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The Hudson River Maritime Museum is pleased to announce the start of a new social media photo contest - #HudsonRiverscape. The public is welcome to participate on Facebook or submit photos via email. All voting takes place on Facebook - the photo with the most likes and comments each week wins a prize! Photos will also be posted here on the History Blog each Saturday, along with the previous week's winner! Here are the details:How to Play
The Rules1. All participants must be 13+. 2. Photos may not contain identifiable people and must contain the Hudson River or one of its tributaries. 3. A third party may submit on behalf of the photographer. If selected, photographer, not submitter, will be awarded the prize. 4. One photo submission per photographer, per week. 5. Participants may only win one weekly prize. All contestants are eligible for the grand prize. 6. Full name, mailing address, and phone number required to claim prize. 7. Participants release submitted photos to the Hudson River Maritime Museum for reposting, and grant permission to HRMM to use submitted photos in promotional materials. HRMM will not sell images and photographer maintains copyright. 8. Prizes may be transferred or gifted to another party but may not be sold or exchanged for cash value. 9. In the event that there is a tie for weekly contests, HRMM will draw randomly to select the winner. 10. Close calls for the grand prize may result in a run-off voting selection. The PrizesWeekly Prize With each weekly photo album, the photo with the most likes & comments will win a Household Membership to the Hudson River Maritime Museum ($60 value). GRAND Prize At the end of the contest, the photo from any week with the most likes & comments will win a free private charter aboard the solar-powered tour boat Solaris for the 2021 season. Good for up to 24 people. ($600 value). If you have any questions, just email education@hrmm.org or contact us on Facebook. We can't wait to see what beautiful photos you all submit! If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
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Editor’s note: Twenty years ago, four friends with an abiding love of the Hudson River and its history stepped away from their families and their work to travel up the river in a homemade strip-planked canoe to experience the river on its most intimate terms. The team set off from Liberty State Park in New Jersey and completed the adventure nine days later just below Albany where one of the paddlers lived. They began with no itinerary and no pre-arranged lodging or shore support. There were no cell phones. The journey deepened their appreciation for the river and its many moods, the people who live and work beside the river and the importance of friendship in sustaining our lives. Please join us vicariously on this excellent adventure. We'll be posting every Friday for the next several weeks, so stay tuned! Follow the adventure here. TuesdayThe Palisades The sun came up over Spuyten Duyvil at 6:30 with wind from the north and a low tide. We had a nice view of the campanile at the Cloisters and we strained to see flags on the east shore of the river in hopes of seeing any deviation from the north wind. The waves moderated somewhat since last night. Joe, the most senior member of our party, was an architect. Yesterday, he applied his skills to site and arrange our camp so that it would stay together in the wind and keep us dry. Joe was a thoughtful and spiritual man, active in community organizations including a youth organization and the Unitarian Church. He grew up in a tough part of New York and is grateful for the educational opportunity he received at Cooper Union. Joe cared about fresh food and good cooking and seemed dismayed by the way the others among us provisioned this trip. He winced as Steve and I prepared a bountiful “Beneficent Beach” breakfast consisting of apple-cinnamon oatmeal, instant coffee and stale bagels left over from Sunday. We broke camp at 8:00 AM and launched the Bear at 8:30, hoping to benefit somewhat from the flood tide. We hugged the west shore in hopes of minimizing the wind which had moderated but was still blowing at 10-15 mph. The stone bulkhead continued along the shore. Soon, we passed the ruins of an abandoned stone park pavilion and entered an entirely wild shoreline inhabited by kingfishers, buzzards and other circling raptors. We reached the marina at Alpine at 10:30 and rested briefly before continuing north into what felt like the uninhabited reaches of a different continent. The Palisades inspire awe at close range. Huge chunks of rock cantilever outward from the cliff face; chimney rocks stand free to towering heights; tortured trees cling to seams and crevices, broken talus slopes tumble down to the river. Parts of the Palisades resemble cliff dwellings in the Southwest. Other stretches seem to recall scenes from Indiana Jones’ “Temple of Doom.” Breathtaking