prudenceb

Another really nice report. I thought of you guys during my two days up in Boothbay, and was very aware of the conditions you were facing. I hope to join you for an early November trip, and I think you can rest assured that the Weather Gods will be more benign as I have a special connection with them! (But Mother Nature, not so much... I'm not sure which has more power in these situations!)

pru

I had the good fortune to participate once again as a volunteer student in the latest BCU 4**** assessment with John Carmody and three other coaches: Jenn Kleck, Steve Maynard and Todd Wright. I am thrilled to inform you that Lorrie Allen passed the assessment!

Let me tell you: this was no mean feat! Conditions were at the very upper end (if not surpassing at times) 4**** assessment conditions. The first day was fogged in all day. The second day, at Popham, featured some of the biggest conditions I've ever been in. I was a "tea bag" in Lorrie's group both days, and so can, with first hand knowledge, tell you that Lorrie performed with skill and confidence throughout. She handled both the scenarios and real-life rescues. (I have first hand knowledge of this as well, as - true to form for me - I was dumped by what looked from down in the trough like a VERY large wave as we waited to enter the zipper at Popham, and Lorrie executed a quick and confident rescue, directing her co-leader/assesse in what to do. With big waves crashing all around, it never occurred to me to be scared or anxious, as Lorrie had clear control of the situation - getting me back in the boat and getting us towed out of the danger zone.)

After seeing what the candidates went through in this two day assessment, I have a new respect for what 4**** means, and Lorrie should be - and is (if also embarrassed by my words) - very proud!

pru

Its all good!

Amen to that!

I may well want to join - and circumnav - depending on weather etc.

pru

I think I fixed the link by enabling "public" share?

Yes - that worked - thanks! Looks like a very beautiful day - if perhaps a bit windy?

Sounds wonderful - tried the link, Gary, but it didn't work - my old computer or a bad link?

pru

Just found out I won't be able to join you. I console myself by saying how could any Squam Lake trip be any better than the one last year in all the mysterious rain and fog!

pru

I may be up for the Saturday paddle - but likely won't know for sure for a couple more days whether I can get away or not.

pru

I wish it were possible to be in more than one place at the same time! Maybe next year trash-pickin' will fit in my schedule, too. And on the island that Warren and I camped on, the bushes were also "alive with small birds." Is it something to do with this time of year?

pru

Warren and I had a bare-knuckle fight to decide who would be able to write the trip report...and he won!

Nice report from a different perspective than my usual. It was interesting to see Warren thinking about trip planning and to talk with him about that, and I am glad he's been able to put down some of his thoughts, and how we put them into action on this one specific trip. For various reasons, only some of which had to do with the Weather Gods and their specific animosity toward Warren, this was a trip that demanded flexibility. We were planning to be out until Sunday. We were off the water Saturday afternoon. We planned to camp on one island (a rather cold and discouraging venue bare of trees and covered with almost impenetrable brush, with a fire ring and half-burned corn cobs and other garbage nearby), but ended up camping on another - which featured the easiest take out at high tide I've ever experienced (needing to walk the boats perhaps five feet to a grassy area out of reach of the tide) and a cozy woodsy area, a soft and grassy tent site for me, and picnic tables to add that extra civilized touch that is occasionally nice in the Great Outdoors. When the fog came in on Friday afternoon, and the view around us constricted to our island, and what turned out to be a brief and inconsequential rain started, I was very happy not to be on the exposed nasty campsite that we almost settled for. And the Weather Gods did shine down one more time. Despite numerous forecasts for deep fog on Saturday morning, and rain, we got up to a day of milky sun and calm conditions - which, as Warren noted, did not last for long. As we slogged through it to get to Knubble Bay, I was acutely aware: This is not fun! Slog slog slog. But we turned the corner to the bay and were mostly protected from the wind all the way to Beal Island and on the return until we crossed over the knubble (the connecting little beach on which we had planned to stretch our legs now underwater) for the final slog back to our launch spot.

Left out of Warren's report: the truth about the mud-launch, which might have been graceful on his part but was not on mine, and I have the now-dried muddy dry bags to show for it!

Also: the gun shots we heard, and the smoke rising from a fire on shore (two trips in a row seeing fires - what's up with that?!), and the first not-juvenile-but-not-adult loon I've ever seen. So clearly moving toward adult coloration, but not yet there.

