Daphne Fitzpatrick met me at the Brooklyn Bridge Park,
and we slipped out of a small water passage between the Manhattan Bridge and the land.
We were immediately shot into the strong south-flowing current of the ebb tide.
We floated under the Brooklyn Bridge, and it was roaring with the sound and activity of a massive construction project.
“I can’t believe we are doing this!” said Daphne. “Is this crazy?”
“Yes!” I said.
Within a few minutes we were passing by the southern tip of Manhattan,
and we paddled for the channel between Governors Island and the Red Hook shipping piers.
The city began to slip into the distance.
The ship yards floated into view.
Being up close to the machinery of the docks was mesmerizing,
and Daphne wanted to row up to everything to touch it.
“Can we go inside that tunnel?” asked Daphne.
“I don’t know.” I said (which is what I say when I think it is too dangerous).
When Daphne was a kid, her grandfather had a sailboat. They used to sail up the harbor and out past Hells Gate into the Long Island Sound. Some of her fondest memories growing up were watching the city go by from the deck of the boat.
We floated into a little park in Red Hook.
The tide had carried us 3 miles in less than an hour.
We hid the boat behind the breakwater of the park,
and explored some of Red Hook’s fine drinking establishments.
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