You Can Canoe in the City, too!

"Before we start," said the Bronx River Alliance volunteer, "does anybody want a guide?"

No hands went up.

"Okay, just to let you know, it is windy today. Knowing that, does anybody want guide now?"

Again, no hands went up.

Well, one hand almost went up.

"I'm scared, Kevin. He asked if we had experience."

"Well," I said, "if you count canoeing across Lake Belgrade, holding a paddle in one hand and a bucket in the other to empty the incoming water. Yeah, I would call that experience."

"That's it?"

I politely reminded Nicole that I had also canoed in a segmented river before. It was in Texas--with her. And we had both conducted various paddling excursions in Connecticut before we had met.

"Yeah, well, this is different!"

Oy vey. I assured Nicole that if it were genuinely windy to the point of jeopardizing safety, the New York Botanical Gardens wouldn't be giving out free canoe rentals.

"Okay." With that, Nicole seemed resigned. Her husband would be the tour guide.

I have now paddled a canoe in four states: CT, ME, TX, and NY.

We were happy and fortunate for the opportunity. The New York Botanical Gardens was hosting free canoe rentals. Guests who signed up early enough were privlidged to paddle through the Bronx River Gorge, once home to the Algonquins. Aquehonga, as it was called, was the source of all things sustanence for centuries. Food, water, transportation. Everything. Aquehonga was life.

Aquehonga doesn't flow as fast as it used to, as its source waters are dammed up to provide drinking water for New York City in 1842. Ironically, the Bronx River was pristine and clean back then, and Manhattanites where dying of cholera left and right. If only the new settlers had been wise enough to listen to the long term residents. Add a century and half of yucky pollution, and you have yourself a mess. Where once was a treasure now was a waterway filled with trash.

Look out for rocks! Shallow water is excellent for flat-bottom canoes.

Fortunately, the Bronx River has experienced a renaissance within the last 20 years. Cleanup crews have removed rubbish, factories no longer dump waste in its waters, and wildlife has slowly started to return. Today, Bronx River is among the cleanest waterways in New York City.

No sooner than we got in the canoe, that we felt a sense of excitement as we were able to see the Bronx River as never before. And what a sight to see! The fluorescent fall foliage dotted the riverbanks with shades of amber, crimson, and gold, punctuated with trees of evergreen. The steep cuts of Fordham Gneiss periodically rise and fall, alternating between the flats of a river valley and a high bluff that was carved during the last ice age.

At last those were the first thoughts on my mind. At first, Nicole had other things to speak about.

"Rock!" She said. Followed by, "Lookout, rock!" Navigation was tricky, as Nicole had a tendency to go with gut instinct instead of trusting her husband. Sigh. No worries. I just paid very close attention to whenever she would panic and switch whatever side of the canoe she was paddling and adjust accordingly to right the course and avoid collision.

End of the line--until we get our own canoe and ride the whole river!

Another benefit with me at the back of the vessel,  was that Nicole free range to take photos at her discretion. It wasn't long before we had cleared the rocks and we were both able to relax a little a bit and enjoy the scenery.

The flatlands of the valley before the high bluffs of the Algonquins.

We paddled upstream for about ten minutes before we reached the bridge known as Magnolia Crossing.  The water is much shallower at that point, thus reducing the level of fun. We decided that we would save this for when we had our own canoe at a future date. It was time to turn around.

We paddled back--slowly. "I don't want to get back too early," said Nicole.

Good thinking. We even did a little 360 at one point just get a few more minutes of paddling in before we making the final turn around the bend. That is, if those mighty rocks didn't stop us!

"Kevin, Kevin, rock, rock!" It was Nicole, and she wasn't talking about my career as a music-man. We had piloted the canoe over one of those pesky rocks that sits about two inches below the waters surface line. Nicole was a touch in panic mode.

"What do I do," she asked, more than a little nervous. Before I had time to explain, a guide and his partner paddled up to us with some simple words of wisdom.

"Take your paddle," the guide said reassuringly, "and use it as a stick."

"Wow," said Nicole, as she effortlessly dislodged us from the rogue rock. "Thank you!"

"No problem," said the guide.

And with that, we were at the end of the line. Nicole took one last photo of the river before we docked the canoe.

Well, almost at the end. She handed the camera to the volunteer. "A picture?" She asked?

"Sure," the volunteer said, as Nicole handed him the camera. Nicole and I smiled. Apparently, that was a no-no.

"You must grimace," he said. "It is the face of the paddler."

And grimace we did. We had earned it!

Grr! It's not a canoe trip unless you grimace like a madman!