Hudson River & Beyond

Today is July 1st. Susan and I left Buffalo 25 days ago. Right now, we’re storm bound in Cape May, NJ. The wind is howling down the length of Delaware Bay, right in our face. We did poke Reliant’s nose out past the breakwater. No way!

Sometimes, being stuck is a good thing. First of all, during the last several days Sue and I have pushed hard to make miles. We need a break. Second, the marine weather forecast says conditions in Delaware Bay will not moderate for several days. That’s good, because Cape May is a really nice town. It turns out that much of Cape May is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. The narrow tree-lined streets are lined with beautifully maintained old wooden homes. Flowers are everywhere, especially hydrangeas in every imaginable color.

Two weeks ago, Reliant was tied up in Waterford, NY, the eastern terminus of the Erie Canal. We spent two days there shopping and attending to minor boat work. We did a lot of socializing with other boaters, most of whom are heading north to escape the summer’s heat. We seem to be the only boat going south. Go figure!

On June 21st, our 15th day out of Buffalo, we left Waterford, transited the Troy (NY) Lock and officially entered the Hudson River. The first thing one notices when entering the Hudson is the fluctuating tide. At Albany, NY, 160 miles inland, the tide rises and falls six feet twice each day. The Indian name for the Hudson, which I won’t even attempt to spell, translates into “river that runs both ways.” The tide is a factor that cannot be ignored. Reliant’s over-the-ground cruising speed under power could be two knots faster or slower depending on whether-or-not we had the tide with us or against us.

We sailed the Hudson for seven days. The first two days carried us downstream 40 miles to Catskill, NY, where we stepped Reliant’s mast and rigged the boat in oppressive 100+ heat. Four more days of travel brought us to the mouth of the river at the base of the Statue of Liberty. We anchored at no charge for two nights right behind “Miss Liberty”. She’s a very impressive lady, especially at night when fully lit.

My impressions of the Hudson River are mixed: I don’t think it is a particularly pretty river. (That will get me into trouble.) It may have been once upon-a-time when Indian dugout canoes paddled its surface. Henry Hudson in 1609 thought it was the most wonderful, fertile country he had ever seen. Washington commented on its beauty. It must have been something to see from the deck of a 19th century paddlewheel steamer. Certainly there are still pretty places along its length. The Palisades opposite the City of Yonkers are very dramatic. The eleven-mile-long Hudson River Highlands are beautiful, but unfortunately not pristine. And farther upstream, the Catskill Mountains make for a lovely sight.

Mostly, however, I think of the Hudson is a “used” river. Europeans have been living and working along its banks since the first Dutch settlement in1629. Buildings of every size, shape, and function line its shores. Factories, quarries, power plants, and commercial shipping utilize the entire length of the river. I’m not trying to tell that the Hudson River is abused. To the contrary, the Hudson is the only major river in the eastern US whose pre-settlement ecosystem is still intact.

Cruising past Lower Manhattan was interesting, to say the least. New York City, with its infinite number of restaurants, theaters, and, museums, must be a wonderful place to visit. However, the Hudson River where it enters New York Harbor is a constant chaos of ships, barges, ferries, patrol boats, choppy waves, conflicting currents, and noise. Overhead, helicopters and planes complete the picture. Susan and I passed through this same stretch of river thirty-seven years ago in our previous boat. We didn’t enjoy the experience then. We didn’t enjoy it now.

We waited two days for a “weather window” favorable for our dash down the Atlantic coast of New Jersey. When it came, we made our break. Reliant, pushed along by favorable but blustery winds, charged down the coast from Sandy Hook to Cape May. We did the 140-mile, overnight passage in 21 hours flat. That’s pretty good time for a fat old boat.

So, now we sit here in Cape May, waiting for the wind and tide to shift in our favor for the 56-mile sail up Delaware Bay. We’re in a good marina. We have nice neighbors. We look forward to exploring the town of Cape May and visiting the Jersey shore. It’s time to restock the boat and find that ice cream shop. Life is good.