christopherG

i believe sunday was the 26th, professor!

Wendy: "This morning I had debated wetsuit vs. drysuit, yet this guy set off alone in jeans and a sweatshirt..." Jack: "I was that guy in the beamy plastic boat...but Wendy and John...you seemed much more knowledgeable about whales." Yes, and a lot more besides!

May we now stop this conversation, please???

As the Prez says: this is sad, indeed; but (at the risk of incurring some indignation) it is not something on which we should be expending our energy because (at this early stage) it sounds very much as though these paddlers were ill-prepared for any sort of sea trip -- proving, in my mind, the validity of this club's worth as a training ground and everything for which it stands. NSPN is about safety, conscientious kayaking and self-reliant skills and is as far removed from tragic reports of two young paddlers venturing out in marginal weather, in poor excuses for boats and probably without any survival equipment, as I am now removed from the Great Depression of the Libyan Sahara. To some, I may sound callous, smug, elitist, even snobbish; but our founder once said something to me that has stayed in the recesses of my mind ever since: "we purport to be -kayakers". The ocean is where we choose to play and we play there with full realization of all its moods and implications. Let no one confuse what we aim for and what sadly befalls some paddlers (such as these two poor women lost? from Harwichport) -- these are worlds apart and all of us here should be in the habit of equipping ourselves thoroughly and thoughtfully every single time we venture out on the water. In her spiel on our club ("Who We Are", I think), Madam President refers to sea-kayaking: this may upset some folk who include recreational kayaking in our repertoire; but I believe us to be the former. Those who know me also know that I am not callous; but accidents do happen, they will continue to happen and they happen because of mistakes (mistakes that go uncorrected). Please let us keep things (newspaper reports) in perspective.

In the words of Suzanne: nine set out and eight returned! (Well, it wasn't so much a case of one paddler; but of an early departure by Keith Qajaq in order to get home before midnight!) What with a piper standing up on the seawall at Lane's Cove, serenading us as we paddled out through the gap; a huge, bright moon climbing above us and a beautiful fall evening with the red stains of sunset still visible in the west -- it could hardly have been any better! (Well, it , perhaps have been so -- Suzanne had no waves in which to frolic, for one thing, and no wind: I wonder if she felt slightly deprived?) On the other hand, we saw some new faces (welcome Alan Hammersmith and brothers Bill and Brad Gwynn) and had a perfect evening on the waters around Cape Ann. The trip, you ask? We paddled gently across to Coffin's and into the Annisquam, up and down Lobster Cove -- nothing demanding, you understand. We at the culvert under 127; but chose not to investigate more closely; had an encounter with a somewhat-territorial swan (a male?); paddled through some of the moored sailing boats and those of us at the back were surprised to be addressed from one darkened yacht -- an anonymous female voice calling out to us advising of lesser current on the port side (we knew that!). She also complimented us on our spectacular night-club looks (ask Brad!) After leaving the river we stopped for a quick snack on the beach just west of Annisquam light before heading home along the rocky shore. It was almost bright enough to read the names on the map without any flashlight. We got off the water at about ten o'clock, I think, and your scribe was home at eleven. Thank you for the great company, everyone (Suzanne Pritchett, Keith Attenborough, Rick Crangle, Jonathan Richardson, Gerry Smith, Alan Hammersmith and the two Gwynns!) A decent report, Uncle Bob?

Ken, that's brilliant!! Has he got a roll yet? Keep getting him out on the water with us and he'll definitely be one-up on his buddies! Oh, and we can always put him up for the committee...