opportunities for drawing and painting abound. Was Thomas Cole or the Hudson River School artists who followed him familiar with these scenes? Paddling quietly in the lee of the red cliffs and dwarfed by their scale, one imagines being far from civilization in a very exotic corner of the planet. As we paddled further north, we began looking for the ruins of Tonetti Gardens, a romantic riverside folly described to us and recommended by Steve’s son roughly west of Hastings-on-Hudson. We were told to look for several columns which lay fallen into the river. We imagined it might serve well as a campsite. After several false sightings, Joe discovered the stucco columns just after noon. We located a landing and went ashore. The isolated site looked ideal for camping, so we began unpacking and hauling the Bear up past the high tide mark. We found picturesque stone walls, arched niches, stone staircases, an enchanting waterfall and the remains of what had once been a reflection pond. The columns belonged to what had once been a tea house with a brick paved floor perched on a projection above the river with nice views. We decided to call this place “Roger’s Rest” after Steve’s son. We made sandwiches and bathed in the waterfall. Joe and I sketched the ruins while Steve and Dan climbed to the top of the waterfall. Steve detected a slight shift in the wind. There seemed to be a slight breeze coming in lightly from the southeast. We seized the opportunity to roll up some welcome miles under sail and were on our way north again at 3:00 PM. The Tappan Zee and Haverstraw Bay Despite the ebb tide, we were successful in moving north with a combination of sail and paddles. We quickly reached the end of the Piermont Pier, a possible campsite if we were forced to retreat, and we said hello to a few friendly local fishermen. We set our course for the Tappan Zee Bridge and passed beneath it at 4:00 PM. The Tappan Zee widened before us. The south wind strengthened but its benefit was neutralized by the increasing ebb tide. Nevertheless, we worked hard and made good progress north. At one point, we feared that Washington Irving’s apparition-like storm ship was sailing our way, but it turned out to be a navigational tower rising from the site of the long gone Rockland Lake lighthouse. We came abreast of Croton Point at 6:00 and gave some consideration to camping there for the night. But the south wind tempted us to continue. We pressed on in spite of a nagging hesitation. We were hoping to cross Haverstraw Bay and camp somewhere near Verplanck. Haverstraw Bay has been a formidable adversary on previous canoe trips so we were well-warned. As soon as we passed Croton Point, the wind weakened and the ebb tide strengthened. We began to notice that even as we were moving through the water swiftly, landmarks on the shore barely moved. We experienced a magnificent sunset with a mackerel sky from the center of the bay and steeled ourselves to dig deeper and paddle harder. Concerned with our visibility to nighttime traffic, we lit our camp light and lashed it to the top of our mast. It illuminated our sail and blinded all but our bow paddler. As a result, those of us behind the sail frequently “caught crabs,” unable to see approaching waves. We spotted a lighted factory chimney at Stony Point and the flashing utility towers carrying cables across the river there but it took hours to get closer. By the time we were near Verplanck, there was bright glare from the lights at the gypsum plant at Stony Point but the east shore was so dark that we couldn’t really see where to go. We felt our way to a boat yard that had offered assistance in the past and tied up at 9:30. We went to the owner’s home and asked him if we could stay. After giving us the business for rudely awakening him, he ordered three pizzas, a case of soda and gave us the keys to his car so we could pick the order up. He set us up for the night in one of his buildings and we collapsed at 11:00 PM. In our experience, river people are unfailingly helpful and generous to those who are humble in asking for help. Don't forget to join us again next Friday for Day 4 of the trip! AuthorMuddy Paddle’s love of the Hudson River goes back to childhood when he brought dead fish home, boarded foreign freighters to learn how they operated and wandered along the river shore in search of the river’s history. He has traveled the river often, aboard tugboats, sailing vessels large and small and canoes. The account of this trip was kept in a small illustrated journal kept dry within a sealed plastic bag. The illustrations accompanying this account were prepared by the author. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
