Banging Around

As summer fades into fall, we all start looking for the last big trip. PB suggested a wilderness get away to cap a great season of paddling and camping. The only constraints put on the plan were:

• it not be too close to Boston


• it not be too far from RI

Casco Bay in Maine meets both of those conditions if you can launch from some place in Freeport or Portland. It also offers plenty of island camping and spectacular views for a small group.
The group was going to be pretty small. H was going off with non-kayaking friends for a girl's weekend. RB was camping with an old friend as part of a long standing annual tradition. MA had signed up for an AMC kayaking excursion. So it was only going to be PB, CC, BH, and myself. It was a small, but perfectly formed group.
PB picked me up bright and early Saturday morning. We were going to head up early and find a launch before the RI crew arrived. PB had called about overnight parking at Winslow Park in Freeport early in the week and had not received a return call. We figured it would be wise to check it out before trusting our cars there for the weekend.
Winslow park is a nice place to launch kayaks from. It has a nice boat ramp and is sheltered. At this time of year it was largely deserted. There were some crew races going on and we saw one power boat launching. It also has plenty of parking. PB called the state police to ensure the cars would not get towed if we left them. Once we knew that we were all set, we called CC and BH to inform them of their final destination.
By the time BH's battle box pulled into the park, PB and I had figured out how to stuff most of our gear into our kayaks.
The trick to packing the Q-Boat is still a work in progress. The front compartment is spacious and dry, so it has become the default place for clothing, tent, and sleeping bag. The back hatch is cramped and wet, so it is pretty much useless. I stuffed the stove fuel, the tent poles and the water in the rear hatch. I also tried to cram my kitchen supplies in there, but they would not fit. The kitchen ended up in the cockpit.
While CC and BH packed up their kayaks, PB and I rustled up some tasty sandwiches at a near by country store.
After packing and eating, we got on the water around noon. It was a leisurely trip and our planned camp sites was only six miles away. We were not worried about day light and the forecast was clear for the whole day.
The paddle out to Bangs Island was nice. The islands we passed by were sparsely populated. The sun was shining. The temperature was mild. One could hardly ask for more.
It was the first time in many moons that I navigated. Matching shore line features to a chart is not easy even on a clear day. PB had his GPS as a backup, so I felt better.
Once we found Bangs Island, we had to locate the camp sites. After circumnavigating the island we located the southern camp site. It was too small for our four tents. The middle site was big enough for our tents, but it was wet and didn't offer a good view. The northern site was big enough, had a nice rocky beach, and looked out over the expanse of the Bay.
After unpacking our kayaks and setting up the tents, we set about collecting fire wood and getting dinner ready. BH stoked up a major bonfire out of the collected drift wood. PB cooked up an excellent pasta dish with sausage and meatballs. CC & I helped out where we could.
After dinner, we settled in front of the fire to enjoy marshmallows and other tasty treats. We were also treated to thrilling tales of BH's days as a youngster. PB reportedly saw many shooting stars.
During the night, the weather began to shift. The wind picked up and the temperature cooled down.
BH's kayak grew a blue hand over night. This was the second time his kayak ventured to Maine waters and grew a new appendage. It is freaky.
BH treated the group to a breakfast of strong coffee, oatmeal, and fruit. As we ate, the wind died down and the temperature grew comfortable. We decided to take the long way home. We were going to round Whaleboat Island and check out a number of other islands on the way home. Whaleboat Island has some nice camping spots on it and we wanted to scope it out for future expeditions.
A plan decided on, we broke camp and reloaded the kayaks. I'm always surprised that nothing fits in the kayak the same way twice... While we packed, the wind picked up and shifted to the NW - a perfect headwind for our trip home.
We crossed over to the lee side of Whaleboat to check out the camp sites there. As we paddled and explored, the winds stiffened and the sun retreated behind the clouds. Despite being in the lee of a large island we could feel the wind. Rounding the end of the island and turning homeward was going to expose us to the full force of the wind.
Sure enough, we rounded the northern tip of Whaleboat island and were slammed. We slogged for about half mile before stopping for lunch on Little Whaleboat Island. We plotted out a route that was four short crossings between small islands. We could rest in each of the lees. We all also added to our layering. The wind was kicking up two foot chop that soaked us. The wind and lack of sun meant we chilled quickly.
The return paddle was tough, but fun. The wind and chop made for tough going. However, it also kept things interesting. A little work is good for the soul.
By the time we reached Winslow Park, we were all ready to put on dry clothes and eat some warm food. I, however, wanted to attempt rolling the Q-Boat while it was fully loaded. I managed to nail both my onside and my offside once.
Then it was time to dry off, load up, and chow down. We found an excellent Mediterranean place in Freeport. The food was different and definitely good. It capped off an excellent expedition.

