The Spoons

York Island

On Wheat Island, I ate my sandwich while the others set-up tents. They had driven some sixteen hours from Canada the previous night, sleeping in the truck once they arrived at Old Quarry, and spent the morning packing boats. They were all a bit tired, but still up for a good paddle.

They paddled nice boats and knew what they were doing, and I felt a little concerned that I might be the slowpoke of the group. They assured me that it didn’t matter. They had all week to explore, and for the first day, wanted me to show them around so they could make the most of their time. We’d been emailing each other for weeks, but I hardly knew where to start. A base camp on Wheat Island seemed like a good idea. We meandered out through the archipelago while I answered a lot of questions.

Every now and then I'm reminded of how difficult it is for visitors to get information about paddling out in the archipelago. The guidebooks to paddling the Maine coast tend to be a bit broad, focusing on details about one particular route. There's the MITA guide, but it only covers MITA islands. You could do plenty of research on-line and still be in the dark about which islands are private, and which ones have public access. Actually, I'll blow my own horn here and say that my article in Sea Kayaker Magazine (Dec 2009) is probably the most comprehensive source (despite its being under 3 or 4 thousand words). To make matters worse, some magazines publish misleading information. One suggested a trip around MDI, camping at the national park campgrounds (those would be some long portages to the water). And I recently taught and guided a family who, inspired by Outside Magazine, expected to "crash in a lean-to" on Isle au Haut and buy lobster from the boat. Yes, these things are possible, but you need a little more information- and paddling skills. Those five campsites are reserved months in advance. But I'm sure the beverage recommendations to accompany the lobster were spot-on.

Around the southern end of Little Spoon, White Horse in the distance.

So our friends from Canada knew they could save some trouble by hiring a local guide for their first day out. Lucky me; it turned into a great day of paddling. After they set-up camp on Wheat Island, we looked at the chart and talked about options. Finally, they just asked "what would you most like to do," and I pointed to the Spoon Islands- Great Spoon and Little Spoon. Off we went.

I don't get to the Spoons as often as I'd like. It's about a ten-mile paddle from Old Quarry (via Wheat Island) and there's no camping there (although Todd and I bivvied there one blustery autumn night a few years ago when conditions turned bad).  The islands are home to a number of lesser-seen birds, and as part of the Maine Coast Island Wildlife Refuge, they're off-limits for the summer. When we'd launched from Old Quarry hours earlier, the visitor's launching area was about as busy as I'd seen it, but we hardly saw anyone on the water, particularly after passing Merchants Row. The Spoons felt especially quiet- except for the crashing of waves.

Great Spoon Island

We hung-out with some grey seals for awhile and paddled around the southern end of Little Spoon, where the swells came-in unimpeded from the open ocean; big conditions to guide in, but by then I had no doubts about my clients- they obviously loved it. We headed over to Great Spoon and drifted beneath the bluffs. I tried to see the place from the Canadians' eyes- was this everything they'd hoped for? They had paddled in a lot of places, but their usual haunts were in the Great Lakes and the lakes and rivers of the Canadian Shield. Gorgeous granite bluffs and bumpy water were nothing new to them. They were scouting the area for their friends back home- a group of experienced paddlers from central Canada who regularly got-together for ambitious trips. If they liked it, they might get a bigger group together for a bigger trip. My clients were seeing it all through sleep-deprived eyes, and I'm guessing it felt a bit unreal. They seemed happy. They also seemed happy when we returned to Wheat Island and they called it a day.

Shivers Island

I watched the sun sink as I made my way back to Old Quarry.

Long-Term Students

Me, Nate, Brian. The Kennebec. Photo: Todd Johnstone-Wright

Last week I spent a couple of days sea kayaking in the Boothbay area with a group of paddlers with at least one thing in common: our teacher, Todd Johnstone-Wright. The easy way to explain it is that we were there for a class, which isn’t quite accurate. But we were there to learn from Todd and from each other.

Mike. The Thread of Life. Photo: Nate Hanson

People are often baffled as to why I'm off taking another kayaking class. They have difficulty understanding that there could possibly be anything more to learn. Most of these people get the concept of lifelong learning, but when it comes to kayaking they haven't scratched the surface- so they assume that there isn't much to learn. If I try to explain that I'm a long-term student among a committed group of like-minded others, I often get that look from people: the slight incredulous grin, like I've just told them I've joined a cult- or that I've clearly crossed the line from nerd to fanatic.

(An example: I look at the photo below and wonder what I'm doing with the paddle, and if maybe my wrist could be straighter- I'm probably just trying to not plow-into Todd).

Todd, Me. The Kennebec. Photo: Nate Hanson

Any further explanation gets a little tricker: there's this organization called the British Canoe Union- the BCU. Todd Johnstone-Wright aspires to be a Level 5 Coach. This is an involved process. Part of the process is to take-on a group of long-term students. Nate and I are among that group. We're a diverse bunch with varied paddling backgrounds. All but Nate and I live in Vermont. Next March, some of us will go to Scotland, to learn from Todd and his teacher, Gordon Brown. Next fall, a couple of students will go to Scotland for Todd's assessment. It is a notoriously difficult assessment. As far as I know, there are still only 2 North American-born Level 5 Coaches: Jen Kleck and John Carmody.

Sherry, us in the background, mouth of the Kennebec. Photo: Todd Johnstone-Wright

We gathered Monday evening at a campground in Boothbay and on Tuesday morning drove over to Fort Popham. This was the first time we had paddled together as a group, although most of us had paddled together on different occasions. Before we launched, we all stated what we hoped to get out of our time there. I felt so burnt-out from work, all I could muster was "I wanna have some fun." After all, we were headed to Popham Beach.

Brian. The Thread of Life. Photo: Nate Hanson

 We did have some fun, but since most of us are teachers, it was interspersed with coaching. I'll admit, once or twice I felt like saying "screw that, just let me catch this wave." Still, I received some good feedback and got some practice coaching in a Level 4 environment (waves, current, rocks) which is important, since most of my students at Old Quarry have been beginners. Todd is quick to point-out that he would take the right beginners into these conditions on their first day out. He's been working with a lot of agile, quick-learning college students, but I agree: the steeper the challenge, the quicker you learn.

Me, Todd. The Thread of Life. Photo: Nate Hanson

We played in the surf and spent the afternoon in the tide race at the mouth of the Kennebec, where the 3-knot current meets incoming swell: very different from the Bagaduce or Sullivan Falls. We could stay out on those waves for a half-hour at a time.

Me. The Thread of Life. Photo: Todd Johnstone-Wright

On Wednesday we launched from East Boothbay and headed-out to the Thread of Life and played among the rocks. We found just enough swell to make it interesting. 

Nate, The Thread of Life. Photo: Todd Johnstone-Wright

So this long-term student thing is pretty cool. It gave me a great excuse to escape work for a couple of days and go paddle in a groovy spot. And there's a sense of kindred spirits among competent paddlers. We all want to progress with our paddling skills and we seem to have a similar sense of what "fun" is. And we learn things from each other.

Mike, The Thread of Life. Photo: Todd Johnstone-Wright

Thanks to Todd Johnstone-Wright and Nate Hanson for the photos. I forgot my camera... which turned-out to be nice in its own way- less to worry about.

Joe, The Thread of Life. Photo: Todd Johnstone-Wright