Banged up in Boston

It was time for the annual Boston Harbor paddle. PB and I always get an interesting crew for the paddle and it is always a nice time. I expected today to be no different. The weather was predicted to be nice. The tides were ideal: the gut would be a non-issue, the current would carry us out to the islands in the morning and push back to the launch in the afternoon.

PB’s plan was to be at my house at 7:30, load boats, and be on the road before 8am. That gave us plenty of time to get to the launch by a little after 9am and prepare for a 10am launch.

At 7:40 I woke up and sort of panicked. PB was in the driveway getting ready to call and wake me up…. I had relied on Bug being my alarm clock since she never sleeps past 7. Oops.

We managed to stay on schedule. We were at the put in just after 9am and mostly ready to go by 10am. More impressive was that we did it without rushing or forgetting anything.

Our launch was a little delayed by the friendliness of the local rowing and lifeboat historical society. Several members came over to check out our kayaks and give us updates on the conditions in the outer islands. We were not in any rush and they told us about a really cool art exhibit at the fort on Georges Island.

When we got to Boston Harbor Light, the keeper, in full period garb, came down to inform us that the island was full. We were welcome to come back for a tour between ferry groups. She must have known that a RIC/KA group with only one Tim was trouble.

Before moving on to explore the more interesting parts of the Brewster Islands and the Shag Rocks, we donned our brain boxes. The water was just on the fun side of bumpy and we all wanted to play. The Aries was itching for some fun.

We made our way around to the backside of Little Brewster and out to Shag Rocks. Then over to Great Brewster for lunch. It was fun paddling. The bounce was just enough to make things exciting. We played in and around the rocks a lot. It made me appreciate the Aries even more. It is built for play.

After lunch we headed around the backside of Great Brewster. With the added exposure, the conditions were just a little more bouncy. We were having a good time looking for play spots.

About halfway around Great Brewster, there was an interesting little inlet with a big rock formation in the middle. Two paddlers went in for a look. TG and I planned on skipping it since it didn’t look that interesting. I, however, drifted near the center rock formation keeping an eye on the paddlers in the cove. The waves were small and manageable, so I was not concerned….

Then a bigger than average set of swells drove me sideways into the rocks. I was pinned with my side on the rock ledge and the hull against the portion of the rock sticking out of the water. Rolling was not an option since I was basically on dry land, with the occasional wave slapping the hull back into the rock.

I decided the only plan of action was to get out of the kayak, push it into the clear water, jump after it, and let the others do an open water rescue. It all went according to plan. TG was right there to scoop me up on the bow of his kayak while the Aries was retrieved. They popped me back into he cockpit with ease and made sure I was all set before releasing me to my own care.

Everyone kept asking if I was OK. I was fine aside from a few scrapes. Once out of the kayak I was on a nice stable ledge and once I jumped into the water I was clear of any rocks. I was far more worried about the Aries. A quick look showed only minor scrapes and there didn’t appear to be any leaks.

We continued our trip out around Cliff Island and crossed over to Georges Island by way of Lovels Island. I’d like to say that my brush with doom made me play it safer. The chances for play were just too good to ignore. Besides, the chances of me wrecking twice in one paddle were low.

On Georges I got the chance to inspect my injuries and the Aries. The minor scrapes were bigger than initially thought. There was nothing that required stitches, but there was a lot of scrapage. My left calf was hamburgery. It gave Dr. Paul another chance to break out the industrial first aid kit. He applied some sexy purple self-adhesive tape to my leg to keep it clean. Reportedly, I was only a slightly less fidgety patient than Bug getting her splinter pulled.

The Aries had a decent crack on the deck. It didn’t puncture the glass, but it did do some damage. It was going to need to visit Dr. Carl.

The art exhibit turned out to be a bit of a bust. There was one big display by the beach and a few things that may have been displays. The one big display was inside the fort. It was made up of some pulleys and other stuff. I think it was supposed to be a wind powered instrument of some sort. The group, made up mostly of scientist and engineers, spent a lot of time trying to figure out how it worked and reverse engineering it. It was less of an art installation than an engineering problem. In either view, it was a bust. It didn’t work.

