Breaking the Sound Barrier: Cos Cob coast brings adventure, restrictions

When low tide hit at 6:42 a.m. Wednesday, we hit Cos Cob harbor and ducked underneath the train tracks, trekking through a small forest, climbing a pile of rocks and watching the morning Metro-North commuters pass by as we planted our feet on the shoreline.

Despite the beauty of the view looking out onto the Sound, this section of the harbor was more of an industrial wasteland littered with broken bottles, garbage and dead sea creatures. The now-defunct Cos Cob Power Plant was just behind us as we continued walking carefully over yards of slippery, sharp rocks. It was easy to see how the power plant pushed fishermen out of the lower landing in the 1990s.

Despite obstacles in the landscape, we were able to get around the bend to the start of Mead's Point where one mansion after another could be seen lining the harbor heading out to the Sound. We saw the Greenwich crew team rowing from the Greenwich Water Club -- a place that provides some public access.

But those were the last friendly faces we would see for a while on our trip. At this moment, we hit a giant wall­ -- literally.

It was a stone wall ringing the private Waterford at Greenwich condominiums. We had two choices: climb the wall or sink into the marshland, which seemed nearly impossible to walk on.

'this is very serious'

We chose the wall, climbing up one by one, me, our photographer Keelin Daly and intern Jay Polansky. Up we went, making it onto the perfectly manicured

lawn of Waterford and quietly tiptoeing our way out to the road. There was only one problem -- a large iron gate with a security guard waiting to ask us what we thought we were doing soaked in mud, carrying cameras and traipsing through this private community. When security guard Bart Heavey found out the reason, he wasn't happy.

"This is very serious," he said sternly. "You could get arrested. I don't care who you are. If you are from the White House "¦ you can't get in."

Despite our explanations, Heavey ordered us to leave and we walked with our tails between our legs down the main road, crossing a wooden construction bridge over Interstate 95 past Bruce Park and up Indian Field Road.

It was at this point that we realized our stretch of the Sound was more than private, it was completely exclusive. And we weren't getting access without a golden key. A security guard at Mead's Point, a place that Donald Trump once called home, politely told us we didn't have a chance of getting in, and walking along the road by Indian Harbor, we also had no such luck.

It was not until we reached an Audubon nature preserve near Bruce Park that we got a peek at Indian Harbor, where anglers sometimes cast their lines. A few

black cormorants were perched on rocks, but no people, so we kept on walking, looking longingly out at the coast we were being barred from exploring.

public access

Finally, we reached one of the most precious areas in Greenwich -- the pier at the tip of Steamboat Road where we saw the coast in all its glory. This tiny concrete dock is one of the few places in town accessible to the public.

"This is my favorite area," said town resident Gregory Shaw, who was shining up his car. "I come to enjoy the scenery."

Another Greenwich resident, Nil Souza, who was walking with a friend, said: "It makes me happy. I am happy just to sit here so close."

Earlier this year, the town talked about selling the pier, but later backed off the idea.

To the left of the dock was the Whitehead Estate, which, as a retired police officer told us, is steeped in history. It once housed Boss Tweed, an old-time New York politician. Later, Commodore Elias Cornelius Benedict took it over, knocking down the Indian Harbor Hotel and building his own estate.

To the right of the pier was the Indian Harbor Yacht Club, which has been in existence since the late 1800s.

"It has a great deal of historical significance," said Brian O'Donnell, a retired Greenwich police officer who once worked in the marine division.

Both O'Donnell and Marine Officer Dennis O'Donnell, who are not related, said it was no wonder we had such trouble accessing the coastline because not only has it always been private, but there are also only mud flats surrounding the shore, making it virtually impossible to walk on.

"It's all mud flats and it's pretty dense," said Dennis O'Donnell. "The water comes right up to the properties, so unless you are about 14 feet tall you wouldn't be able to walk along there."

O'Donnell's explanation helped us understand why we had so much difficulty on our stretch of the Sound. But even more, it made us come to appreciate the little concrete dock where anyone can go at anytime to appreciate the view of the historic and majestic waterfront.

Souza put it best when she said, "Isn't that beautiful," looking out at the water. "And you don't even have to spend any money."