In March 1966, a small group of recreational and commercial fishermen, concerned citizens and scientists met at a Crotonville American Legion Hall intending to reverse the decline of the Hudson River by reclaiming it from polluters. With them was Robert H. Boyle, an angler and senior writer at Sports Illustrated, who was outraged by the reckless abuse endured by the river. At the group’s initial meeting, Boyle announced that he had stumbled across two forgotten laws: The Rivers and Harbors Act of 1888 and The Refuse Act of 1899. These laws forbade pollution of navigable waters in the U.S., imposed fines for polluters, and provided a bounty reward for whoever reported the violation. After listening to Boyle speak, the blue-collar audience agreed to organize as the Hudson River Fishermen’s Association, and dedicate themselves to tracking down the river’s polluters and bringing them to justice. Right from the start, the grassroots actions taken by the fishermen went against convention. While many organizations sought environmental justice through protests and civil disobedience, the HRFA sought to protect the Hudson through advocacy and law enforcement. At the group’s core was a belief that everyday people should be able to defend our public resources from maltreatment and damage. The Fishermen’s actions to protect the communal watershed quality showed that ordinary citizens had legal standing in protecting our natural resources. The Fishermen were as good as their word. Their first target was Penn Central Railroad, which for years released petroleum products into the Croton River, a Hudson tributary. HRFA informed the Army Corps of Engineers and the U.S. Attorney, calling on enforcement of The Refuse Act, but were ignored. So the HRFA took the law into their own hands: they sued Penn Central, the Army Corps of Engineers and the Secretary of the Army. This caught the attention of the U.S. Attorney's office, which then joined the HRFA in its suit against Penn Central. The HRFA prevailed, and the fine provided the first bounty afforded to a private organization from a polluter. Emboldened, the HRFA distributed thousands of copies of “Bag a Polluter” postcards for citizen whistleblowers to fill in and to mail back to the organization. Soon, they were collecting even larger bounties against polluters such as Anaconda Wire and Copper, Standard Brands, Ciba-Geigy, American Cyanamid, and Westchester County. The Fishermen also joined with Scenic Hudson to stop Con Ed’s proposed hydroelectric plant on the face of Storm King Mountain. It was, in large part, the discovery of a striped bass spawning ground near the proposed site that ultimately prevented the building of the facility. These victories provided new funding to expand HRFA influence along the Hudson. Meanwhile Boyle — inspired by the British tradition of posting ''riverkeepers'' on private trout and salmon streams — envisioned doing the same thing for the Hudson and called for someone who would be “on the river the length of the year, nailing polluters on the spot...giving a sense of time, place and purpose to people who live in or visit the valley.” Boyle found his first full-time Riverkeeper in John Cronin, a commercial fishermen and activist, in 1983 and the HRFA built the first Riverkeeper patrol boat that same year. Soon after, acting on a tip from a New York State Trooper, Cronin learned that Exxon tankers were flushing out jet fuel residue and filling up with river water to take to an Exxon refinery. Cronin collected data and evidence. His proof was so thorough that Exxon had little choice but to settle, paying $1.5 million to New York State for a private river management fund and $500,000 to HRFA. HRFA merged with its growing Riverkeeper program in 1986 to form one group to protect the river. Since then, Riverkeeper has brought hundreds of polluters to justice and forced them to spend hundreds of millions of dollars remediating the Hudson. In 1997, Riverkeeper negotiated the $1.5 billion New York City Watershed Memorandum of Agreement on behalf of upstate communities, environmentalists, and New York City watershed consumers. It is regarded as an international model in stakeholder consensus negotiations and sustainable development. In recent years, Riverkeeper has helped to get Endangered Species Act protection for Atlantic Sturgeon and new fishing regulations for herring. The organization also campaigned to ban fracking in New York State in 2014. Riverkeeper began sampling the Hudson in 2006, and in 2008 started our full-estuary sampling project, in partnership with CUNY Queens College and Columbia University’s Lamont-Doherty Earth Observatory. Today, this program aims to improve the water quality of the Hudson and its tributaries through increased water quality monitoring and public notification, consistent investment in wastewater and stormwater infrastructure and better water quality policies. In 2018, nearly 50 organizations and 180 individuals partnered to collect 5,400 samples. The data Riverkeeper has gathered since establishing our estuary monitoring program have illuminated some of the river’s challenges. Riverkeeper has identified where wastewater infrastructure is failing and seen investments pay off in improved water quality, and defined