The paddle back to the beach was uneventfully pleasant. It was a great way to come down from an exciting paddle.

Letting the Wind Pass

Now that the high season for power boating has passed, it is a great time to kayak in Boston Harbor. The weather and water is still warm and the number of boats clogging the channels is manageable.
I was going to lead a RICKA paddle to the outer islands yesterday. I was excited to share one of my local resources with my RI friends. Sadly, the wind forecast was extreme. 15 to 20 in the outer harbor is a little rough, but 30 knt gusts are crazy. So, I decided to cancel the paddle.
Fortunately, the winds were forecasted to die over night. 5 knt winds are perfect for a late fall paddle. So, I decided to reschedule the paddle for today.
The morning was bright, but chilly. The day was looking like a great day to paddle.
The only anxiety was about who would show up for the paddle. I knew most of the regular crew would not show up. They all had other commitments. The absolute worst that could happen was the H and I would have to enjoy the water by ourselves. You know life is good when the absolute worst outcome is spending the day paddling with your favorite person.
On the way to Hull we spotted at least two familiar kayaks. Once at the put-in we discovered six more paddlers. There were two familiar faces, two faces I hadn't seen in a long time, and four new faces. The group seemed to gel before we even got on the water.
The plan for the day was to paddle out to Little Brewster and check out the light house. Then we'd island hop over to Green Island for lunch. After lunch, we'd island hop over to Georges Island to check out Ft. Warren. Then we'd return to Hull.
This was a great plan based on us launching at mid-tide on an out going tide. Sadly, I'd gotten the tides backwards. We'd have the currents against us all day.
To make the crossing to the light house we paddled out to Allerton Point. From there we crossed the channel on a steep ferry angle. The incoming tide pushed us down the channel as we aimed our kayaks out of the harbor. We managed to pick the perfect angle and ended up along Little Brewster. We landed to take a tour of the light house, but it is being repaired. We were allowed to walk the grounds. It was a quick tour because the tide was raising fast. We didn't have much time before our kayaks were heading to Green Island without us.
We got to Green about 40 minutes before high tide. We paddled the island looking for the beach to land and have lunch. I knew it was there because I had lunched there this past winter... We must have landed there closer to low tide in Febuary because the beach was a tiny patch of rocks.
The best we could find for lunch was a disappearing pile of rocks between Green and Little Calf. We had an authentic sea kayaking lunch hunkered down watching the tide wash over our beach.
After lunch, we paddled over to Georges Island. Crossing the channel was exciting. There was a surprising amount of boat traffic.
At Georges Island, we took an extended break. Some people explored the fort, some people napped, and some just hung out on the beach.
From Georges Island, we made our way back to Hull. We had a long channel crossing and the Hull Gut to contend with before we were home. The current was against us and running at full strength.
For the crossing, the current was no big deal. However, the Gut was a challenge. The current was stacking up with a row of standing waves. These were confused by the boat traffic plying the Gut. Sticking close to shore would keep us out of the worst of the current. Sadly, none of us stayed close to shore. H nearly went over. I got spun around once. It was a lot of fun.
Despite the less than ideal planning, we had a nice time. The weather was perfect and the group was excellent. It goes to show that waiting a day for the wind to blow over is a good idea.

