When I came down to the boat the next morning, it was floating a few feet away from the dock. Both ropes had been untied from where I fastened them the night before. A pair of men’s shoes had been left in the bow. I wanted to examine the evidence more carefully, but a security guard was walking over, so I hopped in the boat and paddled away.

I was happy to leave the dock.

I brought the boat to another pier and waited for Nathan Carter. He had agreed to pick the boat up in his truck and move it upriver. Because the boat had been held captive for the night – I missed one tide cycle and had to cancel three of my trips. All these docks in Redhook look nice but they are inaccessable to the Tide and Current Taxi.

Carla agreed to come with me to Socrates Sculpture Park in Long Island City to help paddle the boat back to Greenpoint.

We left the bay and floated out into the East River .

Just around the bend we saw a naked man talking on his cell phone.

No one seemed to see us as we floated quietly with the tide.

We saw a man swimming against the strong tidal current near the Pier. I bet he has been swimming here at Huron Street his whole life. And we also thought he might have been naked.

Rachel Roske had proposed a trip up the Newtown Creek into Bushwick, but when I met her in Williamsburg, it seemed a little windy to go that far. Also, I was exhausted from all the rowing I had done that week.

We decided to just paddle out and explore some of the Brooklyn waterfront.

Earlier that day I had seen a friend of mine standing out in front of the trailer where he lives on the East River.

We pulled the boat in at Ra’s place to watch the sun set.

Rachel said that in painting, when you see these rays of light shooting out of the sun like that, they call it “goodlike”.

The whole evening seemed like it came from a painting.

Ben McGrath helped me take the boat out of the water after our ride.

It wasn’t easy.

We sat and talked about the changing waterfront while we waited for Joanna.

The passing-off of the life preserver.

Joanna Ruocca contacted me after hearing about her friend Joe Potts’ ill fated trip.

She said it sounded like great fun. She said that she wanted to come for a ride in The Tide in Current Taxi and that she was not afraid of the danger.

Her parents used to live on the East River,

and her grandfather was a merchant marine.

We had a great day. We made it from Williamsburg to Redhook in few hours; carried quickly along by the outgoing tide. We passed by some of the most beautiful sights in Manhattan and some of the biggest ships. If Joe Potts’ trip was the shortest and most unlucky – then Joanna’s was the longest ride, and least troubled.

Virginia and Nathan met me at the end of 3rd Street in Red Hook.

We waved goodbye to Miko McGinty.

It was a pretty and quiet night on the canal.

Miko took some pictures as we left.

Then she walked over near Sonny’s Bar to wait for us and watch the sunset. She told us later that while she watched, she was surprised to see two huge waves break close to the rocks where she was sitting. When we compared stories later that night, we thought that these might have been the same waves that almost swamped us as we paddled out into the bay.

We were just pulling around the point when the waves hit us. It was so dark that we could hear them before we saw them. We might have made it back out after the waves flattened, but we were all a little shaken.

We tied up the boat at a private dock and slipped out of the gate without being detected. This was a mistake – because when we came back a few minutes later to take the boat away, a security guard who had seen us leaving wouldn’t let us back to the boat. It would be held captive there untill the dock opened to the public the next morning. This came as a big disapointment to me, because it meant that I would miss the incoming tide and a few important rides.

A glass of rum back at Nathan and Miko’s house put us all in better spirits.

For some reason Fish and Chips sounded good to everyone.

Here is a map that Nathan Carter made of the trip.

The wind was too strong to go south with the tide,

so Mike agreed to row with me back to Manhattan Avenue.

He doesn’t love the water, and it was extremely choppy waves because of the wind.

To be honest, we were both more happy to be eating breakfast at a cafe in Greenpoint.

The weather was looking better and and I set out for a ride with Jen and Anat.

The plan was to drink some beer at the “Budweiser Peninsula” in Queens.

We rounded the corner,

and found the spot where the Budweiser employees come to relax.

The wind and rain picked up again so we pack up to leave.

Abby and Keith met me on the dock at the end of Manhattan Avenue.

It was quite dark when we set out.

We sat tight to wait for a passing barge.

We climbed aboard an abandoned ferry to have a look around,

and rowed back home in a light rain.

Getting the boat ready.

Daniel Rich is ready.

It is just starting to rain.

A friendly tugboat.

Sunrise on the Newtown Creek.

Looks like a good day to cross the East River.

Waiting for the ships to pass.

Stuyvesant cove, 7:30 a.m.

Breakfast from the gas station on 20th Street.

The currents were moving North quickly. It was the perfect time to take Melissa Brown to Manhattan to catch the 4,5 to work.

We passed the DEP boat that parks in Greenpoint. He’s headed where we just came from!

