Five Days Around Vinalhaven

Vinalhaven, only about six miles across Penobscot Bay from Deer Isle, remains about as elusive to most Deer Isle residents as a distant continent. You can get there from here, but it requires either crossing a broad stretch of ocean in your own boat or driving a couple of hours to Rockland to take the ferry. We’re usually content to vaguely identify it as part of the dark mass of land along the western horizon, merging with North Haven and the Camden Hills. Last fall though, our sunset vista was altered by a trio of newly-constructed windmills on Vinalhaven, each standing nearly four-hundred feet tall, and the island crept further into our consciousness. When Todd and I made time for a five-day kayak excursion, we decided to take a closer look at Vinalhaven.

The weather on Monday wasn’t great for the crossing: northwest wind in the mid-teens with higher gusts. Air and water temps in the mid to high forties. From the time we nosed out of the Thorofare until we pulled into Seal Bay, my boat weathercocked enough to keep me sweeping and leaning the entire time- an exhausting -and I hate to admit it- not terribly enjoyable paddle. Todd did better in his Solstice (even with the rudder removed). The five gallons of water I carried in the cockpit may have contributed to a problem with load distribution, but there wasn’t much I could do about it once we were underway.

A cold, wet, tiring paddle, but other than that, pretty good. Nothing that a little miso soup on the Jetboil couldn’t cure.

Highlights:

-Little Hen Island: our first campsite, in Seal Bay. Mostly out of the wind on a night with frost warnings in the mid-thirties. At night, beyond the trees, the red lights of the windmills winked rythmically.

-Hugging the shore in a clockwise circumnavigation. Checking-out the coves and inlets on the way into town, where we tied-up at the public dock and ate ice-cream.


-Camping for two nights on an island west of Hurricane Sound, ambiguously referred to as Spectacle Island. Half the island was removed in the most destructive quarrying activity we’ve seen, but we camped in a less-touched, idyllic spot with a huge view of Pen Bay and the Camden Hills. Despite the cold, I slept with my tent flap open so I could see the lights of Camden and the clear points of stars above.
-A day trip around the White Islands and Little Hurricane Island, where we found just enough swell to make for some excitement among the rocks and waves.


At one point, I was stranded about as high and dry as I’ve been- a balancing act until a big wave set me free. Todd reached for the camera, then thought better and went for the tow belt, but I was out of reach. Toned it down a notch after that.


-The windmills, surprisingly big and close, again and again.



-The Basin, a large inlet surrounded by wild, protected land. The tide goes in and out of the basin through two small openings which develop strong currents with standing waves and boils. We went in, committing ourselves to a couple hours of exploration before the current reversed direction. Inside, we paddled among islands of glacial erratic boulders, watched over by ospreys and eagles. A small baby seal, only about a foot and a half long, swam right up to my cockpit whimpering like it was looking for its mother. Cute as it was, I kept paddling.


-The Fox Islands Thorofare. Wow. Impressive real estate. Hundred year-old summer residences overlooking an obstacle course of mooring balls, which I assume will soon be tethering all sorts of recreational vessels.


-North Haven. We peeled our drysuits down to our waists and took a walk through town, which felt quiet and friendly. People looked at us, but not in the “what the heck are you wearing?” sort of way. Almost everyone said hello. Had a coffee at Waterman’s Community Center and the friendly woman there was happy to answer all of Todd’s questions. Interesting, how the people on these different islands so close together develop such different social habits.


-Calderwood Island. A large land trust island managed by Maine Coast Heritage Trust. From our campsite on the east end, the water and microwave towers in Stonington were clearly visible, but still far enough to feel like another world. Five days, fifty miles, plenty of hanging-out on islands: a fairly relaxed way to start a not-so relaxed summer.

Guide Training

We met upstairs in the new classroom building at Old Quarry Ocean Adventures. There were seven of us: Rich MacDonald, our instructor, and six students. The goal, over six days of instruction, was to prepare us for the exam to become registered Maine sea kayak guides. Every spring, outfitters up and down the coast need to fill positions for kayak guides, and candidates of varying levels of experience take these crash courses to get ready.