Long Hauling

TM decided to take the week after Columbus Day off and wanted to do at least one long haul paddle. He was thinking of doing either Stone Bridge to Sakonnet Pt., around Jamestown, or both. I'm fortunate enough to work for a company with a liberal vacation package and to have a boss who encourages his workers to use their vacation time, so I was up for at least one of the options.
We decided to paddle out of the Bay Campus, cross over to Jamestown heading north, round the island, and cross back over to Bay Campus. It is a 20-plus mile endeavor. The day dawned rainy. While the rain ended as I drove to RI, the fog and drizzle persisted. At least my coworkers wouldn't suspect I was ditching work to frolic in the sun....
I misjudged the amount of traffic I'd hit and arrived late. TM was waiting patiently. He was surprised that I hadn't decided to bag the whole trip. I hadn't even considered bagging the trip. Kayaking is a wet sport. Drysuits keep the soak off the skin and keep you warm. Besides there is sticker on my desk at work that reads: "I'd rather be upside down in my kayak, than upright at my desk." Unless the conditions are dangerous, I'll take a day of paddling over a day of work.
We launched about 30 minutes later than planned and headed for the north end of Jamestown. The weather kept boat traffic to a minimum, so we were clear to take a long diagonal across the West Passage. Our course took us past the end of Dutch island before we reached the Jamestown coast. The long crossing seemed easy. There was only a mild wind and I couldn't feel much effect from the currents.
However, once we got in closer to the Jamestown shore the paddling got noticeably easier. The current out in the open was deceiving. With no discernible disturbance on the water, visibility suffering from a lack of contrast, and good conversation, I was totally oblivious to what the water was doing to my kayak. While it may not have seemed like much, the extra effort could have wreaked havoc on the pacing for a long paddle.
Paddling north along the western coast of Jamestown, we worked against a northwest wind. It was a nuisance. The wind was just enough to require occasional correcting strokes. I eventually just dropped my skeg to deal with the weather cocking. (For no logical or explainable reason, I loathe using my skeg.) TM's new Explorer's skeg had been removed over the weekend (it has failed twice in the few months he's owned it and the system was out for repair), so he was forced to keep correcting. Fortunately for him, the Explorer tracks well.
After rounding the northern point of Jamestown, the wind became more than a nuisance. It was now working on the Q-Boat's stern which is exceptionally susceptible to wind pressure. While the naked back deck of the Q-Boat doesn't offer much for the wind to grab, the spare paddle and the bilge pump stuck under the bungee cords do. The stern portion of the hull is flat and does not need much encouragement to slide around. Even a little well placed wind pressure will weather cock the kayak. I continually tried to adjust the skeg to neutralize the wind, but I just couldn't find the right amount of skeg to apply. It was frustrating and tiring. I wasn't looking forward to fighting this for 10 miles.
By the time we reached the Newport bridge, I was feeling the strain. My shoulders and obliques were starting to burn a bit. A urinary emergency was building, likely caused by the DD Great One I consumed on the drive down. I was beginning to get a bit fidgety. My stomach was starting to grumble. One foot was asleep. I was feeling wimpy considering we'd only been in the kayaks for three or so hours and had only covered about twelve miles.
To keep from mentally collapsing, I focused on reaching Jamestown center: restroom & lunch break. With a goal in site, the aches subsided and my mind calmed. Tim's presences helped immensely too. It is a great thing to have company.
Long haul paddling, like any endurance activity, is as much a mental challenge as it is a physical one. I cannot imagine how guys like Chris Duff manage to do major solo expeditions without going batty. Or just quitting.
Lunch at Jamestown was uneventful. We didn't want to linger too long lest we get too chilled. We also didn't want to waste too much day light. Crossing the west passage in the dark, after a twenty mile paddle, was not a happy thought.
After lunch, we continued south towards Beavertail. We were feeling better after eating and walking around for a bit. Sometimes, you need to get out of the cockpit for a spell. It also helped that the wind seemed to have settled down-the island was shielding us from it.
However, we were still feeling a little tired. The air was a little chillier and the fog was thickening.
Mackerel Cove was our point of no return--our safety hatch. We'd either turn into the cove, carry over the beach, and paddle home, or we'd continue around Beavertail. I was prepared to go around Beavertail, but wasn't sure it was the wisest path. TM was also postponing the decision.
We made it about half way across the mouth of the cove before TM made the call. We were turning into Mackerel Cove and taking the short-cut. The fog looked impenetrable at Beaver Tail. It was getting late in the day (3:30pm). We were not at our freshest.
While we wanted to complete the big loop, we'd be taking unnecessary risks. There was likely to be fishermen out at Beavertail. If the fog held, or got denser, we'd have no way to see them or judge the conditions. We'd also be risking the fog moving up the Bay and blinding us as we tried to cross back to Bay Campus. If we were fresh, we may have been more capable of dealing with the adverse conditions. Instead we were well-worn.
Kayaking is fun and a good escape from the pressures of life. It is not a good way to die--at least not yet. I've got too many other good things to want to take stupid risks.
So, we crossed over the beach watched by a couple of kids who were playing in the sand with their grandmother. While, many people would have given us strange looks (two men wearing funny suits and carrying funny looking boats out of the water on a rainy day is pretty strange) the kids waved and went back to playing. The grandmother waved and asked if we were enjoying ourselves. We were.
On our way back to Bay Campus, we lingered a while at the Dutch Island Lighthouse. They are doing some major restoration work on the it. It looks like they are going to put a new light in the tower. I'm psyched to have a new beacon shining over one of my favorite put-ins.
We made the short cross over the Bay Campus and closed our 2o mile loop. Despite the weary burn in my muscles, I had to do a roll before getting out. The roll was surprisingly easy.
It was definitely time to get out of the water. I good roll is a perfect way to finish a solid day of paddling.

