Damariscove Island

We launched from Ocean Point just south of East Boothbay -- Rebecca, Barb, Julie and I -- and headed south, pointed toward the Ram Island lighthouse across a half-mile channel that, in the summertime would have been cluttered with fancy picnic boats but now lay steely and calm, hardly another boat around. October had been fairly warm, and now, nearly at its end, the season seemed unlikely to yield many more such days, and we were here to make the most of it with a trip around Damariscove Island. We passed the lighthouse and followed the shore of Fisherman Island.

It felt good to follow the contours of the shore, in and out of the rocks, making tighter and tighter turns. Seguin Island rose over the horizon, eight miles down the coast, across a calm sea. We joked about changing our plans and heading there-- it was the sort of day you could go just about anywhere-- but I was already thinking about eating lunch. And this trip has an obvious lunch destination- the long, south-facing cove on Damariscove Island. You know you're almost there when the tower of the former lifesaving station rises over the treeless, rolling hills.

Damariscove Island has a long history of human habitation. The natives came out in canoes to hunt for birds and eggs until the 1500s, when European fishermen began using it as a base. The Pilgrims stopped at the fishing station there on their way to Cape Cod Bay, and returned when they ran out of food in the winter of 1622. Damariscove fishermen sent a boat-load of cod, which probably saved the colony. Now the lifesaving station is a private residence, but most of the island is owned by the Boothbay Region Land Trust.

We ate our lunch at a picnic table beside the museum- a tiny building with a collection of artifacts from the island- and then took a walk up to the tower, from where you can see a long stretch of the Maine coast, from Cape Small to Monhegan and Metinic.

While we were up there, we observed that the tide had begun to ebb against the mild south wind, turning the water surface choppy. We headed out of the harbor and followed the the southeast shore, occasionally pausing to play in the lively bits.

Rebecca was paddling a Delphin and had some particularly graceful moments. Here she's pivoting into the incoming surf, swinging her stern around toward shore. A moment later, she caught the same wave and surfed it away from the rocks. Small waves, big fun.

We headed over to Outer Heron Island and the White Islands, both part of the Maine Coastal Islands National Wildlife Refuge. They're both closed for bird nesting earlier in the year, making this a good time to check them out.

Tall, whitish cliffs drop steeply into the sea around the southern end of White Island. At the top, an old chimney still stands like a monument.

We landed at a pocket beach on the north side and followed rocky ledges up to the top. The sun was sinking toward the western horizon, dropping out of the clouds and giving us a brief burst of color, before the clouds moved-in again, wispy lace and mackerel scales with a distinct wintery look.

I had hoped I might get a photo or two for the guidebook- maybe one that really conveyed the feeling of Damariscove Island. We headed back across the channel, aiming for the tiny splotch of red where we'd parked the car. I felt I had a few photos and some new details as well. I've been editing the guidebook, compressing it and weeding-out extra words. It feels like a process that will never end, even after the book comes out, and in a way, I don't think it will. We were off the water just before sunset.

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

IDW in Boothbay

I spent the last four days in the Boothbay area, taking part in another ACA Instructor Development Workshop. I did my first IDW a year ago, preparing me to instruct at level 3, and in the fall I assessed and became certified. I plan on teaching for awhile before assessing for level 4, but it was great to start the summer with four days of reinforcing personal paddling skills and teaching methods.

The course was taught by Todd Wright and Carl Ladd, who were joined on our last day by John Carmody.

(click on photos for bigger versions)

Boothbay is near a great variety of paddling environments, so, depending on the weather and conditions and what you hope to do, you could venture out to open ocean islands, rocky ledges or sandy beaches with good surf. We spent our time in tidal rivers, finding a bit more current each day until the last, when we played in the tidal race at the mouth of the Kennebec.

We also paddled on Knubble Bay, Lower Hell Gate and the Sheepscot River. We found calm stretches as well as places where the tide squeezes large volumes of ocean through narrow gaps between islands- good places to teach and be taught, but also just some really nice paddling.

I wasn't there to take pictures, and since we spent plenty of time in the water practicing rescues and such, I have a lot of blurry, water on the lens shots.

I also have pages and pages of notes that I wrote down each evening, trying to make sense of all we'd done. At the beginning of the class we talked about what kind of learners we are, and I half-jokingly said "slow." But I do seem to get things through layers of being taught, experience, and then reflecting upon it. Often enough I wonder why I keep this blog, and in a way I think it's become one layer of the process, forcing me to reflect upon things that might otherwise slip away.

