prudenceb

I'll be there assuming work releases me on time...

pru

I'm interested - but have to off the water earlier than 4:30. Will find someone to leave with early if need be.

pru

Avoid the island - which in one of my trip reports I dubbed Mosquito Hell Island - on Merchant Row just north of Isle au Haut on page 185 of the 2011 MITA guide! Hands down the buggiest and awfulest landing/launching that I've experienced thus far!

pru

A really nice day - magical beginning with the flat calm pearly sea and sky, and then those sailboats like colorful bubbles on the water. I love Doug's full-screen photo of them.

Thanks to everyone for a very nice paddle.

pru

Yes, Pru: you do need to start learning some basic birds -- swifts are neither waterbirds nor fish eaters. They are the aerial acrobats you see and hear twittering as they fly by, hawking insects on the wing, usually in small flocks or families and often quite high. They are small and mostly black or dark grey (<little> swift has a white rump); their flight is erratic and quite wonderful, as they chase down their prey.

In your local Brains and Noble you will find, in the natural history section, for example, a small plastic-laminated brochure-type series on recognition and you need the one called Coastal Birds. You will undoubtedly enjoy learning to recognize the more common birds you see when kayaking!

(I do not know why; but once again my post comes up in some obscure font. Help! I have never had this happen before my last couple of posts -- that is, after the "new look"...)

Yes, I have to work on my education... I actally have that Coastal birds laminate - and will start actually using it! Thanks for the prod.

pru

Yes, we saw the seals in the distance, but intentionally stayed away so as not to flush them off the rocks, which we've seen others do.

And yes, we stopped at the NW campground - described in trip report - which we didn't much like.

pru

Have you ever had one of those weeks where there's a black cloud over everything that happens for days? Such was mine last week. Until Saturday morning, when I set out early - under a sparkling blue sky - to drive up to South Windsor Park to meet up with Warren and his brand new never-touched-salt-water Explorer for a camping trip to Whaleboat Island in Casco Bay. I could feel everything lightening inside the further north I got.

Our plan was for a 10 am launch from Stockbridge Point at South Windsor Park ($7 for overnight parking), and to meet up with Rene, who had been able to leave on Friday, and had spent the night camping on Whaleboat with his son. Before I left, I debated what to wear on the water - and not being able to decide, ended up bringing every piece of paddling clothing I own - from drysuit to short sleeved Hydrosilk. The forecast was for temperatures in the 60's on the coast, with bright sun, although the clear sky promised was already giving way to clouds. Starting at the Kennebunk Service Plaza on the Maine Turnpike, I had first noticed the sky filling with soft clouds to the north and east, and what had been a bright blue sky was washing out. But that was OK. So…drysuit it was. And we launched. Which was not as simple as it sounds because Warren's giant new boat, fully loaded, must have weighed about 900 pounds. But we managed to get it into the water.

I immediately started regretting my clothing choice, as it was calm and there was still enough sun that I felt a bit toasty. But on we went. Warren almost immediately pronounced great satisfaction with his new craft, which handled beautifully in its loaded state. We headed for the northeast end of Moshier Island, an easy crossing with little wind, no waves, and no boat traffic. I admired a beautifully built wooden ramp down to a dock in a cove at the end of the island. It was gently curved, with a decorative railing, like a bridge in a Monet garden painting.

Warren warned that on the next crossing - from Moshier to French Island - we might see more high speed boat traffic (although we not yet seen any boat traffic, moving at any speed) so to keep an eye out. We paddled along, keeping our eyes peeled for nonexistent boats, when we saw a lobster buoy that stood out among the field of brightly colored buoys littered across the calm water. It was green and orange. Writ on it in easy to read white letters: FART. Unfortunate Mr. Fart the lobsterman? We laughed and a snapped a couple of photos. On we went to the south end of French Island. We stopped at the point, a lovely rocky area, to take a bearing, although we really didn't need to.

