Sunday, September 30, 2007

North Haven

Approaching Babbidge Island

Last night after work we did the quick loop around Crotch, Sand and Rock that we've come to know as the "Crotch-Rock Quickie". This morning we were on the water by 6:45, headed to North Haven. The crossing from Andrews Island to Babbidge is a little over three miles, and open to a lot of fetch, no matter where the wind is coming from. We had a few waves for the last third, but nothing too dramatic.

Passing Bald Island


We passed Calderwood and Burnt Islands, landing finally on North Haven at Mullen Head. Mullen Head is a town park. Long ago I camped there, but I don't know if that's allowed any longer. It's a beautiful spot: rocky bluffs, hardwoods and a trail following the shore to an occasional picnic table in a clearing. At low tide, there's an island that can be reached on foot.


Approaching the Porcupines

We made a loop, following the islands north: Sheep, Bald, the Porcupines. To the west we saw a whole new archipelago to explore. This would more easily done by camping on one of the islands, but day trips are possible, especially if one launched near Dunham Point instead. At ten o'clock we headed east from the Porcupines, heading straight for Sheephead Island, about a two-mile crossing. By then the sea had calmed-down a bit, and we turned south, paddling toward Barred Island, where we took a break.

A hiker asked us where we'd come from. "Stonington," Todd said. "But we stopped-off on North Haven on the way."

Isle au Haut / Todd / Vinalhaven

True to my sign on the gallery door, I opened-up after noon. A six-hour trip with over a half-hour break. Over 16 nautical miles.


Saturday, September 29, 2007

Barred Island


Since it was foggy most of yesterday, and the preceeding day or two, we thought we'd take a quick coastal paddle on the west side of the island. I got off work early, and we were on the water by 4:45. Amazingly, most of the fog had cleared away. We'd gotten it into our head to paddle over toward Sand beach though, so we did. By 5:45 we were at Barred Island.

Barred Island is part of a preserve owned by the Nature Conservancy. The walk there is one of my favorite hikes around, and I went there fairly often before I became obsessed with sea kayaking. It occured to me that the hour it took us to paddle there was probably less time than it usually takes to drive and walk there.

Paddled back before the backdrop of an orange sunset. Out around Andrews Island and back through the dark Thorofare.



Sunday, September 23, 2007

Green & Popplestone Ledges


The sign on the gallery door read "Open Today at 11 a.m.". I should have known better. By the time we rounded Fog Island and headed out to the wild-looking ledges beyond, I had a pretty good idea I wouldn't be back by eleven. And what the heck, once we were out there, it was a straight shot across to Southern Mark Island, another wild, treeless, seabird-befouled rock in the middle of a big expanse of water.





As we do these longer paddles, it feels like our boundaries are edging farther away, toward other groups of islands that once seemed far. We paddled for three and a half hours before our first break. An hour later we were back in Stonington. We saw no other kayaks, today.

Monday, September 10, 2007

Great Spoon Island


Great Spoon Island lies two miles off the eastern shore of Isle au Haut; a big, treeless rock rising out of the sea. The island is rimmed with rocky bluffs, the top green with tall grasses.


We approached from York Island, unsure of the distance after an already long paddle, ready to turn back if the swell proved bigger than expected. We’d taken a break on Doliver Island, and were again somewhat amazed at the wild sort of place we can get to in two or three hours. It took another half-hour of open water paddling to reach Great Spoon from York. As we approached, the cliffs, which had seemed huge from a distance, turned out to be not so big. An eagle watched from the top, lending scale to the rock (although I’m sure it was a very big eagle).



After posing for a few photos in front of the bluffs, we paddled around the south end of the island, where the swell came from the open ocean. Even in mild conditions, the waves crashing on the rocks were quite dramatic. We continued around and landed in a rocky cove beside a deceptive cobble beach, too steep for a landing.



The view from the height of land is fantastic. The blue water tower in Stonington seems far indeed, which might serve as a reminder to fire-up the cell phone if you need to call your wife and tell her you’ll be a bit late.



Monday, September 3, 2007

Around Isle au Haut


Todd and I have been working up to this one for awhile: Isle au Haut. We've taken trips to it, and gone around the nearby islands, but never circumnavigated it. From Stonington, the small mountains on Isle au Haut are the backdrop to the archipelago between, where we usually paddle. It's almost a boundary, representing the area we can easily get to and from in a day. We've often imagined though, what it would be like when we really had a whole day to paddle, and we could push beyond our usual boundaries. The south side, which is mostly wilderness and part of Acadia National Park, is boldly exposed to the open ocean, and could turn wild in a hurry.


It's about twelve miles to get to Isle au Haut and back. It's probably fifteen to paddle around it. By any estimate, it's at least a 25 - 30-mile paddle. We left at 6:30 yesterday morning on an outgoing tide. Knowing we had far to go, we made an effort to paddle efficiently, but we also had the tide and wind pushing us. We made it to Western Ear by nine.



The change from the archipelago to Isle au Haut is immediately evident. Instead of pink granite, dark schist cliffs rise directly from the ocean. On shore, hardwoods mix with the more usual spruce, and rounded cobbles cover the beaches. Even the seaweed is different. Every now and then, an impressive-looking summer home rests atop a cliff, its windows facing a broad, uninterrupted horizon. Even on a calm day, the swell from the deep, open ocean feels powerful, and capable of changing moods in an instant.


At the tip of Eastern Head, we turned right, paddling in toward Head Harbor, and then along the cliffs toward Western Head. As we rounded Western Ear, Brimstone Island was suddenly visible, looking closer and bigger than ever, immediately followed by the Camden Hills. Despite the Sunday ban on lobstering, a few fishermen were out hauling traps. Around this time, the tide turned, which would help get us back to Stonington.



We kept our breaks short, stretching-out and quickly eating before moving-on. We were in the Isle au Haut Thorofare by eleven or twelve, and feeling a little fatigued. When I raced to surf down a powerboat's wake, I felt it in my muscles, and decided to use my energy more wisely. At this point we'd both probably paddled farther than ever before in one day, and we still had to get home.


We started seeing more kayakers; after all, it was a beautiful Sunday on Labor Day weekend. We sat on Bill's Island for one last rest before paddling the last, much more familiar stretch. The water had turned far more heavy and thick than on our way out. We returned to a busy boat ramp at 2:15. About eight hours: 7 hours paddling, 1 hour of breaks.



When we saw a friend at the ramp, I couldn't resist: "Go ahead," I encouraged him. "Ask us where we went."

Last night: ten hours of sleep.