Canada to Key West Paddle – Day 35 / 36

August 5^th & 6th 2016
North Beach, NJ

I spent just one night on Fort Wadesworth, Staten Island and during that time, I met so many beautiful people; people who are living a life less ordinary. From my new friends Kay and Coco, the couple from Germany to Chris, Victoria and Emi, the “locals” to Jessica and her son, whom I met in the morning, from Ohio who are camping their way around the country visiting all the National Parks during their vacations. All of us found this tiny, but beautiful campground in the middle of New York City under the lights of the Verrazano Narrows Bridge and I was surprised how quiet it actually was here giving the close proximity to the bridge where traffic never stops.

I had been awoken early in the morning with a noise outside my tent. Someone was trying to steal my stuff. I knew immediately who the thief was and if I was going to catch them in the act, I had to hurry. No time to dress, I unzippered my tent and jumped out catching the three thieves in the act. They looked back at me as the older one was attempting to drag my 30 lb dry bag full of food across the ground while the two kids looked on. Once they saw that they were caught, they dropped their loot and ran away…up the tree where they looked at me with curiosity. Yes, I was lazy and had not secured my food inside the bear box provided by the campground, though for this area, it’s more of a raccoon box. I put my food into the bear box as the raccoons came back down the tree and began exploring my neighbor’s campsites for food, but they had theirs secured. No bounty for these guys tonight.

I slept in a bit as did the other campers; an unusually occurrence for most people camping as we all tend to go to bed early and rise early. This is mostly due to the fact that as soon as the morning sun hits your tent, it gets very hot very quickly. The other part is that campers usually enjoy getting up early, a trait I don’t share with them. 7:30am is a nice time for me to awake, 5:30am, not so much. Still here, I was the first one up and began making breakfast and breaking camp as the other campers slowly awoke from their slumbers.

Kay and Coco stopped by and offered to help me carry my gear back down to the kayak hidden in the tall grass on the beach well out of High Tide range and sight of others. I took them up on that offer and after I was all packed up, we headed down. You could barely see where I hid the kayak and I was happy to see everything was still on board. Kay helped me pull the kayak to the waters edge and I took to loading up and securing my gear on board. We gave each other hugs Good Bye and I pushed off into the Atlantic bound for Sandy Hook.

A gentle breeze was blowing out of the South West and the water was as calm as a pond. The day I feared the worst, was quickly becoming a beautiful dream. Even the shipping traffic had subsided and the ferries zooming around yesterday were nowhere to be seen today. Keeping the West tower of the Verrazano Bridge on my stern, I paddled toward the Eastern side of Hoffman Island. Despite launching in a Flood Tide, I was making good time. My plan was that I’d catch the slack tide for most of the day and then grab the height of the Ebb Tide as I reached my halfway mark and that would carry me right into Sandy Hook. By 1pm, this plan was working beautifully. I was running the East side of the Green Buoys and despite a lack of ships; I was staying out of the shipping lane. In three hours, I had heard very little traffic on the VHF and only one crazy boater was on the water, but he did not get too close to me. Out on the Atlantic, I could see a large ship coming in and I’d be leaving the Ambrosia Channel and running along side of the Sandy Hook Channel before he got near me, but it was impressive to watch him come in out of the ocean.

By the time I got to Buoy 15, the wind had pick up. I’d now passed the Lighthouse. The beach was in sight and I was beginning to turn a few degrees to starboard to get closer to land. I should have been about 2 miles out at this point and after a while of paddling, I started to see large breakers off my port side out in the ocean well away from shore. The waves had increased dramatically to around four to six feet. I was now paddling up and down the waves while fighting a stiff wind on my nose. My progress seemed slow and as I had been doing all day, I looked behind me to make sure I was staying on track. If you pick a spot in front of you and align it with a spot behind you, in this case Buoy 15, you can be assured you are tracking correctly. Glancing behind me caused immediate concern. Buoy 15 was no longer off my stern, but now quite a few degrees to my starboard off my stern. I wasn’t being blown off course, I knew my mistake and it was a big one.