A lovely trip - as always - with a wonderful trip planner!

pru

First Annual NSPN Muscle Ridge Fall Camping Weekend September 28-30, 2012

Ten NSPNers and one guest thumbed our collective noses at numerous highly discouraging weather forecasts to brave rain, wind and toxic smoke to make the First Annual NSPN Fall Muscle Ridge camping weekend a rousing success. But let it not be said that we are are Destination Addicts, as it turned out that we never actually made it as a group out to the eponymous archipelago.

The long initially rainy drive up to South Thomaston on Friday morning became more pleasant when we hit Maine and saw a demarcation line in the sky - rain to the south, blue sky and clouds to the north and east. We accelerated into the better weather, mindful that what we were leaving would be chasing us as the day and weekend progressed. We arrived at the Lobster Buoy Campground as planned a little before 10:00 am, to find that Gary, our maestro of a trip organizer, had already made an excellent executive decision in deference to the weather, switching us from our reserved group campsite on the water's edge to another a few hundred yards inland, where we would be marginally more protected from the predicted nastiness coming off the water. We awaited the arrival of others wanting a Friday paddle, and we eventually had the noon launch quorum that we needed. Before we launched, everyone set up his/her tent, and there was a group effort to move picnic tables near a stand of scrubby trees in the center of the camp area, from which an elaborate roof of intersecting tarps was constructed to shelter the camp kitchen and dining areas. Gary handed out party favors to all: bait bags holding a tube of glow sticks suitable to be made into bracelets and necklaces if fashion choices dictated. In so doing, Gary set a new standard for trip initiators that others would do well to emulate in the future!

We discussed paddling options for the day. The (basically inaccurate, as we were to find out) NOAA forecast promised us rain starting in the afternoon and continuing overnight, with some clearing on Saturday. Muscle Ridge beckoned two miles offshore. We elected to save an exploration of the area for the next day, when the weather would be better, and additional paddlers would be joining us. We decided a trip along the coast up to Owl's Head and the lighthouse there would be a good afternoon paddle. Most of us (Gary, Barry, Paul, Mary, Roger and his paddling buddy Alison, and I) embarked in this Owl's Head pod. Two others (Bill and Dave) decided they preferred a shorter paddle, and elected to head out to Muscle Ridge.

We launched a little after noon - right on time. By now, the brief blue sky had given way to cloudy grey. But the wind was negligible as we pushed north and east. Despite lively debates as we proceeded regarding exactly where our planned lunch spot - Crescent Beach - was located, we managed to bypass it and ended up lunching on a little island (unnamed on my chart) looking over at a populated sand beach. (Different charts were ambiguous on the matter - some appeared to indicate that Crescent Beach was a cobble beach south of where we ended up; others seemed to tell us to continue on a bit.)

We had a nice lunch in the gloom of the day, and Barry was good enough to sprint over slippery rocks to retrieve my kayak, which spontaneously decided to back down off of where I'd left it and float away. It would not have gone far in any event, and the water was only knee high. Still…it is a bit alarming to watch one's boat leave without one…

We continued onward, passing between the coast and Sheep and Monroe Islands to the east, until we saw in the distance the picture postcard view of Owl's Head with its lighthouse high up on the edge of the promontory, the light shining a welcome in the grey day. The sky was a matte milky grey background with an overlay of puffy clouds near the horizon. We rounded the head - it was raining by now - and looked up and saw people climbing up the steps to the lighthouse. We took pictures, admired the view, then turned around to pull up on a beach we'd passed on the near side of Owl's Head. Most of us climbed up to look at the lighthouse (passing the granite grave marker, flanked by two small American flags, of "Spot, the Lighthouse Dog"). The view up there was spectacular. Grey water and sky and islands stretching out. A small boat chugging below, trailing a wake.

We next headed over to Monroe Island, where Alison had promised a cobble beach of impressive stones. It didn't disappoint - although we had insufficient time to find the single best souvenir rock on that beach. In fact, half of our group never even disembarked! But Alison and I found a few keepers, and thus loaded up, continued on around the more exposed northern and eastern sides of Monroe, heading back to camp. We had to get out of our boats and walk them through two inches of low-tide water off of Sheep Island, and as we continued, the afternoon wore on, the sky darkened, the wind picked up and it rained. The final mile or so back to Waterman Beach, the launch site, was a slog through those conditions. Thirteen miles after we started, we pulled ashore shortly before the late-September nightfall.

