Piermont to Irvington by Kayak: Back in the Zone

Last week, I had an idea of driving up to Vermont for a day or two of spring at Killington. As I got to the actual planning stage though, I had second thoughts. Taking off would leave important chores undone and after a ton of windshield time for work and traveling up to Plattsburgh for graduation last week, I was not looking forward to hours of driving.

I made the decision to skip Superstar this year. I spent Saturday mowing grass and taking care of the yard. When I was done, I put some effort into organizing my garage, which had the added benefit of locating all my kayaking gear, PFDs, paddles, bilge pumps, everything.

By Sunday morning, there was a kayak on top of my vehicle and the rest of the gear I needed was in the back. I checked the tides and headed for my usual spot on Sparkill creek.

A father and son were carrying an enormous Mad River Canoe back to their pickup. It was really showing its miles but it was a monster — 18 feet long if it was an inch. I could see the word Kevlar on its side, in spite of the splotchy faded paint and multiple repairs and patches.

“That’s a cool canoe,” I commented as I went by with an armload of gear.

Dad responded with a big smile, “Yeah it’s a lot lighter than it looks. A friend was just gonna toss it so we took it. This was our shakeout trip to make sure it didn’t leak.”

“That’s awesome,” I said, “A couple float bags and a coat of paint and you can go anywhere with it… Or maybe no paint. It looks pretty cool that way too.”

Dad laughed, nodded his agreement and I went on my way. I got my vessel situated and scooched out about a half hour before high tide. I had a skirt on but it was so nice and the water so calm that it never got attached to the cockpit.

As I followed the creek through Piermont Marsh, I remembered that I had some sunscreen in my deck bag so I took a second to slather some on the back of my neck and forearms. I did my best to wipe the sunscreen off my palms and continued on through the familiar S-turns that lead through the marsh out into the Hudson.

When I was new to the area, I would avoid crossing the Hudson at its widest sections but I’ve become a lot more comfortable being out in the middle by myself. I used to be intimidated by the frequent jet ski and speed boat traffic, not to mention the million dollar yachts and big commercial vessels and barges. The traffic doesn’t really bother me anymore. Honestly I sort of like it now.

The river was quiet on Sunday. High tide makes for relatively calm waters. As I headed east, a set of rollers came my way — just the remains of a wake from a barge near the far shore of the river. I paddled hard and worked on keeping my boat moving in a straight line with just my skills, not deploying the skeg. The barge disappeared to the north and I spotted two specks south of me, both approaching at a good clip. I kept an eye on them and kept paddling.

Soon I passed the green buoy which marks the deep shipping channel. A fast moving yacht, one of the specks, got close enough for me to pause and let it pass. The other speck — a Boston Whaler — passed behind me. Soon after that, I reached Irvington. It’s a typical Westchester river town, densely developed and a mix of architectural styles, some old buildings, some new and of course a little riverfront park and marina.

One building jumped out at me. It was a brick structure with a tall smoke stack. To me it looked like an old factory that had been updated for modern purposes. There were people eating at tables on a patio facing the river and the smoke stack had cellular antennas mounted on it. It struck me as a perfect expression of the Hudson Valley. The old meets the new. I took a few pictures, noting that it said “L & N” on the chimney, then paddled north.

With a little internet sleuthing, I discovered that L & N referred to Lord and Burnham, a company that manufactured green houses. They moved to Irvington in 1856 and built the building I saw in 1912 on land reclaimed from the river. It now houses offices, retail spaces and restaurants; you learn something new every day.

I paddled north along the Irvington waterfront for a little while and then west, back across the river, aiming for Piermont’s eponymous pier. The pier, another remanent of the Hudson Valley’s industrial past, is mostly a waterfront park now. It was crowded with visitors as always. I paddled along its southern side, amongst some rotted pilings. Three kayakers passed me on their way out to the river. Then I made my way back up Sparkill creek.

The tide was headed out now and water levels had dropped just enough for me to fit under the Ferdon Avenue bridge. I scooched my behind forward so I could lean back, almost laying flat in my boat’s cockpit as I guided myself underneath.

On the other side of the bridge Sparkill Creek is narrow and calm but it’s a cool place to paddle, with verdant green vines and branches hanging over your head in some places and buildings backed up to the water in others.

Whenever I paddle here, I like to finish it off with a little side trip up the creek to what I believe is an old mill site, now just a little waterfall under a brick arch spanning the water. I sat and enjoyed the shade and listened to the babbling water until it was time to make my way back. I got my gear and kayak back to my vehicle in two trips and was quickly on my way home to enjoy some hammock time in my freshly manicured backyard.

So there was no big spring skiing trip to Superstar glacier this year, just a little afternoon paddle back in the home zone. Sometimes that’s enough.