The Sandy Hook crossing has been my greatest concern since I decided to do this. I have spent too many hours studying and talking to people. I’ve talked to people who have done it many times and tried to give myself the best chance of success through knowledge. However, there was one person who is a far better paddler than I could ever hope to be. One person with the knowledge, skill and proven ability to cross oceans multiple times in a kayak, not just a seven-mile leg. That person is no other than Aleksander Doba, the first person to paddle across the Atlantic Ocean at its widest point.

Earlier this year and shortly before my launch, Aleksander Doba, departed from New York Harbor in the very same waters I was to paddle as he set out to cross the Northern Atlantic and reach Lisbon, Portugal where he had departed for his first Ocean Crossing. Once completed, he would have closed the loop making a Europe to America to Europe crossing, but Aleksander wouldn’t make it. In fact, he didn’t make it out of Sandy Hook. A large wave took him out as he paddled the very waters I would be paddling. He survived, but his kayak did not. They both washed up on the beach of Sandy Hook.

Here I am, in the very waters Aleksander Doba paddled that day, rather evening of May 31^st, 2016 and off my port side are very large waves. Waves I am sure I do not have the skill to navigate, but more importantly, waves that are well off my route, yet I am getting closer to them and further from shore. Now I’m checking my track frequently and even though I have done a dramatic course correction and now I’m paddling almost 45 degrees to starboard off my route, just to make shore, I am getting nowhere. No, I am going somewhere, out to sea. The waves smaller four to six foot rollers are now hitting me from the port side and I’m handling them well with my weight, but I’m no longer making forward progress. I am caught in the Sandy Hook channel at the peak of the ebb tide. At 1.95 knots, I am being pushed away from Sandy Hook and toward big water, very big water. In front of me I am watching all the fishing boats racing back to the bay side and out of this weather. I lean forward and start paddling with all I have. I’ve fought the current before; I’ve fought the wind. If I can break through the channel like one would do with a rip current, I can reach land. I am paddling with everything I have and my target off my nose is just rotating in front of me. I’m not making progress, neither forward or across. I have miscalculated my approach. Failed to properly address the ebb current off the tip of Sandy Hook and I am in trouble while boat all around me pass by headed for shelter, I struggle. Land is just a mile or two off my nose and I can get to it.

After digging in again, I notice a boat approaching close to my starboard side. My experience with boaters out here is that they are not concerned with anyone but themselves and will often pass rather close to me, despite there being large tracts of water to navigate through so I am just thinking this is another one of those boaters, but if it is, this guy wants to swamp me because he is bearing down on me. I stop paddling for a moment and look back at him. He’s coming right at me. He begins to slow down and when he gets to within a hundred feet of me he shouts out – YOU OK?

There are times in our life where we all need help, yet asking for help or worse, accepting help when help was not requested is probably one of the hardest things for us to accept. It is humbling, belittling and reminds you that you have failed. Earlier this year I had read a story that was mentioned in another story I was reading about the young girl who circumnavigated the world solo in her sailboat. She was just a teen, but a remarkable teen at that. In her book, she mentioned a story about Donald Crowhurst and the Sunday Times Golden Globe Race. The first Solo Circumnavigation Race. Here is a link to the story CLICK HERE (if you are going to watch it, skip this part until you finish) Donald Crowhurst, like most of us, was too proud to fail, too proud to ask for help and eventually, during the race, he went insane and took his own life. It was easier for him to kill himself rather than to admit defeat.