We aimed for the north end of Little Whaleboat Island, and continued the calm paddle, the skies becoming more overcast. Little Whaleboat is actually several small islands that encompass a beautiful, still cove with another small island in the middle. Here we met up with (actually, ran into, because we'd had no plan for how we were to meet) Rene and his son. As it turned out, Rene had had a change of plans, and they were headed back in, unable to spend a second night out on Whaleboat. Rene and son were both dressed in shorts and thin tops, and told us that it had been sufficiently hot when they arrived at the island on Friday that Rene had gone for a swim and set up a tarp for protection from the sun.

Rene had heard about a cleared area (suitable for camping?) on Little Whaleboat, and we got out to take a look. What we found: a likely ever-evolving art installation covering two small cleared areas - neither big enough to hold a tent - and constructed of driftwood, lobster buoys, shells, rope and various bits of detritus that wash up on a beach. One area was neatly paved with flat stones. A driftwood plank four feet long ran between two trees. On it were about six sea urchins and a few shells lined up in a neat row. A smaller branch was propped between two other trees, and hanging from it at neatly spaced intervals were strands of thick rope, each about three feet long and of a different washed out color. Bottles and buoys hung from trees. It would have been fun to stay and contribute to the artwork, but we had things to do on the water.

Rene and son paddled off for the mainland, and Warren and I lingered for a while in the flat calm cove. Because we were protected there from any wind, the loudest sounds we heard were the songs of bird. It was glorious! There was a small flock of birds, which looked like swifts (my ignorance of birds is just about endless), floating on the water. Whatever they were, they seemed calm and were not at all skittish. We were able to paddle near them and they didn't fly off. Warren and I agreed that this was such a special spot that we should plan to visit it every year.

As we paddled out, we saw an osprey circling overhead, and then a large nest. It had to have been the untidiest osprey's nest ever constructed - a flimsy looking haphazard assemblage of sticks that wasn't very deep - and I could only hope that the inhabitants will be better parents than they are homebuilders…

We paddled directly across to the north end of Whaleboat Island, again keeping an eye out for boats in the channel. Not many. We rounded the point, and went on down the eastern, more exposed side of the island. We could see Eagle Island off to our left, and beyond that Cliff and Jewell. It was nice to be back in a familiar neighborhood. The wind had begun to pick up, and it was a bit of a slog to the "central" meadow, which seemed closer to the southern end of the island than the middle. Along the way we passed one seal draped over a rock. It was sufficiently windy and wavy that we didn't want to head out to give him a wide berth. Even so, as we passed, he did nothing but slowly swivel his head, watching us as we went by. He stayed put on the rock, and I was glad he hadn't felt the need to escape into the water.

When we reached the meadow where we were to take out, we almost didn't recognize it because the grass was so much higher than it had been last month. The meadow was spectacular: bounded on both sides by now flowering wild roses, the grass was higher than our knees. The surface rippled in the wind. Not only were there the red and white flowering bushes, but also teeny-tiny yellow and white and red wild flowers growing in the grass. I even found a teeny-tiny patch of wild strawberries: 3 whole strawberries, each smaller than the eraser on a pencil. I selfishly ate them all!

Warren made a beeline to the camping site he'd claimed last month, at the top of the meadow, looking west over the edge of the island. I actually preferred mine - a bit lower down in the meadow, and looking east over the expanse of moving grass, with a view of Eagle Island in the distance, although in the increasingly cloudy conditions in which we set up our tents, the features of the island were indistinct.

After a quick lunch, we headed out again. While our original goal had been to head north to the Goslings, and then on to Williams Island and beyond, the deteriorating day made us change our plans. We went south to the end of Whaleboat and then paddled in the lee of the increasing wind down the entire west side of the island. The promised sunny day was now almost completely overcast. When we once again reached the north end of the island, which is over a mile long, the wind was up even more and the temperature had dropped. We did the mile plus crossing to East Gosling, with whitecapped beam waves the whole way. We were, at this point, glad for the drysuit decision.

