JohnHuth

I hear tell that if you keep them warm for long enough, a miniature chicken crawls out. If that's not enough to get your skin crawling, I don't know what is.

Yeah, it was about as good as it gets. On the point of the tide and rip current - I was staring at the Eldrige current pictures for over an hour trying to figure it out - flipping from one page to the next. Here's what I'm guessing: high tide is reported for Stage Harbor and the flats 3 hours after start of ebb in Pollack Rip. If you look at Eldrige's plots,there is still some residual flow from the west on the flood into Stage Harbor and the flats (from the north) as the ebb begins to pick up on the southern tip. You can see the current in the diagrams continuing into the Stage area at slack and an hour or two after the ebb current begins at Pollack. Most of this current into the flats and Stage is coming from a northerly area of Nantucket Sound, and not from the southern tip of Monomoy which seems to be filling the more southerly bit of the Sound. This change-over happens at different times - e.g. start of ebb is an hour later at Woods Hole than it is at Pollack Rip.

On a good day, with the right atmospheric conditions, I could see S. Monomoy’s western shore off in the distance from my house in Harwich and dreamed of a circumnavigation. I believe that one of the BCU ratings involves making a crossing of some distance where you’re away from land. With a map, I calculated that I could accomplish this by going from roughly the southern tip of Monomoy in a bee-line to my house, but never quite had the gumption to try this. I’d have done the circumnavigation in a nano-second, but some of the “guide books” to kayaking in Massachusetts made the circumnavigation seem like a true feat of arms, and, frankly, scared me off. Here’s a sampling from one guidebook: “Strong tide rip off southeast end of South Monomoy. Breaking and dumping waves on east side of Monomoy. Thick fog can roll in rapidly and unexpectedly, especially during the summer. Do not paddle without a compass and solid navigation skills. Note that most marine charts are not accurate as to location of sand bars and breaks that have occurred in the island in the last decade. Poison ivy is abundant on the islands, especially on South Monomoy.” “The circumnavigation of the Monomoy Islands requires solid ocean skills, great stamina and knowledge of local waters. Even proficient kayakers benefit from paddling with an experienced guide in this confusing and sometimes dangerous area.” The level of difficulty is listed as “strenuous”. Later in this description, it says “Those looking for challenging conditions can remain on the east side of the islands and continue paddling south, paralleling the east shore of South Monomoy. Swells off the Atlantic hit shoals offshore and generate lines of breaking waves. At the south end of South Monomoy, 7.1 miles from the channel, kayakers reach Pollack Rip. All paddlers must exercise great caution in this area. Strong tidal current can generate large and breaking waves , and fierce current can pull kayakers eastward through the Pollack Rip Channel. The trip to the south end of Monomoy is rewarding but the trip demands excellent ocean skills.” No wonder it took me years to try this. Thanks to your website, I managed to hook up with Tom Hennes, a Manhattan-ite who is up visiting Chatham and had an interest in some long-ish trips. My other companion was George Palanasky, who is a geologist at Harvard. I became the de-facto guide because I had already obsessed over Monomoy long enough. It was time to try it out. I got a GPS track from Liz Eneumeier, which I figured was about as accurate a tracing of the coast as possible, since she’d gone through there with Walter, Sanjay and Nigel on August 10th. I got some local advice from Adam Bolonsky and a number of other people who’d recently done the trip. In terms of planning, I figured that a clockwise rotation was optimum: by hitting Pollack Rip at the start of ebb tide (which, counterintuitively, flows west), we’d get a kick around the point, but not have many standing waves because they didn’t have time to build up. High tide on the flats is about three hours past the start of ebb at Pollack Rip. The tides are very complex in this area, and unless you puzzle over the current and tide patterns, the idea that a high tide happens three hours after an ebb current starts seems a bit daft, but there you are – it’s true. In any case, clockwise run around Monomoy at the start of ebb gives you the kick you want around the tip, and the high water over the flats coming back the west side. The start of ebb was at 9:40 and high tide at Stage Harbor was at 12:40. I tried for a 7 AM put-in, but, with all the fussing with our VHF’s and ton of emergency gear (having had