Back to the Bay Campus

How many times do you have to paddle in the same location before it gets boring? I only ask because I've paddled out of the Bay Campus more times than I care to remember, but I still find new reasons to enjoy it. The route is usually one of two:

1. Bay Campus to Ft. Getty, follow the Jamestown coast to Beaver Tail, across the mouth of the Bay to Whale Rock, back to Bay Campus


2. Follow the Narragansett coast from Bay Campus to Whale Rock, cross the mouth of the Bay to Beaver Tail, follow the Jamestown coast to Ft. Getty, and cross back to Bay Campus

You'd think given our culture's drive for the next new thing and short attention spans, that I'd have grown tired of the route. It is also reasonable to think that as my skills got better, I'd seek out a more challenging scene. Yet, I still get a thrill out of it. The route, although the same on the map, is as changeable as the water itself. It can be calm, rolly, or scary. Sometimes it is a bit of each. Sometimes it doesn't matter because you just need to get out. Sometimes the people in the group make the difference.
Today I just needed to get out. The previous two weeks had been full of change and general life stress with little opportunity for release. This was also the only chance I was going to have to get on the water for several more weeks. It was paddle or...
H and I met up with Tim M. at the Bay Campus around 9:30am. Tim, free of the devil boat, was also ready for some serious paddling. The Aquilla looked mighty atop his truck.
In short order, we were joined by George and Debbie from CT who was celebrating a birthday. We inspected the fine quality of the work Carl Ladd did fixing up George's Q-Boat. Carl had patched up the gel coat damage George had done on our demolition outing, lowered his seat, and added a keel strip. Other than the grey keel strip, you couldn't see where any of the work was done.
We also compared H's Capella 161 to the Debbie from CT's Capella 161. H's Capella was prettier, but Debbie from CT's Capella was, although just a standard fiberglass layup, much lighter. I guess she had it sent back when her original turned out to be heavier than advertised.
We set out around 10:30 and planned on being back by 2pm. People had some time constraints. That meant that we were going to do the loop without a lunch stop. It was fine with me. I wanted to blow some of the crud out of the carburetors anyway.
Early in the paddle I got to talking with Debbie. She was very interesting. Up until Friday she had been working as a carpenter for Yale. She did furniture and installation pieces for the University. On the side, she also did some custom cabinet work. However, she was looking to make a change in careers. After years of doing carpentry, she was looking into working as a career counselor. We talked about finding your way in your professional life which was quite interesting.
Eventually, the need to really paddle started eating away at my consciousness. Despite the fact that we were having an interesting conversation, I was having a hard time keeping my natural pace scaled back to her natural pace. Sometimes going slow can be a lot of work. So, I politely pulled ahead. Once I started moving, I just opened it up and pushed the Q-Boat to see just how fast it would move.
Conditions were a happy medium at the mouth of the Bay. There was some action, but not enough to make it particularly nerve wracking. The only cause for concern was an uncertainty about the high-speed ferry schedule. It supposedly has some excellent radar, but it is not the kind of thing to test out in a kayak crossing its path.
There was a minor brush with danger on the return trip to Bay Campus.
The open water paddling hadn't quite quenched my thirst for paddling fun. To address this I tried to sneak my Q-Boat through a dodgy slit in some rocks along the Bonnet Bluffs. I had paddled into a spot where the only options were back paddling a fair distance into a rock field or squeaking through a slot in an overfall that was just about wide enough for the Q-Boat and then make a sharp turn before spearing a rock. I decided to go forward and got lucky. Just as I made my move some water filled in and gave me a little more room to play with. It also provided a tiny push on the stern which made the turn a breeze.
George was not quite as lucky. He had followed me into the slot and decided to follow me out. He didn't get the fortuitous wave to help him slide out. Instead, the bow of his kayak got pinned on a rock and he exited the cockpit.
If we had been properly outfitted, this wouldn't have been a big deal. The water near George was shallow enough for him to stand up and the waves were not enough to knock him around. With a tow belt we could have just tossed him a line and pulled him out to deeper water to do a rescue. George was the only one wearing a tow belt. Mine was in the egg and Tim's was in his day hatch.
So, I went in to help George. Meanwhile, Tim dug out his tow belt, put it on, and worked his way into position to tow us off the rocks. Then we needed to find a pump to get the water out of George's cockpit. His had floated away. Mine was with my tow belt. Fortunately, Tim had recovered George's pump and had his tied to his deck.
If conditions had been worse, this easy rescue could have turned ugly. It was a not so subtle hint that I need to bring my safety gear along with me regardless of the paddle. Complacency breeds its own form of danger.
After a quick lunch at the Bay Campus, Tim and I hit the water for some serious practice. The rolling around, stroke practice, and rescue practice felt good. It was a pleasant way to exhaust myself. My confidence and my sanity was restored. I was ready to face a few more weeks off the water.

