muscles rather than my arms. “Come on, hustle,” he called. My muscles started to show the dull signs of fatigue. I looked over my right shoulder; we were right in front of the terminal. I looked over my left shoulder; I could see a ferry coming towards us in the distance.

“Do you feel that current?” Asked Jim, one of the teacher assistants who was hanging back next to me. I wasn’t sure what current felt like so I grunted noncommittally. Greg’s instructions to hustle seemed to have a note of urgency. I pondered for a moment what would happen if I capsized here; the waters were very rough at this point and we were directly in front of the terminal.

“How you doing Adam?” Greg called. I replied I was getting tired but okay. “I guess we need to get out of the driveway?” I called. I could see another ferry pulling out. I was padding as hard as I could muster. My mouth was really dry and, though there was a bottle of Gatorade bungeed to my boat in front of me I couldn’t pause to get it. “How far until we can relax?” I asked. He pointed out the ventilation tower ahead of us. It looked forever away. But somehow we made it there and we had a moment to relax, get a quick drink, and talk about the architecture of the city that was spread out before us.

But the tide was doing whatever it does, so the current was changing, and it was time to get moving. Greg gave us our bearing, which was to aim at a building on the skyline, and we started paddling again.

The way back was much harder than getting there. Whatever the contributing factors, the water was a lot rougher, there was a lot more boat traffic, plus I was already pretty fatigued. But this wasn’t Disneyland; the boats weren’t on rails and there was no choice but to push forward.

There was a lot of “Wait, now turn south, now go, now wait, now go quickly,” as we made our way back across. The water was really rough which was exhilarating to jump the waves, but also damn-near capsized me a couple of times.

We got nearer to the Manhattan side where we were safe from the ferries and the big boats, so we pointed our bows downtown and started paddling. We weren’t in danger at the moment, but I was falling behind so I continued to paddle at full-steam. “Do you feel the current?” asked Jim again. I told him I wasn’t sure what he meant. “Look at those pilings.” I looked. They didn’t seem to be doing anything. I paddled for several minutes more. “Look at those pilings again,” Jim told me. They were in the same place, relative to me. I was paddling as hard as I could to stay still.

Luckily Greg had anticipated this and took us on a diagonal course back; our pier was behind us. I was very relieved to learn this when he told me to turn around and start paddling with the current. It wasn’t long at all before we were back in our embayment and climbing out of our boats. I found out later that the instructor had underestimated the conditions when we set out, and that the trip was quite a bit more advanced than my skill level.

As we fought to keep our balance on the bucking floating dock, waves crashing over its surface from time to time, I was filled with a sense of joy. Not because I had survived; of that I’d never had a doubt. It was because I wasn’t going to put this on a resume. I wasn’t collecting any kind of credit for this. I would not be testing on this for anything any time soon. This I had done simply because I wanted to do it. And I don’t do enough of that.

Back in my street clothes, I watched the sun set over New Jersey from the end of Pier 40. I could see the ferry terminal off in the distance; it looked so small from here, but it was gigantic when you’re in front of it in a 17’ boat with no motor. They were so far away, the landmarks from the trip.

I don’t know how to end this story because I don’t know how to explain the feeling. I just hope it stays with me as long as possible.