Urban paddling

Due to the “heat dome” hanging over the east coast, I decided early morning paddles would be the best option for spending some time outside and getting some exercise. This morning I was mobilizing to launch on the Christina River near old Swedes landing but without thinking made turns that brought me to the boat access further upstream in Newport. That’s what happens when you drive before coffee.

I hadn’t checked the tide schedule because even though this is a river that exits into the Delaware River, it is tidal. The Atlantic Ocean pushes up into the Delaware River so the Christina is not only today, but brackish. It was clear that the tide was coming in which meant I would paddle downstream against the tide and let the tide assist me on the way back upstream.

This river is bordered by Interatate 95 on one side and the Amtrak trains on the other. But this slice in between while filled with road noise is also filled with birds. Redwing blackbirds, herons, and occasionally an osprey that I was lucky to see but. not photo.

This launch also took me by the warehouse building where my ex-husband had his business. It did not continue after his dad’s death and his brothers’ hostile takeover.

This area is full of warehouses and a former DuPont paint plant, which is still a plant of some kind and probably why the river has no water clarity in addition to litter like a baby stroller which makes you wonder how that ever ended up in the river. There is also a low clearance bridge here and despite clear signage, a truck gets stuck there about 45 days.

I was famished after my paddle and had the breakfast of champions at the Newport restaurant—a grilled sticky bun and scrapple. These two items are very specific to the mos-Atlantic. The sticky bun or caramel roll is split in half and grilled and served with butter. Scrapple is a Pennsylvania Dutch “delicacy” made from all the left over parts of a pig that are not otherwise processed, corn meal, and spices. It is formed into small loaves and then the slices are fried in a skillet. The more oil the better to get a crispy exterior that protects the softness inside.

After some chores and a shower, I met up with my twin friends Maria and Anthea. We discussed how our lives had all taken unexpected twists and turns and that I had known Anthea since 1990 and Maria since 1992. But thw biggest twist was them finding out in their mid-60s as a result of a 23andMe DNA test that the father who raised them was not their biological dad. They were not Irish/Italian but Irish/Greek.

Through a sympathetic cousin they had tracked down their dad who was 91, but his daughter was preventing access except some written correspondence. Anthea was in Queens, NY last year for a film project she was doing an decided to just show up at his doorstep in Brooklyn.

Her gamble worked and she had a lovely visit, got her questions answered, and escaped before the daughter came home from work. The one question outstanding is, did their dad know, but it seems he took that one to the grave.