By Johna Till Johnson and Vladimir Brezina
Pier 40, Manhattan to Jones Inlet
32 nautical miles (37 land miles)
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(click on photos to expand them—they look a lot better when they’re BIGGER!)
By Johna Till Johnson
Photos by Vladimir Brezina
It’s late morning on a cool, rainy early June day.
Vlad and I have taken half a day off midweek for a training paddle—we need to get our mileage up for the Long Island circumnavigation we’ve got planned in a few weeks.
The currents aren’t right for too much, so we’ve decided to head down to Coney Island, land if possible for a late lunch, and return. (Boat landings are prohibited on the swimming beaches at Coney Island during the summer season, so we are not sure how the landing will work out…)
The day is oddly peaceful for midweek: Despite the usual ferry and commercial traffic, everything feels peaceful and subdued—muffled, perhaps, by the grey clouds that lower overhead and cling like cotton wadding to the buildings and bridges.
Cool, cloudy, muffled: Not what you’d normally think of as a wonderful day. Much less a heavenly one. But just south of Governor’s Island I overhear this exchange on the radio:
Captain 1: “How’s it going? We really need to get together sometime.”
Captain 2: (unintelligible crackle).
Captain 1: “Yeah, I hear ya! (chuckle). Just another day in paradise…”
Vlad and I laugh at that, and wonder. Maybe the two are planning to get together in Bermuda, or the Bahamas? Surely New York Harbor on a cool, rainy day doesn’t qualify as “paradise”.
Guess what? By the end of our trip, I’m not so sure. Yes, we get shooed off the beach at Coney Island by the lifeguards. But we paddle across schools of dancing fish, peruse the Yellow Submarine…. and are greeted upon our return just at sunset by one of the most dramatic, spectacularly colorful rain showers either of us have ever seen.
Just another day in paradise? Look at the pictures, and you decide!
The best of these photos are enlarged on a full-width photo page. Take a look –>
All photos from the paddle are here. And for the Yellow Submarine of Brooklyn, see here.
Posted in Kayaking, Nature, New York City
Tagged Clouds, Coney Island, Kayaking, New York City, New York Harbor, Photography, Rain, Sunset, Yellow Submarine
By Johna Till Johnson
There’s an old saying, variously applied to pilots, Marines, race-car drivers, and other professional risk-takers: “There are old pilots. There are bold pilots. But there are no old, bold pilots.”
I was thinking of this as I swam my daily laps today, in the company of a woman who’d taken up aquatics after two hip replacements—which she attributed to 30 years of aerobics. She pointed out that Jane Fonda (aka aerobics queen) had to get both her hip and knee replaced.
And many runners have had to give up their beloved sport due to joint damage from years of pounding. Then there are the activities that are almost exclusively the province of the under-30 folks: Gymnastics. Professional dance. Skateboarding.
The message is that the world is full of things that you can’t do wholeheartedly for your whole life: You can’t be old and bold.
That got me to thinking: Kayaking is one of the few sports where that’s flat-out not true. Sure, whitewater appeals to younger athletes. But sea kayakers are at least as likely to be middle-aged or older.
Usually we complain about this. Sea kayakers bemoan the fact that our sport appears to be dominated by the middle-aged—maybe because that reminds us that we’re no longer the young hipsters.
But you know what? I like the fact we sea kayakers can be old and bold.
How bold? Well, the races I’ve paddled in don’t have age classes–just boat classes. And the guy who regularly wins the fastest, most competitive category turned 70 a few years ago (we think). At any rate, he got a lot faster after he retired.
Yep, you got that right—this guy routinely trounces 25-year olds.
And he’s not unusual. Older kayakers routinely show the young ‘uns up with feats of endurance and athleticism. And my dad, a natural athlete, kayaked until the last year of his life—when he was 79.
Kayaking is one of those rare sports in which technique and endurance are more important than strength and explosive power—which means you can keep getting better and better as you age.