the daylights scared out of me by the above warning), we ended up getting going by 8. The forecast was for light NW winds in the morning, shifting to SW in the afternoon. West winds had been blowing for three days, which would minimize the swells on the East side. We left from the Morris Island causeway, and passed some clammers. There was very little boat traffic in the winding passage between N. Monomoy and S. Nauset beach. Sometimes this bit can be like Grand Central station, but this time it was relatively quiet. By the time we got close to the southern end of S. Nauset, we began to see harbor seals in great abundance. Right at the tip of S. Nauset there was a herd of these critters lollygagging in the mild current. Little pups would poke up their heads in curiosity and then duck back down. George asked about the shore birds that were making the funny noises, and I said that they were piping plovers. George said “oh, that’s why they’re called ‘piping’, huh?” Even though I knew their names and seen them for years, that was the first time I’d realized why they were called piping. That’s one benefit of paddling with companions: they’re seeing things with different eyes and bring a different perspective. We poked our nose out into the open ocean. We paused briefly to assess the situation, but the swells were very low and modest. George said “I’ve been communing with the seals and they tell me that we should proceed around S. Monomoy.” The whole passage south was serene. We had a little push from the wind behind us, and the tide was dropping off of flood into slack at this point. At some moment, we could gaze up and down the length of S. Monomoy and it was truly spectacular – a long, untarnished stretch of barrier island with the swells gentle breaking on the sand, and that beautiful diffuse light that baths the island. As we approached the tip, right on time, the ebb current was kicking in, and we were really hauling the mail around the southern tip. At this point, there was almost nothing in the way of serious waves. You could’ve landed anywhere on the southern tip you chose. There was only a hint of standing waves, but you had to look hard to identify them. At some moment, we arrived at the precise south end – a kind of mystical point where we imagined the Labrador current mixing with the warmer currents from the south. I estimated a 2 kt current at this point. Periodically, Tom would dip his hands into the water and it would range from very warm to quite cold, depending on the given moment of sampling. After rounding the southern tip, we pulled up and had lunch, which a number of seals watched from nearby. The weather was clear, with a few clouds floating by lazily. There were almost no green flies to bother us. We chatted about this and that. Tom is a specialist in Museum building and we discussed the aims of teaching folks about nature. An amusing quip from Tom about the curators of aquariums: “All aquarium curators are great seafood lovers. They get to eat their mistakes.” After satisfying our palates on various goodies, we shoved off again. We could see the location of my house, 8 miles away across Nantucket Sound, and briefly contemplated the open passage to my house to knock off this BCU requirement, but it would involve a complex car-ferrying arrangement, and, frankly, I thought it would be boring to paddle to a speck that only slowly grows larger and larger over the course of a couple of hours. So, back to Stage Harbor. We took care to head reasonably far west to avoid the sand flats, even though they were mostly covered up by the high tide. The southwest wind kicked in, and before too long we had enough waves coming from behind that we could actually surf a few. Soon enough, we hit the Stage Harbor entrance, and went back through the channel up to the Morris Island causeway and hauled out. As I was getting loaded up, a guy I know from a recent trip to Woods Hole pulled up and said that he’s ready to do a crossing to Nantucket. His idea was to go down to the southern tip of Monomoy, poach camp, and then launch on the 20 mile crossing to Nantucket. Now, that’s a challenge! Tom and George came over to my house for a beer and some of my homemade smoked bluefish pate while we surveyed Monomoy from a distance. All-in-all, it was about as close to a perfect trip as I could imagine. The wind was favoring us out and back, the swells on the east were minimal. The seals were being very friendly. The current around the tip was very cooperative. In retrospect, I couldn’t recognize the description of the place in my guidebook compared to my experience. Of course, we got lucky with the weather, and a bit of careful planning helped make the rip tide experience very easy. George suggested that I might want to try it again, solo, in a nor’easter.