Bill and Dave reported that they had made it out to Muscle Ridge and had found some nice between-island currents; they had gotten back in sufficient time to shower, change, and lay out appetizers and drinks for the rest of us. Do not believe the one Trip Advisor low rating for the campground, which complained about dribbles of cool water rather than a nice hot shower for your 50 cents. Several people who elected to shower before supper reported that the water was heavenly hot, and plenty of it. Most of us, now joined by Cathy, who had arrived mid afternoon and still had her boat on her car, gathered around the cooking table, where Gary heated up butternut squash soup (kindly made by his wife), and Dave heated up beef stew (kindly made by his wife). We huddled under the tarps as the rain came down, and warmed up with hot food. There were several propane lanterns glowing, and people cupped hands around them for warmth. Mary - who had all of our envy with her little RV with an actual bed with mattress, sheets and pillows and room to change (and, we were convinced, a hot tub and sauna tucked in there somewhere) - produced a splendid dessert: individual little pastries in the shape of puffins - with éclair bodies and candy heads. We ate, drank, talked, huddled, cupped hands, and listened to the rain - by now a steady soak - come down.

One by one, we peeled off and sprinted to our tents for the night. Is there anything that feels cozier than being inside a small well-sealed tent on a very rainy night? I do not think there is a better way to sleep. I heard a rumor that there was an almost full Harvest moon that night, but it surely was never more than that rumor. So much for needing glow sticks for a full-moon paddle…

Morning "light" brought more rain and blowing trees. Our "better" Saturday was clearly worse. "Oops", NOAA said, "We got it wrong yesterday, today is going to be lousy - rainy and windy." We ate breakfast under the tarps, all of which had survived the rainy night. Reconnaissance of the water and sky conditions told us that Muscle Ridge was out there somewhere, but you wouldn't know it without a chart. Another decision made by group consensus: to abandon Muscle Ridge as our destination and hug the coastline southward toward Tenant's Harbor for protection from the elements. Continuing our freedom from Destination Addiction, we decided on a turn-around time rather than place, and headed off as one group, joined by Rene, who pulled up in time for a 9:30 launch.

Off we went, in the wind and rain. But both were entirely manageable, and as the morning progressed, the rain tapered off - to return in brief sprinkly periods intermittently throughout the day. Not as the steady-state-until-mid-afternoon that had been predicted. We coasted on sporty waves and current under the bridge to Sprucehead, emerging on the other side to find almost flat water and no wind. We stopped along the way to assist a group of men - deployed on a power boat, a floating dock, and the shore - attach extra lines from boat to dock, which I gather they were attempting to haul out of the water. A golden retriever, with windblown dog drool wrapped around his muzzle, and wearing a bright orange vest, surveyed the process from the bow of the boat. Rather solemnly, I thought.

We stopped to stretch our legs at an island whose name I never got (the problem of paddling past where the chart is folded). We set out again, the wind at our backs, and Roger advised that we all turn around and paddle a bit into the wind to test out what would be headwinds on the way back. Definitely some pushback in that direction, but manageable. On we went. We did a lovely crossing with nice swells and beam waves - but stopped for a time as Gary and Paul had a navigational pow-wow, eventually triangulating to determine which island lay ahead. Paul reported that he lost the debate. It appeared as we headed toward a gap between islands that there would be waves across a good deal it, but that was an illusion and the waves didn't extend far out.

We were almost at Tenant's Harbor. It was lunch and turn-around time. We disembarked at a perfect flat grassy landing area. We lunched on the rocks around the corner from a real fixer-up cottage almost absent of paint, weathered grey boards with blasted out windows, and a ladder inside going up to a loft or attic. Behind it was a cleared out area with tree stumps to sit on, and an old privy in a similar state of (dis)repair, but civilized enough with a toilet seat and lid rather than just a hole in a rotting board.