I for one was relieved when the crossing was over and I could stop in the calm water between the two Goslings. A number of power and sailboats were anchored between the islands, and there were people on the beach at the north end of the East Gosling. Warren wanted to go ashore (across the rocky, seaweedy low tide landing spot) to visit the camp that had been the site of his solo camping adventure last year. While he took his stroll down memory lane, I engaged in one of my favorite boating activities - sitting absolutely still and staring down into the water. Not much to see at this spot but seaweed and rocks…

Next stop: West Gosling. While the campsite there is a nice one, compared to being out on Whaleboat, which in the windy distance looked far away indeed…and out there on this not particularly hospitable afternoon, the numbers of boats and people at the Goslings gave it a bit of a Downtown-Crossing-on-the-water feel.

We debated whether to do the shorter crossing back to Little Whaleboat, which would afford us an easy last bit entirely out of the wind over to Whaleboat. But the wind had by then shifted just enough to southeast that a straight shot back to Whaleboat would be mostly into the wind - no more beam waves to deal with - and so we went straight for it. It was a fun, exhilarating trip back, right into the waves. And the minute we hit the shelter of Whaleboat, dead calm. Again we paddled up the protected east side. We stopped at the North Campground, which we hadn't noticed before. While it looked nice enough from the water, once ashore, we walked up the rocks and saw that it was a dark, somewhat damp area heavy with moss. Mosquitoes found us quickly. There was an impressive forest of blow downs right behind the campsite, a dead brown chaos behind the living trees. Warren thought it looked like something out of The Hobbit. Not in a nice way, I'd say.

There was a signboard with information about the campsite and the history of the island. Whaleboat was given its name by mariners because its long slender shape, with upswept forested ends and a depressed central meadow, reminded them of a whaleboat. In 2012, I would say that if I'm thinking of a long narrow boat with upswept ends I'd think of …..hmmmm? Kayak Island? Somehow, it doesn't have the same ring to it.

Again we paddled the length of the island, completely protected from the wind. We dawdled along. I saw a brown blur moving against the rocks to my left. And then it emerged again. An otter, running along a seam in the rock, appearing and disappearing. Look! I called out to Warren. When he finally saw it, he proclaimed that it looked more like a mink. Are there minks on Maine islands?! Otter…mink…he moved along rapidly, and then out of sight for good.

We paddled slowly and chatted, looking at the rocky shoreline. The rocks on the west side of Whaleboat aren't solid faces of granite. Rather, they are vertical formations of thin rocky pages that form a big rocky book. The afternoon cloudiness was giving way to some sun on this unpredictable day, and sunlight threw interesting shadows on the rocks. By the time we rounded the south end of the island, the wind had diminished, and it pushed us north back to our meadow.

We ate supper by Warren's camp, staring toward the setting sun. Birds hopped and sang in the wild roses behind and beside us. By 8:30, I was ready for bed, although it was still light out. I turned in, read perhaps six paragraphs of my book, and was down for the count. The best night's sleep ever on a Maine island. The next morning, Warren reported that it had been his best ever as well.

Sunday morning was bright blue and completely clear. My tent fly was sopping with dew, inside and out. The grass was soaking wet as well. The water was dead calm. There was no sound but birdsong. Warren pointed out that one could see waves breaking over the reef on the north of Eagle Island. We could see Admiral Peary's house clearly - which we hadn't been able to the day before. It was such a spectacular morning that there was nothing to do but pack up quickly and get out on the glassy water. We were launched by 8 am. I said that sometime in the future we should plan to be up much earlier and launched so that we could take advantage of the still of the day, the special quality of early morning light and quiet. Warren told me something that Spider had told him: the best paddling is between six in the morning and two in the afternoon. Wise words, Spider.

