'Round Monomoy, and finding the Northwest Passage

[Sanjay]

Liz, Walter, the visiting Nigel Foster, and I circumnavigated South Monomoy Island today, in most unusual fashion: without circumnavigating North Monomoy. This made the trip longer, but also more interesting.

Here's what happened: we launched from Chatham at 8am with the plan of rounding both Monomoys counter-clockwise, to take advantage of the eastward flow of the flood tide to help us round the southern point. We anticipated a quick 7.5nm to the point, passing west of North Monomoy, then through Common Flat, and west of South Monomoy. On the way back, we would negotiate the serpentine turns of the "Southway," the new channel between North Monomoy and Chatham's rapidly extending Nauset Beach.

But, at launch, we had fog. I worried that in previous experiences off the flats in fog, the fishing boats were aggressive and unpredictable in their rush to secure prime locations. There are whole websites devoted to fishing this area, and the competition is fierce.

So we took the Southway out. There, the motorboats' movements are predictable, because they must follow the narrow channel, which is so convoluted that it takes an entire alphabet of marked buoys to demarcate it. We then followed our bold leader into the famous maze of passages between the Monomoys and through the flats. Many a poor soul has been stranded there while paddling, and I had tried and failed many times to find the low-tide passage. This time we were helped by my "new" chart--however, we soon found out that even in the months since it was printed, the flats had changed shape, and the channel now opened a half-mile farther to both the north and west--precisely the opposite of the direction we needed to go. Still, it felt good to discover the fabled Northwest Passage.

To make a long paddle short, it took 6.8nm to cover 2.5nm as the crow flies.

But there were compensations--the clammers, fishermen, birds, and fish make the flats at low tide a uniquely strange place. Foot-and-a-half long fish chased inch-and-a-half long fish. Terns dive-bombed passing schools. The clammers upturned an amazing amount of sand in a short time. Sinuous channels and sudden shallows in every direction.

We finally got free of the flats and headed south toward the point, which was barely visible on the horizon. Liz wisely guided us closer to shore, out of the southeast wind. 2 miles short of the point, we were in a magical world. No humans in sight and hardly a human artifact (well, one deflated party balloon in the water, which I fished out, a ratty flag on a stick, and an abandoned lighthouse, but that was it). The edges of the sand were scalloped, making South Monomoy seem a bird's wing, with trailing feathers of sand. We stopped for lunch, which the greenheads drove us to eat not on shore but in 3 feet of water, where only one was intelligent enough to realize that we were hiding. They drew blood from all of us--Liz explained they have two mouths, which seems two too many to me.

As the point approached, whitecaps on the horizon showed the shoals were alive. Conditions were mild, however, with only a brief section of enjoyable 2 foot rip. We didn't stay to play, though--there was a strong feeling that we were far from civilization, and needed to head home.

As planned the flood current gave us a kick, aided by the winds. We left the warm waters of Nantucket Sound (76 degrees) and entered the cold Atlantic (59 degrees at the coldest point we measured). Temperature charts of the area show that there is a zone of water colder even than that off Gloucester or southern Maine east of Monomoy. The waves washed and dumped lightly on the shore. We passed a colony of some 250 gray and harbor seals. Many gray seals appeared to be playing in the surf, and watched us solemnly.

There was one small surf break. Nigel and Walter paddled through the surf zone, while Liz and I stayed mostly outside (Liz did a neat shoreward brace on a steep face without breaking a sweat). The water was too cold to surf, the waves were converging and dumping, and my old surf PTSD was definitely acting up.

The entrance to the Southway arrived all too soon. The gray seals that are sometimes a bit scary there were lounging in the water, not massed on the shore. The incoming current was strong enough to set some powerboats backwards. We rested on the beach, congratulated each other, and ate LOTS of potato chips. Then we meandered back through the Southway once more--in a straight line now at high tide--and disembarked, pleasantly tired after 20.5 lovely nautical miles.