Not Quite Ready for the Graves

Early last week JS posted his interest in paddling in Boston Harbor and looking for interested parties. My first inclination was to jump at the opportunity, but then the whisper of reason murmured: you are a fat, out of shape, and not sleeping well. Its been six weeks since I'd been in a kayak. It's been nearly as long since I've used the cycle trainer. I've been playing some Wii Sports and Wii Ski Jump, but that is of dubious fitness value.
H and I also ran into a roadblock in our efforts at building a family and that triggered some non-ideal stress responses. My diet exploded. My sleeping withered.
JS has been paddling all winter and the outer islands in March is no place to be pushing the fitness envelope. So, I decided to stay dark and see how things shaped up. I figured if the weather was perfect and the group right, I'd go. If not, I'd wait for a less strenuous outing.
On Friday morning the forecast looked perfect: 50s, sunny, minimal wind, small seas. The group, however, was still just JS. Around 10am, PB e-mailed me saying he was going and wondering if I was also going. Things looked perfect. With some reservation, I said sure. H, sharing my concerns, told me to be the voice of reason...
I slept well Friday night. In Waltham the Saturday morning weather was as advertised: sunny, clear, and starting to warm. The traffic to Hull was light. I didn't get too lost driving out to Windmill Point.
Driving into Hull along Nantasket Beach I noticed that the surf was rocking. At the point, there was some wind and not enough heat. Still, things looked pretty good for a nice leisurely paddle.
JS' plan was to paddle out the Graves. On a warm day in the summer, padding out to the Graves is an ambitious plan. it is a five or six mile paddle into deep, unprotected, open water. Still, the forecast was perfect and the group was made up of skilled paddlers. So much for being the voice of reason or an easy paddle....
We started off like gangbusters. There was only moderate swell and the headwind was just enough to cool things off a bit. I began to feel the effort just a little, but it felt good. The muscles were warming up and starting to feel energized. The roll of the kayak balanced my spirit. I started feeling confident that getting to the Graves and back would be reasonable.
We made it about half way out before things started getting unreasonable. The seas went from one foot to four feet. BH asked if the light was getting farther away.
JS checked with us to see if the plan was still OK. The alternative was to divert to Green island. Everyone agreed that we should continue to the Graves. I mentioned my concerns about paddling back from the Graves in big following seas and being pooped, but also agreed that we should continue to the Graves. I was feeling good and believed that I could make it back without issue.
After another half mile of big swells and increasing wind, the whisper of reason found its voice. I was no longer sure about the wisdom of the plan. There is no place to rest at the Graves and no safe harbor in case of emergency.
Since it was an all or nothing plan, the group turned towards Green Island for lunch. Turning in four foot swells and paddling breach to the swells was interesting.
We enjoyed a long lunch on Green Island before deciding to head over and check out Shag Rocks. Lunch was so long I forgot my gloves on the beach. BH was kind enough to toss them out to me so I didn't have to land again. While putting on my gloves the little beach swell pushed the Q-Boat up against a little boulder. It made a crunch, but I shrugged it off. It takes more than a nudge into a small rock to do any serious damage to a sea kayak. It was nothing more that a gel coat ding.
We paddled out along Middle Brewster Island. The channel between Green Island and the Brewsters had calmed down a little. The swells had diminished to reasonable levels. There were some waves to be caught, but you had to look for them.
We rounded Middle Brewster and returned to the big swells. It was big enough to keep us interested, but hardly enough to make us worry.
The action around Shag Rock looked pretty, but no one was tempted to explore too closely. The cold waves pounded the rocks. Maybe in the summer....
Once around the rocks we headed home past Little Brewster Island and Boston Harbor Light. The wind was at out backs and the current was with in our favor. We made good time, but I was feeling tired. I was looking forward to stopping and stretching my legs.
Back at the put in we carried the kayaks up the beach to the rocks and enjoyed being done. PB and BH took the opportunity to lay back for a little bit. I popped the day hatch open to get my keys and discovered the lunch bag floating in several inches of water.... I grabbed the bag holding my wallet, keys, and phone from the bottom of the hatch. I didn't notice the stream of water that leaked out as I pulled it from the water. When I opened it to get my keys, I panicked a little. Everything was wet even my keys... Fortunately the lock fob was not shorted out and the doors unlocked with a reassuring beep. Once the car was open I turned my attention to the phone. So far I'd suffered from a double failure. The phone is in its own Otterbox waterproof casing inside the dry bag, and it had held. The phone was fine.
At first I thought the day hatch leaked because I hadn't sealed it properly. Once the Q-Boat was on top of the Egg, I spotted the real leak. There was a chunk of gel coat missing along the chine. I popped the day hatch open so BH (I'm too short) could inspect the inside to see if the glass was damaged. From the inside it looked fine, so it was back to the unsealed hatch idea. When I put the hatch back, however, we could see air bubbles pushing out past the gel coat crack... The gel coat was covering a section of the hull where the fiberglass is very thin and not entirely water proof.
Despite the minor damage to the Q-Boat and the hassle of drying out my wallet, I was glad to get on the water. It was tiring and little strenuous than was prudent for a paddle, but it felt great. My sense of balance was strengthened. My spirit energized. Hopefully, the weeks to come will offer many more days on the water.