Back to Little Whaleboat to visit the special cove. The swifts - or whatever they are -were there, as fearless as the day before. We stopped and just listened. A swift came diving down to the water and pulled up, having snagged a small fish. To his left, Warren pointed out a few circles in the water, small fish surfacing. There was an enormous school of fish swimming through the stands of seaweed. I put my paddle down into the water among them, and the school divided around the blade, then reformed. Divided around a rock or seaweed and reformed. One of the women on the NPSN ladies paddle told me that she feels seasick looking down into the water, even when nothing is moving. Certainly when we paddle most of what we see is above the surface of the water - and that is spectacular: waves, shorelines and sky, birds and seals. But I find these still moments of looking down among the most cherished of my trips. (And, hey! what happened to all the jellyfish? We didn't see a one!) And while I wanted to stay longer, which is often the case, it was time to move on.

We looked up into the trees. No sign of life this morning in the sloppy osprey nest, although as we headed out, we did see one osprey overhead. As we headed back to French Island, a small wind began to riffle the water. It struck me that all the tidy little islands in the distance that we didn't get to yesterday were shaped like cupcakes. (I must not have had a sufficient sugar fix the day before, affecting my perception of what I was seeing…) At Little French, Warren briefly disembarked, resisting the impulse to break into the Gilligan's Island theme song, as this little gem was the quintessential deserted island. Thank you, Warren, for fighting that urge! I paddled about and managed to get briefly stranded on a rock in about four inches of water.

And then back to Moshier, the wind by now creating small waves. We kept looking for more of Mr. Fart's green and orange buoys, but it appeared that he must be a one-trap lobsterman. There were no more. By the time we reached our take out spot, waves were breaking on the launch ramp. We had timed our departure perfectly!

So...where did all the jellyfish go between May and June? Why was this the first trip without an eagle sighting? Why is there a meadow on Whaleboat Island? Why is it free of poison ivy and ticks? Many questions to which I don't know the answer. But one that I do: Why keep driving hours and hours to get out on the water for an overnight? Because it's a sure cure for what ails you!

I like the new look and functionality.

I'm a big fan of smileys and noticed there's a few new ones! They are now presented smaller, though and a little hard to see.

The editing probably works better and is done in a way that most people will like, but when I toggled it back to the old 'html' mode 'cause I like that better, the option to put any formatting in went away, which is fine, but I don't know what you call some of the smileys, so can't put the code in myself. Not important!

When you click on Message Boards, there's a 'Latest Files' object in the right hand navigation pane. Was that there before? It seems to have somewhat irrelevant content in it - basically any time someone 'attached' a file.

I like the new calendar items object on the right.

I'm going to make a typically female comment: The new blue theme doesn't go well with the teal colors in the top banner.

I wouldn't worry too much about the color clashes at this point - Working on the whole nspn site is a work in progress, and thinking about colors will ultimately be part of it, I assume. (But I think we can all predict that the new color scheme will NOT include the color pink!)

pru

I was thinking that tonight would be a washout :-(

I won't be there next week, but will hopefully see you all on the 27th as long as there is no rain on THAT Wednesday evening!

Stay dry tonight :-) and see you all soon.

Hey, if it's a choice between rain on Wednesdays and sun on Sat/Sun, I'll take the latter any day! That said hoping for sun next week.

pru

I'd like to second...and third...everything that everyone has already said.

Weather goddess truly shone down on us! Thanks for organzing, Katherine!

pru

I'm interested

pru

ditto - pru

I'm pretty tired from the just completed Power Paddle Camp, so I'm actually kind of relieved that it's going to rain. Looking forward to next week, though!

pru

Jason, I'm still enamored with my Pentax Optio W10. Don't know what the latest iteration is, but it has been rock solid for the past 5 years. On a lanyard, it tucks neatly into my PFD for quick access.

A little rain-x on the lens avoids the water spots Doug mentions. I'll send you a link to several of my kayaking photo albums if you like.

Gary - what rain-x product do you use? I looked on the website and they have a bunch of different things. Could you be more specific?