We paddled just West of Hells Gate, over rolling swells,

and found a good spot to dock in Manhattan.

The Bronk Kills is only navigable at high tide,

and only by very small boats;

perfect for the Tide and Current Taxi.

Ivan Monforte really was taking the Tide and Current Taxi home from work in the Bronx.

It was getting dark by the time we set out.

It got even darker.

A party boat passed by without noticing us.

Home safe.

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Sunday morning the boat needed some alterations and repair.

Because of yesterday’s wreck, Andrew offered to take me out in his boat, instead of our proposed trip.

Signing in at The Gowanus Dredgers Boat House.

Oil in the canal.

We made it out to bouy #9,

and came home after dark.

Here is Andrew reading from his Captains Log; a log he keeps of all the trips he takes in his canoe.

Today’s entry in the Captain’s Log:

28 Aug 2005

80Æ’ overcast

6pm

with Marie Lorenz

Marie read the tide charts. We had calm water the whole time. Very few boats in harbor so we went straight out, my first time reaching Buoy 9 (the edge of Bay Ridge Flats). Returned right at sunset. Smooth trip.

After the wreck, Duke agreed to come with me to rescue the boat and row it back to Greenpoint.

The current was moving quickly in our direction.

It was dark by the time we got home.

Joe and I met at the bank of the East River, and prepared to launch.

I don’t have any pictures of the events that follow because my camera was destroyed. I took this picture with Joe’s camera—and then I put it in a zip-lock bag. I figured there was a possibility we would get wet. But I had no idea that the boat would sink. We set out across the river. The tide was pushing us to the north like I expected but the wind was also very strong. In about a half hour we were parallel with the U.N. building—much further north than I expected to cross. I kept thinking that we should not try and cross the river. I had an urge to stay on the Brooklyn side.

We crossed just under Roosevelt Island and I started heading for a park that I could see on the Manhattan side. There was a seawall there that dropped down about 5 feet into the water. I thought it might be possible to haul ourselves out over the side and then sit there and decide what to do.

There were large boats moving in the river. In fact—where I had decided to land is close to a ferry dock where the high speed ferries and tour boats land on their way back to queens. The wake from the boats is usually quite easy to ride over in a canoe—you sort of roll over it at an angle. But the wakes were coming from perpendicular angles now as they hit the seawall and bounced back. As we came closer to the shore the waves were forming steep triangles that were impossible to ride through. The waves began to lap over into the boat.

At that point I decided that it was too dangerous to try and land in Manhattan. I told Joe that we would try and row to Roosevelt Island instead. It looked like the bank there was sloped and rocky and might be easier to pull the boat out of the water. We started back in the direction of Roosevelt. Now Joe was in the front of the boat facing foreword. He couldn’t see what was happening. The boat was filling with water. We tried to bail a little but it was no use. Now that there was a few inches of water in the bottom of the boat – it became difficult to move and more waves came in.

At some point Joe turned around to me and said “Worst case senario—we flag down a boat—right?’ I was like, “Joe—this is worst case senario. We’re in it.” There were large boats moving on either side of us. Their wakes were impossible to roll out of. Waves were coming over the side of the boat.

“Row like hell, Joe” I said. Lets just try and make it. At some point the boat was simply under water. If you would have looked at us from shore you would have seen two torsos sticking up out of the water rowing like crazy. And suddenly the boat kind of disappeared out from under us and we were swimming. It was August, so the water was warm and salty and smelled like a sewer. But the shock of suddenly swimming with all my clothes on took my breath away—I was in a state of panic. We were still inside the shipping lane and there were boats coming up the river.

We were only about 20 yards from shore, but the tide was pulling us now very quickly to the North into ‘Hellgate’. And we were exhausted from rowing. But at this point I think we were actually laughing. I was trying to get Joe to help me pull the boat to shore. It was upside down now but floating—getting dragged along with us in a tangle of lines and equipment. At some point he convinced me to let the boat go—we were not getting any closer to shore and the tide was pulling us up under the 59th Street Bridge.

We let go of the boat and my heart sank as we swam away from it. I was letting go of months of work and planning—my whole project would be sucked into Hellgate. We swam to Roosevelt Island and pulled ourselves up the embankment. We were still laughing, sorting through our gear.

We started walking north along the river—trying to decide how to get back to Greenpoint. Joe seemed elated by the whole experience. “Just think,” he kept saying, “Shipwrecked and stranded on an island—all within a mile of Times Square!” I kept looking out at the boat floating in the water. It was floating north about as fast a we were walking. I could still see it floating upside down in a tangle of gear.

At some point I ran out ahead of the boat, took off my shoes and life jacket and dove back in the East River to recover the boat. It was easier to swim without the jacket and I was able to drag the whole mess back to shore.