Hingham High

Hingham is a great place to paddle. The public beach has a ton of parking. At mid to high tide the beach offers an easy launch and landing. The harbor provides easy access to a number of the Harbor Islands that are inside of Nantasket arm. The harbor also offers enough shelter and access to sheltered areas that even sub-prime conditions are manageable.
The only drawback to paddling out of Hingham is that I paddle with a Rhode Island paddling club. There is a kernel of truth behind the joke that people from Rhode Island think a trip to Providence requires packing an overnight bag. I knew that TM and PB were both unable to make the paddle. A few others had mentioned that they might show. H had a ton of work to do and wasn't going to paddle....
The weather was so perfect that as I pulled out of the drive way, I considered paddling alone if nobody showed. I had my drysuit, so taking a swim wouldn't be too bad. I also knew there were plenty of "easy" paddles in the area. If I had to go solo, I would stick to the Weir River or possibly paddle over to Grape Island. I was pretty sure, however, that someone would show. It was a beautiful day.
All the while a little voice in the back of my head was saying: This is how people die... Easy, solo paddles... The media will love another reckless kayaker story... Can you really resist the "easy paddle" out to Peddocks...
I showed up early and saw that a BSKC paddle was also leaving out of Hingham. I asked if I could join them if my group didn't show. They said it would be fine. They were doing a "novice" paddle out to Grape Island. They planned on grilling on the island.
In the mean time, MK pulled into the parking lot. I figured if it was just the two of us, we could still hook up with the BSKC trip. Two is not an ideal number for a level 3 trip.
As I began to resign myself to a short paddle, I spotted CC's CRV with two kayaks. It was followed closely by PH's car. Five makes a great number for a solid level 3 trip!!
The group consisted of MK, CC, BH, PH, and myself. (The H's are not related.) With a solid level 3 group, I was pretty sure we would have an exciting time. The plan, if you wanted to call it that, was to paddle out towards Grape Island, turn north and cross to Peddocks Island for lunch. After lunch, the plan was to cross to Bumpkin Island and from there to World's End. Then the plan was to follow the shore line around and back to the beach before low tide. It seemed doable since we were launching just after high tide.
Naturally, MK and I took longer to get our acts together than anticipated. We actually launched about an hour after high tide. I figured we still had plenty of time. The group was made up of fast paddlers in fast kayaks.
PH was paddling his shiny new Cetus which is supposed to be a fast cruiser with superb handling. In yellow and black, it is a pretty kayak. I also liked the front day hatch that provides a nice place to stow small items for easy retrieval.
The weather was warm and we all had trouble figuring out what to wear and be safe and comfortable. MK, CC, and PH opted for a combination of a wetsuit and a paddle top. BH and I opted for shorts and a dry top. A quick trip in the water before launching almost had me in my drysuit. The water was still extremely cold. I rued the day I discarded my wet suit... I also decided that there was no way I was coming out of my kayak on this paddle. I'd rat swim to shore if required.
The paddle over to Grape Island was a nice warm-up. There was enough breeze to make wearing a dry top reasonable. BH and I talked about his trip to Sante Fe the previous weekend. I love hearing about places that I have not been. It sounded interesting. However, without access to the ocean, it is lacking.
We also discussed his mild tendonitis in the elbow. Tendonitis scares me. It sneaks up on you, forces you to stop paddling until it feels better, and then never really goes away. BH was trying to see if using a bent-shaft paddle made paddling less stressful on his elbow. He was also trying to shorten the front part of his stroke. Both seemed to be having a positive effect for him.
The group decided not to stop at Grape and we headed straight for Peddocks Island. It is not a long crossing. However, the crossing is bisected by a major channel. It looked like the gas prices were keeping the traffic to a minimum. I've seen the channel look like 128 at rush hour. Today, it was busy but manageable.
We grouped up near one of the green cans. When the coast was clear we bolted across to the nearest red can. There was just enough wind to make the crossing bumpy.
Lunch at Peddocks Island was interesting. We found a picnic table on the very edge of the dock. PH and CC, who sat on the far end, were a slight tip from swimming. Fortunately, the rest of us provided a large enough counter balance. After eating, PH spotted lightning off in the distance as clouds threatened. We also watched the current in Hull Gut build.
The Gut did not look too threatening today. It is deceiving though. The current is powerful. When mixed with boat traffic the waves become unpredictable. The eddy along the beach could offer some relief, but the fishing lines and beach making that path tricky.
Since the threatening clouds and the lightening disappeared as quickly as the appeared, we decided to continue with the plan.
The crossing from Peddocks Island to Bumpkin Island was fun. The wind had picked up a trifle and was kicking up some small waves. I just enjoyed the experience and did my best to keep an eye on the rest of the group. BH and PH continually searched for wavelets to ride. It seemed like a lot of work....
After a quick exploration break at Bumpkin Island, we headed to World's End. Then we turned towards the put-in. The wind was beginning to pick up and low tide was rapidly approaching. Instead of hugging the shore we took a slightly more direct route to save time.
Ultimately, it did not make much difference. We had to pick our way through the mud flats to get close to the Hingham boat ramp. The mud flats stretched several feet from all access points to dry land.
Instead of landing, CC, PH, and I decided to do some rolls. Anything was better than slogging through the mud....
A few rolls did little to help the tide rise faster... I got the worst of the mud. I sank in to my knees. Everyone else sank to there ankles at the least. The kayak's hull got covered in the muck.... The egg's roof will take days to clean off.
Despite the mud, it was an excellent paddle. I got my weekly fix of paddling and socializing.