critical baseline information about the presence of pharmaceuticals, pesticides and other trace contaminants. In January 2017, Riverkeeper reached an agreement with New York State and Entergy for the shutdown of the two aging nuclear reactors at the Indian Point Energy Center. Riverkeeper fought this decades-long battle to close this aging and unreliable nuclear plant with laws that protect the fish. When the Indian Point closes in 2021, its cooling intakes will power down and this will save a billion river creatures from destruction each year. We continue to work to ensure that Indian Point’s closure and decommissioning are done right and community interests are addressed. Today, Riverkeeper is renewing its commitment to “A Living River,” our priority is to give the Hudson its life back. Fish such as the Atlantic sturgeon, American shad and striped bass — three iconic Hudson River species — are among many that remain endangered or in decline. We cannot be content with protecting these dwindling populations. One way Riverkeeper is working to restore life in the Hudson is by removing obsolete dams along the creeks and streams that nourish the river. These dams not only block fish from their historical spawning grounds, but trap sediments, nutrients and minerals vital to the food web. We have secured written agreements for the removal of several dams to allow passage of migratory fish, and we’re continuing to reach out to dam owners. And a new film, “Undamming the Hudson,” is helping to keep the issue alive. On the Mohawk River, we are helping develop the state’s agenda in ways that protect fish. The DEC’s new Mohawk Basin Action Agenda will investigate ways to prevent invasive species from migrating from the Great Lakes, and support a migratory fish passage through the Erie Canal locks and dams, which segment the natural flow. Riverkeeper is also thick in the battle against ill-conceived storm surge barriers that would choke off the river where the Hudson meets the ocean. Several options considered by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers would have catastrophic consequences for the river and New York Harbor. Specifically, storm surge barriers – giant ocean gates – would choke off tidal flow and the migration of fish – damaging the life of the Hudson River Estuary forever. At Riverkeeper’s founding, the river was little more than an open sewer. Thanks to the massive reductions in pollution we’ve helped foster over the past half-century, our vision of a clean, safe and vibrant Hudson is finally within reach. Looking into the future: Riverkeeper will bring the same energy to our ecosystems work that we did to cutting pollution, closing Indian Point and protecting your drinking water, so that the mighty Hudson will brim with life, once again. AuthorDan Shapley is the Director of Riverkeeper’s Water Quality Program and a founding board member of the Wallkill River Watershed Alliance. This article was originally published in the 2019 issue of the Pilot Log. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
Editor’s Note: The following text is a verbatim transcription of an article featuring stories by Captain William O. Benson (1911-1986). Beginning in 1971, Benson, a retired tugboat captain, reminisced about his 40 years on the Hudson River in a regular column for the Kingston (NY) Freeman’s Sunday Tempo magazine. Captain Benson's articles were compiled and transcribed by HRMM volunteer Carl Mayer. See more of Captain Benson’s articles here. This article was originally published March 26, 1972. Back in the days when the Cornell Steamboat Company was towing large tows of barges and scows up and down the river, the company developed a series of whistle signals so that the helper tug could communicate with each other. Generally, the tows would be large. The big towing tug would be up ahead with the tow strung out astern. Frequently, the helper tug would be back at the tow adding to or taking off barges from the tow for local delivery. The two tugs had to be in communication with each other and, before the age of electronics and short wave radios, whistle signals were the method used. For example, five long and three short blasts was the signal for “the tow is all made up, hood up and go on,” three short blasts was “go slow,” four short blasts was “stop,” three long and three short was “go ahead,” two long and two short to a passing steamer meant “your signal lights are out,” etc. If one tug originated the signal, the other tug would answer with the same signal to indicate that the signal was understood. It so happened the whistle signal of one long and two short was the Cornell signal for “The steamer having the tow wants her hawsers cast off.” It was also the same signal under the Nautical Rules of the Road for a tow underway in a fog. One night back in 1937, the big Cornell tug “Perseverance” was coming up river on a flood tide with a very large tow. John Hickey, captain of the “Perseverance,” had on board as a crew