Speak of the devil - I am just back this moment from N. Monomoy. The circumnavigation is about 20 nm, so if you're used to 40, it's easy. The trickiest bits are the breaking waves on the shoals on the ocean side of the south island and the current on the southern tip. You have to take care to make sure the current is going the way you want. The flats are also problematic - best to give them a healthy distance, particularly when the tide is ebbing. Finally, the boat traffic around the north island can be a bear. My local friend, Julie, says the "best" way of doing it is to start out at the beginning of the ebb from Chatham and go clockwise. There is some current in the gap between N. Monomoy and the beach to the east (having come from there just now, I'm guessing something of order a knot). Of course, the timing of the tide etc. doesn't always work out perfectly, so a counterclockwise trip could be required. Phones - my cell is 617 594 6549. I'll be here (Harwich) from Wed through Tuesday, so there's a pretty good chance we can figure something out. e-mail is huth@physics.harvard.edu

Yup, I'm in HarwichPort - just a stone's throw from Chatham. I'll be around roughly in that period. I think my e-mail is listed here, but if not - huth@physics.harvard.edu Good stuff around here: Monomoy Island, Herring River, Swan River. Although not as interesting, I regularly do Stage Harbor to the entrance of Swan River along the south coast of the Cape. Bass River tends to have too much boat traffic. I'll be around here tomorrow, on and off next week through Labor Day.

I missed the amazing Monomoy circumnavigation. I will, however, be at the Cape on and off until Labor Day. If anyone is interested in a venture, please contact me or post a response. I know most of the area from Swan River to Stage Harbor, and the Herring River, which are pretty mild. I'd be interested in trying some of Monomoy - anything from the north island to trying something more ambitious like the south island, if there is a minimum of 3 people. best, John Huth

Yup - Charles River Canoe and Kayak, Ocean Skills II. A guy named Kevin was our instructor - great guy, very knowledgable and also laid back. I'm probably going to do the surfing clinic, which he also teaches. As far as current estimation is concerned - I can think of two ways: If you know the distance between two stationary objects (buoys, markers etc), and then see a piece of flotsam going by, you can time the passage from one fixed point to another. The other option is to get out into the current with your kayak and try the same thing. I've cheated on this, and used my GPS to estimate speeds. Even if you don't stop paddling, you can look at the differential speed when you are paddling in flat water and when in moving water to get a rough ifea of the current. The tricky bit, in my opinion, is in areas where there is a significant constriction. There you'll see a lot of turbulence and variation in current from one place to the next. Woods Hole had all these funky little eddies, so as you cross, you'll get all sorts of variations in current. First time out, they took me by surprise, as the changing currents would try to torque around the kayak while crossing. Second time, I was more ready for this (but not for the large fishing vessel suddenly bearing down on me!). On estuarial rivers, the same thing -the river meanders and there are eddies on the inside of bends, and currents are accentuated around tight bends. There's one place on the Herring river I love to practics - it has a hairpin turn - on one side of the bend, there's a nice fat, lazy eddy. On the other is a firehose of current. The transition is breathtaking - all the more so because you can't really see the eddy line.

I had a teaching-outing offered by one of the local (Boston) kayak establishments down at Woods Hole. This was mainly to learn or practice skills in big currents. I had never been in Woods Hole before, and I have to say that I was absolutely amazed at the buoys - they tilt at 30 degree angles because of the current. I guess most people are familiar with this, but it was my first time there and I found this the single most astonishing thing about the place. We practiced ferries, peel outs, combat rolls, rescues etc. I have to say that crossing that channel was an experience unto itsslf - you have to time your crossing to avoid the nearly constant traffic. In any case, it's a great place to sharpen your skill set with a good instructor. I certainly got a lot out of it.