Labor Day Trials

Photos courtesy of Cheryl Thompson Cameron

After a grey, windy paddle on Saturday and being grounded on Sunday, H and I were looking forward to paddling under Labor Day's sunny skies. H was a touch apprehensive because there was going to be surf at Narragansett Beach. I was of many minds about the surf. One part of me was hoping it would be small so H would enjoy herself and have a safe landing. One part of me was looking forward to putting the Q-Boat through its paces in the surf. One part of me was concerned about my own safety in the surf. One part of me was wishing there were rocks around.
Before we had to worry about the surf, we had to get on the water. Why the seemingly simple job of getting on the water is such a chore for me remains a mystery, but today at least there were a few explanations. There was a surprising amount of traffic on the beach. We had to figure out what combination of clothing would create the delicate balance between staying warm in the event of a swim and staying cool while paddling. The air was cool, but it was sunny. The water was still warm, but once out of the drink... There were some good swells, so paddling was going to require some work. Tim M. was wearing a full dry suit, but I wasn't quite ready to break mine out. Most of us opted for a combination of a dry-top with shorts.
Then there was the question of what to do about the helmets. I opted to just wear mine. There is no convenient place in the Q-Boat to store a helmet and still have easy access to it. Fortunately, my melon protector fits comfortably and I can wear it for long periods of time. The other paddlers choose to stow the helmets until we reached Narragansett.
Once we got past Bonnet Shores we could feel the power Ernesto had left in the water. The swells, while not huge, were insistent. Whale Rock was being pummelled. The cliffs of Bonnet were oddly placid. Despite the power in the water, the conditions were tame and allowed us to make easy progress.
Along the way, we lost two members of the group. Because most of the group paddle together frequently, we've developed a certain rhythm and pace that works. We had a new paddler with us today and the group's pace, which seemed normal to us, was too fast for her. So she and another person headed back to Bay Campus to do a different paddle.
On the final approach to Narragansett Beach our surf suspicions were confirmed. Once we passed Whale Rock, we could see the breaks off the rocks that guard that end of the beach.
We paddled past the rocks on the oceanside to get a clear view of the beach before deciding what to do. People were talking about simply turning back to Bay Campus without landing. Tim was spooked by the "devil boat." Joe was not in a hurry to re-injure his shoulder. H didn't want to smash up her new kayak or be swept out to Davey Jone's Locker.
After surveying the break, which was steady but not large, the rest of the group donned their helmets for the surf run. This did not reassure H! "It is not reassuring to see all the helmets." I offered her mine since she does not own one, but she demurred.
With mellons properly protected, paddlers paraded beachward. Carleen made easy work of the run. Joe A. rode his skin boat on the surf like it was part of him. Tim, on the other hand, was whirlpooled in the devil boat. He washed ashore soggy and shaken.
H and I, meanwhile, were still sitting beyond the break deciding what to do: land or turn tail. Having never surf landed, H was understandably concerned about landing. However, she also wanted to enjoy the beach and the picnic. So we talked about it. It was one of those awkward moments that come up when you're a couple. I tried to convince her that a surf landing was safe and that she would be OK. I also reassured her that it was OK if we went back. She didn't want to look foolish, or get hurt, or put a damper on the day. The helmets, the rip current, and Rich's reluctance to paddle in were tangible evidence of her. We needed an intervention.
Joe S. paddled over, assessed to situation, and devised a plan. I would paddle into the beach. Once safely on the shore, I would scope out the surf. When it looked like the best (best = smallest) set, I would signal by spinning my paddle over head. Heather would then paddle like a dunked dingo for the shore.
Relieved that we had a plan and excited to put the Q-Boat into some surf, I paddled into the break zone. Sometimes I find it hard to catch waves using the stick because it takes a little more time to get up to speed, but not today. I let a few little waves roll by and waited for a big one. Once I saw it, I revved up the engine and hopped on the front of the wave. The Q-Boat behaved admirably on the wave. With just a touch of rudder, it held a tight line right up until the wave started to collapse. In a splash, she spun breach to the wave trapping my paddle on the beach side. I was over in the foam. Luckily the water was deep enough that I could hang out in the cockpit without whacking my head. I waited until the wave, and the one following, it moved past, set up on what I thought was the wave side, and rolled up. I quickly remembered why you don't set up beach side. A wave smacked into me and dropped me back in before I was all the way up. So, I waited for the wave to clear out, set up on the other side, and rolled up. This time I got it right and had time to get the Q-Boat heading towards the beach for a second sweet ride. I glided right into the beach and did a little victory dance. I wanted to head back out and do it again, but I had a mission to complete.