member a young, green deckhand. The decky had heard at different time, the “Perseverance” and the helper tug exchange the one long and two short whistle signals, and then helped to haul the towing hawsers in. On this particular night, when the tow was off Hyde Park, it set in very foggy. The helper tug had already left the tow and had gone on up ahead to Kingston. Captain Hickey started to run slow and to blow the fog signal of one long and two short whistle blasts as required by the Rules of the Road. After the second or third fog signal on the whistle, the “Perseverance” seemed to be moving ahead very fast. At the same time, the deckhand came up to the pilot house and said, “All right Cap, all gone.” Captain Hickey replied, “What do you mean?” The decky said, “I threw the hawsers off. You blew two, didn’t you?” Boy, oh boy, did Captain Hickey ever blow his top when he heard that! Of course, he had to turn the “Perseverance” around and try and find the tow in the fog. And what a job after they found the tow to get the hawsers up on the “Percy” again. The forward momentum of the tow, when the hawsers were cast off, caused to the tow to run over the hawsers. When they finally did get everything squared away again, they had the new problem of trying to figure out where they were. All that maneuvering and time lost in the fog caused them to lose completely and exact idea of their position. By inching ahead, Captain Hickey finally rounded up and bucked the tide until morning when the fog cleared up. AuthorCaptain William Odell Benson was a life-long resident of Sleightsburgh, N.Y., where he was born on March 17, 1911, the son of the late Albert and Ida Olson Benson. He served as captain of Callanan Company tugs including Peter Callanan, and Callanan No. 1 and was an early member of the Hudson River Maritime Museum. He retained, and shared, lifelong memories of incidents and anecdotes along the Hudson River. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today! From their earliest days, Hudson River steamboats ran at night as well as during the day. Although not a numerous as their daytime counterparts, night boats quickly became popular, especially with businessmen who wanted to travel between New York and Albany without missing daylight working hours. Smaller night boats carried cargo—mostly food products, including milk—to New York City from upriver ports as well as transporting some passengers. By the 1860s, night boats had become large, elegant vessels favored by wealthy New Yorkers. They featured crystal chandeliers, gilded woodwork, elegant dining rooms with fine cuisine, live music, and beautifully decorated staterooms. Saratoga, an elegant spa town, attracted passengers who took night boats to Albany, then traveled to Saratoga by train. Taking the night boat had become the fashionable way to travel between New York City and Albany. Honeymooners regularly chose the Albany Night Boat, a practice that continued to the end of the night boat era in 1941.
If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
"Sailing Down My Golden River" is perhaps one of the most iconic of Pete Seeger's river-themed songs. It is certainly a favorite of many Hudson River Maritime Museum staff, board members, and volunteers.
Pete Seeger wrote "Sailing Down My Golden River" in the 1960s, coinciding with his idea to build a replica Hudson River sloop as a way to educate people about the plight of the polluted Hudson River. To learn more about Pete's dream and the construction of the replica sloop that would become known as Clearwater, visit our online exhibit "Rescuing the River." Released on his fourth studio album, "Rainbow Race," in 1973 on the Columbia Records label, this version is a live recording from the 1979 Bread & Roses Festival.
"Sailing Down My Golden River"
Words and Music by Pete Seeger Sailing down my golden river Sun and water all my own Yet I was never alone Sun and water, old life givers L'll have them where ere I roam And I was not far from home Sunlight glancing on the water Life and death are all my own Yet I was never alone Life for all my sons and daughters Golden sparkles in the foam And I was not far from home Sailing down this winding highway Travelers from near and far And I was never alone Exploring all the little byways Sighting all the distant stars And I was not far from home Sailing down my golden river Sun and water all my own Yet I was never alone Sun and water, old life givers L'll have them where ere I roam And I was not far from home Yet I was never alone And I was not far from home
Do you have a favorite Pete Seeger song or memory? We were lucky to host Pete in 2012 for the "barn raising" of the timber framed structure at the museum called the Kingston Home Port and Education Center (affectionately dubbed "The Barn") - a building shared by the Hudson River Maritime Museum and our friends the Hudson River Sloop Clearwater. Appropriately, he played "If I had a Hammer" to the crowds, at the age of 93.
