The "normal" kayaking season for the weeknight paddling groups ends around Halloween. After all, past that time of year it's dark out by the time one would launch, plus it starts getting cold. Which means it's perfect paddling weather!
Tonight we kicked off the unofficial Thursday night "Ice Pirates" group - those of us who keep showing up and paddling into the winter. I must admit I have been only an intermittent ice pirate these last couple of years, choosing to spend my Thursday nights in the warmth of the yoga studio rather than the cold of the Potomac. I must say, though, that tonight's paddle made winter-time paddling seem pretty enticing.
It had been a drizzly day, but the rain stopped at around 5 PM. Conditions as we set out were gorgeous. The water was like glass, perfectly reflecting the lights of the city. A slight mist hung over the river, blurring the boundary between river and sky. I've heard that pilots can lose their bearings at night and get confused as to which way is up and which is down. I kind of felt the same way as we glided along tonight through this merged version of water and sky. We shared the river only with its inhabitants - ducks, geese and herons. We saw no other boats the whole time we were out.
We did the usual upriver trip, around Roosevelt Island. With the tide up and a couple of days of rain in the river, we opted for the Boundary Channel on the way home. That this twisty, shallow little stretch of water is damn near impossible to navigate in the dark is part of its appeal.
Late that night there was a rare November thunderstorm. It was as if the weather had been held back to give us an opportunity for communing with the river, then unleashed with full fury once we were all safely home.
Tonight we kicked off the unofficial Thursday night "Ice Pirates" group - those of us who keep showing up and paddling into the winter. I must admit I have been only an intermittent ice pirate these last couple of years, choosing to spend my Thursday nights in the warmth of the yoga studio rather than the cold of the Potomac. I must say, though, that tonight's paddle made winter-time paddling seem pretty enticing.
It had been a drizzly day, but the rain stopped at around 5 PM. Conditions as we set out were gorgeous. The water was like glass, perfectly reflecting the lights of the city. A slight mist hung over the river, blurring the boundary between river and sky. I've heard that pilots can lose their bearings at night and get confused as to which way is up and which is down. I kind of felt the same way as we glided along tonight through this merged version of water and sky. We shared the river only with its inhabitants - ducks, geese and herons. We saw no other boats the whole time we were out.
We did the usual upriver trip, around Roosevelt Island. With the tide up and a couple of days of rain in the river, we opted for the Boundary Channel on the way home. That this twisty, shallow little stretch of water is damn near impossible to navigate in the dark is part of its appeal.
Late that night there was a rare November thunderstorm. It was as if the weather had been held back to give us an opportunity for communing with the river, then unleashed with full fury once we were all safely home.
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