Annsville Creek Paddle

Long time readers may have noticed that I’m an adventure-in-your-backyard kind of a guy. I wholeheartedly believe that you don’t have to travel far to find exciting, challenging or even just pleasant things to do in nature, even if you live in the big city or, like me, in the suburbs.

The downside of sticking close to home is that I find myself running out of things to write about. Earlier this summer when I paddled Rondout Creek and hiked Plattekill Mountain, I had a great day but we’ve written about these places so many times before, it didn’t make sense to do it again. I could say the same about Harriman Park and the Hudson River.

So I was kind of surprised when, driving home from another short paddle the other day, I realized I’d never written about that particular corner of my home zone. I actually got a little excited and when I got home I emailed Harvey, asking if I should write something. I’m glad he said yes because Annsville Creek is a beautiful spot, tucked in between northern Peekskill and Routes 9 and 6, just south of the Bear Mountain bridge.

Trying to remember the first time I paddled here is serious wayback machine stuff for me. It was sometime in the previous century, before the state built the excellent Annsville Creek Paddlesports Center with its floating docks and easy-to-use kayak launch. It was before I knew about paddling.com with its map full of launch points.

I found this spot by driving around with my 12-foot fiberglass kayak tied to the top of my car until I could smell water. Back then I would park next to a bait shop up the road a little bit and put in there outlaw style.

On a recent Saturday, I decided to go back. I crossed Bear Mountain Bridge and drove down Route 6/202 (locals call this section the “goat path”) and found the Annsville Creek traffic circle was in the midst of a big construction project. There were large sections of it closed off by traffic cones and heavy equipment, including the entrance to the paddlesports center, which seemed to be out of business for the time being.

I went around the circle an extra time to make sure there wasn’t any way to bypass the construction and get in there but there wasn’t. I took a look at the bait shop where I used to put my canoe in. It had chains across the entrance now.

I pulled into a gas station parking lot to get re-oriented. I knew there was a park on the other side of the creek — called the Annsville Preserve or something like that. I remembered it was listed as a launch spot on paddling.com. I found the Annsville Creek Preserve in Apple Maps and followed the turn-by-turn into Peekskill, down to the waterfront and along a sketchy single lane gravel road between the Metro North/Amtrak line on one side and an overgrown rocky cliff on the other.

In just a couple minutes, I was parked. Annsville Creek Preserve was not impressive. It was run down. The fishing dock looked sturdy enough but hadn’t been painted in a long time and there were little bits of trash here and there. Most of the shore had thick brush between it and the park. There were two old guys in camp chairs fishing, not off the dock but at the one obvious clear spot for launching a kayak into the creek.

Other than that, there was one guy in a gazebo above the park who seemed to be solo dancing to some hip hop coming out of a blue tooth speaker. As I did a quick lap on foot to scope the place out, another car pulled up and the driver just opened the door and turned up the volume on his country music, to drown out the tunes from the gazebo. The world can be a strange place some times — Peekskill even more so.

It didn’t take long to locate a narrow herd path through the creekside brush that would get me down to the water. I determined that I was unlikely to get into any poison ivy there and the tide was low enough for it to work. Then it was just a matter of getting my gear out of my car and pulling my gloriously lightweight kayak off the roof. I got everything arranged and pushed out into the creek.

It was a good spot for what I wanted to do. There is a sort of isolated pond, a wider spot at the mouth of Annsville Creek, separated from the Hudson by train tracks. It was a windy day so there were some nice little waves blowing across the water’s surface, just big enough for me to let them hit my kayak sideways and practice balancing it with my hips and thighs. I paddled around the perimeter, pausing to check out the currently deserted paddle sport center. I made a mental note to do some research to see if or when it would reopen, then paddled past it upstream.

Other then a couple of anglers with lines in the water under the bridge that connects the traffic circle to Route 9, I had the place to myself. If not for the sound of traffic in the distance, there were spots where I could fool myself into thinking I was really out in the wild. In other spots, I was paddling through peoples’ backyards. I saw birds and turtles along the way and something big, probably a carp, splashed in front of me early on. It was as fun as I remembered it from all those years ago.

The creek narrows a half mile from the Hudson and then forks off in three directions. I took the rightmost stream and followed its twist and turns inland. I had never differentiated the different streams in the past but I noticed later that my phone tagged pictures of this fork as Peekskill Hollow Creek.

I was able to go a long way up this fork, far enough that I could hear only the birds and insects and the splashing of water as I paddled. The stream narrows and the trees, tall grass and thick underbrush create a sort of green tunnel of fecundity as you progress. Magical stuff.

Soon enough, I encountered a down tree blocking my way. When I originally discovered this place as a much younger man, I used to paddle it in a thirty pound solo canoe. Back then I probably would have jumped in the water, pulled my boat over the log and kept exploring but on this day I was in an 18 foot kayak and didn’t feel like getting too wet so I paused here, made a slow lazy U-turn and enjoyed the solitude for a minute or three. Then I headed back in the direction I had come.

When I reached the fork in the creek, I explored the other streams but one turned into a swamp in short order and the other was blocked by another downed tree. My iPhone further educated me that one of this branches was named Sprout Brook. Then it was just some more easy paddling back along the wider sections of Annsville Creek and across the little bay to Annsville Creek Preserve.

The tide had risen quite a bit by then and the spot where I’d launched was drowned, so I paddled around to where the old guys were fishing in the middle of the one proper beach. I landed next to them, doing my best to stay out of their way and not thrash around in the water too much.

The park was a little more busy now, including a DEC officer checking peoples’ fishing licenses and a young couple picnicking on the lawn. I loaded up, satisfied with my little workout and headed home. Another fun local adventure in good old Peekskill, NY.