If "Sailing Down My Golden River" brings up a special memory or meaning for you, please share in the comments! And if this is your first time hearing the song, what did you think? Special thanks to Hudson River Maritime Museum volunteer Mark Heller for contributing to this post.
If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
In 1903 the steamboat Mary Powell was making her way south to New York City when an incident occurred of such importance, it made the news in two separate newspapers. On July 10, 1903 the New York Tribune reported the incident, as did the Kingston Daily Freeman. See more Sunday News here. MARY POWELL RUNS DOWN SNAKE. Twelve Foot Python Was Headed for Albany – The Mate Justified. The mate of the Hudson River steamer Mary Powell had hard work convincing Captain A. E. Anderson that he was sane when we reported at 11 a.m. yesterday that he had sighted a twelve foot snake off the port bow and apparently heading for Albany. Later the body of a large snake drifted into the slip alongside the boat, and the mate was able to point it out to the captain with the remark: “I told you so.” The Mary Powell was just finishing her morning trip from Kingston with a goodly number of passengers when the mate, William B. Maines, ran up to Captain Anderson in the Pilot House. “Snake off the port bow,” he reported. “What’s the matter, mate?” said the captain, “I hope you see no pink monkeys.” “It’s a snake, and a big one, too,” replied the mate. Captain Anderson looked, and, sure enough, bobbing up and down in the water, was a snake, evidently a python. A moment later the boat ran the snake down and passed into her berth. Later, when the snake drifted in, it was an object of much interest, and during the day everybody having business near the Debrosses St. pier who heard about it went down to see the snake. - New-York Tribune, July 10, 1903 SNAKE ON THE PORT BOW. "DON'T YOU MEAN AN ICEBERG?" SAID CAPT. ANDERSON. The Hudson river steamboat, Mary Powell, from Kingston-on-the-Hudson, was making port at the foot of Desbrosses street yesterday morning, says the New York Sun, when the first mate, William B. Maines, approached Captain Anderson in the pilot house, and, after saluting, said: "Sir, I have to report that there is a large snake on our port bow." The captain gave the wheel a half turn and there was silence for nearly a minute. Then the mate repeated his report. Again a half turn of the wheel and a deep silence. The mate then said it louder. "You mean an iceberg, don't you, Mr. Maines," said the captain politely. "It is hot, isn't it?" The mate assured the captain that the hot weather had nothing to do with it and that his brain was working all right. A moment later the Mary Powell ran her nose into the bobbing corpse of a twelve-foot python and shoved it toward the pier. Quite a crowd gathered to see the snake's body during the afternoon. - Kingston Daily Freeman, July 10, 1903 Pythons are not native to the Hudson River Valley, so Captain Anderson was right to be skeptical, but it sounds like Maines was, indeed, justified. Hard to argue with physical proof. In all likelihood, the snake was either an escaped or abandoned pet.
Have you seen any odd creatures in the Hudson River? Comment with your sighting stories! If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
"On the River" was a public television project of WTZA-TV, Hudson Valley Television, Kingston, New York. Running from 1986/87-1993, all episodes of this series are now held in the Marist College Archives as part of their Environmental History collection. This episode is shared with permission by the Hudson River Maritime Museum.
"Logbook 36" follows Port Ewen shad fisherman Frank Parslow as he discusses Hudson River fishing, goes out on the river and actually does some shad fishing with his nephew George Mick, who comes up from South Carolina just to go shad fishing. After the come back to shore, Frank discusses how he cleans, brines, and smokes the shad. We'll be sharing many of the river-related "Logbooks" from "On the River" over the next several Saturdays, so stay tuned!
Frank Parslow was a member of the Hudson River Fisherman's Association and had a hand in the prosecution of Exxon Mobile for stealing Hudson River Water. If you want the whole story, you can visit our online exhibit, Rescuing the River.
Frank was also one of many Hudson River commercial fishermen who were interviewed over the years and his oral history is one of dozens that reside at the Hudson River Maritime Museum. You can listen to more of Frank's wonderful stories online at New York Heritage, where many interviews from HRMM's oral history collection are housed. If you'd like to see more videos from the Hudson River Maritime Museum, visit our YouTube Channel. For more "On the River" episodes, check out our YouTube playlist just for this show.
