I left work Thursday afternoon for the 4+ hour drive to South Thomaston, seven miles below Rockland and the lower part of Penobscot Bay on the central coast of Maine. The Muscle (not Mussel) Ridge Islands are a group of a dozen or so islands a mile or so off the coast. They're named for the mussels in the area but on all my charts and information it's spelled 'muscle', I dunno why. I don't know why they're called either one since I didn't see many mussels at all, certainly not like in Casco Bay in Portland.
10% of the seals on the Maine coast are supposed to be born here and there was supposed to be a pair of nesting eagles on one of the islands up towards Rockland. The islands are also noted for their pink granite and a lot of it was quarried for construction in Boston and New York City earlier in the century.
Friday I pulled down to the beach at the camp ground, loaded up and headed 2 miles out for Otter Island on one end of the chain. I had plotted a course through the islands at home. If I didn't stick to the course, I wanted to at least navigate or take bearings from the main points and capture them in the GPS for later use. The islands are all close together and only a few miles long. All I intended to do was just take my time and poke around each of the islands, relax and see whatever there was to see. I wasn't expecting any weather or seas for the weekend.
Coming around Otter Island, I saw a couple of ospreys soaring around. As I watched them, I spotted another large bird, with a dark body and light head, perched on the top of a tree. By the time I got the binoculars dug out of the camera bag to confirm it was an eagle, it was gone :-(.
I went around a couple of small islands and was off of another small one near High Island when I saw a bunch of multi-colored rocks on a series of ledges about 120 yards away. Looking through the binoculars gave a good view of the sky and the water with brief flashes of the rocks and ledges as I bobbed up and down on the small swells. Since this area is noted for its seal population and I had seen similar rocks dive into the water before as I got closer and I think I saw some of these rocks move in my quick glimpses, I kinda assumed they might be seals. But sitting in a kayak on even pretty calm waters wasn't going to allow me to watch them through the binoculars. What to do, what to do?
The island I'm near has no inviting beaches on which to land. It's nearing low tide and the seas are surging against fairly steep granite shores with a few ledges forming a kind of point. As I watch the surf coming in on the ledges I remember drawings in Derek Hutchinson's book showing someone riding waves in and beaching themselves high and dry on a rock pinnacle. Hmmm.
I paddle around and watch the surge and the seaweed covered rocks for a couple of minutes. I notice a spot between two rocks that might leave me up on a ledge. I thought about that for another minute or two. I decided that while it was probably doable, I would be facing the wrong way and wouldn't be able to see the seals. Now if I went in backwards.......
As I do a 180, I see a big black head sticking out of the water watching me. There seemed to be an expression on the seal's face saying, 'This oughta be good - ain't no way I'm gonna miss this'. Thanx a lot, fella.
I back in a little and then let the surge take me the rest of the way. I made it up on the ledge (kinda) with just a wobble or two, which I expertly corrected with a new variation of high braces (arms above head) against the rocks on either side of me. At this point I'm almost halfway on the ledge but when the surge goes out, the bow is pointed down over the edge about a foot. Another surge comes in but doesn't move me nor does the next. Finally a larger one comes in and lifts me the rest of the way up. Cool! The seal's gone. He must have left when he saw the skill and confidence with which I handled the boat, the seas and the rocks. :-).
I got out and straddled the kayak on the foredeck so I could control it when the surges came in, put my elbows on my knees for support and counted 70-80 seals sprawled out on the ledges for a siesta. There were white ones, speckled ones, tan ones, light gray and dark gray ones. For some reason I figured the dark gray ones were males. They seemed sleeker and more active while the rest were kinda fat and lazy and just laying around and I thought they were probably females. (Don't flame me ladies, I'm talkin' about seals here, not making generalizations. Although there was one lady at the Sea Kayak Symposium that went close to 300 pounds. I don't know if she was there to try out kayaks or barges or what. There were a few big men there too.).