Starting the Year Off Paddling

At work the new year started off with a bang of the wrong kind. It was a short work week that ended up feeling like two. So when PB e-mailed to see if I was interested in paddling today I jumped at the chance. I needed to do something to rebalance the scales and the forecast looked like a winner.
JS had suggested Hull as a possibility and PB and I were keen on taking him up on the idea. Hull is local to Waltham compared to most spots on Narragansett Bay. It is also a spot we don't often paddle. There is too much boat, and beach, traffic during the summer. The Gut also dictates the days it is appropriate to paddle out of Hull.
PB e-mailed JS to see if he was still up for the trip, but JS said he was feeling under the weather. However, he also said he could make himself feel better if we were definitely going. A few e-mails and phone calls later, PB and I decided we were definitely going to go. We hoped that JS, and a few other stalwart RI paddlers, would make the commute to the northern wilderness. There was always the chance that an MA based paddler would see the message board post and show. However, we decided that even if it was only the two of us we'd paddle.
While the standard wisdom is "on the sea always three," we figured that there were conservative routes inside of Hull's protection that would be reasonable. We could circumnavigate Peddocks or explore the Weir River. If other paddlers showed up, we could change routes and explore the outer harbor.
After getting a little lost on the way through Hull (I always get lost getting to the Hull put-in), I found PB and JS getting ready. We had the magic number.
The weather was sunny and calm, but still cold. High tide had just passed so we'd have the current with us. PB wanted to possibly paddle around Lovells, but JS pointed out that it was pretty boring. So, we turned our bows towards Green Island. The rough plan was to lunch on Green. Then we would make our way back to Hull meandering through the Brewsters.
The current pushed us towards Green at a fast clip. JS estimated that we were moving at 5 miles an hour and were not paddling hard. We arrived at Green much earlier and less tired than expected.
Graves Light was looming in the distance and calling in us. Fortunately, JS and PB had their sensible hats firmly attached. We decided not to the extra distance. There is no place to land on Graves and the winter is no time to take silly chances.

