Solstice

For about a month and a half leading up to the winter solstice, I start reassuring myself that it isn't long until the days start getting longer again. We try to take our afternoon walk (usually an evening walk) earlier and earlier, but we still end up walking home in the dark. Today, the shortest day of the year, we got out for a paddle just after lunch.

Even in the middle of the day the sun barely seemed to penetrate. The forecast had called for freezing rain and sleet, so we hadn't planned on paddling, but when the storm passed to the north we made a quick choice to head out. It felt good: air temps in the high 30s and not much wind. The weather has been wintery lately, but I've seen a few good paddling days come and go while I stayed inside, writing about paddling. Ironic perhaps, but there are worse things to do with your time. Still, it was too easy to get into the habit of not paddling, and I was itching to get out.

We followed a route we often embark on by tacit agreement, hardly talking about where we might go: head for Steves and take it from there.



We'd had about two feet of snow a few days earlier, but the warmer temperatures were melting it away. It lay thick and moist upon the granite ledges. Clouds hung around the hills on Isle au Haut.

We took a break on the south-facing beach on McGlathery. By then it was three o'clock, the daylight quickly draining away.

We saw plenty of tracks in the snow just above the beach, and when we paddled through the gap between McGlathery and Little McGlathery, a small deer watched us for a moment before bounding away. 

Lobster boats motored back from deeper waters offshore, lights on. Soon we were doing the same as a faint pink glow in the west suggested sunset. We made our way around the east side of Russ Island to make the shorter, lower traffic crossing over to Dow Ledge. Our winter walks often take us to Dow Ledge, where, at low tide, we can get about as close to the archipelago as possible without a boat. Today we got as close to Deer Isle as we could without walking.

Lobster boats were still coming back in the dark, and we made our way carefully through the mooring field east of town. Tomorrow, the days start getting longer.

Another Saturday

Dan and his father Jack came over from New Hampshire and we met Saturday morning at Old Quarry. We’d planned this for a few weeks, knowing that the odds were good that the weather wouldn’t cooperate, but for the second Saturday in a row, it did.

At least the forecast looked good enough to make the trip a “go.” When it came time to launch, the east wind had picked up more than expected, driving small choppy waves across the mouth of Webb Cove. My clients didn’t seem very concerned. They had both been paddling off and on for years, but never in the winter with drysuits and the added risk of forty-degree water. They had driven 5 hours, spent the night at Boyce’s Motel and were gung-ho for a paddle. 

If I weren’t guiding this trip, I probably would have stayed in and watched the harbor from home, vacillating over whether I’d made the right choice. But like most days when you're on the fence, you get out there and it's great. So I listened to my clients and watched them as we headed across the first stretch of Thorofare. They looked comfortable and loose in their boats and they smiled when the waves increased. We pulled into the lee of Grog Island and chatted -- they’d asked for pointers so we worked some on technique and then headed across to the lee of Bold Island.

We used the islands like stepping stones, and each time we pulled out of the wind, it was an opportunity to assess how we were doing and what we wanted to do next. Each time Jack and Dan seemed eager to continue the more challenging way. When I’m guiding I often feel like I’m pushing my clients’ comfort levels, getting them to paddle further and try things they might not otherwise do. In this case, my clients didn’t need to be encouraged. In the Millet-Saddleback channel we plowed into fat, high-volume waves, and I was the one pointing us into calmer water in the lee of Saddleback.

We ate lunch on Enchanted and had a rough ride back toward Spruce, but continued along the exposed shore. I looked at Dan and said “we should head for some calmer water,” and he agreed, but as we paddled toward McGlathery, they were drawn to Blasters Rock as if it were calling them personally (that boulder does have that effect).

We eventually did get to more sheltered water as we paddled back through the middle of the archipelago. One last break: Little Camp Island. It’s funny how I get into patterns. Like the previous Saturday, we’d taken a variation of the Inner Archipelago Arc, although they were very different trips. Like the previous trip, at the end I just wanted to share that view from the top of the small, grassy island: little more than a mile from home, yet it feels like a fresh discovery every time I take someone there.

I caught myself saying "this would be pretty nice in the summer," something I seem to think fairly often lately.

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.

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. 

Afternoon on Wreck Island

I had big ambitions for a four-day trip this week, but bit by bit, those plans changed. At first I planned on a paddle through the Muscle Ridge area, but car troubles put the kibosh on that (unless I wanted to spend a day paddling there and a day paddling back). I was happy enough to alter my route to a trip around Vinalhaven: over to Seal Bay and through the Thorofare to explore the west side for a few days.

But when mid-week winds appeared in the forecast, I figured I'd instead spend Monday paddling out to Brimstone and around the exposed southern end of Vinalhaven- save the windy days for the more sheltered areas. On Monday morning, the forecast looked even windier and rainier. I imagined my paddling vacation turning into a hanging-out in the tent on an island reading vacation- and possibly waiting for good enough weather to get back across East Penobscot Bay. I'm fortunate to be able to change my plans. I don't mind hanging-out on an island reading, but if instead I stayed home and got some work done, maybe I could take my paddling vacation when the weather improved. It was a tough choice to make- my gear was all packed- but I made it quickly.

 

But Monday still looked good: not much wind, mostly sunny, and according to the sign on the gallery, we're supposed to be closed. I asked Rebecca if she would like to paddle around Isle au Haut- after all, the tides were right. We started getting our gear together, but first, we had some gallery business that had come-up, since after all, we were there. It took awhile. By the time we launched, we felt lucky just to get on the water at all; Isle au Haut was no longer an option. As we paddled, we kept glancing over at the immense dark clouds in the west, trying not to acknowledge that yes, that was headed our way. We decided to stop at the beach on Wreck Island. At the very least, we'd get a little sunny beach time before the weather caught-up with us.

 

It may sound like one disappointment after another, but we were happy to be there at the beach on Wreck Island. We ate our lunch. Rebecca swam. We drank our chilled bottled beverages while the sun shone, and when the clouds moved in I made coffee. Rebecca painted, I read a paperback. We watched the tide rise and the schooners motor into nearby anchorages.

Sometime after five we relaunched and paddled over to check-out Heritage as her passengers returned from their cook-out on shore. Then we paddled around McGlathery- just enough swell to have a little fun.

And while we're at it, maybe we could check-out the unique hull shape of the Sirius:

The nice thing about clouds; they make for more interesting sunsets.

I'd like to say that I make my choices and don't look back, but I've been compulsively checking the wind data from the weather buoys. I think I would have found some relatively sheltered areas to paddle, but maybe what we really needed was a relaxing afternoon on Wreck, and a gorgeous sunset paddle back home to Stonington.