Nigel was modest and playful as always, twirling his paddle, demonstrating offbeat strokes, graceful in the water as only he and Karen Knight can be. Both he and Liz obviously enjoyed chatting with Walter while paddling--since my hearing aids were out, as they always are when I paddle, they'll have to report on those conversations themselves. Even to a deaf guy, though, it was clear that hearty Walter is a most pleasant fellow.

I rarely paddle with others, but truly enjoyed this trip. I would not have felt safe going alone, given the shoals' reputation. It was nice to feel so taken care of--the group had studied the chart, planned the trip carefully, knew the weather, had filed a float plan, etc. etc., all the stuff I usually have to do for myself. Even though it wasn't an "official" trip, it makes me appreciate what NSPN offers.

While we completed our long paddle, Adam and Mark (and a third person?) fished the flats, reportedly catching at least 2 for dinner. Liz, Walter, and Nigel stayed for the planned feast, while I headed home to Boston. If I close my eyes, I get that treasured feeling--being gently rocked by the waves. Hope it lasts all land-locked week.

Sanjay

[Suz]

Sounds like it was a great paddle - wish I could have taken the day to go. Last time I paddled Monomoy the big grey seals swam with me.

Great trip report and after reading last night, I too was lulled to sleep with the gently moving water.

Suz

[Bill Gwynn]

I'm sure many of us, as well as myself would have loved to get the day off for this trip.

Unfortunately we will all have to live vicariously through you. Great trip report!

[markstephens]

The fishing was very good on Wednesday. Many schools of stripers and bluefish. Those oceanic blues give a fight that makes them feel like twice the fish they are once you finally land them. Adam had a number of break-offs. He and I quit at three bluefish apiece to bring back, but, not content with a tie, he landed his fourth not 100 yards from the put-in, and so was high rod for the day as usual.

Sorry we missed you folks at the take-out. We had plenty of fish to share and I would have liked to have met Mr. Foster!

Mark

[Adam Bolonsky]

yeah, sorry we missed you guys. Mark and I got on the water around 11:00 after I indulged myself with a long walk after the drive to get the kinks out. But thanks to Dee's Hall's spare blocks of closed-cell foam and Brian Nystrom's seat design, I now have a seat, in the North Bay, which doesn't tie me into fourteen different knots.

Kevin O'Malley was out there on the flats too, poking around, but couldn't raise anyone on the radio because either his trasnmit button was busted or his mic had filled with water he'd forgotten to shake out. VHF contact for me was tough most of the day, too, partly because my battery contacts have worn thin.

By the time we fully reached you guys via VHF, us on the northeastern strands of the Toupee and you guys on the bar at the South Beach cut, Mark and I were both so spanked by the sun, the wind, and the fishing that we lacked the motivation to slide over through the North/South gut and meet you. It was hard work, chasing large schools of feeding bluefish over the shallows: getting into position to cast into them, casting, hooking up, getting the fish off the hook and onto the foredeck, then having to paddle the couple hundred yards back upwind to get back into the thick of them. Luckily enough no matter how deep the water on the western flats there's always a piece of sandbar, somewhere, to step out of the boat on and regroup.

The blues were feeding heavily on a combination of silversides and sandeels as well as some freshly-hatched herring. Their stomachs were full of them. Anglers by necessity have to complain about how local fishing pressure often pushes the fish far offshore. What's nice about the Monomoy Flats is that the water's too shallow for anything but kayaks and the fish are often so far west and north that only anglers in long fast boats can get to them.

And even better, only a few of New England's thousands of "real" seakayakers have an interest in fish...all day, Mark and I had each and every of the dozen or so schools that ripped up the flats that afternoon to ourselves!

Wahoo! What a blast!

[eneumeier]

>But, at launch, we had fog. I worried that in previous

>experiences off the flats in fog, the fishing boats were

>aggressive and unpredictable in their rush to secure prime

>locations. There are whole websites devoted to fishing this

>area, and the competition is fierce.

We launched at 8:15 AM and the fog was nearly gone an hour later, never to bother us again. This was the clearest I have ever seen the area. (On our return, about 1/2 way up the Southway a man walking out to his moored boat said that it was foggy and raining on the east side of S. Beach, only about 300 yards from where we were paddling in the sun.)