That does sound scarey. I was once flyfishing in the ocean with a number 0 hook (translation - biggest friggin hook you can tie a fly on). A gust of wind hit me on the back-cast and the hook went right through my ear, with the barb sticking out the other end! I was too embarassed to go to the emergency room. I was alone in the kayak and thought "what now?". I clipped the line off and paddled home. When I got home, I found a pair of dikes and a pair of needle nosed pliars and stood in front of a make-up mirror and tried to snip off the barb before removing the hook. It was like docking the shuttle to the space station or some equivalent orbital maneuver, but I didn't want to walk around for the rest of my life with this feathery thing hanging from my ear. Later that week, I saw a woman who had her ear pierced and a feathery thing dangling, and it looked identical to what my fly looked like dangling from my ear....sheesh...

This is not unheard of. I've known summers with a lot of jellyfish. My daughter got a jellyfish sting in Nantucket Sound last weekend.

Here is what I got for the tide table for Wed, Aug 10th for Monomoy Point: High Low Wed 10 3:53 AM EDT / 3.71 ft 9:56 AM EDT / 0.28 ft High Low 4:16 PM EDT/3.71 ft 10:20 PM EDT / 0.40 ft I recall that the tide floods east (very counterintuitive, since you'd expect the opposite, but the domininant flood comes through the gaps between Nantucket and Martha's Vineyard, and Martha's Vineyard and the Elizabeth Islands). Likewise it ebbs west. That would suggest that the peak flow to the west occurs roughly between 6 and 9 AM, peak flow to the east between 11 And 3, and peak flow again to the west between 5:30 and 9 PM

The current in and out of Stage Harbor isn't so bad. At the tightest constriction - at the end of Harding beach, I'd guess that the strongest current is just under 2 knots. I've paddled both ways with the current running in Stage, and it's not a big deal - the stretch where it runs the strongest is short and not so bad. John H.

I don't think it's limited to lobstermen. I actually personally know some in Maine and the ones I know are very thoughtful and wouldn't pull any stuff like that, but I reckon there must always be a few. A few more experiences: in Nantucket Sound, a guy was out in a new, hot-shot fiberglass speedster boat. He started doing "doughnuts" around me, even though I was trying to stay away. He wouldn't leave me alone, so I finally got out my flare gun and calmly loaded it in plain view. Although I had no intention of using it in the way you might think, my bluff was enough for him to leave. The other was a discussion with the harbor master about a kayak that had been the victim of hit-and-run. The boater was cited for drunk-boating in Nantucket, but crossed over to the Cape anyway. In approaching the harbor, he ran over a kayak and fled the scene. Fortunately, the paddler was unharmed, and the police managed to catch up with the boater.

Well, I thought you did - but perhaps not. I was out on a crossing up in Maine and got socked in by a fog bank in the middle of the crossing. No problems for me - I had all the comnpass bearings and that kind of thing. I was also careful to keep an ear out for boats, and try to practice defensive kayaking (i.e. I assume that can't see me, which is a pretty good assumption). Anyway, a couple of lobster boats hove into view through the fog - I'd managed to avoid them. I had my VHF onto their channel and they were talking about me (the guy in the yellow and white kayak off the poing), saying stuff like they'd run me over and not stop, spraying me with their deck hose etc. Fortunately, I avoided all that, but I got the impressing that they sure didn't like sharing "their" water with anyone. John

Paging Brian Nystrom. You posted something a while back about lobster boats. I had an odd experience with some lobster boats on Monday. They were positively aggressive - and I try to let them go about their work and am very careful about being evasive, but I found that they have a pretty dim view of kayakers. I was wondering if you could e-mail me with your thoughts, or perhaps repost it? Many thanks! John Huth

I'll be available on the 20th and for several days thereafter, if that's any option.

Sanjay - If you can find anyone who is interested in a circumnavigation, I'd be interested in joining. I have a house in Harwichport, and have had the notion to try it solo, but have been a bit too chicken. I'd rather deal with a SW wind on the Sound side than big breakers on the ocean side. John H.