In sum: There are plenty of old, bold kayakers. I aspire to be one!
By Johna Till Johnson
“Rocks are our friends,” says Carl Ladd.
I look at him skeptically. That sounds insane to me. I’ve just met Carl, who runs Osprey Sea Kayaks in Westport, Massachusetts. From what I can tell he’s a talented paddler and a successful businessman with a wickedly dry sense of humor.
He doesn’t seem nuts.
But as I see it, rocks are not our friends—particularly when they’re combined with wind and waves. Rocks shatter kayaks and gear, and do worse to paddlers.
That’s why I’ve spent a fair amount of my paddling career learning how to avoid rocks. And it’s why I’m less than convinced by Carl’s comment.
Of course, maybe I’m the one who’s nuts—since I’m planning to spend a glorious cloudless weekend getting better acquainted with rocks, despite my opinion of them.
Posted in Kayaking
Tagged Kayak Training, Rhode Island Sea Kayaking, Rock Garden, Sea Kayaking, Surfing
By Johna Till Johnson
Photos by Vladimir Brezina
Fear is a funny thing.
On the one hand, it can be a powerful protective and energizing force. In fact, one of my favorite quotes is: “Fear is the energy to do your best.” I welcome fear when it inspires me to do more than I thought I could.
On the other hand, fear can hold you back.
By Johna Till Johnson
Photos by Vladimir Brezina
It was the posters that finally made it real.
Everyone has a 9/11 story. Mine isn’t all that exceptional. I was in Midtown Manhattan that morning, preparing for a sales trip to New Jersey. I’d been awake since about 2 AM, working on a project for work.
When the sirens first started, I didn’t think much of it. At least at first. But they kept going… and going… and going. Finally I looked out of the window and saw the column of smoke rising into the clear pale-blue air—and realized something serious was going on.
Then I turned on the TV and saw what everyone else did: the smoke, the helicopters, the collapse of the towers one by one.
Posted in Architecture, Art, Culture, Life, New York City, Society
Tagged 9/11, 9/11 Memorial, American History, Manhattan, Memoir, New York City, Photography, World Trade Center
By Johna Till Johnson
I’ve got great genes. No, make that fantastic genes.
Multiple grandparents and their siblings have lived well into their 90s (and a few into their 100s). And they continued having interesting adventures throughout their lives.
True to that tradition, my (then) 83-year-old mother, Mary Louise Till, and I went on a trip to the Arctic last summer. Thanks to good timing and the skill of our ship’s captain, we were able to crunch through the Arctic ice to north of 86 degrees latitude. (No, I’m not exaggerating—we were roughly 500 miles from the North Pole. And yes, I really will write up this adventure!)
More recently, my mother had an adventure closer to home: Performing this past Monday for approximately 10,000 people in Corpus Christi, Texas, for the Diocese Centennial Mass.
Here’s a short news video about the performance—it’s pretty exciting! (There’s about 5 seconds of advertising preceding it.)
My mother is a second alto in the Corpus Christi Cathedral Choir, a surprisingly excellent adult choir directed by Lee Gwozdz, Corpus Christi Cathedral’s world-class choir director. (It’s a musical family: Lee’s brother, Eugene Gwozdz, has directed the musical “Annie” on Broadway and appears currently on Broadway as musical director/accompanist for “At This Performance”.)
Here’s an earlier video of the choir performing. My mother appears in the upper right at 0:29, wearing glasses and bobbing her head enthusiastically. You can see her through 0:50.
The Diocese Centennial Mass was a celebration of Corpus Christi’s 100th year as a Catholic Diocese. Held in the Corpus Christi Cathedral, the mass featured 40 bishops, 3 archbishops, 300 priests, and a keynote by New York Cardinal Timothy Dolan. (My mother says Cardinal Dolan’s speech was rather pedestrian. Compared to the musical accompaniment, I’m sure it was!)
Not too many of us ever perform for a cast of thousands—much less in our 80s. Congratulations, mums!