Easing Into Maine

Sunday morning, Old Quarry Ocean Adventures, Stonington. We unload our boats and get our gear together, and the people start to arrive. We’re here for the third annual Wreck and Round Islands cleanup trip. When we lived full-time in Stonington, I was the steward for these Island Heritage Trust islands, and since I also worked at Old Quarry, it seemed like an obvious connection- provide a free guided trip to get a bunch of volunteers out to clean up the islands. After we left, we were pleased to learn that Island Heritage Trust planned to continue the tradition - Anne Douglas had agreed to lead the trip in our absence. But we were even happier when we realized we would be able to join the trip personally.

It takes awhile, as people trickle-in, to get us all ready and on the water, but eventually we’re all pointed toward Indian Point- a very familiar route. The day is warm and calm, and since it’s a Sunday, largely free of lobster boats. In the group we have three tandems and nine singles, three of whom are guides. Our group includes a couple of pre-school girls who ride with their parents in tandems, as well as a few people trying sea kayaking for the first time. We head across the Thorofare to Russ Island and I glimpse Stonington- my first view of it since that frigid morning in January when we left.

The path to Wreck Island is very familiar, and on this calm day, an easy, hour and a half trip. We land and have lunch before splitting into smaller groups to clean-up stretches of shoreline. I paddle over to pick-up the shores of Round Island with two friends. A couple of hours later, we’ve assembled large caches of garbage above the beaches- mostly fishing-related. A skipper from the Maine Island Trail Association arrives in one of their distinctive red Lund skiffs to haul the garbage back for us. Marissa, the organizer from Island Heritage Trust, passes around a tin of home-made cookies and we get ready for the trip back.

It’s one of those rare days when it seems we have wind and current behind us the whole way. We hardly need the break on Little Camp Island, but I figure it’s worth it for anyone who hasn’t experienced the sweeping views from the top.

As much as the trip’s purpose is to clean-up a couple of islands, it may be more important to get a few people out there enjoying them who might not otherwise have the chance. And even though we guide and teach to make a living, a trip like this seems to embody the real reasons we do it.

Saturday in the Archipelago (In February)

At Old Quarry, the road to the ramp lay covered in snow from last weekend’s blizzard. We got into our drysuits in the heated office and pulled our boats like toboggans through the woods. We then carried them down the slippery granite steps beside the ramp at low tide. Heavy clouds hung over the archipelago, but with the air temperature above freezing and not much wind, it looked like a good day. Nate and I gave a minimal pre-trip briefing and we headed out.

This guided trip was the result of Island Heritage Trust creating an event for the Maine Great Outdoors Weekend.  I wasn’t sure I wanted to guide the trip. I have no desire to encourage others to paddle in the winter. The risks are far greater than the rest of the year, and it’s probably better for paddlers to incrementally increase their risks as they increase their skills. Going on a guided trip allows paddlers to abruptly leave their comfort zone -- maybe not a good thing. But it allows them to take those risks with guidance, perhaps building skills and confidence to eventually do it on their own. 

So it seemed important to get paddlers with some experience. Four of us were licensed guides who had recently practiced rescues in the pool together, while another had taken Nate’s Paddler Development Week course in September. We’d hoped for a few more clients, but it was really no surprise that most people don’t want to go for a paddle in the winter, and it's maybe just as well.

Since this was an Island Heritage Trust trip, we thought we might visit some IHT islands, starting with Millet. We didn't have much of a plan, but we anticipated stronger afternoon north winds, along with some rain or snow. The wind picked-up as we ate our lunch in the lee of some rocks on Millet, and we decided to head west into the archipelago, hopscotching behind a few islands. We found a pleasant minor swell along Spruce and McGlathery, and played a little in the rocks.

 
It was a quiet day: no lobster boats, rafts of ducks squawking like horns of distant traffic... and us, just meandering along. We passed more IHT islands: Round and Wreck, but we kept moving. I think everyone figured-out that you get cold when you stop.  But by the time we made it to Little Camp Island, it was time for another break: hot tea, chocolate, PB&J- it all helps keep you going. Plus, it's not far to the top of the small island: a bargain view, just as it began to snow.

By then, we were on our way home, and the snow felt like a bonus; you go paddling in the winter, you ought to get some snow- right? And it makes us feel rugged to squint our eyes and paddle into the teeth of the storm.

Around Mountainville and Stinson Neck

Circumnavigations get my attention, just as, oddly- routes that involve portages. I've tried this one a couple of times before and failed- always thwarted by something: ice, tidal currents, mudlfats, cold, motivation... There's no perfect way to do it without encountering one of these obstacles.  Stinson Neck is an island connected to Mountainville by a causeway, while Mountainville is almost another island, connected to the east side of Deer Isle by a narrow strip of land called The Carryover. The Indians were big on carrying their canoes where possible and, as much as I prefer paddling my kayak rather than carrying it, staring at these old routes inspires me to want to follow in the Indians’ footsteps. At least for a few steps. Then I really want to be paddling my kayak again.

Aside from ice, which is gone now, there are two potential obstacles to plan for on this route. First, you need to cross the Carryover at high enough tide, since the head of Greenlaw Cove flats-out for a half-mile. Second, avoid paddling against the current, especially in Brays Narrows, where Long Cove drains-out to Southeast Harbor. Beyond that, unless you plan on spending the day waiting somewhere for favorable currents (and there are some nice spots to do that) you’ll paddle against it some, and need to carry through mud somewhere. I compromised by leaving Grays Cove at high tide, crossing the Carryover about an hour later, and riding out through Brays Narrows with a little current behind me. On my way there, I saw some gulls and dogs.

It had been windy from the north/northwest, and I chose this route partially to avoid the wind. The first stretch was pretty bumpy and wet, but once I carried over into Long Cove I paddled on fairly sheltered water. I cleaned the salt spray from my sunglasses and continued.

Island Heritage Trust is responsible for several public access areas along the way. Aside from Gray's Cove, there's also Campbell Island and Shore Acres Preserve, both in Greenlaw Cove. Polypod Island, where Southeast Harbor, Brays Narrows and Inner Harbor all come together is a good spot for a break. This time though, I hugged the shore, checking-out the coves on the Mountainville side, including the southernmost cove, which is enclosed in IHT's Tennis Preserve, occupying most of the point jutting out into Southeast Harbor. I paddled a little further and took a break at a small beach tucked out of the wind in a tiny, south-facing cove. The sand here is a brown- almost orange hue, like the granite bluffs nearby.

It really felt like a beach day, but I had to keep moving. Not only did I have an end of day commitment, but the longer I took, the more mud I would slog through back at Grays Cove. I went across to the southern end of Stinson Neck, passing the Haystack School and the Lazygut Islands, and took a detour up into Conary Cove. The current was against me, especially where the channel narrowed beyond the lobster pound. It took several tries, but I finally pushed myself upstream.

I couldn't go far- the upper reaches of the cove were quickly draining, and I rode the current back out before I could be trapped. 

The current was generally against me along the east side, but I stayed close to shore and avoided most of it. As I paddled I started thinking that this route might work well by launching in Stonington or Old Quarry. That way you could hit the Carryover at high tide and never need to paddle against the current. These mental breakthroughs tend to hit me when I've been paddling against the current and wind for awhile... and again while I'm slogging through the mud back at the launch. Only a five-minute mudwalk with my boat on my shoulder, but enough to build character, I'm sure.