We-ell... Suzanne is right in her counting! 11 actually launched from the greasy pole, became 13 for an short while (father Cooper giving Cooper junior some wave experience! Good job!), then later became 8 after 3 decided wisely to bag any further adventures after our stop at Magnolia (smelly beach! and you mean people actually big money to live with that?) The raison d'etre was simply to play in waves, swells, rocks, whatever we could find...we put in on an almost-glassy, foggy, inner harbour; but soon discovered some minor swells along the western perimeter. The fog was lifting, with visibility of between a quarter-of-a-mile (perhaps) and a mile, early in our trip. This later became more uniformly a quarter- to half-a-mile during the morning, with some periods of only a few hundred yards. As we got closer to the ocean, the swells progressively increased, until at Norman's Friendly Cafe, we stopped for a double espresso and played among the big swells that were pounding the outer side of the rock (whoah!! Woe? Woe!). These were refracting around the island, exactly as they did for me a couple of weeks ago, but on a larger, grander scale! On the northwestern side, the waves coming in from the south were meeting those refracted waves and causing some nice playful conditions. Sitting patiently among the swells on the , some of us had to await messrs. Luby, Crangle and others who were playing ! It was growing increasingly, grinningly FUN! We had a surprise visit from Ken Cooper and his son who stayed but a short time before they left us to continue on their own itinerary. That young man looked very comfortable in the rough water. Visibility was poor for the remains of the trip, with the hooting of buoys constantly in our ears (when not clogged with saltwater). We had thought of landing on Kettle, but never made it beyond the aforementioned Magnolia. A few of our number were finding conditions somewhat "fun" and decided to stay put there. Even our landing and launching off "stinky beach" caused many of us to ship sand and water in our boats...there were some beautifully-shaped waves flowing into the bay, there, too. We were observed through the fog by sundry speckled 'tators along the coastal road, who probably adjudged us mad dogs and Englishmen out in the midday gloom (they were right, too, weren't they?)!! We had even more fun on the return trip, as the tide was now at near-peak and the swells felt bigger and more powerful than before -- maybe the odd one was 10-12 feet? It certainly felt like it when you were sitting up on top of a swell, looking down into the cauldron below, when the incoming swell was reflected, off the rocks, back out at you! Funny thing: when one of those big swells is reaching its zenith and just about to break, if you are sitting on its topside, the water actually pitter-patters up and down, bouncing on top of the wave and causing a most amusing-looking landscape (lunar -- if the moon were wet!). A certain, nameless sea-kayaker who never stops grinning when she is having fun decided to allow others to practise their rescues when she got out of her boat: magnanimous of her! Norman's Woe was again exciting and we played there a while more. The fog was really dense by then and we cautiously made our way back to the Greasy Pole, where miraculously visibility was decent again. There was much evidence of flotsam in the harbour -- chunks of trees and dunnage, vast fields of spume and seaweed, plus the inevitable plastics (early in the trip we retrieved an enormous plastic barrel out of the water and Rick took it, somehow, to terra firma) Another wonderful day on the ever-changing waters of New England. Thank you, all who joined us! We all learned from it.

Eight of us launched off Devereux beach sometime just after 1800 (six pm), after a beach conference long enough to agree on whistle signals to be used (they weren't!), and put to sea in calm conditions with a small swell. We dodged a few fishermen as we cut inside Tinker's Island (shame for them: evidently none of them saw the fish saw soon after we got off the beach! They were all around us: eat your heart out, Adam!) We played in the somewhat-increasing swells around the big ledge south of Marblehead Neck with a veritable fleet of sailing boats in the background, racing late, and decided we would enjoy moonrise from the ocean, so after more play, we rafted-up somewhere beyond the ledge. It was now quite dark and we passed time both star-gazing and engaged in intellectual debate! (Well, don’t we always?) The moonrise was (in a word) !! A huge, flattened disc of flaming orange (burnt umber? No: more dark apricot, perhaps?) that arose mysteriously from the depths of the Atlantic and metamorphosed through several shapes until a perfect orb. Like a lantern whose power increases steadily as the wick catches, thus our moon...and thus, too, the path reflected on the oily surface of the ocean. We were entranced. Realisation dawned that we were probably mid-channel (happily no traffic) and prompted us to start over to Children’s. We circumnavigated the island and happily played in the swells beside the rocky shore until we reached that shingled beach on the north, where we got out to stretch legs and consume some calories. Since the moon had disappeared behind the “hump” of the island, it was a real night-time landing, albeit an easy one. More star-gazing and when we all started to feel chilly, we donned more clothing and retraced out tracks, the long way back around the island. Lo and behold! A pair of lights coming at us, low in the water, from Marblehead announced the arrival of reinforcements as Casey Carey and Richard Najarian materialized out of the night! Perfect!! The squadron now comprised Suzanne Pritchett, Jonathan Richardson, David Lewis, Gerry Smith, Chris Cotter, Marjorie Woodwell, Bill Lord and your (not so very) humble scribe plus the two late arrivals, for a total of 10. We decided to show Casey and Richard the island by moonlight and made another circumnavigation before sedately making our way back to the harbour and the take-out. It was marvelous paddling through the silent, moored boats and it was about 2240 when we got out of our sea-kayaks. There was unanimous approval for this lovely night on the sea. No dramas, no theatricals, no scares, hardly any traffic...just plenty of good company, much beauty and some good laughs (Oh, and Suzanne's gingerbread!) Had our founder been along, doubtless there might have been some “technical challenges”; but we can pretend he's there when we do it again!!

"thankfully downwind"?? i think, david, you mean "thankfully upwind"? big difference. good report...

i'd have to say i reckon there were 3' waves outside the dry salvage rocks, on the SE side. did you know we paddled right over a wreck? there is a fairly recent one (40-50 yrs) ENE of the low salvages. (i just found out yesterday, online) it was a fishing vessel that started taking on water through the transom and sank fairly quickly: no human casualties.

Anyway, who the hell is "thomperman"? I think I smell a rat... :^)

this man forgot to sign himself..."john leonard, submarine commander"! =:^)

endos? endos? oh, yes...been there, done that!! (i don't think it was pretty, either!!) thank god they build these brit boats tough, michael!! (oh, thread: here we go again...)