Two Days and Four States

[bob budd]

Left the house about 7:00AM for the trip to Connecticut. The day had broken sunny and mild. That and the weather report predicted a day paddling on glassy seas. Hopefully Yahoo had provided enough detail to get to the put-in.

I reached the end of Elm Street and took the left turn, passed around the curve and saw the sign for Esker Point Park. I pulled in the parking lot where a couple helpful Connyakers carried my boat to the beach after I had packed it. I enjoyed such service again later this weekend. Having forgotten my hydrator bladder, I drove across the street to find someone who could direct me to bottled water. I got directions from who turned out to be Nick Schade and returned with my water.

Having “car topped” on the wrong side of the road, I parked behind Fisherman’s Restaurant in a large lot complete with a porta-john. Though I did not avail myself of the opportunity it struck me as a nice feature nonetheless. After parking I walked across the road, paddled under the bridge, and saw the last of the trip participants embarking from the narrow put-in. They have come up with a nice idea here where the ramp accommodates boaters on foot but no motor vehicles.

As the mouth of the river opened a few persons were seen fishing with the falling tide at waist level. Fisher’s Island Sound lay before it, and I found the lack of stink and sail boats both elating and strange. The day was perhaps not ideal for sailing, with little wind, but was comfortably warm and sunny.

The trip across the sound to Fisher’s Island was uneventful, though we did stop once to let several boats cross. This would prove to be the only time we needed to actively avoid the boat traffic. The Island, officially part of New York, stretched a good distance in either direction. It was later told that a circumnavigation was a trip of some import with the unseen side of the island open to the ocean.

As we reached the end of the Island a castle-like house rose from a large lawn. The stone façade, the suggestion of parapets, etc. were once and perhaps currently the property of the Simmons mattress owners. As we crossed the strait to Rhode Island we passed a rocky bit of land. At the far side there was an interesting string rocks reaching out to us and the incoming waves were creating interesting reflections. On the far side of the rocks a few divers were at play, they’d have been safer with a flag on the water.

Lunch found us at the edge of a wide beach with a long shallow bit of water before us. There were several patrolling the crowd with various cookies. Not being one to play favourites I partook of all.

The return trip pointed us to a squat and solitary lighthouse with just enough rocky land beneath it to hold it up. From there we more or less sought the mouth of the river from where we had originated. The many reflections in the shallows we paddled through reminded of what I recall John Leonard referring to as “paddling through snot”.

The next morning arrived at Lane’s Cove to find Michael Brokenshire and Alex (?) preparing to disembark. Judy Whipple was also there, and having not received a confirmation, I thought she was a third. The others trailed in from the road. While we were disembarking from the beach, such as it is, there was a small trip leaving with a couple taking their first trip in a tandem. I told them that two boats was cheaper than a divorce and set off.

Outside of the breakwater I realized that Judy had all along intended to come with us. You see, I had accused her of following me, having been in Connecticut the night before. We pointed ourselves towards Halibut Point. As we rounded the corner we met Michael and Alex and found Deb Dempsey and Leslie Beale headed in our direction. We exchanged pleasantries and continued.

The few gusts that escaped the land to our right as we approached Halibut point provided a hint of what greeted us as we rounded the corner. Originally intending to head from there to the Salvages and lunch, taking advantage of the 12:30 low tide, we instead chose to face the wind all the way to Thacher Island. It was a moderate wind to be sure, but enough to bring the term “slog” to mind.

Again we were struck by the lack of boats in the water. The passage through Straitsmouth Island was uneventful though there was the rush of water here and there. Ahead lay the twin towers and the boat ramp, sure to be slippery at the ebb. As we reached the boat ramp the caretaker brought a board down for traction and directed us to carry our boats to the top of the ramp and out of the way.

While lunched on the picnic table adorned with a table cloth Michael and Alex landed and were relegated to the Table de Guano. Several of our number sought the view from the top of the lighthouse. Once the oohing and ahhing was over, we returned to our boats and headed for the Salvages.

No sooner had we disembarked then we saw three kayakers ahead. I would recognize those sunglasses anywhere, though the unruly bolts of wavy hair and the unshaven chin was not what I customarily see on Mr. Bolonsky. He regaled the fishermen among us with his tales of conquest and sought the back side of the island for a quick landing. Beyond his companions bobbed easily in the gentle seas.

The trip to the Salvages found us with the wind mostly at our backs and the waves mostly abeam. Rolling up and down we made our way easily to the guano-stained Dry Salvages. From there we were on to the Wet/Little Salvages, already receding beneath the rising tide. A couple seals wanted to know what all the noise was about and found Walter’s boat. Jason provided one of his many rolling demonstrations.

The trip to Halibut Point and on to Lane’s Cove was similarly uneventful. A small craft warning came up on the radio, and the clouds at times were threatening, but no rain and few gusts of wind came our way. At the put-in, Jason made well of his considerable size and strength carrying everyone’s boat from shore to automobile.

P.S. – Richardson’s Ice Cream at the Willowrest!