If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
Editor’s note: Twenty years ago, four friends with an abiding love of the Hudson River and its history stepped away from their families and their work to travel up the river in a homemade strip-planked canoe to experience the river on its most intimate terms. The team set off from Liberty State Park in New Jersey and completed the adventure nine days later just below Albany where one of the paddlers lived. They began with no itinerary and no pre-arranged lodging or shore support. There were no cell phones. The journey deepened their appreciation for the river and its many moods, the people who live and work beside the river and the importance of friendship in sustaining our lives. Please join us vicariously on this excellent adventure. We'll be posting every Friday for the next several weeks, so stay tuned! Follow the adventure here. Day 2: MondayThe tide began to recede at 3:00 AM and is way out at, leaving several hundred feet of mud flats between us and the river. We were hoping to start early, but it was looking unlikely that we could launch the canoe before the tide began coming in. The skies were overcast. Steve, our ad hoc spiritual leader, slept peacefully under the sky, untroubled by the logistics of launching the Bear or the difficulties of wind and tide that lay ahead. Steve had a distinguished and principled career as a judicial watchdog until his organization became politicized. He began a second career as a social justice attorney representing the disadvantaged. He met his wife in the Peace Corps and his children have followed his lifelong example of selflessness. Years earlier, Steve introduced long canoe trips to a local youth organization as a volunteer and got to know the Hudson River better than many river pilots. He was always supremely confident that the Lord would look after those traveling on the river for adventure and renewal. He was so relaxed and confident this morning that we had to wake him up. I prepared a sketch of the Manhattan skyline in my journal with drunken pilings and crooked dock supports in the foreground. At 7:00, we fixed instant coffee and apple-cinnamon oatmeal for breakfast. We broke camp and created a protective launch ramp for the Bear by arranging logs and old tires between dry ground and the water. Once afloat, we packed the Bear with our gear and finally the crew. The last member to come aboard (that would be me) would need to wade through the ooze some distance so that the stern would float free. No one wanted to dwell on what was in that ooze. The smell said it all. We covered a mile north in our first half hour before the northwest wind came up again. We paddled in the lee of several piers in order to escape the brunt of the wind. We met a crab fisherman near the Crab House Restaurant and he was incredulous that we were paddling to Albany. We passed alongside the abandoned 1905 double-ended DL&W steam ferry Binghamton, the tugboats Kerry K. and Brooklyn and we made rest stops at two Edgewater marinas. The water at the second marina stunk but we were desperate at that point and drank it holding our noses. We rallied for a final push toward the George Washington Bridge. As we approached the bridge, the wind and waves intensified, making it difficult to keep the bow from falling off course. Dan worked his heart out up in front, clawing his paddle left and right as needed while the rest of us powered forward. As we passed the tall Gothic tower of Riverside Chapel, Steve told us that his grandfather served as its pastor for some years. We passed Grant’s Tomb and as we approached the bridge, the wind and waves seemed to be funneled into a threatening maelstrom. We had no choice but to continue; turning would have resulted in broaching and capsizing at this point. We passed beneath the bridge at 10:30 against terrible waves. The wind was now 25 mph. The west shore here is reinforced by a continuous stone bulkhead with no place to land. Steve again reminded us that the Lord would provide. Immediately after affirming this, a break in the bulkhead appeared, revealing a sandy beach just long enough to contain our canoe. We dove in, grateful to get off the river with all of our gear intact. It was 11:00 AM. We found a clearing here and made the decision to stay off the river until conditions improved. We named this place “Beneficent Beach.” The wind never stopped and the skies threatened well into the afternoon. The tide rose and we had to move some logs and adjust our lines to keep the canoe safe. We met a few people who were interested in our journey and happy to tell us about the Palisades and local history. We were told that the bad weather and erratic tides were part of the circulation associated with hurricane Dennis. Joe set up a fly to protect our gear in the event of rain and it gradually dawned on all of us that we were not going to be able to go anywhere for the remainder of the day. We discreetly set up our tents in a cluster next to the fly and spent the remainder of the afternoon exploring. Steve and Dan hiked to the top of the