Fanning Diane - Death on the River

A brilliant sun warmed the air on a mid-April Sunday afternoona day that shouted with joy that spring had arrived at last. The lovely weather drew many New Yorkers outdoors to revel in the departure of the cold and gloomy winter. Among them were 46-year-old Vincent Viafore and his fiance, 35-year-old Angelika Graswald.

Vincent was an attractive man with dark hair that was beginning to recede. His brown downturned eyes appeared mournful, but for the perpetual twinkle residing in their depths. His crooked, puckish grin readily expanded into a room-brightening smile. His physique made it obvious that hed remained physically active into his forties.

The high cheekbones and deep-set eyes in Angelikas heart-shaped face hinted at her Russian ethnicity. Her petite stature and perky, flirtatious demeanor added an elfin quality to her appearance.

The couple set out from their home in Poughkeepsie, New York, on the east side of the Hudson, with a pair of kayaksVinces blue one strapped to the roof of his white Jeep Cherokee and Angelikas red one stowed inside. Before leaving town, they made two stops on Main Street: one at Wendys for a bite to eat and another at the Sunoco service station where Angelika bought cigarettes.

They traversed the river to the west side on the Franklin D. Roosevelt Mid-Hudson Bridge, decorated with portraits of Franklin and Eleanor. The Ulster County side of the river greeted them with an awe-inspiring, fortress-like wall of chiseled gray stone rising on their left. They drove less than twenty miles down 9W, a busy, winding two-lane highway scattered with towns and villages, meandering through seedy stretches, stunning locales, and historic markers.

They turned left at the entrance of the Kowawese Unique Area and New Windsors Plum Point Park, more than one hundred acres of idyllic natural land with striking views of the river and mountains. A short drive took them away from the hustle and bustle and into the shade of black walnut trees, white oaks, and cottonwoods. The small paved road soon turned to dirt and opened up on to a small sandy beach, with picnic tables by the rockier section of coast, and hiking trailsa favorite spot for fishermen, peace seekers, and people launching canoes and kayaks out onto the Hudson.

The 315-mile waterway, named for explorer Henry Hudson, is the largest river wholly contained in the boundaries of New York State. The Hudson originates in Lake Tear of the Clouds on the southwest slope of Mount Marcy, the highest mountain in the Adirondacks. It flows through the Hudson Valley and into the Atlantic Ocean in New York City, where it forms the geographical boundary between New York and New Jersey.

Looking from the park, where Angelika and Vince launched their kayaks, across the river, the most prominent sight is the stony outcrop of Pollepel Island, named for a local legend about an ethereal young girl named Polly Pell who was once stranded there. More often referred to as Bannerman Island, named after its original developer, the spit of land snuggled close to the eastern bank, at a point where the river was a formidable expanse, narrowing a little farther down into a faster water chute.

With calm waters that afternoon, the vastness of the river didnt appear overwhelming to the active, athletic couple. Around 4:15, Vince and Angelika climbed into their vessels and set off across the river for their mile-and-a-quarter journey. Stupendous views of the Hudson Highlands delightfully named Storm King Mountain, Breakneck Ridge, and Bull Hill served as a backdrop and added to the ambiance of their goal: the oft-romanticized six-and-a-half-acre island. The patch of land was dominated by stunning ruins resembling a falling Scottish castle, the remains of a building erected for a far more utilitarian purposeas a storage facility.

The historical significance of this isle near West Point began during the Revolutionary War, when American forces ran a chain across the Hudson in a failed attempt to prevent the passage of British ships up the river. In the late nineteenth century, Francis Bannerman IV, a Scottish immigrant, collected weapons and ammunition from the Spanish-American War and the Civil War for resale. He stuffed it all into a storeroom in New York City but did not have the space to safely store the 30 million surplus munitions cartridges he had on hand. With that in mind, he purchased the island in 1901 and began construction of a home and an arsenal with a sign reading: Bannermans Island Arsenal installed into the west-facing side of the building. Construction ceased in 1918 when Bannerman died. On August 15, 1920, the powder house exploded with enough force to shatter windows in nearby towns and send chunks of rock onto the railroad tracks onshore. New York State bought the property in 1967, cleared out the military merchandise, and conducted tours until an incredibly ferocious fire ripped through the grounds in 1969, causing massive damage to the buildings.

The structures were abandoned and neglected until 1995, when a Brooklyn Realtor, Neal Caplan, moved his business to the town of Beacon and began the process of restoring the island. The ruins, on the one hand, remained fragile and precarious, with propped-up walls. The crumbling castle-like warehouse was cracked, pocked with holes, and surrounded by rubble. The former arsenal was overgrown with vines and other vegetation and its upper floors appeared ready to cave in with the slightest misstep.