Thursday, January 17, 2013

January Thaw

This past week we had several warm-ish days with not much wind, and I used them to criss-cross the archipelago, revisiting favorite spots.


I even visited a few places for the first time. I tend to think I've been just about everywhere in the Stonington- Isle au Haut archipelago, but every now and then I'll paddle past a ledge and realize I've never landed there. That's Scraggy Island Ledge (above). Good spot for a cup of coffee and a granola bar.


Nate joined us for a foggy excursion and we worked on synchronized strokes. 


We visited favorite haunts: Wreck, Gooseberry, McGlathery, No Mans, and while the conditions were pretty mild, we managed to mark plenty of rocks with our gel coat. The tides were new moon-high- over twelve feet, and we watched currents moving through the narrow spots, carrying-off high tide debris.


 We were just happy to be out.




We played in some tiny waves off Gooseberry.


 And arced around Spruce and Devil, threading our way back into the Thorofare.


 I could have easily forgotten it was January. The warm days continued. I paddled hat-less and wore sunglasses.


I took a bunch of pictures and drank tea on ledges. Like Spruce Island Ledge (above).


It might have been enough to make one wonder: "shouldn't I be doing something... else? Isn't all this paddling a bit self-indulgent?"


Well that's just crazy talk. Sure, there's bills to be paid, etc, but I kept watching the weather, knowing these days wouldn't last, and they didn't (and they won't). After tea on The Fort, and then on Second Island (had to give the west side equal time) I saw the new weather moving-in, and as I put my gear away that evening, figured it might be awhile before I got out again.


But that was my mistake. If I'd been on my game today, I could have squeezed-in a decent paddle before the temperature dropped and the winds picked-up. Honestly, I felt ready for a break, which is pretty amazing this time of the year.




Thursday, January 10, 2013

Steves, Gooseberry



Over forty degrees, not much wind, some sun... A good day, finally to get out for a paddle. It had been awhile. In Newfoundland for the holidays, we had watched the weather, the high winds and blowing snow that stung the face, and usually agreed that it was just as well we hadn’t brought the boats. Even the 650-foot ferries sat-out some of the gales, delaying our return.

Near Bonne Bay, Newfoundland
Back home, it took some effort to get back into our routine, but oddly, it seemed to fall more into place when we took the better part of a day off and went paddling. “Where to?” we asked at the ramp in Stonington, and it seemed obvious enough. Point toward Steves, take it from there.


Fishermen took advantage of the weather window as well, the harbor humming with lobster boats as we headed across the Thorofare. “Feels like a long time since I’ve paddled,” Rebecca said, and I agreed. Not counting Sunday’s pool session (which I mostly spent standing in the water beside boats) it had been nearly a month since my last excursion. It felt good to follow the shoreline of Green Island, getting the feel for it again, edging and turning around the rocks as small waves pushed us back and forth. We pointed toward the familiar sloping profile of Steves and soon realized we were being set to the west by the ebbing tide. We let it take us: along the shore of Potato, past the sandbar poking-out from George Head until Steves Island lay just before us. At nearly low tide, the easiest sandy beach was on the east side. We pulled-up for a break.


Most of the snow had melted or blown away. We walked around the island, took a few pictures, picked-up some garbage. The sky turned darker as a band of clouds moved-in from the southwest. We kept moving, paddling out past Wreck and then Round Islands.


The wind began to pick-up, just a bit, and we rounded McGlathery, its southeast shoreline stretched ahead of us, granite ledges sloping down into the waves. Giant boulders poised on the incline, apparently ready to roll into the ocean, as they have been since the glacier left them there.


We stopped on Gooseberry Island and ate lunch. Like Steves, Gooseberry is small enough that you can walk around it in a few minutes. You don’t forget that you’re on an island. We sat on a driftwood log, staring out at the open ocean beyond Fog Island, watching lobster boats belching black exhaust as they sped the last miles toward home.


There’s a lot to like about Gooseberry Island, but the boulders really stand-out. The eastern end is strewn with glacial erratics, a random sprinkling of granite boulders, some a good bit larger than us. We wandered among them and marveled. If it had been warmer, we might have spent the afternoon marveling.


But even at forty degrees, it’s prudent to keep moving, keep the blood pumping. Once on the water again, we felt plenty warm, and headed back to Stonington.