After making sure the Q-Boat was properly stowed above the water line, I grabbed my trusty stick and took up position on the shore. From where I stood the biggest problem getting H in was the swarm of surf kayaks darting about. The surf was starting to flatten out. Just to make sure I watched a set or two before signalling her to start her run. When it looked good I started waving the paddle over my head.
On the water, Joe and Tony, who had come over to lend a hand, couldn't see me. Joe decided that he was needed elsewhere and left H in Tony's capable hands. When he thought it looked good he sent her in.
H, depite being scared wittless, did a great job. She made a perfect run into the beach and was even smiling!!
Once H was safely on the beach and properly congratulated, Bob H. and I helped pull in a few other paddlers who did not have such a good ride. One person had made one of the classic surf blunders: they were between their loose kayak and the beach. Bob H. and I tried to get the person to watch out, but the kayak whacked him in the knees first. Fortunately, no permanent damage was done.
Bob H., who has been laid up all summer, couldn't wait to sit in H's new boat and try out her paddle, even if he couldn't leave the beach. His back was feeling up to a short paddle from the Narrow River Bridge to the beach, but not the surf. It was great to see him out and about. It looked like his back was finally starting to heal. Hopefully he'll be able to join in the winter kayaking fun!!
After some socializing and lunching, it was back through the surf for the return run. I always find surf launches physically harder than surf landings, but I also find them to be far easier mentally. Punching through a wave takes a tremendous amount of strength, but seeing it before it buries you somehow makes it easier to handle. H looked more settled about launching and made it look easy despite the big waves pounding into her tiny kayak.
Tim, on the other hand, looked like he was about to do a forced march through a nuclear mine field. Each time he put a blade in the water it was more like a test step to see if the ground was firm. Instead of attacking the waves, it looked like he was praying the waves would take pity on him. Instead the waves took pity on Rich R. and did a number on Tim. Surprisingly, Tim did make it out without incident, but it was obvious that he and the devil boat were not going to be a pair much longer.
I was still itching for some more time in the surf, but the rest of the group was more than ready to paddle back to Bay Campus. There was still plenty of swells out in the West Passage and we made good time riding them home. The group started breaking up once and Joe attempted to get us regrouped. I was just enjoying the open water, H was getting tired, Joe A. was feeling a bit out of sorts in his skin kayak, and Tim was barely able to keep the devil boat upright when he paddling. Stopping the group was easier said than done. Joe A. and I rafted up with Tim to lend him some support while we waited for the rear of the group.
Once we had gotten the group back together we took off again. It didn't take long for the group to spread out again. This time regrouping, although considered, was not an option. Joe S. and Carleen were corralling the stragglers as we passed the Bonnet Cliffs, so the lead kayaks headed straight for the safety of the Bay Campus.
Once back at the Bay Campus it was time for a little post paddle confidence recouping. Tim and Joe A. were both feeling less than happy about their skills after being unsettled all day. Joe A. was still readjusting to his skin boat and had missed a roll earlier in the day. Tim was just shaken from being pinned in the devil boat all day. So, to prove to themselves--the rest of us knew they were just having an off day and wished some of our good days could go so well--they decided to do some rolling. Joe managed to hit a few rolls and do a balance brace. He even managed to teach me how to do one. It is a neat trick to lay in the water and keep the kayak from tipping. It would be an even better trick if I was smooth enough to get into the position with out a helping hand.
Back on the beach, Tim was being consoled by his wife who had come down to enjoy the sun. It was a good thing too because some of the comments being bandied about concerning the benefits of wide boats pushed his blood to boiling. There is a fine line between joking around and kicking a guy when he is down....
Fortunately, a calming influence was present and once the storm passed the euphoria of spending a sunny day on the water with good friends settled over us. We even managed to restore Tim and Joe A.'s confidence. Is there ever a bad day on the water?