The Barking Crab

Today was the annual Barking Crab paddle. I scheduled it early this year hoping to get some better weather and I changed the put-in to add some distance and scenery. I also made sure the Crab knew a group of kayakers was going to show up for lunch.
The changes were a mixed blessing. The weather was warmer than in past years, but the morning was gray and raw. After lunch, the weather cleared up and turned exceptional. The new put-in location resulted in a few people getting lost. The new location, at the CRCK kiosk on Soldier's Field Road, had plenty of safe parking and did offer exceptional views of Cambridge.
With a total of 17 kayaks, it was a large group. I feared that it would get hard to manage that large a group. My worry was unfounded. Most of the paddlers had been on the trip before and knew the drill. (H was one of the few Barking Crab virgins.)
We wended up the Charles, through the canoe lagoon next to the Esplanade, through the old locks, under the Zakim Bridge, through the locks, past the Boston waterfront, and into Four Point Channel. We had a pleasant lunch and actually managed to figure out the bill without fisticuffs. Then we returned home following the same path.
The return journey was the better of the two legs. The ride in the locks was more dramatic. The weather turned warm. The group spread out just far enough so paddlers who wanted quiet could avoid the chatter boxes.
After the paddle H and I had people back to our new abode for cake and coffee. It was a great time. People who usually dash off after paddles came for the after paddle. We were happy that people seemed comfortable and enjoyed themselves.