I actually enquired about this. You're supposed to check with both the local police dept, and the coast guard and get their permission to shoot off a flare. I think you're also supposed to radio in the time that you shoot it off, so that they know. Consider it a bit like a "radio check" on the VHF. I will confess to "expending unused ordninance" on the 4th of July - at the height of a fireworks display. I also know of a story of people who shot off flares when they were in trouble on the 4th, and it was totally ignored. Advice: don't hope for a flare to attract attention on the 4th.

I have a glass tempest 17. It's held up quite well - a few scratches, but nothing serious. I've had it for a bit over a year and a half - sand, rocks covered with barnicles, granite, whelk shells, gravel - all landed on with some reasonable respect and it's held up quite well. I'm a bit anal about rocks and rough bits of beach, however - not one to attempt rolls in rock gardens (like some folks!).

Guys like Brian are the best experts, but let me add a couple items on conditions 1.) Learn to know what you can handle - remember that a wind blowing from land doesn't make very big waves, but wind that's had a long time to build up seas coming over some distance over water produces big waves. 2.) Shoals cause waves to break and heap up more (steeper) - having some idea of the underwater topography is a good idea. 3.) Current going against the wind produces big waves, current going with the wind tends to smooth them out. 4.) Beware of fog! Have a compass and always check your bearings back to land as you go out under all conditions - but in particular if you hear "patchy fog" in the forecast. Pay attention to wind direction as you go out - if it shifts around, that can be a sign of a storm approaching. 5.) Handheld VHF's can pick up the NOAA weather channel, with conditions in almost excruciating detail.

I own a glass Tempest 17. I guess people have already said a fair amount about it above, so I can chime in. It's very manueverable, easy to cut turns (I took it up the Herring River on an ebb tide and was working the daylights out of it). It's easy to roll, and the stock rigging is great. I've had fun surfing it - and been able to hold my position right at the point the breakers curl a few feet from the beach. Very responsive. It seems to handle wind pretty well - not much weathercocking and it can go into a pretty stiff wind - waves wash over it without causing any problems. Speeds - well, it's a relative calibration. Cruising averages in calm conditions maybe 4.2, into a stiff wind, maybe 3.6 - dead sprint, maybe 6.5. Complaints: the hatches are a bit leaky - also the fittings for the skeg cable. These can be fixed with a few tricks. The hatches are held on with a bungee system. So, I give it high marks. Can't compare to an explorer - mine was on sale in Nov. 03, and I liked the lines of the boat so much, I purchased it without a test drive or anything. I'm pretty happy about it. John Huth

This was an interesting day for wetsuits. I sweated up a storm and had to stow extra water on board to keep hydrated. After it was over, I jumped in the water - boy is it cold!! Anyway, I counted about seven or eight kayakers in cotton tees and bathing suits.

The legislation currently pending (and don't want to get into the argument again) was proposed in the wake of the deaths of two women aged 20 and 21. They were out in the same waters as today, same waters I was at the same time I was out - that was the Sunday before Columbus day 2003). The girls died. This time, they boys who were out were lucky. Having been in near proximity to the first tragedy and in near proximity to this near-miss, I just have to wonder - it feels like a curse. John

Actually, I found one of them - and helped him back to land. I then beached my kayak and gave as much info as possible to the Coast Guard, who were out by that time. I also gave the guy I found a lecture about safety - I hope this near miss will at least teach them something!

Just pass this post by...I'm ranting...and it's deja vu all over again. OK, so I drove down to the Cape today. Y'all got me interested in a kayak race down here, so naturally, being a testosterone poisoned male, I'm now checking out my speed on a GPS and seeing how long I can maintain it- paddled from Harwich to Monomoy and back. On my paddle back, I happen on my old friend, the fog. No problem. As I approach my house, I pass a jetty where someone is yelling at me. I paddle up and see what's going on. Two boys out in small plastic kayaks are lost in the fog. Soon, the coast guard is out, and the harbor master is out. Luckily the fog lifted and I think they found the boys. This is just getting too creepy for me. When will people learn to use some common sense? OK...back to the kayak babe personals....