Instead, we spent some time wondering if there were any seals in Boston Harbor and then turned towards Outer Brewster to find a lunch spot. Outer Brewster offered plenty of cliffs, frozen rocks, and spots to play. JS and PB found a nice run through some rocks along Outer Brewster and decided to enjoy their new kayaks. PB made the run but scuffed up his bow. JS took a different line through the slot but also managed to scuff his kayak. After watching the other two and the slot, I picked a perfect line and slipped through without a scratch. (It is good being last!!) My scratch free status didn't last long. We found a few other places to play in the rocks and I found a rock that was happy to scuff the Q-boat. I misread how fast the water evacuated an area and rubbed the rocks.
After we played in the rocks and determined that we were not going to lunch on Outer Brewster, we started to move onto Middle Brewster. Before we got very far, we encountered a pod of about six seals. We hadn't seen any seals all morning and thought that Boston Harbor may not have a seal population. These seals seemed curious but kept their distance.
Middle Brewster was also inhospitable for lunch. So, we paddled over to Boston Harbor Light. The landing there is not great, but it is serviceable. I was hoping that their would be a light keeper home so that we could get a tour of the light!! Or just a sheltered spot to eat. Instead, we found a no trespassing sign.
PB found a nice sunny rock ledge, with a back rest, along the beach. We ate a leisurely lunch and had interesting conversation. It was very relaxing, but the sun had slipped behind the hazy clouds and a slight breeze started. We needed to get moving before we got chilled.
The paddle back to Windmill Point was slower than the paddle to the outer islands. The current was against us and the slight breeze chilled us. To pass the time we talked about teaching people how to roll. JS, who is a certified instructor, said to share your own experiences with learning to roll - but not scare the students too much. I was not a roller who picked it up the first, or the 20th, class. We also talked about different ways to approach the technique. JS is a Euro blade paddler and felt that the standard start with hip flicks and move to a C-to-C progression worked best. I had taken a Greenland rolling class where they started with learning how body position effected the balance of the boat and the hip flick was never mentioned. I found the Greenland course to be more helpful than any of the more commonly taught classes. Different strokes for different folks.
Back at the put-in, I felt compelled to do one roll. It is a silly compulsion and today reminded me of just how silly a compulsion it is. I did the roll; it was hardly smooth; I rushed the whole thing. When I popped up my head felt like it was in a vice grip. I wasn't disoriented and could think clearly, but I was in pain. I was very happy to have to excellent paddlers nearby for support and the beach a few feet away.
Once off the water, my headache subsided. We all changed into warm clothes before dealing with the kayaks. The kayaks were quickly car topped. Once our gear was stowed and the kayaks secured, we headed to a nice bakery for coffee and pastry.
With a kickoff like this one, 2008 promises to be a very good year.

What's a Little Wind?