The Four Amigos

The effects of a full moon on currents last for days, so we had a second opportunity to muck about in some serious currents. According to NOAA the mouth of the Westport River promised some scary fun. The river always runs fast, but today the river promised to race. The forecasted winds promised to conspire to stand up some waves.
Today was also the day for Carleen's fall pot-luck paddle. A level 2 and a level 3 paddle were planned.
H and five others joined KB on the level 2 trip. He took them up river to avoid the currents at the mouth. All of the participants raved about the paddle, KB's knowledge of the area, and the scenery. In addition, KB treated the participants to a preview of his Toastmaster's speech.
After JS showed TM and I a nice technique for eddy hopping, I along with TM, PB, BH, JS, JS, MK, and CMc headed towards the mouth for the level 3 paddle. When we left the dock, there was no plan, but I suspected that the group would split at the mouth. Some of us wanted to play and others were looking for a typical level 3 experience.
At the mouth of the river, CMc decided that the plan was to head east around Gooseberry Pt. and portage across East Beach Road which would put us back in the River. It was a good plan, if one was looking for a relaxing day paddle with a bit of ocean swells. JS, JS, MK, and CMc followed the plan and paddled out of the mouth.
The four amigos decided that it would be better to wait and see what peak flow would offer.We had a couple of hours before it completed the change and ramped itself up into full furry. To while away the hours, we played in the eddies that the changing current stirred up. When the eddies died down, we paddled around the knubble and played on the western edge of the mouth. There were a few rock clusters that offered interesting play. We also took a long, leisurely lunch on the beach to recoup any spent energy. The melee would require all of our paddling power.
With a half hour to go before max flow, we headed back onto the water. It was a short paddle back to the mouth of the river and, we hoped, some serious action.
When we rounded the corner, we came face to face with a real tidal race. There was a clearly defined eddy along the knubble on the south side of the mouth. Just beyond the eddy, towards the center of the channel, water was pushing out of the river in a lumpy, powerful flow. Just what the doctor ordered.
After a brief review of the scene, we jumped in to the fray. Paddling against the flow was hard work until you found a wave to surf. I'd spin the stick like a mad pinwheel and barely make headway. Then I'd catch a wave and ride it forward, against the current for several yards.
On many occasions the waves were so powerful and so close together that the Q-Boat's bow would get driven into the wave in front of it. There would be woosh sound and a slight feeling of slowing down, like when an elevator slows down before stopping, and the bow would completely submerge. the ride wouldn't end because there was a enough power in the water to drive the Q-Boat through the wave and the bow would emerge on the other side.
After each run, we'd slip into the eddy, paddle up to the beach behind the knubble and rest a bit in the calm water. I made the mistake of thinking that the water was calm because it was not moving very fast. Believing that I was in still water, I decided to take off my paddle jacket without heading into the beach. I took off my helmet, my (prescription) sun glasses, and my watch and placed them in a pile on the deck. Then I proceeded to pull off my top. After I got my head out of the top, and still had my hands firmly trapped inside of the top, I realized that I was rapidly being sucked out into the melee. Fortunately, there was a rock in my path that I could grab onto with my one free hand and yell for help. TM, PB, and BH moved quickly to stop my motion and give me the time to get disentangled from my top. They also scooped up the gear that slid off my deck while I clung to the rock. Sadly, the watch and sun glasses sank. Happily though I was safely out of my top and back in position to paddle in the melee again.
It only took about an hour to completely wear ourselves out. There was very little boat traffic to get in our way and the Harbor Master seemed content to let us be, so our fun was largely uninterrupted. Nobody tried rolling in the thick of it. Nobody needed to roll in the thick of it. We each took the opportunity to push the envelope knowing that the others would be right there if needed.
One of the great things about paddling with a group on a consistent basis is the comfort level that develops among the paddlers. I've paddled with TM, PB, and BH enough to know what there skill levels are, what there comfort levels are, and what they are likely to do in most situations. That knowledge makes me much more comfortable pushing my limits when they are around. It also makes paddling that much more fun.
After the paddle we all headed to CMc's house for the pot luck dinner. We were joined by several people who didn't paddle today. It was a perfect way to end an excellent paddle.