When I started this paddle, I refused to take the easy away out and kayak through New Jersey because I’d have to transport the kayak 7 miles over land. That would mean I did not paddle 7 miles of my expedition. The same was true if I took the inland route to the bay side of Sandy Hook. I’d have to carry or transport the kayak over land to the ocean side eventually until I could get into the Manasquan Inlet. I chose the ocean side. I knew it would be a challenge for me, as I don’t think my beach landings skills are anywhere close to expert level. Beginner is more like it. Now here I was, getting pushed out into the Atlantic and in a position where I had to accept or reject help. Help I had not asked for. Help I desperately needed. I hesitated. The boater gave me a thumbs up as he was about to motor away when I got up the courage to say; Can I just hang onto you for a minute to rest? He welcomed me to pull up along side him as the waves tossed the two of us around. Once I reached his boat he tied me off to his stern and then asked if I’d like to come aboard to rest. I accepted this offer a bit easier than the first. Bob, or Bobcat, as his friends call him, had mistakenly though he’d seen me hanging out at a buoy. Tying off to it to rest. I hadn’t, I just could not paddle away from this particular buoy and from his angle it looked like I was tied off to it. I didn’t bother to correct Bobcat. I was happy to be able to rest. Then Bobcat asked me if I’d like him to tow me somewhere as he was pointing out all the boats who were retreating from the ocean for the bay in front of us.

My heart hurt. My pride was destroyed. It took everything I had to say – Yes. I pointed to a desolate spot on the northeastern end of Sand Hook and said, take me there. He powered up the motor and we headed for the beach as boat traffic passed in front and behind us as they headed for the bay. Little did I know how big of a mistake I was making. When we got close to shore and I reenter Lex-T-Sea and untied. I thanked my new friend for his help and I paddled to shore. Despite the big waves to my south, I picked a perfect spot, the waves were small and the landing went well. I pulled the kayak up and out of the water getting her about the High Tide mark. I then checked in on SPOT that I was OK and I began scoping out the area to set up camp. I knew I’d have to set up after dark though as beach camping isn’t permitted in most of the US.

With the kayak safe from high tide, I lowered my flag to reduce its visibility and then I walked down to North Beach to blend in. When I arrived on North Beach a Park Ranger pick up was approaching. I watched from the crowd and it dropped off a bunch of workers who quickly set to digging up the sand and posting Keep Out signs. The driver of the pick up, a women, approached a few people who were on the other side of the sign and told them that this area was closed. I was glad I had gotten here when I did. Then I saw the woman Ranger got into the truck and headed straight for my kayak. Now I was concerned. I watched as she drove way down the beach. My kayak was barely visible to me, but she should not have seen it. She drove right by my kayak. She hadn’t seen it, she had seen people on the beach further down and it was their presence that brought her by my kayak. On the way back she stopped. I knew I had trouble now.

I began the long walk back to my kayak and approached the Ranger. I was hoping to charm her into ignoring it there after telling her about my trip. It didn’t work. In fact, it got worse. She’d already called the police and was waiting for their arrival as I was walking toward her. As she told me this, the officer had arrived on the beach and was parked at the other end where I had been standing earlier. I explained the situation and I got nowhere. Camping on the beach was out, but worse, leaving the kayak on the beach was not going to be permitted. I had to get the kayak off the beach. Since the officer had arrived, she said she would let the officer handle it from here. She drove off.

The officer now arrived, another woman and another attempt by me to charm her. Like before, it failed. The kayak had to come off the beach, but how? Her suggestion, I reenter the water I just came out of, now at peak high tide and I paddle to the bay side where I could beach the kayak and walk a quarter mile to the campground. That meant I’d have to paddle into the very current that was pushing me out to sea. As I explained this to her, she remembered how dangerous the current was there as she recalled many rescues there. This is why it is important to be well informed. If I had listened to her, I would have been in bigger trouble. Our solution: I was to reenter the water and paddle south to the beginning of North Beach. I was not to go any closer than that due to swimmers in the water. I’d have to beach the kayak there and then pull it out, all two hundred and fifty pounds of her. I had asked her if the Ranger could use her pick up truck to help me take the kayak off the beach. It would have taken about 15 minutes to unload it and stick it in the back of the pick up, even less to unload. The answer was – No.

I got back into the kayak and paddled her to North Beach. Being out of the channel, I was able to make progress against the wind and I wished I could paddle further south as it was early in the day, but I’ve been banned from landing anywhere else on the beach. In fact, I cannot relaunch from here either. I arrived at North Beach to find the Life Guard there to greet me, rather direct me exactly where I was to land. It would be at the very tip of the north end of North Beach or in other terms, as far from the parking lot as one can get. I landed. Now how do I get her out?