All week questions loomed. Will I join the campers? Will I call the paddle due to bad weather? How bad will the weather be? Is a small craft advisory really that big a deal if we stay inside of Hull? How many people are going to be crazy enough to drive from RI to paddle in less than ideal conditions? Can I trust the weather forecasters?
On Friday afternoon two things were clear. H and I were not camping and we were paddling on Saturday. So, we went out partying with non-kayaking friends for the evening.
At 9am, we showed up at Hingham Town Beach to find Tim M., traumatized from the long drive through the hinterlands of the South Shore, waiting and ready to paddle. In short order, others, from far and wide, showed up for our little extreme weather paddle. Eli drove up from Western MA. Ed drove up from RI. Pablo drove in from Quincy, MA. There was even a kayaker from Cape Cod.
The weather radio was not being very reassuring about our chances of having a pleasant paddle. A small craft advisory was in place. The Boston Harbor Buoy was reporting swells of 7 feet. The winds, already at 20knts, were forecasted to increase throughout the day. The icing on the cake was predicted rain.
To make matters worse I had forgotten my preferred kayak paddle. The mighty stick was sitting in my basement. Fortunately, my back-up paddle hangs out with H's paddles and had gotten packed. Heavy winds are one of the best times to have the mighty stick, but I was going to have to make due with a big, sail-like Euro paddle... and have to remember how to paddle feathered.
Figuring that even a bad day on the water was better than a bad day sitting around the house and that kayaks were not small crafts, we decided to head out. I am not totally crazy, so I planned a trip that kept us well inside of the Hull peninsula and provided some shelter from the winds. The plan was to paddle out to Bumpkin Island, where the campers would have breakfast waiting. From Bumpkin, we would head up the Weir River which runs between World's End and Hull's dump. After exploring the river, the campers would head back to their cars in Hull and the Hingham crowd would paddle back from whence we came.
The paddle out to Bumpkin was downright uneventful. The wind was strong but nothing like what was predicted. The water was calm. There were hardly any boats out. I was grateful for the easy conditions. Adjusting to the Kinetic Touring blade was not too difficult. It was weird though. More than a few times I could feel the wind grabbing at the upper blade and trying to wrestle it from me.
We arrived at Bumpkin ready to chow and found the campers languidly packing. Apparently there had been a tragic egg mix up, so they offered up brownies, banana bread, cookies, and nuts. Marianne's brownies were delectable. They were perfectly under cooked to retain their moisture. Mmmmmmmm.
From the beach, which offered plenty of shelter from the wind, we could watch the few other brave souls who had ventured into the gale. A wind surfer was rocketing along. A catamaran slid by riding a single hull at high speed.
Once the campers finished packing up, we all pushed off toward the Weir River which is a short paddle from Bumpkin Island. The Chinese wind god Yu Ch'iang must have been watching us, because as soon as our little band set off the wind whipped into a gale. The short paddle into the river, and up the river, was a struggle.
We found a pleasant cove just before the bridge, over the river Weir, where we were out of the wind. The river ends just beyond the bridge and we were all tired of fighting the wind, so we called a lunch break. As usual, H and I split Tim's extra P&J. There were also plenty of leftover brownies and cookies to finish off.
After lunch, we paddled out of the river and the groups went our separate ways. The paddle back to Hingham was blissfully calm. The wind was at our backs and Worlds End provided some cover. The only issue was the darkening clouds threatening to rain on our parade.
Once back at the beach, and still safe from the rain, Tim, Eli, and myself did the mandatory roll fest. I discovered that I can roll even with a crazy Euro paddle, but it is not a pretty site. Tim, still struggling with the devil boat, also managed to do a few rolls and wisely didn't push it.
Once off the water, we tried to arrange a post paddle meet up with the campers, but after several phone calls we called it quits. We were not hungry enough to eat a meal, and the campers were looking to chow down. So, H, Tim, Eli, and I retired to a nice little coffee shop in Hingham called Brewed Awakenings.
A bad day on the water, particularly one that turns out pretty good, is always better than a day sitting around the house.

Gilligan's Outer Islands

Here's a trip report from Paul Bender:

"It was all Carole's idea" is the way I would describe it. With the end of summer approaching she was looking for a little adventure beyond the confines of Narragansett Bay. Her suggestion was Cape Anne but I (Paul B.) countered with Boston Harbor Outer Islands because of the option of staying inside Hull if the weather turned out worse then we expected when we arrived. The day we chose had perfect tides for leaving the Hull Gut and then for carrying us back later in the day. So with little more than that and a bunch of maps for a plan, Mary Ann B. and I arrived at the Hull boat ramp. As we waited for Carole C. and Becka S. to arrive the conversation had already turned to "Gilligan's Island" and the misadventures we might have as the day went on. MA's part was obvious. If you know the hat I wear it was clear that I would be Gilligan. C was assigned to Ginger and B was to be Mrs. Howell. And so after 2 or 3 cell phone calls from the RI contingent as to where the end of Hull was it was clear who would be assigned the maps and that the theme was appropriate. None of us had ever done this paddle before.
We launched our boats into a beautiful day with very light wind and comfortable temperatures. The pass through the gut was uneventful and we passed Boston light on the outgoing tide way too soon to be getting out of our boats. So Becka pointed to Shag rocks and announced that that was where we were headed (Becka was now known as "Lovey" and was playing the part with a fine British accent which somehow seemed appropriate.)
As we arrived at the rocks we were treated to clear views down 6-8 feet into undulating kelp and a bevy of passing stripped bass. Lovey and I started rock gardening passing back and forth through the rocks, followed by the others. I found a 30 ft passage that was barely the width of a kayak and again the three of us went through. C cautiously watched, presumably just waiting to scrape us up from the rocks. As I made my second, scratch free path through the skinny tunnel I could hear MA beginning to hoot it up. As I rounded the corner I was treated to the sight of B in her kayak levitating about 6 inches above the water with rocks supporting both ends of her kayak. She held position long enough that she was ready to get out of her kayak as MA and I went in to help. Finally another set of waves freed her bow and slid her safely into the sea right side up.
C’s response was to put on her tow belt.
From here we headed to Outer Brewster Island. I announced that I though that the other side would be a better place to have lunch. My decree was challenged and after explaining that I always take a window seat when flying out of Logan I had to admit that I had no idea. But we went around to the other side just the same. We landed at dead low tide on seaweed coated rocks. A short climb to dry rocks placed us with a great view of Graves Light House and the entertaining antics of the resident sea gulls. After a lunch punctuated with cookies provided by C, we mutually decided that we were headed to Graves.
As we approached Graves we were reminded about how powerful the ocean really is. The seas that I would describe as less than a foot in open water were unleashing amazing power on the rocks, the first thing they had found in 100’s of miles. We did some more rock gardening. The passages were alternately named the PB "Tunnel of love" or PB "Love Canal". Although the Graves looked fairly close from OBI the view back indicated just how far out we were.
Next stop was Green Island. We explored a decaying barge from our boats and then MA and B headed through another Love Canal. As I entered the passage all the water drained out from under my boat. This wasn't too bad but I knew all the water was soon to return. As expected (and feared) I managed to surf my boat into the rock wall as the surge returned. Once inside, inspection showed a chunk of gel coat removed from my bow and the fact that we were in a lagoon and had to pass back out the same route of demise. With favorable timing we all exited safely.
Now it was C's turn to decree "We're going to explore this Island". We landed our boats on a small gravel beach and I took the opportunity to pop off my shoes to let my feet dry a bit. (A fateful decision.) As we walked the rocks it was clear that we really wanted to be on the main part of the island that was a short wade across a shallow channel. Somewhat because we hadn't pulled the boats up too far, somewhat because I didn't want to get wet, and somewhat because I didn't want to wade in bare feet, I let the three ladies go across and I stayed back. I climbed the rocks a bit and they "shopped" the island for beach glass and shells. After an indeterminate amount of time I turned around to see two of our boats floating away. I ran over to the two remaining boats, jumped in B's boat paddled out to clip into the first boat (mine) with my tow belt. I simply wrapped my rope around the toggle of the second boat only to have it come loose again. Meanwhile the girls looked over and said "Oh look, Paul is bringing the boats over to us and one got away." "Should we go help him?" "No, let him be, he's got a little project going!"
From Green I. we touched a number of islands back to Great Brewster I. Now it was my turn to decree "We're going to Lovell to check out the camp grounds." We passed along some neat wave action along GB spit where waves approached each other from each side forming little Geysers where they collided. We landed on Lovell and found that there are some great tent sites with awesome views of the city.
After over 14 miles of what was a wonderfully fun day of paddling we arrived back at the launch. But the adventure was not over yet. Dinner provided more mayhem than the paddle…. But that's a story for a different forum.