By now, the wind had dropped, and the entire paddle back was free of struggle. We elected to split the difference between efficiency and scenery; rather than making a straight shot back across open water to Sprucehead, we stayed closer to shore to look at rocks and real estate. Then we split into two pods, with Bill, Dave and Mary deciding to take the short route back under the bridge from whence we'd come, while the rest of us continued around the outer edge of Sprucehead. This turned out to be a wonderful decision. We passed under high green pylons between Sprucehead and a little (?unnamed) island, emerging into a completely calm lagoon with low granite rocks forming enticing little distinct areas to explore.

Onward. Gary pointed out the notation "TARGET" on the chart, and said that its meaning would become clear when we got there. Preparing to put on a helmet and duck down to protect ourselves from incoming whatevers, we rounded the southeastern edge of Sprucehead, and saw ahead of us a large white boulder, painted white with one black stripe and big black circle, with "1884" written in black letters. The enigmatic target…

We scraped our bottoms going through another small rock garden, and looking now directly toward home, we saw a plume of smoke rising from pretty much where we'd launched. As we paddled on, the plume got larger and spread more. It smelled. It blocked the sky. It even dropped some ashes on us. The South Thomaston Toxic Waste Dump going up in smoke? What ill health effects would we suffer from our weekend kayaking off the pristine Maine coast? Roger, Alison and Barry paddled east to Tommy Island, both because the air was clearer out there, and because there was an enticing little house to check out. The rest of us paddled on into the smoke, which as we proceeded, born by the northeast wind, was overspreading the sky. By the time we landed, at four in the afternoon, the sky was the color of a bruise, even out over Tommy's Island, and the smell was most unpleasant.

We were met by an unfortunate woman on an orange bicycle, who had been trapped in her popup camper all day, breathing the smoky air. The good new was that it wasn't the South Thomaston Toxic Waste Dump going up in flames; it was the Thomaston (Volunteer?) Fire Department having a training day burning down an abandoned house - vinyl siding, asphalt shingled roof and all. Yeck! Apparently the concerns of the woman on the orange bike, communicated directly and in person to the person in charge on site, were not met with great sympathy. She was hoping to enlist support for an email of complaint to…The EPA?...the town selectmen?... Someone… Gary said he'd sign for the group.

Rain was again forecast for overnight and Sunday, and a number of us, including all who had driven the longest to get there, decided to head on home. Which we did, after loading up boats and taking some showers (still hot, still plentiful).

Those who remained will have to report on the final night and whether and where there was a Sunday paddle. But wind, rain, and smoke didn't in the end detract from a memorable weekend trip. We saw one bald eagle, numerous adult and juvenile loons, and a flock of scoters. Bill and Dave saw one seal. And those of you who wanted to come but couldn't make it, just think: you will be able to be on the Second Annual Muscle Ridge Fall Camping Weekend that will the be the First Such Weekend to Actually See the Group Get to Muscle Ridge. I hope! (And can only in addition hope that the Second Annual etc etc will be as hummus-free as the First!)

Thank you, Gary, for arranging the trip and starting a new tradition!

I've decided to join the Muscle Ridge crew, so won't be there.

pru

Great report - hope to join you next year, well prepared with a hard hat...and the middle eastern food that shall not be named, because clearly you didn't have enough!

pru

If it's an essentially new and unused paddle, and isn't performing as it should, I would say just return it ASAP to Werner and make them either make it work right or give you a new one that does. You spent a lot of $$ on that paddle. It should do what it's supposed to do. It doesn't. Return it and make it their problem to solve and not yours.

pru

I like the start at Odiorne because it's right down the road from the home of good friends of mine (!) - which makes it very convenient and it's a shorter distance to drive for those of us coming from Boston. I'd rather spend extra time on the water heading north across the river than driving across it!

pru

Ed -- glad that you're interested in doing this trip later in the fall. I don't know if I'll be able to make either of those times, but let's all stay in touch about it.

pru

I would say get the best you can afford. Mine was just replaced by Kokotat (for free!) after one year, and this year's model appears to have added a pocket on the chest that I didn't have in the 1 year old model. I like that addition!

pru

Gene,

I love this trip, too, and would be interested in doing it again as the season(s) progress. So please post when - on the wknd - you might be interested.

pru

Warren and I arranged to meet at Odiorne to do a Gerrish circumnav on Saturday morning as I would be coming down from an on-land Coastal Navigation course with John Carmody up in Boothbay. Armed with my new knowledge, I was able to turn my back to the wind, stick out my left arm, and identify the low pressure system that would be affecting the first part of our day. Of course, it was also possible to just look west, see the clouds with blue sky beyond, and know that the west wind would push it over us and out to sea. Which it did.