>We then

>followed our bold leader into the famous maze of passages

>between the Monomoys and through the flats.

I don't know why but I had thought that the flats drained out to the south. They don't, so we paddled against the ebb tide between the Monomoys and winding through the flats. It was a bit weird to be paddling due north toward our put in when our intended destination was due south. There appeared to be a channel to the east of the grassy area known as "the toupee" alongside S. Monomoy but we were rapidly losing water and I did not trust it to go through. Later Adam said it would have required a walk for about 20' at low tide and would not have saved us any mileage. So, our circuitous route turned out to be the best choice since sea kayakers would rather paddle than portage.

>To make a long paddle short, it took 6.8nm to cover 2.5nm as

>the crow flies.

I think you meant to say, "to make a short paddle long." :-))

>We finally got free of the flats and headed south toward the

>point, which was barely visible on the horizon. Liz wisely

>guided us closer to shore, out of the southeast wind.

Yeah, that initial "pick the straight heading and go for it" thing could have been dumped sooner in favor of the "get out of the wind if you can and find cool stuff to look at" approach. Nigel had paddled to shore to hop out of his boat for a minute (and to have an excuse to get some actual exercise through catching up to us, what with our 3.5 kt pace, again). When I looked back to see where he was it finally dawned on me that the shore route would be better.

>As planned the flood current gave us a kick, aided by the

>winds. We left the warm waters of Nantucket Sound (76

>degrees) and entered the cold Atlantic (59 degrees at the

>coldest point we measured).

We caught a bit of help from the tail end of the ebb (not flood) current. My GPS had been reading 3.3-3.7 kts all along, then suddenly jumped to 4.7 kts. Unfortunately, because we had taken so long to get through the flats, it only lasted a few hundred yards, then went slack. Eldridges showed Pollock rip slack at 1:22 PM, and that was a bit south of us. If we had gotten there earlier it would have carried us around the broad tip. Although we did not get a lot of help from the current, being there at that time also meant we did not have current against wind messy conditions. That was fine with me and a bit boring for everyone else. :-))

>Temperature charts of the area

>show that there is a zone of water colder even than that off

>Gloucester or southern Maine east of Monomoy.

The radical temperature changes are what cause the fog to appear so suddenly. They also help with navigation since colder always means deeper. We kept thinking about the two college women who were caught out here. Their swamped kayaks were found at this spot.

>There was one small surf break. Nigel and Walter paddled

>through the surf zone, while Liz and I stayed mostly outside

>(Liz did a neat shoreward brace on a steep face without

>breaking a sweat).

Yeah, that wave. The one Walter and Nigel had been looking for. After carefully staying offshore far enough to be in the swells and out of the steep stuff - even the little bitty swells crashed on the steep shoreline, it decided to show up at my right elbow. Definitely a trading places moment. I don't know how high it was but I was no where near being in the trough and it was way over my head. Quick glance left to notice that Nigel and Walter were looking at me, then decision time: surf it and impress the hell out of them (or have them positioned to pick up the pieces), brace and side surf it, or turn just a bit and hop over it. I took the most cautious option #3 and was ready to brace as I dropped down. As much as Viviane hates the chop, she loves the big stuff. No brace necessary. A good time was had. Nigel paddled over to mention how pretty my boat looked poised at the translucent top.

>The entrance to the Southway arrived all too soon.

I don't know about "too soon" but it was definitely unexpected by me. I kept looking for the old tower, which we had clearly seen from the west side. Don and Adam both said that the beach flattens enough to land near it, on the east side, and it is interesting to hike up to it. So, I had been planning on a stop. Paddling as close to shore as we were we could not see it. With the wind at our backs and the tide flooding the north-bound trip up the east side was surprisingly quick. The closer we got to the Southway entrance the faster the current. Once inside we ferried across to land among the power boats inside S. Beach.

A woman walked over and asked where we had come from. When we told her she said "so this is a guided trip" and wanted to know who our guide was. It took a bit to explain that we were just a bunch of paddlers out having a good time. She seemed to relax when we told her Nigel was a guide, then frowned when we said he had never been here before. Oh well.

