Evening

While I've been getting better acquainted with far-flung New England paddling locales, I haven't made it out into the Stonington archipelago nearly as much as I would like. July and August are so busy for us that it's tough to rationalize getting out, even in the evenings, since I tend to keep the gallery open- and I've been traveling as well. But on some days I count the minutes to five o'clock- or more likely, wait until those last gallery visitors leave, well after five, and shut the door quickly before gathering my gear. One evening I headed out alone and paddled at a somewhat frantic pace out to Steves Island, trying to leave the day's frustrations behind.

At Steves, intent on doing my duty as a MITA island adopter I found one group taking up the whole island, each tent in its own campsite, including one that was in a place that hadn't been a campsite the last time I checked. I walked around the island quickly, picking up trash, and said hello to some of the campers, although they didn't seem to want to say hello to me, so I kept going, resolving to cover-over the new tent site next time. I never really left my land-bound worries behind and even picked-up a few more en route. The closest I came to losing the heaviness that seemed to follow me was along the south shore of McGlathery Island, where I found a few swells to bounce among. I needed a longer trip.

We have managed to take time off a few times lately to get over to Sullivan Falls. On Monday evenings a band performs in the park, so we play in the falls until the music starts, and go ashore for a picnic with live music. Nate has been spending even more time at Sullivan, since it seems to be his most popular class lately. 

But last night, after getting very very tired of talking with people, we got out for a paddle. The air felt clear, still and almost cool. In the harbor, boat reflections saturated the water surface with color, and Rebecca lingered, taking it in, thinking about paintings. She took a few photos, and even though I felt anxious to get moving, it felt good to be unhurried. It reminded me of our first years here, why we came to live in Stonington and why we've stayed. Town had seemed full of talk and hub-bub, and I felt enormously weary of it. But out here it was a different story.

We followed the shore of Crotch Island, practicing a bit along the way, challenging ourselves to turn the boat different ways around tight obstacles, sometimes following the contours of the shore backward, until we went around Sand Island. I landed among some rockweed below some steep ledges- merely because I had never landed there before, and when I saw the view from atop a smooth granite boulder, I felt amazed that I hadn't really noticed such a beautiful spot.

It reminded me of our early days paddling, how it seemed that every time we went out it felt new, even if we were paddling in the same places. And lately, as I've traveled around New England, looking for the best places to paddle, I've become perhaps a bit jaded.  I'm a bit rushed, a bit desperate to cover territory that I know I'll never completely connect with the way I do our own backyard. Sometimes it helps to paddle with someone who is showing you one of their favorite spots to see it through their eyes. They're more likely to get out there at the end of the day for a few hours after work, not to crank-out miles or accomplish anything, but merely to enjoy the feeling of the place- to float on the water and take it in.

We followed the contours around the west side of Crotch, watching the sunset turn the shore rocks orange, and meandered, very slowly back through the harbor as lights came on in town.

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.

Evening Paddles

For awhile there, we could count on a few hours of evening paddling before the sun set, but lately we've had to turn the lights on a little earlier. Summer goes by so fast. We always start out thinking this year will be different. We'll get out more, take one day off a week and spend it paddling, take an occasional overnight- you know, do all the stuff our summer visitors get to do. But there's always more work than we will ever have time for, so every hour of paddling feels like time stolen from the things we're "supposed" to be doing.


The funny thing is, as soon as you get out there, that whole world back on shore feels a bit less urgent, and it feels like this- out here, paddling- is far more significant. This is one of the biggest conflicts of our current way of making a living. We work so much during the nicest paddling times (I think maybe I've mentioned this before, once or twice). But we do have a goal, which is to buy ourselves some quality time in the off-season, when we can paddle here and in warmer places.


Those evening paddles are nice though. We seldom see lobster boats... maybe a sailboat or two arriving late to an anchorage. The air temps are usually just a little cool. And, even though we see plenty of kayaks out beyond the harbor during the day, we almost never see anyone else out paddling in the evening.


Some weeks are better than others. With no openings to get ready for, we might be lucky and get out three times or so. Other weeks, there's too much going on, or the saddest circumstance, when I'm so tired at closing time that I can't quite summon what it takes to get out there, and later I look out and see my mistake. Oh well. We also took my sisters and my niece out for an afternoon paddle. And I shadowed Todd last week on a guided trip, and taught a bunch of young kids at the pond at Old Quarry yesterday. Aside from learning to guide, these experiences have allowed me to see our archipelago through the eyes of others, and it looks more amazing all the time.


A few links here:

After my "Up the Downeast Coast" article came out in Ocean Paddler Magazine last month, I received an email from Etienne Muller in Ireland, who also sees some nice paddling days go by while he works in his art gallery. Over the past thirty or so years, he's built sixteen boats, including some gorgeous strip-planked kayaks. Check them out at his website. If you haven't seen Ocean Paddler Magazine, I'd suggest ordering a copy from their website. It is a beautiful and inspiring magazine- not too many ads, printed on nice, heavy paper, gorgeous photos. It will never end up on the recycling pile.


I'd also like to congratulate John Carmody on becoming a BCU Level 5 Sea Coach, one of the few who have attained this distinction in the United States. We took a surf class with John last summer and hope to get back for more sometime this year. Canoe and Kayak Magazine also mentioned his Socratic teaching method in a recent issue.

And this is only peripherally kayak-related, but for anyone who doesn't understand how important it is for us to stay out of the way of lobster boats, here's a story in the Bangor Daily News about a recent accident off Schoodic Point, in which a lobster boat collided with another lobster boat, resulting in one death.

(Oh, and this post is dated for July 8- twenty days ago, because that's when I started it. That's just how it's been lately.)