Hudson River to New York Harbour

I awoke early to catch the ebbing tide (outgoing). I was sad to be alone. Grace was great company. However, I was finally getting excited. My adventure was really starting! 

The Hudson River is not good for sailing except under rare circumstances. For the most part, the western shore is high above the river. This tends to funnel winds along the river. Here, this guy is sailing on the Hudson. Notice, he is going across the river. When he tacked to change direction, he went back across the river again.

Sailing on the Hudson River

For Distant Horizon, this meant her diesel engine would be running most of the way. The biggest difference with the mast being up, is boat wakes. With the mast down, the boat was very unstable and we had to carefully negotiate wakes. Now, Distant Horizon is well balanced and she just drives through the wakes.

The tide turns roughly every 6 hours. Going with the tide meant traveling a little more than one knot faster than we would with no current, and almost three knots faster than against the current. When the tide turned against us, I was nearby Kingston, NY. It’s a great little town with a nice town dock and restaurants and shops nearby. The village is up a creek about 2 miles. The inlet is lined by a stone wall on either side. 

Kingston Lighthouse

However, I just wanted to make a short stop; get some rest ; and get moving again. So, instead of turning, I passed the inlet. Just south of the wall is a nice calm bay. There is shallow water there. I continued a little farther south where the water is deeper. Then I turned in and headed north a little to drop the anchor.

It was a perfect anchorage. The shallows actually protected me from the wakes of big tugs and barges heading south. There was no protection form the wakes of boat, tugs, or barges heading north. I know because one, just one, went by. After getting the boat set, I began to make some pasta salad for lunch. I figured that was good protein and carbs for my trip. 

When lunch was done, and dishes…. I was about to settle in when I heard the distant rumble of the all too familiar thunderstorm. Ten minutes later, it was pouring! No hail, but the NOAA weather radio was warning of the potential for quarter-size hail with this storm. I knew I was secure… and for a change would stay dry during this storm. So, I settled in my berth for a nap. Other than being awaken once, from a huge clap of thunder which seemed to be directly overhead, I slept for three hours. The tides would switch soon, so it was time to get ready to depart.

The sky was clear again. Based on the tide schedule, I would be going until 3am. Everything was running smoothly: engine was running low RPMs; engine temp was perfect; oil pressure was good; speed was fantastic! 

You have to expect brief encounters with commercial tugboat traffic when you travel on the Hudson River. There is a constant flow between New York Harbour and Albany. This is the same tug that verified my AIS was working. Just one day ago, he was traveling north. Now, he is on his return trip.

Tugboat Kimberly Poling pushing a barge south on the Hudson River

After dark, navigation becomes somewhat simpler. It's easier to pick out the channel markers from their lights. The difficulty is trying to determine the next one, when there are more than one and none of them are close by.  Also, navigation become difficult when there are too many lights to discern the lights of another vessel. 

That is exactly what happened around 11:00pm. From a distance, it looked like a village at the far end of a long straight section of the river. As I slowly drew closer, the scale change at a disproportionate rate. I knew it was a ship or barge of some kind. I zoomed out on the chart plotter and saw their AIS marker. It was a cargo ship, SBI Cronos. It was not moving. I assumed they had anchored and half an hour later when I passed them I was able to confirm that they had stopped and anchored in the middle of the channel. They had all their deck lights on. Yes, I did not see a single person on deck. They may think this makes them highly visible, but it would actually be much simpler if they used the proper lights to indicate they were anchored.

Negotiating the river and its current past West Point on a dark, moonless night was a challenge. The river narrows considerably. The river gets very deep and has several bends, creating currents that love to play with the six-foot full keel hanging from the bottom of Distant Horizon.

After passing West Point, there were still a few more bends in the river before reaching my planned anchorage, which would be another short stop to rest and wait for the tide to change. 

Typically, you look for three factors in an anchorage: #1 A bottom with good holding for your anchor with enough water below the boat; #2 Protection from waves and wakes; #3 Protection from wind. Since I am making short stops, I picked my spots based on #1 and tried to find #2 knowing #3 was not available. Actually #2 is rare and usually hidden behind an island on the Hudson River and those take  time to negotiate. I was looking for spots just out of the channel where I would be safe from tugs and their barges and far enough off to be away from power boaters who don’t need to follow the channel because of their shadow draft. 

I chose a great spot, for my purposes, across from the Indian Point Nuclear Power Plant. I still had to round Jones Point, a very sharp and narrow bend in the river. Just before Jones Point, there is a green channel marker. It sits atop a rock sticking above the water. So, the channel is much narrower than the river. As I passed under the Bear Mountain Bridge and saw the marker, I knew I was getting close. Good thing too. I was starting to fight off head-bobs!

It was 3:15am. As if on queue to rescue my fading consciousness, I hear something on the VHF radio. The sound startled me after hours of silence. To me, the sound was more like noise. Although, clear sounding, I was so tired I found it difficult to pick out some discernible words; but what did stand out was “Distant Horizon”. I quickly grabbed the mic and replied, “This is Distant Horizon, go ahead”. 