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.

Brenton Point Break Away

After two weeks without kayaking, Saturday's paddle whetted my appetite for some serious conditions. Since it was looking like trouble was bound to break out, H wisely decided to stay home and made me promise not to get too hurt. Further increasing the probability of trouble, the weather was full of wind and rain and I woke up in a particularly ornery mood.
I showed up for the 10am launch just before 9am hoping to get a good parking spot and a nap. Both goals were foiled. The parking lot was full of cars from the divers who frequent Ft. Wetherill and a few paddlers had not checked to message board to see that the paddle had been postponed until 10am. It was probably for the best since I still had trouble getting ready on time....
One of the early birds was Jerry B., who had his new Night Heron. She is a beautiful looking kayak. Jerry's modesty aside, he did a wonderful job crafting her. The angled pattern on the hull and the shine of the hull speak to the patience and care that went into the work.
With amazing speed, the group of paddlers swelled to seventeen!! The less than auspicious weather was not dampening anyone's spirits. In fact, there were a few people who came looking for some rough water paddling.
Joe, who was substituting for Frank M., decided that conditions called for a safer plan. He, despite offering up rough water options, intended to take the group along the shore by Fort Adams where there would be plenty of protection. Given the size and composition of the group, his plan was definitely the correct one, if not the most popular one.
To mollify us danger seekers, or perhaps hoping to scare us straight, Joe lead the group out of the Ft. Wetherill cove and crossed to Castle Hill Light. With some cajoling, Joe kept the group in a tight formation across the channel. Once at Castle Hill, he stopped the group so people could get a look at the conditions in the outer bay. Since most of the group knew the plan they stayed close to the shore waiting to paddle towards Fort Adams.
Spotting the danger lust in my eyes, Joe told me that I could, if I wanted, form a break away group. Unfortunately, the only people who had ventured out to take a look was a paddler I didn't know, Matt, and Eli. I decided that, given my options, it was wisest to stick with the group and headed back.
While I was making my way back to the group, Tim M. was making his way towards the point. He wanted to take a peak at the conditions just beyond the point, so I turned tail and headed out with him. The original plan was just to take a peak and then return. Then we noticed that Eli and Matt were tagging along and Paul B. was rapidly catching up.
Since we now had a group, and Joe had given me permission to form a breakaway group, we headed off to Brenton Point to see what trouble could be had. Tim and I really wanted to see what our new kayaks were like in bigger conditions. Matt, it turned out, also had a new kayak, a full sized Nordkapp, that he wanted to feel out. Paul and Eli were just out for some fun.
We paddled about 3/4 of the way to the point battling some pretty heavy winds and chop. Then we moved a little further off shore to really get into the swells and turned back towards Castle Hill to catch the following seas. Despite looking like he was riding a rabid horse with the shakes, Tim handled his new kayak, which he has dubbed "the devil boat", with aplomb. We all caught several good rides on the generous swell.
On our way back towards Castle Hill we spotted another group of paddlers heading out for trouble. Ken, Becca, and Carole had left the main group once they realized others had also wandered away. After dressing us down for not telling the main group we were leaving and not asking them to join in our adventures, they joined us and we headed back towards Breton Point.
As Becca pointed out, it was hardly fair of us to hog all the good conditions for ourselves. It's not like there are a ton of opportunities for RI paddlers to enjoy some rough stuff.
As we wended our way back to Brenton Point, we took turns dodging rocks. The game of choice was to back the kayaks into a rock formation, try to touch the tail to the rock, and hang out for as long as possible. We also found just about every navigable slot along the shore to dart through. It was great boat handling practice.
Once back at Brenton Point, we found some real fun. Along the break water that juts out from the point, the water was really rough. The swells piled into each other and the reflection off of the wall created some clapotis. It was exactly the kind of conditions a smart mariner avoids and a kayaker seeks out.
I dashed in and the waves pretty much submerged the Q-Boat. I'd gotten used to its stearn having water over it during the course of the morning. Any wave over six inches covers it. The Q-Boat's bow, which is like a gigantic bubble, had been pretty dry until I tested my luck. Luckily for me, the Q-Boat is, like its little sister the Anas Acuta, as stable as a six legged table that is bolted to a two ton piece of granite. I dashed out just as quick.
Tim M. had a different idea. He was feeling pretty good about his handling of the devil boat and decided now was the time to really push it. He paddled up along the wall, right into the worst of the clapotis, and decided to hang out...
From the Tim's mouth:

Probably not the best place to push it, but I felt I was getting a feel for the boat. The confluence of two wave sets with a small resulting area of clapotis was too much to resist. Once I got in there, I got knocked down by a good sized wave combination. I then rolled up and went right back down again a couple of times in the following chaos. I then hung-out and sculled for support to gain air. That's when Eli got there and asked me if I wanted a bow. I replied yes and told him to bring the bow in, and then dropped back into the water to protect myself and await the bow. That's when another big wave hit. I didn't think Eli's bow bow would be forthcoming. I also figured that the rocks had to be getting closer and that things were getting more dangerous. That's when I decided to bail.

The big wave had indeed knocked Eli out of position, and surfed me right into position. I grabbed Tim's bow and asked for someone to tow us out from the rocks while we put Tim back into his kayak. It was a little dodgy for a second or two. I had to lean out a bit too far to really get a hold of Tim's kayak and almost went over. The waves were not calming down. Tim lost his paddle. Eli, while retrieving Tim's paddle, nearly went over.
Ken, thankfully, made quick work of towing Tim and I out of the soup and things were all good. Tim got his kayak pumped out, I got my kayak, which had filled up while supporting Tim's kayak, pumped out. Paddles found their owners. Towlines were stowed.
Once everyone was situated, we turned towards home. Or...at least Castle Hill for lunch. Along the way we continued to enjoy the conditions.
Coming around the point at Castle Hill we had another accident. This time we all stayed in our kayaks, but we needed to rethink our plan. Matt, who is used to paddling a sporty little Anas Acuta, not a SUVish Nordkapp, pushed himself a little too hard. He pulled a big muscle in his side and was in a fair amount of distress.
So, we paddled, slowly, back to Ft. Wetherill and the cars. We made sure Matt got his gear back up to the parking lot and properly stored and sat down for lunch on the rocks. It was not a fun pit stop. There was no hiding from the damp, bitting wind and none of us were really well dressed for the conditions. Things were so bad that Becca and Ken packed up and headed home.
The few, tough, indomitable, paddlers left--Tim(against his better judgement), Paul, Eli, Carole, and myself--headed over to the Dumplings to see if we could get into more trouble. We figured the current would be running at a good clip and we were not disappointed.
Along the way out we ran back into the main group. Joe chastened us about not being clear about our intentions. Apparently, the group had waited to see if we were coming back. Joe had also paddled out to make sure we okay. I felt bad about the confusion and that we had slowed the group down a bit.
Typically, the members of the break away group work pretty hard at being good group members and ensuring that everyone has a good time. Sometimes, however, you just need to go your own way. In the end, despite, the confusion, our splitting off was for the best. The members of the main group had a nice paddle and the crazy people got to play.