I won't be offering much here in the way of reflection, but as with the trips we take, my kayaking learning process involves at least three stages. There's the anticipation beforehand, in which we prepare, try to get ourselves as ready as we can be. Maybe we brush-up on strokes, or study some of the more academic aspects like tidal or weather prediction or navigation. There's the class itself. It's a mix of fun and hard work. Some of it is instruction and feedback directed at us... and some of it is us directing instruction and feedback to others. Sometimes you get put on the spot and discover that your method needs a little work, or that you don't own the skill or subject as well as you could. Sometimes things go wrong, but it's the perfect time for that to happen. We probably learn the most when things don't go smoothly (like the husky tow in current, when one of the rescuers capsizes and we're all drifting in a tangle of ropes).

 

Then, after the class, you hope it comes together with the other layers of experience and instruction. We're given an action plan- an inventory of our strengths and weaknesses with suggestions for steps to improve. It can be overwhelming at times. A year ago I came home with a lot to improve, but ideally, every time you go paddling, you find yourself working on it. I can only wonder how, a year from now, I'll look back on what I'm doing now.

Damariscove Island - ACA Instructor Development Workshop

I’m paddling beside Todd and Nate along the steep, rocky east shore of Damariscove Island, heading south into the wind and waves. We’ve been staying uncharacteristically far from the rocks, trying to stick close together. The wind and surf hiss and grumble- a constant backdrop of chaotic noise.

Todd, in charge of the group for this leg of our journey, frequently motions for the others to pull in a bit closer, unsure if maybe one of our instructors has put them up to something. Then we notice the other Todd - Todd Wright, our instructor trainer, putting on his helmet. We give each other an enquiring look; what could this mean? At the very least, it seems like a good time for everyone else to pause and put their helmets on too. Sure enough, Wright soon paddles into a turbulent rocky cleft and capsizes. He ends up floating in the water beside his boat, with waves bearing down on him.


This is the last of four days of instruction, intended to put us on the path toward attaining American Canoe Association (ACA) instructor certification. We started the week by driving down to Popham Beach on Monday for some time on our own in the surf. I felt a little tense until that first capsize in the waves. Suddenly you’re upside down, getting pummeled with no idea which way is which... except your paddle finds its way to the surface and then you’re up, bracing into the next wave, paddling back out for more. Seawater drips from your nose and ears. A little trial by fire and confidence-building was a good way to start, since the next four days would be humbling.


On Tuesday, in the calm, tidal water at our campground near Boothbay Harbor, we spent hours going over strokes. The focus was not to be dogmatic- fitting into one way of doing things, but to consider core principals of efficient, effective and safe paddling and analyze how our strokes worked or didn’t work. It would be tough to say that a little dogma doesn’t creep into the process; after all, there is a right and a wrong way. Previously, we all thought we put plenty of torso rotation into our forward strokes. Not so. I switched to a high-angle paddle, and, after a little coaching, found my new forward stroke (that I will be indefinitely refining).


At the same time, we looked at ways of teaching, taking turns at various lessons. Each time, we gave feedback to the presenter and then our instructors showed us ways to better involve the students. In addition to instructors Todd Wright and Peter Casson, we were joined that day by John Carmody (check-out this photo of him in the current Canoe & Kayak Magazine) who we’ve all taken instruction from before. One other student, Brian, joined us from Vermont.


As the week went on, we gradually took on more challenging conditions. On Wednesday we launched from East Boothbay and paddled out around the ledges at The Thread of Life. For Thursday and Friday we were joined by Anna and Tully, students from St. Michael’s College, who could be our “guinea pigs”. Thursday we were at Popham, learning how to launch beginners into baby waves, then practicing rescues out in the tide rips on the Kennebec. We did plenty of rescues and towing. The lessons never stopped.

On Friday, against a strong breeze, we headed out to Damariscove Island. There’s plenty to say about the place- the history and its stark wildness, several miles out to sea, but for us, the island was another paddling exercise- a place to navigate to, to tow people pretending to be seasick to, and to get around as a group.


After he capsizes, Wright hangs onto his boat and waits for help. Todd D directs the rest of the group to point into the wind and wait, then from a safe distance, directs the rescue. Nate is right there, instructing Wright to flip his boat over and push it out. While Nate pulls the boat over his deck, draining the water, Wright is told to swim out, using his paddle to propel himself out of the impact zone to the bow of Brian’s boat. As Wright continues to kick, Brian backs away to Nate, who has Wright’s boat ready. Nate is drifting close to the rocks though, so Todd moves in, clips on and starts towing as they get the swimmer back into his boat.

The crowd goes wild!



On the drive home, we’re all feeling pretty exhausted- and maybe even a bit disheartened to discover, once again, that we have much work to do. We are undoubtedly more knowledgeable and prepared than we were on the drive down, but as always, we can use more refinement and practice.

Thanks to Nate Hanson for the photos.

On a sad note, a sea kayaker died yesterday off Hancock Point. From this article in the Bangor Daily News, it looks like a familiar story: an "open-cockpit" kayak (whatever that means) and strong offshore winds.

Follow-up on the Hancock Point accident here in the Bangor Daily News.