I watched the seals for 15-20 minutes as they lounged around, rolling, stretching, yawning and generally taking it easy. There were four females in a row, all laying on their sides with their flippers on their chests and that really looked cool.
This was my first time being able to observe seals for any length of time in the wild and it's an experience I'll remember with great fondness. It's too bad I couldn't get any pictures but my camera wouldn't show much more than spots from that distance.
My feet were getting cold (just sandals again) so I decided to have a snack and take off. By the time I finished the snack and water though, the surge wasn't coming up on the ledge anymore and my feet were warmer so I stayed another 10-15 minutes.
When I left, the water was more than 2 feet below the ledge so I got to do a seal launch off of the rocks. The bow hit the water while the stern hung up on the ledge and I started to go over but was able to brace on the bottom while the stern crashed into the water.
I scouted out a couple of more islands and worked my way down to Andrews Island around 11:30. There was a nice small beach on the end that would make a good spot for lunch. I decided to just paddle out first and look down the outer coast of Andrews to see if there might be something else a little further down.
Most of the outer coast was cool looking pink granite walls but no apparent places to land for lunch so I turned around and started back to the little beach.
And so begins another episode of the Misadventures of a C'yakker Wannabe.
Just east of the upper part of Andrews Island, a couple hundred feet off shore, is a group of seaweed covered rocks sticking out of the water at low tide. Just on the other side of these rocks are a few more, smaller rocks that the waves are crashing over.
Now I just love watching waves crash over rocks and the swirling and surging waters flowing back out again. So I paddle over to the rocks and sit there enjoying the sights and sounds as I rise and fall with the waves. Eventually I find myself maneuvering to the side of the rocks, I guess with some half baked idea of catching a wave.
I felt the water fall away from under me and looked back over my right shoulder to watch the wave come in. I heard the wave breaking before I saw or felt it and my body started to get ready to do a high brace when the breaker hit me from the left side and I started to go over. Instead of doing a high brace on the left, my body went into a low brace on the right (I had been practicing a little). I hit the water once and recovered a little. I hit the water a second time and thought, 'hey, this might actually work in a real situation' as I righted myself a little more. I hit the water a third time as 'something' hit the bottom of the boat and I went over the rest of the way.
My first thought was 'damn, this water is cold'. My second thought was 'No! It ain't gonna end like this'. And then I started swimming?
The rocks were about 25 feet away and I started kicking the kayak towards them. I'm to the side of the rocks so the waves aren't breaking on me but I am riding the swells as they go past and I start wondering if I'll get pushed past the rocks. In 20-30 seconds, my legs are really tired and they just slow down all by themselves and the kick weakens. I'm about 10 feet from the rocks and wonder if maybe I should have been thinking about self rescue instead of swimming and get the paddle float loose.
Now I'm two feet from the rocks so give another couple of kicks but the swells are being reflected back off of the rocks so I can't get any closer and I just kinda hang there. Since the kayak is just laying there like a water soaked log, I figure if I turn it over, it might respond a little better. I grab the cockpit coaming and lift and heave. It goes up about halfway and no further. I've done this many times before in practice and many times without my feet touching bottom for support. Am I getting weaker? I dunno but I try again. This time, I know I'm going to scoop a lot of water into the cockpit because I roll it over more than lift it over.
I put my feet down to see if I can touch bottom but can't and start to put the paddle float on and think 'be sure to fasten it to the shaft this time, dummy'. I also start to edge my way from the cockpit to the bow, hoping I can reach out and grab the rocks and as I do, my foot touches what turns out to be a tiny little ledge.
I get both feet up on the ledge and pull the kayak in towards me. No, I'm not between a rock and a hard place; the swells are trying to push the kayak away from me. They're also trying to push me off of my little perch and succeed a couple of times.
