Perils of the Hudson: A River Runs Through Us

As a I look out my living room windows in the Washington Heights area of Manhattan, all I see is a beautiful, peaceful patch of the Hudson River, framed by the green of the Palisades, the line of cliffs on the New Jersey side. It's what sold me on the apartment almost 10 years ago when I bought it (and it was affordable), and it is what I wake up to most days. I wanted a refuge from the assault on the senses that is life in New York City. Much of that life is good, but much of it is also a hassle. I wanted a bubble protecting me from the stress and unpleasantness outside.

But lately the Hudson has been afflicted by interstate highway troubles. Crashes, accidents, deaths. In a horrific incident on Saturday, a helicopter and a small private plane collided over the river off the west side of Manhattan, spinning into the waters and killing all nine people on board. I learned the news as I came home in the afternoon after running some errands downtown and immediately went up to my building's roof. As I looked south beyond the George Washington Bridge at the rest of the island of Manhattan, the vestiges of the midday air crash had already vanished.

On that roof, though, I could only be reminded of the smoke from the twin towers, felled by planes that had followed the Hudson on their route to mayhem. And I also thought of the US Airways plane that barely seven months ago landed safely on the river, against all odds. That was a happy ending, of course, but if you live by the river you end up feeling like a sitting duck. My reaction was – what if the pilot had spotted a boat full of tourists in his path and veered abruptly toward land?

As an environmental writer, I know that many of the Hudson's charms are superficial. As we speak, General Electric is dredging a long stretch of the river for PCBs. The contamination is such that fishermen would never take a bite of their catch. And we've all watched the "Law and Order" episodes occasionally reminding us of the bodies that wash up on the Hudson's banks, not from accidents but from crime.

The city -- which this year moved its July 4^th fireworks extravaganza to the Hudson from the East River to commemorate the 400^th anniversary of Henry Hudson's voyage to the Americas and his discovery of the river -- has been working hard to reclaim the waterway for its residents by limiting development, adding parks and tourist boats and recreational concessions. The latest incident may indicate that when you integrate the river more into the life of the city -- the helicopter's passengers were Italian tourists on a sightseeing tour -- you get more of the city wrapped up in the river, for good and for ill.

"Is it normal that after September 11^th you Americans still allow planes to fly so low?" a grieving relative interviewed by The New York Times asked.

The events of late have certainly changed the character of the Hudson for me. I still stop to enjoy the view whenever I spot a barge, or a sailboat, or a Circle Line boat full of tourists going by my window. But I can't help also feeling a sense of impending disaster. I now also have binoculars at the ready to examine any strange object bobbing in the water. A buoy, a body, a bomb?

I want my river calm and peaceful. Now all it does is give me the jitters.