[Journal Entry for April 3, 2010; Hackensack River]. Lee Reiser and I launch out kayaks into the Hackensack River at the foot of the Western Highway Bridge in West Nyack NY, near Pine View Road, in the mid-afternoon. The day is sunny and warm, but the river water is still frigid to the touch, so we wear our drysuits. The river is running high from the recent rain, yet not so high that our passage beneath the bridge was blocked. I used Hraun, my rugged plastic sea kayak, because I expect shallow water conditions that might be hard on a more fragile boat. The Hackensack flows straight and narrow for a quarter mile downstream of the bridge, but then meanders through a wide wetland, full of maple trees, phragmites and other marsh grasses and water hyacinth. The high water allows us to explore many small channels through the trees that might be unnavigatable at drier times.

The marsh is still in the subdued colors of winter – browns and tans. Signs of spring are seen only upon close inspection: Green shoots are starting to poke up amid hummocks of last year’s grass, and red shoots of water hyacinth are visible among last year’s beds. Vines and brambles have leafed out. Maples are blooming and willows have turned a pale green.

We explore the wetland on the west side of the river, navigating carefully between trees, sometimes with only a few inches of water beneath out keels. We see many fish jumping. The area is a live with birds: mallard ducks, Canada geese and swans are paddling in the water; swallows are darting about, catching small insects flying in the air (which fortunately aren’t bothering us); a flock of starlings chase an osprey across the lake; a great blue heron flaps pterodactyl-like low across the lake; Redwing blackbirds, hanging onto Phragmites stems, whistle. We come across two muskrat lodges. One is hidden in a bush, another stands sentinel-like in the middle of a wide expanse of open water. Though smaller than beaver lodges, they are built along the same lines, but mostly with stems of coarse grass, not branches. Lee sights a muskrat, but I miss it.

We paddle as far as the Fifth Avenue Bridge and the nearby gas pipeline trestle, which are about a mile and a half straight-line distance from our starting point. The river is closed beyond this point by a floating barrier, I suppose for watershed protection. We rest for a while near a boat ramp just north of the bridge, and then head back. We follow the eastern shore now, which has fewer trees and more water hyacinth beds than the western shore. Lee finds a floating European water chestnut seen. This bodes no good, for this invasive species is a real pest, forming impenetrable mats and having seeds reminiscent of sea urchins. I paddle through a shallow area and disturb at least five largish fish. I cannot see them through the mud but they all make big splashes as the dart away.

As we are packing up, back at our Western Highway Bridge launch point, another car drives up with a kayak. A man and his twelve year old daughter are putting in for a paddle. Lee voices concern over their lack of preparedness, but they were not deterred. And they are indeed very poorly equipped, with only light cotton clothes and with no waterproof clothing, for paddling in such cold water. I somberly remember the death of Eugene Krawczyk, the brother of one of my friends from the kayak racing community. He succumbed to hypothermia this same time of year when he fell out of his kayak in a lake in Pennsylvania. And Eugene had paddled in the World Championships and so was not without considerable skill. People underestimate the danger of even moderately cold water.

About three hours, if you include set-up and take-down time.