346 
FOREST AND STREAM 
AUGUST, 1917 
WEEK-ENDING UP THE HUDSON 
RELAXATION CLOSE TO NATURE HELPS TO KEEP THE NATION’S 
NERVES INTACT, DURING THE DAYS THAT TRY MEN’S SOULS 
By W. H. SPEAR 
A short spin up the Hudson by motorboat 
SHORT thirty-two miles’ spin by 
motorboat up the Hudson from the 
Big City—sequestered enough to be 
overlooked by the general run of New 
York’s resort seekers, yet near enough to 
be within reach of discerning ones—lies 
Croton Beach. And Croton Beach is a 
little bit of heaven for a widening circle 
of metropolites, who are tied down to a 
desk (and perhaps cement tennis courts) 
five days in the week, but who are wise 
enough to take to the water of a Saturday 
afternoon and rest “among the missing” 
until Monday. 
There are other ways to get there be¬ 
sides via motorboat, though that is prob¬ 
ably the most popular. There is a steam 
railway station within a mile of it, and a 
good automobile road to the beach itself. 
To the “old timers”—enthusiasts who have 
made the little strip of sand their outing 
rendezvous for several successive years— 
the paddle up by canoe is one of the big 
attractions. This takes all of Saturday 
afternoon and means arrival well after 
dark for those who put out from Manhat¬ 
tan. Yet Sunday morning always finds a 
little fleet of them beached there, snuggling 
under the cozy shelter of their up-turned 
craft. Earlier arrivals, up with the sun 
for a dip while the flapjacks are still toss¬ 
ing contentedly in the bacon grease, seldom 
find the over-night “beach fleet” grouchy, 
even when awakened thus 
unreasonably by their bois¬ 
terous splashings and their 
splutterings. For that is just 
the trick that week-ending at 
Croton Beach plays would-be 
grouches. It keeps them fit to 
live with—even before breakfast. 
To get there by automobile 
from New York City, you can 
follow the splendid highway that 
tops the bluffs along the east 
shore, up through Yonkers and 
Ossining to Harmon; from there 
a short turn-out to the beach. For 
those who can go up the ideal way—by 
motorboat—an offing near the beach af¬ 
fords eight feet of water at mean low 
tide, with a river-bottom anchorage level 
as a floor and covering a wide area. The 
beach itself forms a small pointed penin¬ 
sula, thus affording a lee anchorage 
whether the wind is up or down the river. 
The Hudson river division of the New 
York Central railroad will take you to 
Harmon, already mentioned, which is about 
a mile from the beach. Automobiles meet 
incoming trains and carry passengers to 
the camp grounds. 
T HE beach is not over half a mile in 
extent, but its site is pleasingly pic¬ 
turesque. Its broad expanse of 
brown sand, lapped on quiet days by the 
placid waters of the Hudson, during rough 
spells is lashed with foam and spray to the 
booming of heavy surf—when the wind 
blows down the river from the north, lash¬ 
ing the water into tumbling white-capped 
waves. When the water is quiet, toddlers 
just learning their way to the beach from 
the home tent are safely paddled about 
the little harbor by the “old ’uns”; and 
braver youngsters learn to master the can¬ 
vas craft for themselves. Real sport for 
the experienced canoeist, however, comes 
on days when the wind and waves are high 
—riding the breakers. 
This sport may seem a little tame if 
compared to its namesake of the coast. 
it is 
But straddle the gunwales of an empty 
canoe racing beachward during a good 
Hudson “blow.” If you don’t get a thrill 
that tingles clear from your matted hair 
down to your toes where they try to grip 
the thwart, it’H be because she veered and 
you came a cropper. 
Out in midstream there is nearly always 
enough breeze to afford a two-mast rig 
some good going, and few are the canoe¬ 
ists, even among the enthusiastic paddlers, 
who get through a whole season at Croton 
without tumbling for the sail as an ad¬ 
junct to canoe navigating—“tumbling” fig¬ 
uratively, and literally as well (overboard) 
at least once during their tutelage in the 
art of sailing the open canoe. 
Life at Croton Beach is a carefree ex¬ 
istence, and everybody makes the most of 
it. It is recreation simplified along com¬ 
mon-sense lines, void of stiffness and for¬ 
mality, notwithstanding a healthful exclu¬ 
siveness that appeals to a clean and whole¬ 
some class of campers. They are made 
up chiefly of New York City folks, who 
come and go in a constant stream of week¬ 
ending or longer vacationing. 
The arrival of a fleet of canoes is in¬ 
variably the occasion for a celebration, 
simple or elaborate, by themselves or by 
friends eager to welcome them. Two in 
a canoe is enough for the long paddle up 
the river, as enough duffle must usually be 
brought along to see the week-end out, 
except by those lucky enough to have a 
tent waiting for them under the care of 
friends who stay through. Such outfits as 
Canoe sailing, safe even for the kiddies 
