Tank Barges into Fort Tilden and Breezy Point. Part 2.

Been busy for a few days with all the holiday craze it was quite hard to find some time to sit down and wrap this trip.Still finishing up that thanksgiving turkey in the fridge.

Back to the trip…

Just pass the Floyd Bennet’s field entrance there’s a toll plaza. Yes, almost all bridges, major highways and tunnels in New York are toll. Like our taxes and car registration fees and road fines aren’t enough to cover a maintenance of a couple of bridges and highways. Bloated, money-hungry fiends they are. But, what you can do? Cars pay $2.78 upon entry, bicycles – nothing. A good point, indeed.



Bridge I shall be crossing called – Marine Parkway-Gil Hodges Memorial Bridge. And here’s traditional welcome poster. Peculiar fact: -first named Marine Parkway bridge, in 1974 renamed after Gil Hodgers – a baseball player, for Brooklyn Dodgers. Another proof how much new yorkers love baseball and such.

View from the bridge over a basin and Coney Island district in the vicinity.

Bridge view form the Brooklyn side.

View over the Rockaways.

Ferry station as seen from the bridge.

Beach houses on the basin side, surely nice to spend summer in one of these. Lonely fishing boat was sailing along the basin. Hope that the seas granted that bloke some fish, for the simple fact of being there on a such freezing day.

Splendid view over a “Gateway” formed by Breezy Point on the left and Coney Island on the right.

Crossed the bridge and now I’m riding on  Rockaway Point Boulevard. Quite a rough ride here, for the tarmac being all cracked and bumpy.

Absolutely like old, colonial style houses. This particular one even reminded me of some private houses that we have in the rural, village, areas overseas.

Rockaway ferry station, with some abstract memorial. Never new that there is a ferry service from Far Rockaway to Manhattan. Apparently, there is one. -“No trains, no traffic, no hassle. 1 hour to lower Manhattan”, the poster states. For $6, I might just bluntly take a ride sometime.

Bridge, as seen from the ferry station.

Some blokes were fishing off the shore. Wished them happy fishing.

Every respectful town in US has to have a church of its own. Certainly there’s one here as well.

This “roadblock with sentry gun point in the middle” is an entry to the Breezy Point – a “gated community”. In simple words – a guarded area, accessed only by people that has property on this land. Blokes that bought houses or land there, fenced off and even hired the police force of their own. Getting in by car is quite problematic, unless you have an invitation, but by bicycle or on foot isn’t quite hard.

Inside the community is all nice and clean. Unlike certain parts of  New York City.

A tiny shopping plaza right on the premises.

Beach house at it’s finest. Love the landscaping.

Stumbled across a board walk going up the hill.

Turned out to be a memorial to the victims of 9-11 attack. Apparently, several firemen and police officers that died on the site were from Far Rockaway.

Sun lit up several high rise building in Brighton Beach district. Magnificent view,  isn’t it?

Continuing my  trip I reached, what I thought the furthest point of Far Rockaway. I wished to see a southern gateway beach and the open ocean lying in front of me. Instead, I reached a surf club.

I reckon this place is packed during summer month, but now it look like a set for a Silent Hill movie. As I strolled through abandoned bungalow complexes, I found myself being spooked a bit.

Empty parking lot. Not a single man-made noise, just seagulls, and wind whooshing by.

Wasted play ground. A scent from a post-apocalyptic movie at it’s best.

Whole parking lot  was covered by bird feces, and these – a clam shells. Clams are #2 meal for local seagulls, with human waste/rubbish being a favorite on the menu. Rockaway seagulls are huge, but utterly shy, flew away every time I approached to take a picture.

Another huge disappointment  with this surf/beach club, was the absence of a beach itself. I went all over this place but only thing I could find is bungalow complexes and sand, no water whatsoever. Being tired of circling around this horror movie set I checked with the map in my iPhone. I discovered that this lousy surf club is at least several hundred feet from the coast line and there’s a fence all around. So, with this mystery unveiled I decided to screw this god forsaken place, and head out.

Story shall be concluded in Part 3. Hope you’ll enjoy reading it. C ya.

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