I called Arlene to let her know I was safe on land but now had problems. I was thinking of possibly renting a car or pick up. I even though about a U-haul for then I could get the kayak out and camp in the back of it while I figured this out. Arlene, now 3 hours to my north said she’d come get me. I couldn’t ask that of her. It would not be a three hour trip, but 6 hours driving plus all the work to get the gear from the kayak to the car and then there was the problem of getting the kayak to the car. She insisted and I was relieved to have a plan though humbled by the generosity.

With three hours to kill, I pulled Lex-T-Sea up on the beach above the high tide mark and walked away. My gear was far safer in the kayak well away from people than if I were to tart to unload it and leave the stuff in the parking lot unsecured as I walked back and fourth. I then walked to my original destination, Gunnison Beach.

Gunnison was a short walk and a place I have wanted to visit since leaving Lighthouse Beach on Fire Island back in 2012. I was truly in love with Lighthouse beach and the people there were like family to me. It was there I felt complete peace and tranquility. It was the place I wanted my ashes to be spread one day. Then Hurricane Sandy hit and the beach I once loved changed. Fire Island, a barrier island, did its job in protecting Long Island from a direct hit. It underwent many physical changes during that Hurricane, but it was the policy changes that drove me away and my friends and I were no longer welcomed on the beach we called home.

Arriving at Gunnison Beach I immediately knew it was not Lighthouse Beach; the vibe, the location, the sights and smells. They were all different. I am sure it is a wonderful beach, but it was not “my beach”. Still I hung out here awaiting Arlene’s arrival.

When I got the call that Arlene was close, I went up to meet her at the drop off area. This would have been an idea location to pull the kayak out, but again, I was barred from landing here. We then headed north back to North Beach and I scoped the area out for the best way and closest spot to get the gear and kayak to the car. By this time, the bathrooms were locked up, lifeguards gone and only a few people remained on the beach. I took Arlene down to see where Lex-T-Sea was. From the entrance to the beach, you could barely see Lex-T-Sea, but there she sat on the beach some 1,575 feet away (I measured it later) Arlene and I walked through the soft sand, which is a struggle in of itself, toward Lex-T-Sea. We grabbed our first load of gear and began the long slow walk back. By the time we got to the Concession Stand area, we were both exhausted and we’d have to walk further to get to the car. I looked around and thought that there was no one here. While her car would not handle the soft sand, I could drive it up into the concession stand area saving us another 640’ of walking distance on top of the 1,575 feet to get her off the beach.

With Arlene’s permission and I taking full responsibility for any action, I took her car, drove it up the walkway and into the Concession Stand area. Now we got back to hauling the gear out. It took us both three trips before I started to pull the half full kayak up the beach. There were people standing around watching or ignoring us as we did this. Arlene returned to help me pull her. We struggled, but we managed and eventually, we dragged Lex-T-Sea up to the concession stand and next to the car. We loaded up the gear and the kayak and hit the road by 8:30 pm. We both still needed dinner and Arlene had a three-hour drive ahead of her.

Yes, I’m back in Yorktown Heights, NY. I need to re-group. My welcome to New Jersey was not as expected, in fact, it was the worse case scenario barring a USCG rescue at sea. I now have to figure out how I will get down the coast of New Jersey. Do I go down the inland side and transport the boat back to the ocean side before I get to Manasquan Inlet? Do I back up and hit the Raritan Canal? Do I somehow find additional support to pull me off the beach every night? At this point I am struggling with decisions, unable to find answers and questioning the expedition. This, after everything that has gone so well? I recall having made it the length of Lake Champlain and falsely believing that the lake had prepared me well for this journey. I could not have been more wrong. I know what I did wrong. I know how to address this in the future, but I was not prepared for access to the beach to be so closed off. I knew beach camping was not permitted, but not even being able to land or launch a kayak? Is this really the Land of the Free because right now, it’s not feeling like it. Thank You New Jersey. It’s was a wonderful welcome.

Day 35 Done
Enjoy the pictures and video