The "husky" tow

It’s mostly classroom work, covering a lot of material, but the heart of it is safety, and in partcular, how to safely take groups of inexperienced paddlers out on the ocean. The exam consists of written and oral components. For the oral exam, three examiners from Maine Fish & Wildlife ask the applicant to demonstrate, among other things, proficiency with navigating and chart reading, wildlife identification, and the ability to communicate calmly and logically under pressure.


The crux of the exam seems to be the “lost person scenario” in which the candidate is given a hypothetical crisis. The candidate verbally goes through every step of the process, from taking care of the group and calling the Coast Guard to conducting the search. There aren’t always black and white right answers, but there are a lot of ways to fail. A calm, confident demeanor is key, as well as verbally accounting for every step of the process, including the logic behind every decision. Plenty of candidates fail this part of the exam on the first attempt... which might be a good thing.


Our class got out on the water as well, starting with some rescue practice on the pond, and some towing practice on Webb Cove. Then we paddled out to Hell’s Half Acre and spent the night.


While we paddled and camped, we worked on guide skills. Camping and camp-cooking skills take some effort to be good at it, and everyone comes to it with their way of doing things, which gave us all a chance to learn something new from the others. In particular, I think we were all impressed with the chocolate cake Rich made in his Outback Oven. Take care of your clients’ stomachs and their hearts are bound to follow.


Rich is an ornithologist, which has brought him to some unusual places, including gigs, with his wife Natalie, as naturalists on cruise ship excursions arranged by Garrison Keillor. In 2002, he and Natalie embarked on The Gulf of Maine Expedition, paddling around the Gulf of Maine, from Cape Cod to Nova Scotia. This year, Rich and Natalie are opening The Natural History Center, a shop and guiding service in Bar Harbor.


So I’m now much better at recognizing the difference between an eider and a guillemot. We also took a walk around the island, looking into tidepools, turning over rocks, learning about the creatures and plants that we often don’t notice.



So why do I want to guide? I keep learning that the sea kayak is more than just a vehicle to take you out on the ocean from place to place. It can be a practice and a pursuit that gives one direction in a bigger sense. I’ve never known what direction it might be taking me, but I’ve learned to say yes to the opportunities that come up, trusting that it somehow makes for a richer experience.

The Potomac

One thing about taking off on a long trip; when you get back, it feels like you'll never catch up on everything, especially as new adventures begin. Though it's been nearly a month since we stopped in Washington DC on our way back from Florida, I wanted to post a few snapshots from a paddle we took with Peter on the Potomac River.



More and more, I'm starting to enjoy the varied places that sea kayaking takes us. In this case, it took us to a place inland from the ocean that isn't often associated with sea kayaking. We probably would have done our best to avoid DC, like we do most cities, had Peter and Marilyn not invited us to stop and visit. Actually, we have a lot of friends we would like to visit in DC, but since we had our boats, and their offer included a paddle on the Potomac, we couldn't resist.

We launched near the Pentagon and crossed over toward the Mall amid tour boats and a floating restaurant, but after that, traffic on the river was amazingly sparse. We paddled along the grassy riverbanks amid cherry blossoms with the Washington Monument and Lincoln Memorial looming in the background. About once every minute, our conversation was interrupted by the roar of a jet following the river as it descended toward one of the DC airports.


People on shore took notice. We paddled past the Kennedy Center and Georgetown, where diners at an outdoor cafe called out to us almost desperately, wondering where to get kayaks and where to launch. We were joined by the sculling team, the coach leading the way in a powerboat, barking out instructions. Peter pointed-out the Georgetown Canoe Club, where he'd gone to dances as a teenager.


We stopped for lunch on Theodore Roosevelt Island, an amazingly large piece of wild forest right in the middle of the city, then paddled back through a creek, which despite several bridges crossing overhead, was another corridor of wildness, busy with turtles, great blue herons and other wildlife. Meanwhile, government helicopters whisked back and forth overhead, punctuated by the roar of jets over a steady background hiss of traffic. I felt grateful for this backdoor view of the city, which, despite what appears as chaos, has a calm heart flowing right through it.