So now I'm on the ledge, still have my kayak and paddle and I can take a deep breath. I notice my water bottle is gone and something is snaking around my foot. I just know it's my bow or stern line I threw behind the seat, just in case, and am able to kick out of it ok.
When the surge comes in, the water's up to mid-chest and when it goes out, it's down to mid-shins. I've got a bilge pump but wonder if using it is going to warm me up or tire me out. Instead I opt for the bailer I've been carrying since a discussion on Paddlewise about foot and electric pumps. The bailer really did a good job and most of the water was out of the cockpit in about two minutes with no strain. Of course I wasn't any warmer either.
Ok, so how am I gonna get my cold and tired old bones back into the kayak with it bouncing back and forth between my chins and chest? I remembered reading about bracing when getting in from a dock or something but couldn't remember what I had read. I finally waited for the surge to go out and got my left leg in the cockpit. When the surge came back in I just let my whole body raise with the kayak and held on to the rock. When the surge went back out again, I got the other leg and my butt in and pushed away from the rocks with the paddle and back paddled out of there. Whew!
As I headed back to the little beach I started to shiver. On the beach, I broke out my lunch and a Camelback full of water I always carry along with extra food and gear in case I have to overnight on an island.
The shivers stopped for a while but then started up again. I put on a fleece shirt and fleece socks and topped that off with a winter windbreaker with the hood up. When I got it snug against my body I finally started to warm up. Oh yeah, I had also pulled the top of my farmer john up. Sometimes I forget to pull it up when launching and sometimes I leave it down because of the heat.
In retrospect:
This episode probably was not in the 'Oops' category and might actually deserve an 'Oh Sh*t!' classification.
Swimming was not a good idea. I should have begun a self rescue immediately. The cold sapped a good deal of my strength in a very short time.
I will not carry loose rope in my cockpit any more. I've since found a nylon bag in which to carry loose rope.
If you have a knife such as a River Shorty, carry it on your PFD; it doesn't do much good in an emergency tucked away in a dry bag. I stowed mine because I didn't want to look like a Rambo type. I hooked it back on the PFD during lunch and now don't much care if I look like Rambo or Daffy Duck.
If you're going to wear a wet suit, wear it properly. Having it pulled down to your waist looses at least 90% of its heat retention capabilities. It's your torso that really needs to retain the heat.
Get a decent pair of water shoes. I had my crappy sandals on again and one of them came loose, making things more difficult again.
Beware that the proximity of shore doesn't give you a false sense of security. Would I have played around those rocks a mile or more off shore? I dunno. Just because it's there, doesn't mean it will help get yourself out of a bind.
If I had managed a high brace into the breaking wave it probably would have dumped me anyway because I don't think I would've leaned into the wave at all.
Anyway, I hung out around the beach for an hour and a half before the chills were gone and I felt normal again. I then decided to continue down the outside of Andrews Island and admired the pink granite walls (they weren't really high enough to call cliffs). They're kinda like a real pale pink or fleshy color. I got one really nice picture (I hope) of the walls with trees above them and a brilliant blue sky with white fluffy clouds (cumulus?) above them and some surf crashing into the bottom of the walls. The bow of the kayak probably snuck into the picture. It usually does.
At the bottom of Andrews I set sights for the last island in the chain across a 2 mile passage. I assumed this was Pleasant Island, which was the last island on my chart. The next chart had an inset where there should have been some chart overlap so there was no way of knowing for sure.
I then noticed a lighthouse with a red flashing light that wasn't on my chart or the next one either. Oh great! There might be a gigantic whirlpool over there big enough to suck up the Queen Mary and I wouldn't know until it ate me too. Now I can sympathize with Magellan when he thought he might be sailing off the edge of the world as he sailed into the great unknown.
Eventually I muddled my way over to Seal Harbor and the 3 miles back to camp.
