Boston Harbor

Last year I joined a sea kayaking Meetup group, but I wasn't able to get to any of their trips, most of which take place a good bit south of here. Last week I got a message that one member was organizing a trip in Boston Harbor. I was planning on being in the area, so, along with a few other tentative paddlers, I pressed the "accept invitation" button. By the time I met Matt, the organizer, at City Point in Boston, we were down to two paddlers.

Two paddlers is probably my favorite group size anyway (my other favorites are one and three). I guess it depends on who that paddler is, but Matt and I quickly found some common ground and we  established what we had for safety gear and how to manage our "group." Matt is originally from Boston, and he'd recently moved back east from San Francisco where he'd developed his paddling skills, and was now busy re-discovering his former backyard. It was an excellent chance for me to get shown around by someone with a lot of knowledge of the area.

I'd arrived a bit early and took a walk around Pleasure Bay, among countless others out for their Saturday morning exercise. Being in Boston is a bit overwhelming for me: a different sort of sensory overload than I experience in less-developed places. Jets from Logan rumbled into the sky every few minutes, and everywhere the air just hums with the coalesced background drumming of the city. I started my walk feeling obviously out of place, and finished, almost an hour later, feeling like I'd found a new favorite place. That feeling continued after we launched and made our way out among the islands.

We passed the green slopes of Spectacle Island, which was used as the dumping ground for fill from the Big Dig, and is now a park and the highest point in the harbor. To the north, the wastewater treatment plant on Deer Island looked about as industrial as it gets, with its huge weird orbs and wind turbines. A tanker lay at anchor just off of the plant. We kept a sharp eye out for boat traffic, especially the high-speed ferries, but there wasn't much- one advantage of being here early in the season.

We stopped for lunch on Great Brewster Island, where we made our way to the top of an eroding bluff for a spectacular view of the harbor and the city beyond. The other paddlers who'd opted not to join us had joined a different group that left from Hull (a shorter trip to the same area) and we kept an eye out for them. After we ate, we spotted their kayaks on nearby Calf Island, and we went to say hello. I'd met a couple of the other paddlers before, and we chatted for a few moments as the others paddled away.

We made our way out to The Graves, a group of ledges where a tall lighthouse guards the entrance to Boston Harbor, and began our trek back.

There's so much to see in Boston Harbor: lighthouses, the ruins of old fortifications and places with layers upon layers of history. We made a big loop that gave us a bit of everything- the perfect introduction to Boston Harbor, but I can imagine shorter trips with more time to investigate on shore.

We rounded Little Brewster Island, where Boston Harbor Lighthouse marks the entrance to Nantasket Roads. We waved to the lightkeeper, who stood in the doorway of the house; I think that's the first manned lighthouse I've paddled past, and I felt a little regret that we didn't have time to stop. By now though, the day was waning and whatever current that ran against us was taking its toll. Over on Deer Island, brilliant end of the day light lit the wastewater treatment plant vividly. The last miles went slowly, and it felt good to get back to the car.

We got out of our gear and packed up, and some people asked us about our trip (no one seemed shy) but the comings and goings at City Point continued. A woman parked her BMW and put on her Rollerblades, and a guy whined past on a stripped-down moped. A group of corporate co-workers on a team-building exercise were marched past in formation, carrying logs and grunting. A couple former Special Forces guys handed-out business cards to anyone who seemed interested or curious, explaining, "we basically beat the crap out of 'em" before asking Matt if he knew the water temperature (41) since they were soon marched into the chilly water of Pleasure Bay. Saturday night in Boston was well underway

The Potomac

One thing about taking off on a long trip; when you get back, it feels like you'll never catch up on everything, especially as new adventures begin. Though it's been nearly a month since we stopped in Washington DC on our way back from Florida, I wanted to post a few snapshots from a paddle we took with Peter on the Potomac River.



More and more, I'm starting to enjoy the varied places that sea kayaking takes us. In this case, it took us to a place inland from the ocean that isn't often associated with sea kayaking. We probably would have done our best to avoid DC, like we do most cities, had Peter and Marilyn not invited us to stop and visit. Actually, we have a lot of friends we would like to visit in DC, but since we had our boats, and their offer included a paddle on the Potomac, we couldn't resist.

We launched near the Pentagon and crossed over toward the Mall amid tour boats and a floating restaurant, but after that, traffic on the river was amazingly sparse. We paddled along the grassy riverbanks amid cherry blossoms with the Washington Monument and Lincoln Memorial looming in the background. About once every minute, our conversation was interrupted by the roar of a jet following the river as it descended toward one of the DC airports.


People on shore took notice. We paddled past the Kennedy Center and Georgetown, where diners at an outdoor cafe called out to us almost desperately, wondering where to get kayaks and where to launch. We were joined by the sculling team, the coach leading the way in a powerboat, barking out instructions. Peter pointed-out the Georgetown Canoe Club, where he'd gone to dances as a teenager.


We stopped for lunch on Theodore Roosevelt Island, an amazingly large piece of wild forest right in the middle of the city, then paddled back through a creek, which despite several bridges crossing overhead, was another corridor of wildness, busy with turtles, great blue herons and other wildlife. Meanwhile, government helicopters whisked back and forth overhead, punctuated by the roar of jets over a steady background hiss of traffic. I felt grateful for this backdoor view of the city, which, despite what appears as chaos, has a calm heart flowing right through it.