>The gray seals that are sometimes a bit scary there were lounging in

>the water, not massed on the shore.

I had read that the main colony had relocated to the south tip of S. Monomoy (where we saw them) "to get away from the boats and kayaks." Well, the sand bar between S. Monomoy and S. Beach that they used to haul out on is no longer there. That could be another reason for their relocation ....

>While we completed our long paddle, Adam and Mark (and a

>third person?) fished the flats, reportedly catching at

>least 2 for dinner. Liz, Walter, and Nigel stayed for the

>planned feast, while I headed home to Boston. If I close my

>eyes, I get that treasured feeling--being gently rocked by

>the waves. Hope it lasts all land-locked week.

Alas, the fishers had to go to Mashpee for the night wilst we went to Wellfleet, so we never met up. Just as well since we were ready for bed at 8:45!

Liz N.

[Sanjay]

Liz, thank you so much for making my dream paddle a reality. I wanted to email you a thanks, but my email has gone down--I'm writing from an internet café. And thanks for the clarifications. I'm confused about the currents, though (I couldn't get my hands on a tidal current chart). I had memorized "FEW," meaning "Floods East/ Ebbs West." So I thought the brief push we got at the southern point was flood current... ? I'm near an REI now, so I'll go see if they have an Eldredge (EMS and Wilderness House don't carry them!) to see if I can understand it properly.

Adam, thanks for naming the fish. I was very curious. It was amazing to watch the predatory fish chase their prey through the channels, churning the water. Which ones looked like a miniature school of sharks, with their dorsal fins breaking the surface?

To those who couldn't join a mid-week trip, all I can say is--that's the way I always feel about nspn trips, since they generally happen on weekends, when I'm never free. One of the main reasons I paddle alone is that few people are available mid-week. (My advice is, plan work around kayaking, not the other way around. Works for me!)

Sanjay

PS Liz, I read about your and others' fishing hook mishaps--wow. I am so glad you were ok. Strange, I had just been thinking about that a lot up in Maine, where we often swam on a muddy-bottomed area off a dock that fishermen use. I guess we were lucky not to step on a hook.

[donperry]

Occasionally, this time of year, blues will come in very close to the eastern shores for a short while after a clear sunrise. In a repetitive pattern of ‘relax & attack’ numerous schools work the silversides from the east where the minnows are most reflective. It isn’t long before the bait cloud is driven right into the shore break.

I’ve seen thousands of silversides jumping onto the sand to escape the hungry bluefish along Nauset Beach. Each wave reveals hundreds of large blues back-lighted by the rising sun while working birds maintain the frenzy overhead. With a steel leader you can pull them out as fast as you can unhook a ranger lure. It’s almost hard work following them up and down the beach but definitely the most exciting fishing I’ve ever seen in New England. Typically, during the midweek, few people are out there that early. For example, I’m here in the office so I can afford the internet connection.

[Bill Gwynn]

Liz has fowarded an image of the GPS track to me and I have posted it here;

http://www.kayakpics.com/gallery/monomoy/M...2005_001?full=1

[eneumeier]

Many thanks to Don Perry for downloading this from my GPS, and to Bill Gwynn for uploading it. One day I will be able to do this stuff all by myself.

Note: We did not paddle over land. The land had moved from the time the map was made. Our only stops were at the south tip of N. Monomoy, the west side of S. Monomoy, and then just inside the south tip of South (Nauset) Beach.

Liz N.

[Walter]

Thanks for the GPS picture Bill.

Great report Sanjay.

Thanks Liz for organizing this trip.

It really was an interesting paddle.

Walter

Impex Assateague

Emerald Green/White

[Sanjay]

Wow, cool picture. It really makes clear how much the sands have shifted. I like that you can see precisely the two inflection points (if I remember the right term from math) where we chose to take the looong inside route rather than outside, and where Liz guided us closer to shore, in intelligent opposition to my tendency to notice, and then ignore, adverse winds and currents.

Sanjay