Thanks - prudence

Oh, dear, Pru -- please let me know if you won't make it. I was hoping you'd lend your experience and training to help out.

At this point, I have a camping trip planned that wknd. Too many great places to go, too little time! If weather is too much of a horror for camping, but not for a nice paddle in a protected marsh, then the marsh it will be. Otherwise...the joys of camping on islands!

pru

Great, Gene -- hope to see you.

Hoping for a few more experienced paddlers so we can break into two groups of different lengths and levels. Do you feel up to that role, Gene?

--David.

I had hoped to join you, but may be away that wknd - pru

PhilM and Lori (new members, folks -- so be nice to them!): I look forwards to seeing you around 7pm (1900) in Lanes Cove. Invariably, our night-time paddles have been on rather <smooth> seas; but -- you never know! It sounds as though you will fit in very well (I am responding to a PM Phil sent me; but I forget where to find "respond" mode!)

Another Phil and Lori in NSPN?! Welcome, and you will have to meet the other ("original"?) Phil and Lorrie!

Anyway, wish I could join you all for trip but will be away doing a training over wknd - although weather is calling for rain for Sat, so the moon may be somewhat hidden... Hope for your sakes it is not!

pru

Phil is teaching down in Cohasset that day. So, depending on timing of your launch, destination and estimated time off the water, might be able to join you if he and I can coordinate transportation timing.

Lorrie - if you have trouble coordinating with Phil, I could pick you up in Brookline - or he could drop you off in Cambridge - and we could drive to launch together. I can fit two boats on my roof rack.

pru

I'm going to try and make it - pru

Me too, me too! I'm determined not to be grossed out by the mucky water!

Mucky water?? What are you talking about?? Walden Pond is wonderfully clear and clean! You'll love it!

pru

Ditto!

pru

Sixth Annual NSPN Jewell Island Camping Trip, May 18-20, 2012

Fifteen of us gathered at the Cousins Island launch spot on Friday morning, planning for a 10:30 launch. The little beach was empty, the tide close to high, when we arrived. We rapidly filled it with our small armada. It was a sunny warm day, the start of a promised stretch of perfect weather for the sixth annual NSPN Jewell Island trip. We ended up launching in two waves, the first group on the water sometime after 10. The sky was clear but for streaks of milky clouds and there was little wind. We headed north to the north end of Great Chebeague and gathered up before crossing over to Bangs.

As MITA stewards for this island, we came prepared for clean-up duty with gloves, black trash bags and a tidy-up mindset. We landed, and I headed immediately to pick up my first piece of flotsam - a chunk of white foam, likely part of a lobster buoy, sitting near the back of the beach to the left, up against the grass and brush beyond. Only to discover after taking several steps toward it that the white foam was actually an eider duck, sitting on a nest. We had learned before the trip started that Crow (another stewardship island) was off limits because of nesting birds, but had not received this warning about Bangs. Where there was one nesting bird there may be more, and our Trash Czar, Rob Hazard, made the decision that the planned clean-up was off. So instead, we set up on the rocks on the right side of the beach, ate an early lunch and awaited the arrival of the second group.

After a time, we saw them in the distance, crossing over from Great Chebeague. We warned them away from the bird, which had not moved from his spot. This seemed somewhat peculiar, given the increasing numbers of large, brightly colored creatures that had invaded his beach. Closer examination (from a distance!) led us to conclude that the bird likely was not nesting, but may well have been injured. When it was time to go, we left him tucked up where he had been when we arrived. We could only hope that he was safe.

And then on to Cliff Island to make the bumpy crossing to Jewell. The wind had picked up some, but it wasn't so windy - or wavy or swelly - that the washing machine action created by water bouncing off the island's eponymous cliffs, which I am told can really rock and roll a boat, was on anything but a gentle cycle, and it was an easy enough crossing. We arrived at Cocktail Cove where all but three of us landed to set up camp. The smaller group kept on past the cove to land at a camping spot further down the island. The cove was empty but for a fat plastic kayak tied off to a buoy. It was mid afternoon.

