Herding Bunnies

While I try to keep what I share here positive, and I never want to share things about clients that they wouldn’t want shared, I also want to present a balanced and honest perspective. I don’t think most readers think all guiding or teaching kayaking is fun or easy, but I tend to write more about those better days. This is about a less-better day.

I’ve heard people refer to kayak guiding as “herding cats.” The thing about cats though, is that they are difficult to manage because they are independent and curious with a strong will of their own. I met a guide a few years ago who told me that you need to recognize who the “bunnies” are. She meant the passive clients who are along for the ride, and seem to forget that they need to paddle their boat to go forward, and that they need to make it turn, or perhaps stop before their momentum propels them up onto a ledge. They will just sit there in their boat, like a bunny about to be devoured by a predator, and watch it unfold, rather than do anything about it. I thought she was being a little cynical, but she was right. If your clients are in tandems, you don’t want a really passive person steering, nor do you want to put two passive paddlers into the same tandem (who’s going to make this thing go?).

Here’s how I spent two hours of my life.

Six clients, most of them children would occupy three tandems while a crowd of  adults, bristling with cameras watched them paddle away. With some of them, there was a language barrier, and this may account for our lack of understanding that the adults intended to send the kids off on their own (not gonna happen). Suddenly I was on guide duty. The weather was cloudy and breezy, a bit cool, with occasional rain spitting down. The forecast called for mid-teen winds with gusts, which hadn’t materialized - yet.

Rebecca got the crowd outfitted while I changed into my gear. As we went through the footpeg-adjusting process, it became clear that this was a challenging group- in their ability to pay attention and focus and perhaps even to understand English. And probably, there were some attitudes as well- after all, they came here to rent their own boats. The crowd of parents didn’t help with their distractions. Usually, I’m just relieved to get on the water. My job becomes more focused; get everyone headed in the same direction.

This was tough. One boat, a yellow one steered by a four and a half-foot-tall blond kid, did just fine. The others started going in circles and paddling into the shore rocks. I repeatedly demonstrated paddling backwards and returning rudder controls to neutral to straighten the boat. In this fashion, we proceeded along the shore, toward Buckmaster Neck. Before we got to the point though, as the wind and waves increased, and I towed a boat off of the rocks, I turned us around and we went in to Webb Cove. As we passed the ramp, I got Rebecca to come down and switch the paddlers in one boat, since one stern paddler just didn’t seem to get it, and kept slouching way down, slapping the water surface with his paddle instead of actually paddling.

We proceeded into Webb Cove. They’d wanted a two-hour trip and I still had an hour and a half to burn. I figured it would get better in calm water- maybe we’d see some wildlife. The wind was really picking-up by now.

But I could hardly get them to paddle. They were on a carnival ride, especially the boys in the red boat, and it sounded like it from the way they shouted at each other. In the calm water, I suggested to the two boys who were doing well that they switch with the others, so we might actually get somewhere. They looked at each other and said no, they didn’t want to be in a boat with the others. We proceeded very slowly into the cove- I’d take a few strokes and wait, watching the red tandem teeter precariously back and forth as the two teens exaggerated their stroke... and yet propulsion still seemed to elude them. The other boat would see us stop, and would follow suit- fifty yards behind us. When we were all together again, I pointed-out an eagle, but no one seemed to care since it was a juvenile and didn’t have a white head.

They all wanted to stop on an island, so we did. It was wooded though, with no obvious trails, and at high tide the shore was a bit sea-weedy. Yuck. I demonstrated that we could walk out to a ledge and have a look around, but they seemed content to stand beside their boats, as though uncertain hazards lay waiting on this island. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned that the former inhabitants were buried there.

By now the parents were in the office, seeing how the conditions had changed, asking if they should be worried. It took a lot to get us all pointed up the cove (into the wind) and I ended up towing the red boat and waiting for the other one, while reigning-in the boat that was doing well. I had to keep yelling “put your paddle in the water!” By now, a small crowd had assembled on shore, watching our glacial progress and documenting it with cameras with big zoom lenses. I wanted the boys in the red boat to save face and paddle-in on their own steam, so I gave them a quick pep talk on getting their paddles into the water and steering and released them from my tow. But they didn’t paddle and didn’t steer and I had to chase them down and re-connect before they were washed into shore.

We all landed, everyone survived. I overheard a mother in the office as she was told the new price that included the guide and she wasn’t pleased by the amount. Her son told her that the guide told him that he’d done really well. One boy said thanks and shook my hand. Other than that, they all went away without a word of thanks or an appreciative gesture. Imagine if they’d sent these kids out without a guide. I can’t imagine what they were thinking. But I was thinking that if guiding were like this very often, I wouldn’t be doing it. It’s part of the reason that we like to teach people and do longer and more challenging trips... since it tends to weed-out the bunnies. I changed my clothes and went back to work in the office.

Three Days Around Isle au Haut

Being up early doesn’t feel so early when the sun has already risen well above the islands to the east, and lobster boats have been grumbling around for awhile, but I’m up doing my stretching routine on the raised ledge that juts out from the east end of Wheat Island. It’s only early because my guests are still in their tents, and I have some precious time to myself. The early sun turns the granite boulders reddish-orange; the water is calm. I do my stretches slowly and sit for awhile, gazing out at the low smudge of Marshall and Swans Islands, and beyond them, the hills of Mount Desert Island rising through the haze.