Noodling Around New Castle

H and I had a family thing in Portsmouth this evening, so we decided it was a perfect opportunity to do some paddling in a new area. Having heard the rumors that paddling near Portsmouth was tricky because of the crazy currents, we consulted H's coastal kayaking guides to find a trip that was not totally dependent on the tides, offered some nice scenery, and was of moderate length.
The trip we decided on doing was a circumnavigation of New Castle Island. According to the guide book, the trip is roughly 6-7 miles long, has plenty of historical sites, at least one place to stop, and can be paddled at any time. The book did suggest that it is best to plan the paddle so you are not paddling up the Piscataqua River against the tide. It also recommends not paddling along the backside of New Castle Island at low tides because the area empties out and the channel gets pretty narrow.
After getting a late start, H and I arrived at the launch around 1:30pm which was about 30 minutes before high tide. This meant that we were going to have to paddle the Piscataqua against the tide, but at New Castle Island the current is no more than 1 or knots at max flow. H mentioned that we could do the trip in reverse and paddle the Piscataqua first, but I decided that it would be just as well to do the paddle as planned. I probably would not have mattered much because we would have been paddling against the river either way because the currents in the river are off from the tides.
After paying the $10 launch fee ($5 per kayak) at the Pierce Island Boat Ramp, we unloaded the egg, threw some duct tape on the crack in the Q-Boat's hull, and loaded up the kayaks. While getting ready to go we saw a variety of paddle craft coming and going. There was a couple in a crazy looking Seda double also prepping for departure. An older couple and their daughter were launching their kayaks. The couple had a Folboat and the daughter had a Carolina. Neither was using spray skirts. While on the water we also saw a wide variety of recreational and sea kayaks. When we landed we met a couple who took their toddler out in one of their kayaks. The area behind New Castle offers a cornucopia of paddling experiences.
The trip from Pierce Island to Little Harbor takes you through a wide, shallow, sheltered sound. The big attraction was the Wentworth Coolidge Historic Site. It has a lovely mansion and gardens. The guide book said that the gardens were home to some of the first lilacs planted in the area.
The one bit of paddling excitement was served up by a small boat wake. It hit the stern of the Q-Boat just right and sent the Q-Boat skidding along the water. I had to do a quick rudder to get the kayak straightened out. H was about to chide me for goofing around until she realized that I was victim of a rogue surfing Q-Boat.
Little Harbor is home to the Portsmouth Yatch Club and the fabled Wentworth-by-the-Sea resort. The stately resort that dominates the shore apparently sat empty and rotting for years. According to the guide book, the heating costs were just too much. In the late 90's the Marriot Corporation purchased the resort and restored it to its full grandeur. It is hard to imagine that such a prime location stayed abandoned for so long with out some developer trying to turn it into a strip mall or sub-division of McMansions, but I'm glad it did.
Once past the breakwater at the mouth of Little Harbor, we were in the North Atlantic. The water got a little colder and a little more forceful. It, however, didn't lose any of its clarity.
The day was so clear we could see the Isle of Shoals and make out buildings. I joked with H about taking a little detour... Then I spotted a lighthouse much closer to shore and wanted to check that out. Sadly, we were on a relatively tight schedule and couldn't make either trip.
We made a quick stop at Great Island Common to grab a bite and take a break. The beach was full of families enjoying the cool, but sunny, summer afternoon. We took a walk up to one of the parks more interesting attractions. Along the shore there is a metal frame with a cutout of a painter. When you look out through the frame it looks like the painter is painting the scene for you.
Once back on the water, H and I steeled ourselves for the paddle up the Piscataqua River. It is only a couple of miles up the river to Pierce Island and our car, but it was going to be against the tides. The guide book says to use back eddies whenever you are not blocked by docks.
We found a number of spots where the currents were strong and confused. The first spot was at the point housing the Coast Guard station. After that H, who is new to river currents, suggested that we stick close to each other. As you progress along New Castle's northern shore, there are a number of points of land that create eddies of varying strength. H commented that it was hard to see where the trouble spots where in these eddies because she is so used to looking for waves as a sign of trouble. The eddies were mostly flat water with a tell-tale swirly pattern.
The strongest and most confused sections of the paddle were at the end of New Castle Island where, in addition to a large point of land, you have two bodies of water draining into each other. As we approached I told H to paddle straight ahead. Once we crossed the eddy line the current grabbed our bows and started to spin us into the middle of the river and the shipping channel. Like a pro, H braced and corrected her course. I followed suit and we headed across to Pierce Island. The short crossing required a lot of concentration. The colliding flows created a lot of chop and conflicting currents. One minute you would need to correct to port. The next you'd have to brace and correct to starboard...
The last bit of current was at the very tip of Pierce Island. The point created a small, but strong, eddy that we had to navigate to get back into the landing site. After the crossing, the eddy was a piece of cake.
Although a relatively short paddle, we experienced a new place and H had a chance to try out paddling in some funky river currents.