Saturday I drove 15 miles southwest(?) to Port Clyde (no relation) where there were another dozen or so larger islands spread out over a 5 mile or so area. Port Clyde appears to be a working harbor with lobster and fishing boats and fewer pleasure boats. One 30+ foot boat had a harpoon gun with a small harpoon (about the size of a big arrow) in it and had a long bow sprit where it looked as if someone would stand waiting to harpoon something.
Harpoon what? I think there are some sort of small whales in the area but I haven't seen one yet and doubt if they'd be legal. Porpoises, illegal? Tuna? Sharks? NOAA had broadcast something about the shark fisheries being closed shortly, whatever that meant.
I headed up the St. George River where I meant to cross over to Gay Island. I apparently wasn't paying attention to the red nuns because it seems I crossed over to Caldwell Island instead and when I got to the other side everything was out of whack. Every time I found a navigation aid it seemed to be somewhere other than where it belonged. My thought for a while was that all the markers had been moved since my chart was published.
Of course, just to make things interesting, there were 3 nuns marked # 2 all almost within sight of each other. And..... there were two cans And a day marker all marked as # 1.
On the way up the river I could see a 60-70 foot sailboat with 40-50 foot twin masts tucked away in a little cove. As I paddled around trying to figure out where I was, those masts were always there as a beacon.
So I just paddled around a little, watched 4 osprey swooping around for a while and then headed for the masts and from there back into the harbor. I figured I'd head out of the harbor from the ocean side and tackle the islands from the other direction, hopefully with better luck.
I passed a small lighthouse protecting the harbor entrance and headed out towards a fair sized rock island that appeared to have a beach where I might land for lunch. As I neared the island, sea gulls started screeching and taking to the air. They were pretty emphatic so I guessed they were nesting and headed for the next island where the same thing happened. And the next. Geesh, I just wanted a place to rest the old bones and have a sandwich.
The only place left was Mosquito Island and that didn't sound very inviting, but what choice did I have? As it turns out, it was a great place to land. There was a nice beach with real sand on it and a bleached log sitting up at the high tide mark.
After lunch I placed the PFD against the log, wiggled a hole in the sand for my butt, calves and elbows and just leaned back and relaxed. The temperature was about 80F, a 5-10 knot breeze (when I'm on land it's a breeze, when I'm on the water it's a wind) was blowing, the sky was bright blue with a few clouds in the distance. Within a couple of minutes a pair of osprey appeared followed a minute later by a second pair. All four soared and hovered in the wind for about 5 minutes and then left. I nodded off and on for about half an hour or so. Let's see you do that with a group. I couldn't really drift off though, because the tide was coming in and I couldn't tie the kayak up because I don't carry loose rope any more!!!!!!!!!
I had had to go a couple of miles out of my way for lunch and it was a 4+ miles crossing to Burnt Island. The wind was up to 10-15 knots with 1+ foot chop. I would have a chance to change my mind when I got to the sea gull islands again but kept right on going and reached Burnt Island in about 80 minutes, which I thought was pretty good for a beat up old guy in those conditions.
I paddled around another hour or two and then headed for the harbor. After pulling out, I stopped at the general store and waited half an hour for a really crappy meatball sandwich, which I ate out on a nice deck overlooking the harbor. It was around 7pm and a lot of the day sailors were out in the harbor as well as some of the dinkiest looking dinghies I've ever seen. Some of them were sitting lower in the water than we do. Good thing that lady from the symposium wasn't there. The wind and chop had died down or some of those folks would be practicing their breast strokes.
Sunday I decided to head up to Rockland Harbor for a looksee. I got off to a late start and then got stuck on the camp ground beach talking to different people so it was close to 8am before I got out on the water.
I had a very leisurely paddle up the coast, poking into little coves, riding the surges and generally just lollygagging about. Kinda like a Sunday afternoon stroll through the park with your hands in your pockets.
I got up to Sheep Island where I took a break on a beach of small pebbles. There was a group of large rocks, one which looked just like a small seal stretching its back and tail so I got a picture of that. There was supposed to be a pair of nesting eagles on Monroe Island, the next island up. I didn't see any nests from my side and didn't want to get too close.