We spent the previous day paddling around Isle au Haut. One of my guests had just finished her first day in a sea kayak. For most paddlers, an Isle au Haut circumnavigation is a trip you work up to slowly. The day trip from Wheat Island spans at least 15 nautical miles, and the seas around the southern end of the island tend to be lively.

We had no particular goal for the three day trip, but on her first day, my guest had taken instruction well, and she was strong and in excellent shape. My other guest was also fit and had been on some challenging kayaking trips. Aside from that, they had great, easygoing attitudes and I could tell they wouldn’t mind a long day that would kick all of our butts a bit. The weather and tide was perfect for the circumnavigation, so we decided to go for it.

I can imagine making such a choice and soon regretting it, but as we paddled along the east shore of Isle au Haut... past York Island and Turner Cove, forgoing a break on Battery Island for the easier landing on Horseman Point, we moved along easily. We chatted about previous paddling experiences and admired the scenery. Occasionally I gave some feedback to improve forward stroke efficiency. Without an efficient stroke, a longer paddle excursion could be a bit of an ordeal- and I see very few paddlers with anything close to an efficient stroke. It’s easier to teach this to someone on their first day of paddling than to someone who has years of an arm-cranking stroke committed to muscle memory.

Farther south, the swell increased gradually, and I tried to shepherd the group into some close-up exploration of shoreside rocks and chasms. She decided that, for her second day of paddling, getting around the island would be enough. He occasionally went in for a closer look. By the time we reached Eastern Head, the swells were just big enough to keep us a little farther from shore. We made our way along the southern end and ate lunch on a cobble beach, just a short walk to the Cliff Trail.

This was about half-way, and from then-on, our goal was to make our way along the west side and get back to camp without overly-exerting ourselves. We had a nice push from the current through the Isle au Haut Thorofare.

Back on Wheat Island,  we all felt pleasantly tired;  a pot of curry restored some of our spent energy. My guests sat back with glasses of wine and watched the sun set over Penobscot Bay.

 

In the morning, I’m feeling about as beat-up as I usually feel first thing every day. Doing my stretches out on the rock ledge helps. Today will be warm- even with the sun low on the horizon I can feel it. Today we’ll meander back through the archipelago- a grand tour of some favorite spots.

I feel good about the trip. My guests, an experienced paddler and a novice, have each been challenged and received some coaching and guidance to accomplish a trip that most paddlers would work up to slowly, if at all. Not only that, but the food was pretty good.

Paddlers in Residence

 It felt good to paddling away from Webb Cove, to be able to focus on a good, efficient stroke and not look back- to have no concerns for anyone else. With no real destination in mind, I pointed the bow somewhere around Grog Island; I had almost three hours.

We had been at Old Quarry Ocean Adventures for a week, living in the apartment above the office. The days started early, when we could hear guests trickle-into the office downstairs and chat with whoever was working - usually Bill. And though we’d like to spend our days guiding and teaching kayaking, we’ve also been learning the ropes in the office and on the waterfront, getting a feel for all the various jobs here that need to be done. If we walk downstairs, we get pulled-into whatever is going-on. Very little has been routine.

But in-between tasks we manage to get out on the water on our own time- sometimes poling a canoe or on a standup paddleboard. One day I paddled out to Wreck Island and did some volunteer brush clearing with the MITA crew. Another day I taught a Fundamentals class in Bar Harbor for Pinniped.

With no particular destination in mind, my route took shape as I paddled: past Grog and over to Millet. There wasn’t much wind and the sun shone brightly- the sort of brilliant stillness that descends over the archipelago on summer Sunday mornings when no one is hauling or setting traps. The only lobster boats I saw were carrying a few passengers on post-fourth of July excursions.

I stopped at Shivers Island and had a look around. After only a few years as a MITA island, the impact of visitors is obvious. Originally there had barely been room for one tent beside the boulder overlooking rock ledge sloping down to the water. Gradually, as campers came, presumably in bigger tents and in greater numbers than the recommended two people, a niche was carved from the forest, with limbs cut from the trees to make room. At one point, right after the island’s MITA designation, I pulled apart a fire ring that a camper had built directly on the ledge, scarring the rocks black. Perhaps, aside from the fire, the impact is acceptable- people can enjoy the island by walking around the interior- a choice, like the choice to keep the meadow on Wreck Island open instead of overgrown. Not my place to judge, but it can be a little distressing to see a place go from untouched to heavily-trod.

Everyone seems to think that their impact is less significant than that of others. I recently spoke to a youth group leader who wanted to camp on Steves Island with fourteen teenage boys, and he assumed that the MITA rules were for people with greater impact than themselves. I reminded him that their presence would likely be tough on anyone else who might be camped on Steves- a very popular island, and that there were several islands more appropriate for a group.

But that’s how it is in the summer here, and I’m getting a much closer look at the comings and goings of visitors. Over the weekend the campground was overflowing with campers, plenty of whom had nice kayaks and left in large flotillas. Despite my being on the water so often, I still get a little twinge of envy when I’m not, so it was good that Sunday morning I headed-out on my own. I also needed to get-in a little all-out forward stroke time: no “guide’s stroke” where you’re hardly paddling so that people can keep up with you.

I went out around Saddleback and Phoebe, took a little break on Enchanted and back around Devil: a quick, meditative jaunt around some favorite places, steering clear of other boaters so I could stay in my own mental space for awhile.