The Evil Buoy at Old Stone Bridge

TM has been talking about doing extreme paddling all season and he had finally spotted the perfect conditions. The currents whipping through Old Stone Bridge in Tiverton are pretty strong and today was a Spring tide. The max ebb current was forecasted to run about 3.5knts at around 11:15am. Because it is an ebb tide we'd get washed into the clear water heading towards Fogland. Because it's fall, the boat traffic would be lessened. Because it is forecasted to be sunny, the temperature would be pleasant.
After fretting for weeks about posting the paddle or making it invite only, we posted it. The more the merrier. The posting made it clear that this was strictly to play in the currents and that paddlers were going to need to spot each other.
Getting to the paddle was an adventure. Sometimes I drive on automatic pilot and this morning was one of those times. I operate the egg with full conscious attention, but navigate it with habit. So, when the time came to continue on Rt. 128 or take Rt. 95 south, I choose Rt. 95 south like I was launching from the western shores of Naragansett Bay. The deja vu set in quickly. Fortunately, I realized my mistake before I came to Rt. 495 and could quickly transfer back to Rt. 24 south without back tracking.
I pulled into the little beach parking lot off of Rt. 77 fearing I was going to be late. However, only TM and PB had arrived and they were having a leisurely conversation off to the far side of the parking lot. Slowly, others drifted into the lot. There was BH, RB, RR, and BD.
It was great to see BD. He is a great guy and we don't get to see him much. He is positive addition to any paddle.
We scoped out the building race by the buoys and decided to let it build a little more before getting on the water. We didn't want to wear ourselves out before the action really started. So, we decided to get coffee and take our time getting our stuff together.
I could have used more time. Because we were not paddling far from our cars, I decided not to worry about bringing my lunch, my spare paddle, my extra water, and a few other things. The one thing I did want to make sure I had was my tow belt. If someone got in trouble, it would come in handy. So I put it around my waist while I was getting the rest of my kit sorted out. When I got ready to clip the end of the belt to my PFD, I discovered that the carabiniere that I used to clip onto other kayaks was gone. I scoured the beach to no avail. Fortunately, PB had a spare. (PB is always saving someones bacon.)
Finally, I got on the water and got a chance to check out the race. The current was moving at a good clip, but there were no standing waves of stature. The wind was blowing in the direction of the current and effectively flattening things out. There was still a good half hour before max flow and nobody seemed particularly worried about the lack of big waves.
We all took opportunities to practice eddy turns, ferry glides, and paddling against the currents. It was exhilarating and exhausting. The best place to practice eddy turns was on the west side of the channel near the green buoy. The green buoy is evil and draws kayaks straight towards it. Practicing the eddy turn required that you either turn very sharply to pass outside the buoy or wide to pass inside the buoy. Paddling in the race required constant attention because swells bubbled out at random. The evil buoy was always laying in wait for a paddler to make a mistake.
Fortunately, it was easy to get a rest. To either side of the channel that remains of Stone Bridge creates eddies and a nice back current. We could duck out of the race, or wash out the back of it, and easily paddle back up the edges. It also meant that a paddler was always out of the melee and acting as a safety valve for the others.

The best conditions of the morning were provided by a mini-ocean liner. It steamed up the channel and left a lumpy mess in its wake. We were waiting like gnats along the edge of the channel as it passed through. Immediately after the ship was clear we darted into the soup. For five minutes it was a mass of confused waves and moving water. A few other power boats wakes added fuel to the cauldron.
Once the cauldron calmed, we believed the show was over. To cool down, we paddled around Gould Island and headed back to the beach. Just off the shore RR practiced his rolling and balance bracing. I did a few rolls. BD headed home. The others did various practicing. It was early and the weather was just too nice to quit early.
The race sympathized with our plight and bubbled up once more. BH, RB, PB (no relation), and I headed back into the fray for round two. This time around the conditions were more consistent and the evil buoy was more active. It was swirling around and sucking kayaks into its orbit with malicious glee. Of course, the best conditions were positioned on the edge of the evil buoy's reach. BH was the first one to be chased by the evil buoy. Shortly after BH had escaped, I had to spin the stick at a furious pace to escape it. Then as I and PB were watching, the evil buoy slowly dragged BH into its maw. Fortunately, BH heard PB and I talking about him, looked behind him, and started paddling for his life before it was too late.
After getting our fill of fun, we headed back to beach for some lunch. As we were heading in, TM and RR decided to head out for a second chance. Sadly, the currents and waves had subsided. There was still some moving water for practicing eddy turns and ferry glides, but not enough for serious playing.
We stopped for a spot of coffee at Coastal Roasters before going back to our homes for the evening. I was definitely satiated. The conditions were not raucous, but they were enough to seriously challenge me. My muscles were tired, my confidence bolstered, and my mind well fed.