Rockland Harbor started right after Monroe and is guarded by a lighthouse up on a rocky cliff and that was worth a picture. When I rounded the point I just sat there for 15-20 minutes because there were several 50+ sailboats coming into the harbor and they looked great with different rigs under full sail. There was a lot of boat traffic and I had to figure out what I wanted to do.
I saw a beach way on the other side and decided to paddle over there for lunch and then come back along the shoreline. Most of the traffic seemed to be concentrated right where I was with very little over on the other half so I waited for an opening and sprinted across a quarter mile or so and was then able to relax for the last mile or so.
There's a big long jetty or breakwater about a half mile long with a boarded up house on the end of it? What's the difference between a jetty and a breakwater? They're both designed for people to walk on and fish from right? Well, enough of that nauseous nautical nonsense.
I had lunch right below a golf course surrounding a bunch of condos, then paddled around the jetty/breakwater thing into the harbor proper. Here the water was pretty choppy and a 10 knot wind kicked up. About half way to shore I hear sirens and see a little red boat come flying out from a dock. It was followed a minute later by a 25 foot Coast Guard cutter and my first thought was ‘uh oh, busted again'. Then I thought he was chasing the red boat until I turned around and could see lights flashing on the red boat. I guess they were both heading out to rescue someone. Where were they Friday when I need them?
I paddled around the harbor for more than an hour admiring the many, many large sailboats. There was one that was kind of beat up and looked like it had spent many years and many, many miles at sea. There were a few that seemed to be close to 100 feet long. Some of them had people aboard and they really looked tiny in relation to the boat.
About the time I started back the wind picked up to about 15 knots and there was a 1+ foot following chop. I had a couple of miles to go to reach the light house and was just paddling along, minding my own business, keeping the kayak straight and riding the waves when I could, glad there was very little traffic in this area.
I had been paddling about 45 minutes when I just happened to glance over my shoulder. Holy sh*t! A freakin' tsunami is bearing down on me. The rudder is up so all I can do is a back sweep a couple of times to swing my stern into the wave and I just barely made it. There were 6 or 7 waves in a row and while they weren't really tsunami size they were all close to 3 feet. I have no idea where they came from. Once they were past, I turned around and saw nothing but a ferry just heading out and a trolling fishing boat.
Hey, it's dangerous out here. Just like swimming in shark infested waters. You gotta keep looking around or something's gonna sneak up and bite you.
As I sat there looking to see what caused those waves, I notice that the fishing boat is heading directly for me so I sit there and watch the approaching boat. All this water and this boat is aimed right at me. Dad is in the back with a fishing rod in his hand. Brother is laid back with his mouth open. Sister is staring off into space and Mom (oh no) is steering.
Dad hooks into something which wakes Brother up. Sister is still staring into space and Mom, thankfully cuts the engine back to idle. Dad's fighting the fish, Brother grabs a long handled net large enough to land a blue finned tuna, Sister is staring into space and Mom is watching the show. After quite a struggle and a lot of shouting, Dad manages to land a fish that was at least 6 inches long. At least I think it was a fish. Then again, it might have been his bait. Dad mumbles to himself, Brother flops back down, Sister stares off into space and Mom (oh no) puts the boat in gear and heads straight for me again. Me? I just sit there in dumb disbelief.
I start to back paddle as the shock starts to wear off. Finally Dad spots me and says something to Mom. Mom gives me a haughty look and finally veers off. Whew! Another one gets away.
As I round the lighthouse point, the 15 knot wind hits me directly in the face. Oh boy! This is going to be fun. I have about 4-5 miles to camp and it's probably going to take more than 3 hours. It actually took about 2 ½ hours of paddling straight through. The wind did let up rather than pick up as normal, near the end and the chop went away too.