A kayaker leaves civilization behind with a trip on the Delaware from Trenton to Bordentown.
By: Lauren Otis
Now this is why I live by the Delaware River, I think, as I push off into the current. When the river floods, as it did recently, it is enough to make anyone question their sanity in choosing to live alongside it. The high water has receded, however, and I am again able to view my close proximity to the river as a blessing, not a curse.
It is a little before 4 p.m. on a beautiful breezy day, and I have had to do no more than carry my kayak across the street from my home in Trenton’s Island neighborhood, slide it down the riverbank, and begin a long, relaxed paddle to Bordentown, approximately eight miles away.
Actually, the planning involved in my solo kayak to Bordentown is a little more involved than at first meets the eye. Earlier in the day I loaded my bike into the trunk of my car and drove to Bordentown’s public landing at the river. Locking up my car, I then biked to the nearby Bordentown light rail stop, took the light rail line to the Trenton train station (bikes are allowed on the light rail but not kayaks), then biked home. It sounds more complicated than it actually is, and forms a kind of sideline multi-transport adventure leading up to the actual solo paddle.
Out in the middle of the river it is quite windy and choppy, and I am thankful the wind is behind me. Fighting a strong headwind in a kayak makes for anything but a relaxed paddle. Between Trenton and Bordentown three important variables the current, the tide (yes, the Delaware River is tidal up to Trenton) and the wind govern your ability to proceed. From experience, I have found that you need at least two out of three working in your favor or you will be faced with a real workout to reach your destination. On one charmed Father’s Day several years ago, my children, a friend and I actually took a lazy reverse paddle upriver from Bordentown to Trenton, thanks to a weak river flow, a strong incoming tide and a good wind behind us.
Soon I am heading under the quaint two-lane Calhoun Street bridge, thankful I’m not riding in one of the cars inching across bumper-to-bumper on their way to Morrisville, Pa. I have often sat out in the middle of the river while traffic hurtles past me on one of the roads running along either bank and reflected on what a shame it is that so many people drive their cars up, down and across the river, so impatient to get to wherever they are going and so ignorant of the lovely and tranquil natural asset right under their noses.
I weave through several of the flood-washed islands that sit between Trenton and Morrisville, and head towards the Trenton Falls, the modest rocky rapids that run under the "Trenton Makes," Route 1, and Northeast Corridor rail line bridges. Considered an easy, Class I rapids, the Trenton Falls can nevertheless be treacherous when encountered under the wrong conditions. At high tide it is placid as a lake, but at low tide, especially with a stronger than average flow, it can be a hair-raising whitewater ride.
In fact, as I approach my mind is fresh with the memory of the last time I traversed the falls, a few months previous. The tide was low, revealing rocks everywhere, and the river was surging with water from recent rains. Entering the falls I misjudged a rock just beneath the churning surface, hanging up my kayak and capsizing an adrenaline-charged experience I am not eager to repeat anytime soon (and perhaps here I should emphasize the importance of safety equipment, most critically a good PFD/life vest, as well as training and knowing one’s limits when heading out onto the water).
This time I glide through the tide-swollen falls with ease and am soon moving smoothly away from the Trenton bridges as the river widens and opens up before me. There is no more whitewater from here on, thanks to dredgings and channel widenings of yore, when the river was the main commercial and transportation artery between Philadelphia and Trenton with steamboats disembarking passengers nearby where Trenton’s Katmandu nightclub now sits.
Through timing and luck I’ve hit the "Dellie trifecta," my forward progress nicely aided by current, outgoing tide and wind. I barely have to paddle. On my right a water tower and an abandoned concrete grain elevator loom over the trees and vegetation along the bank, a part of the defunct Staley plant in Morrisville. On my left sits the stadium where the Trenton Thunder baseball team plays. It is fun to hear the roar of the crowd and catch a glimpse of the outfield from the water when a game is being played, but this time the stadium is empty.
Beyond the long concrete slab of the Trenton tunnel and Trenton’s historic Riverview Cemetery is the first of a number of boat clubs and marinas which sit on the New Jersey side of the river. Each has its own particular personality. This one, the Trenton Marine Center, caters pretty much exclusively to owners of large, sleek motor yachts. Next to it, looking like huge metal insects, are two ancient loading cranes, designated as historic landmarks by both the state and federal government.
These cranes, like many things along the river, are best viewed from the water. It is one of the nicer aspects of river travel, that you encounter the world from a totally new perspective viewing New Jersey and Pennsylvania from a watery vantage point familiar to only a lucky few.