massive cliffs. I prepared a sketch of the George Washington Bridge. We began dinner at 6:00 by using our most perishable foods first. We served an appetizer of tomatoes and cheddar cheese and a main course of macaroni and cheese mixed with hot dogs and what remained of our cream cheese. We garnished our plates with dill pickles. After cleaning up, we replenished our fresh water at a nearby park pavilion and returned to tell campfire stories about extreme adventures, spiritual mysteries and cheating death. All of our stories were sprinkled with complaints about our sore arms and rear ends. The tide was going out and the Bear was safe for the time being. The wind remained wild, but the rain didn’t materialize. At 9:30, we put extra lines on our tents and the camp fly, established an anchor watch and turned-in for the evening. The wind moderated somewhat and a few skunks visited. High tide came at 1:00 AM. Steve and I took turns keeping an eye on the canoe which was jostled around a little bit but safe. After an hour or so, she settled on the sand and we went back to sleep. The moderating wind gave us a little hope for smoother progress in the upcoming day. The trip will continue next Friday! AuthorMuddy Paddle’s love of the Hudson River goes back to childhood when he brought dead fish home, boarded foreign freighters to learn how they operated and wandered along the river shore in search of the river’s history. He has traveled the river often, aboard tugboats, sailing vessels large and small and canoes. The account of this trip was kept in a small illustrated journal kept dry within a sealed plastic bag. The illustrations accompanying this account were prepared by the author. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
Twenty-seven years ago, the remains of two Hudson River schooners were identified at a remote dock where they were abandoned in the late nineteenth or early twentieth century. Historic photographs of the schooners from 1914 and 1918 were located offering detailed information about their layout and rig. The New York State Division for Historic Preservation and Grossman and Associates Archaeology digitally recorded the more intact of the two hull bottoms producing photographs and a plan drawing. An article describing this project and summarizing the historic context of Hudson River sloops and schooners appeared in Sea History No. 77, Spring, 1996. The Hudson River was New York’s “Main Street” for at least 200 years and sloops and schooners were the principle vehicles of its commerce. Even after the Age of Steam dawned in 1807, these boats continued to evolve and improve through the introduction of centerboards, greater carrying capacity and changes in working equipment. The last generation of these boats soldiered on until the end of the nineteenth century carrying bulk freights such as iron ore, sand and bricks. Their graceful movements and white sails were often captured by the artists of the Hudson River School and nostalgia for these quiet, powerful and non-polluting boats led to the construction of the Clearwater, a modified replica of a mid-nineteenth century example, launched in 1969. Since this effort, more has been learned about the Hudson’s sloops and schooners. Intact examples with preserved decks, bowsprits, and in some cases deck cargos have been discovered well below the river’s surface through remote sensing technologies and diver surveys. Nevertheless, the schooners studied in 1993 revealed important details about the framing and configuration of these regionally significant boats not available in the sparse written record. We observed that the centerboards were placed on one or the other side of the keel so as not to weaken the backbone of these boats. To counteract the added weight on one side, we found that the mainmast of one was stepped off center on the opposite side. We also found evidence in the more intact hull of added frames and riders used ostensibly to reinforce an aging hull for continuing service. There was some evidence to suggest that the more intact hull was built as a single-masted sloop and later re-rigged with two masts as a schooner at a time when this was done to reduce crews in the face of rising labor costs. Carla Lesh, Collections Manager and Digital Archivist of the Hudson River Maritime Museum and I visited the site at low tide several days ago. Ice and debris have demolished the more lightly framed of the two schooners but the one that was carefully recorded thankfully remains much as it did in 1993. The site is located on public land and protected under state and federal statute. Should you encounter this or other historic wreck sites, please refrain from disturbing them in any way. They are important touchstones of our maritime heritage and can still answer questions about our past that cannot be answered in the written record. AuthorMark Peckham is a trustee of the Hudson River Maritime Museum and a retiree from the New York State Division for Historic Preservation. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
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