It was the Captain of tugboat Timothy L Reinauer! He said he was around Jones Point and our CPA (Closest Point of Approach) was too close for his comfort level. He asked what kind of boat and how big was Distant Horizon. I gave him the information. He replied stating that he would slow until we pass safely port-to-port; He needed to stay in the center of the channel around Indian Point. 

That seemed reasonable, but I didn’t want to slow him down and I saw on the charts, the deep water extended almost to shore. So, I replied that I would keep starboard as close to the western shore as safely possible and go out side green marker "27" where I would have plenty of water. He was very appreciative and said if I went outside the marker, he could continue as normal.  As I rounded Jones Point, I saw the typical Hudson River Tug pushing a barge. I don’t know if it was the darkness or the steep banks along the river, or my tired state, but it was a much closer view than I am accustomed to. It felt like I could touch that barge with a boat hook. The chart plotter said we were 200 feet apart; still very close.

I was around the point in deepish water headed for the spot I planned to anchor. I turned around and watched him negotiate the sharp bend. I immediately understood why he had hailed me on the radio. Add that to my long list of “Man, am I glad I installed an AIS transponder” list! With out the AIS transponder, he would not have know I was even there! Due to the bend of the river and steepness of the banks, radar would not have shown me! I would have been in the shadow of the hills! Now I know why the big ship captains always say, “Thank you for making the waters safer” when I ask if they are receiving my AIS signal.

Anchoring in the dark is a more challenging adventure since your depth perception is degragated. I got the job done quickly; went below and immediately crashed in my berth. When I was woken by the alarm, it was light outside. I was in 12 feet of water; perfect! The first thing I noticed was the sound of a train passing by. I never heard a thing all night!

I prepared breakfast. It’s easier to eat peacefully in the cockpit at anchor, than trying to steer the boat safely while running up and down to the galley! After breakfast, I got moving again. My plan was to stop in Yonkers. Each time I travel the Hudson River, I notice the sign: "Free Transient Docks Open”. Since Yonkers is just 90 minutes north of New York, it is never appropriate to check it out. So, one of the goals for this trip was to stop in Yonkers and check out their transient docks. I was excited for this small tangental stop as I approached. I have never been there. 

To say it was anticlimactic would be a gross understatement. A tug had gone by shortly before I reached the docks. I could see the huge wake batter the dock without mercy. The dock showed the wear from boats that were unaware. The rubber cushions were torn or missing. The wood, which should be underneath the cushions was badly split and splintering. I knew instantly, I did not want the outside… but what about the inside? 

The wind was blowing straight up the river. If I pulled Distant Horizon into the dock, I would not be able to get out; for two reasons; Distant Horizon does not go astern (backup) well with power, and the water got very shallow closer to shore. So, I lined up with the dock and drifted in stern to; meaning I was preparing to drift into the dock backwards. This way I could measure the rate of drift if I decided to dock there so I could back in the rest of the way. This would allow me to pull straight out when it was time to leave. 

As the inner side of the dock became visible, I saw it was line with tires. That is beyond horrible!  I failed myself. I was so determined to see Yonkers. I did not have another plan. All I knew at this moment was, I could not stop here!

As I headed further south, I continually checked for available anchorages or stopping point of some kind. On the charts, the north side of the George Washington Bridge, on the east side of the river looked like a possible spot. As I approached, I left the channel to investigate. The current was crazy there! Although the charts said the water was 17 feet, it was closer to 30 feet. This was not a suitable anchorage. 

Looking back at the George Washington Bridge

The next spot was along the parkway. The charts listed this as 10-14 feet of water close to shore. Once again, it was 29-32 feet. I can anchor in that depth, but the length of chain required to do so safely would put me precariously close to shore; not to mention the Hudson River has strong currents in this area. There was absolutely no place to anchor. 

So, 79th Street Basin was next on my list. I always thought that place was cool! 79th street in Manhattan and you can stay on a mooring! Three blocks off the river, you catch the "Red Line" and you are in The City. 

Manhattan Skyline from the Hudson River

I hailed them 5 times on the radio… no response. Finally, I had to stop at the only other place I knew, an upper scale marina in Jersey City: Liberty Landing. I knew I could top-off my fuel there before heading out to the ocean.  I hailed them on the radio and got an immediate response. 

When I arrived, I had to negotiate the “Jetski Skyline Tour”. Their group was behind me, but completely unaware of the rules. In no time, my 28,000 pound boat with limited steering at slow speeds was surrounded by jet skis with two and three people on them. It is required that they negotiate an agreement with me before passing. In this case, I figured out who the tour guide was and informed her of my intentions and I was unable to stop and wait, or maneuver through her group. You could see the awareness flood her face and she quickly gathered them up and got them past me so I could make my turn to the fuel dock. After getting fuel, I was given a slip assignment that would work with Distant Horizon.

Once docked, I immediately went to the captain’s lounge… well, I actually put my laundry in the washer and went to the Captain’s lounge to charge my computer and respond to people who had messaged me and check the weather. When those tasks were completed, I quickly got to sleep. It would be another early morning. First to catch the ebbing tide. Secondly, to beat the tugs to the river; a key element around Manhattan. There is no beating the ferries. The nice thing about them is, there are no negotiations... stay out of their way!