It is about an hour into my paddle and I decide to take a detour into the creek that runs behind Biles Island, a large uninhabited island on the Pennsylvania side. Signs of humanity are everywhere along the Delaware, but quietly paddling up this narrow creek I begin to feel that I have left civilization behind. Trees tower over me on both sides as mottled sunlight comes through the canopy and dapples the lush vegetation on the banks.
A large heron takes to the air as I approach. A little further on I surprise four large turtles sunning themselves on a log in the middle of the creek. They slip into the water as I drift past. I keep going until the creek begins to choke up with water vegetation, then return to the river.
There are plenty of people fishing from boats and along the banks below Trenton today, and one or two pleasure-boaters, but nothing like the number which turns out on the river on hot summer days or when the shad are running earlier in the spring. Perhaps the steady wind from the north has kept people off the water. The breeze has actually kicked up steady swells with whitecaps, of an order I don’t recall ever seeing before. This is the pleasure and the beauty of the river. Each time you go out, even following a familiar route, something is always different, subtly reworking the natural canvas before you so no excursion ever matches any other.
The river has continued to widen, its broad curving expanse at this point always giving me a sense of solitude, even isolation.
Two fisherman motor past me downriver and we wave to each other. A pleasure-boat full of people passes close by on its way upriver. I wave and call out: "Nice day, but it’s a bit windy."
"Yeah it’s gorgeous," their skipper calls back, probably not hearing the second half of my greeting.
Here is another aspect of the river that escapes land-bound outsiders the courtesy shown by fellow river-travelers to each other; the affinity we naturally feel and express. It is a bond which grows out of understanding that we all "get it," that whatever your purpose out on the water, whatever your boat type, you know how special it is to be out here with the bowl of the sky above and the expanse of water beneath.
Around the next bend the Capital City Yacht Club comes into view. Despite its grand name, it is really nothing more than a floating dock and a large blue trailer with an anchor painted on it, all nestled next to several old stone abutments, all that is left of a long-gone railroad bridge that once ran across the river. A little further downriver sits the Ross Marina, looking a bit more active with about a dozen boats moored up, including a large impressive sailing yacht.
Just beyond these yacht clubs is one of the trip’s highlights: PSE&G’s coal-fired power generating plant. Up close, the plant is a fearsome behemoth, its two huge stacks rising out of a crazy multi-story maze of bulwarks, tubes and catwalks, all perched on the edge of the Trenton-Hamilton marsh. The steady mechanical drone punctuated by metallic concussions and distorted public address announcements all but drowns out the traffic noise from Route 295 nearby, as well as the horn of the light rail line train.
It is an awe-inspiring site, particularly at night when the whole plant gets lit up like a Christmas tree. What I really love about the power plant, however, is the massive mechanical claw the size of a modest single family home, housed in a towering structure nearby, which dips down and grabs huge mittfuls of coal from waiting barges. It is controlled by one employee from a small glass-enclosed cockpit high in the air the "food" that feeds this beast. In all my trips down the river I have always wanted to see it at work, and never have.
With a touch of sadness, I see that I’ve reached my destination. Arriving at Bordentown, I paddle under the imposing Route 295 concrete causeway that arcs over the mouth of Crosswicks Creek. Picture perfect yachts of all shapes and sizes are moored along the floating docks of the Bordentown Yacht Club and Yapawi Aquatic Club, which both nestle at the mouth of the creek. I pull up to the public landing dock at 6:30 p.m., a little less than three hours since I set out. In the evening light I fasten my kayak to the roof of my car then head out toward a favorite restaurant in town for dinner.
There are a number of launch spots on both sides of the Delaware in the Trenton area. On the Pennsylvania side, there is a public boat launch in Yardley, on Route 32 less than a mile south of I-95, and another launch in Morrisville, off South Delmorr Avenue right under the Route 1 toll bridge. On the New Jersey side in Trenton, boats can be launched from Riverside Drive in the Island neighborhood, which is located a little over one mile north of downtown Trenton just off Route 29, or from the Lamberton Street public boat landing south of Lalor Street and just beyond the Trenton Marine Center. The Bordentown municipal boat launch is located on the north side of town at the end of Park Street.
Both Trenton newspapers carry daily tide listings for the area. The Delaware
River Basin Commission also has a good link to tide tables on the Delaware. Go
to www.state.nj.us/drbc/tides.htm.
Click on the Palmyra to Trenton link, then at Trenton click on the "Predictions"
link to go to the tide table.
Unfortunately, at present there are no canoe or kayak rental agencies on the Delaware between Lambertville/New Hope, Pa., and Bordentown. You have to own a boat or borrow one from your friends.