We paddled out under a grey-pink sky with light beams pouring down through the clouds onto the water. There was almost no boat traffic, and the Piscataqua crossing was the easiest ever. We headed to Chauncy Creek, where we continued under the little bridge and through the meandering stream out to Braveboat Harbor. The light was clear and amazing, the breeze fresh, the air cool, and some trees were just beginning to show changing colors. Snaking through the marsh, it truly felt like a new season, and after the occasionally hectic summer, that felt wonderful.

As Katherine noted in her post of her Sunday paddle, we too saw flocks of white egrets - and many blue herons. An abundance of birds that I hadn't seen on this trip before. We stopped at the harbor for an early lunch and watched the clouds and the water. I found a nice big rock to take home for the garden.

We headed out to continue the clockwise circumnavigation. The wind pushed us along for a time. We were well off-shore, and we noticed that we were being escorted by monarch butterflies. There were never less than two fluttering off our bows, and we could often see more than six hovering over the water ahead of us. What were they doing out there? Getting organized to head to Mexico for the winter? They were indeed going generally southward.

After a benign morning, the wind picked up and was eventually in our faces, and it was a slog back across the Piscataqua. Of course since Warren powered through 25 knot winds for miles last weekend in his camping trip with Rob, he proclaimed that this was mere child's play. Tell that to this child. It was a lot of work!

There was more boat traffic by now, and as we crossed the channel, we speeded up through the wind and waves to avoid being overrun by the Isle of Shoals ferry bearing down on us as it headed back to Portsmouth. Nice waves on the backside of that!

We hugged the shore out of the wind heading back to Seavey Creek, stopping to weave between some more benign offshore rocks. And then it was another slog - into the wind, into the ebbing tide - back to the launch.

A lovely day that really seemed to mark the beginning of fall - at least for me - on the water.

Yeah, bring it on!

pru

"journey that would have otherwise been just another paddle."

Hey! No journey is "just another paddle." They are all unique, although some are clearly more memorable than others!

pru

Ah, the "ease" of learning to roll... Several years ago, I signed up for rolling classes at CRCK. Knowing that it would be a challenge, I signed up for three three-hour pool classes in a row.

At end of first three hour class: I was almost in tears with frustration! So right-left, upside down-rightside up confused I hadn't a clue what they were trying to teach me or what I was doing. It made no sense while I was doing it, and it made no sense after when I tried to think about what I'd been trying to do. And it hadn't helped to see several athletic types master the roll in less than one session...

At end of second three hour class: I understood! While I hadn't yet rolled, at least I understood what was supposed to be happening. All that right-left confusion was a little bit settled.

At end of third three hour class: I'd rolled! Not reliably. Not over and over. Not on both sides, but I went over and came up 360 degrees later.

From there, I got a reliable roll...Then lost it.

Then spent almost a weekend getting coached with Cheri and Turner and Greg Stamer. Working with GP, my roll got broken down and built back up. Now, it mostly works - on both sides.

Except of course when I'm in a situation where I'd like it to work... when my brain can still betray me, and I am prone to rolling failure.

Always something to work on in this sport...

pru

Wow! I had hoped to join you on this trip, as you know, but reading your trip report, I don't know if I'm glad I missed it - or sorry I wasn't able to share the experience with you. I'm sure Rob's and your various teachers were saying all kinds of positive things as you planned, launched, paddled, and accomplished what you did.

As for that falling tree - I heard one of those in the night on one of our earlier trips, and ever since then, haven't looked at trees the same!

I'm VERY glad that both of you are back safe and sound, and look forward to our next planned camping adventure, which I hope is not as adventurous as this one!

pru

Cath = if you end up interested in a Montauk (see Lorrie's post above), I know someone who has a carbon-kevlar one in great condition for sale.

pru

Wonderful - if only slightly alarming - photos. How many bottoms of kayaks did we see in the pix? Let's just say that Walden Pond this morning felt more friendly than the seas up in your neck of the woods!

pru