Other than Mary's discovering that she was about to share her designated tent site with a rather large colony of ants, and Judy's realization that she had left her tent poles back home, setting up camp proceeded smoothly. Mary pitched her tent as far as she could from the ants in the limited area, and hoped that they would respect her space, as she was trying to respect theirs. Judy ended up constructing an absolutely elegant camp. She claimed a spot ringed by trees, ran rope in a circle around the trees, then suspended her tent from at least a thousand different spots - ok, maybe twenty different spots - with yellow line looped over the rope and over itself. She topped off this creation with a floating rain fly, and ended up with a shelter that looked like something out a fairy tale - a rather gossamer floaty structure hanging from the trees. How it would have fared in heavy rain and wind we'll never know - but fortunately it was never put to that test.

(And speaking of camp sites, it should not go without mention that Cathy and Rob F - on their first non-car camping adventure ever - awed and amazed the group with the comforts they managed to bring with them: three-inch-thick foam full-length Thermarest pads covered with white sheets (!) and sleeping bags. Over the course of the weekend the Cathy and Rob Camping Experience amazement continued: from their well stocked larder came pots and pans, plates and utensils, packages of hot dogs and buns, pasta, a bag of marshmallows, and in the morning, a plastic egg container with a dozen eggs. And bacon. There were bags and bags of snacks. In short: they had it all! It helped that Rob has a large boat, although there was some discussion of whether it would make sense for him to design and build a small kayak-trailer that he could tow behind his boat for added space! Word was that they wanted to bring their full-sized Tempurpedic mattress from home for a guaranteed good night's sleep…)

People began to gather around the fire ring. A container of humus and a small bag of carrots appeared. Then some cheese. Crackers. A container of humus. Another container of humus. Red pepper spread. More humus. Olive tapenade. Humus. Cut up peppers. Humus…humus….humus…

In organizing this trip year after year, Gary has, in the spirit of the NSPN CAM model, asked for volunteers to fulfill various functions: Chief Navigator, Safety Officer, Meteorologist, Keeper of the Flame and so on. Suggestion to Gary: Please add "Head of Humus" to the list of tasks for next year. H of H will be responsible for designating who is allowed to bring humus, and how much.

Appetizers morphed into the main course as Rob F, Keeper of the Flame, started up a fire. Over the next two evenings, I don't believe that he sat down for two minutes once fire duty had started. He did an amazing job of keeping the fire fed just so, and it was perfect! Gary served some mussels he'd harvested and steamed up, and Doug passed around his fabulous pulled pork with barbeque sauce. And then…and then… (the amazing things you people miss who don't come on this trip!), Cath pulled from a freezer bag a whole giant cheesecake. How had it fit into her boat?? And proceeded to slice up a slew of fresh strawberries with which to cover it. Not to be outdone, Mary produced an almond cake in the shape of a fish!

Somewhere in the midst of all this eating and drinking and fire tending, the sun began to set. And sometime before it did, we watched seals playing in the water right in front of our campsite, eliciting Ooohs! And Ah's! from the appreciative crowd, as if we were watching fireworks and not a seal launching from the water and splashing back in.

No one went to sleep that night hungry or thirsty. It was a cool quiet night. Those camped at the edge of the island could hear soft sounds of water against rock. The rest of us: just quiet and then birdsong come morning.

While Gary - who had been out on the water for several days earlier in the week - Rob H, Mary, Rob and Cathy F remained behind to spend a day exploring what Jewell has to offer, the rest of us launched into an almost cloudless sparkly blue day. Again, there was little wind, but more was forecast for the afternoon. Warren, the group meteorologist, informed us that it was to be less windy on Saturday than it had been on Friday. (Hah! So much for forecasting.) We headed for Eagle Island, Admiral Peary's summer home, where we were to meet up with Peter, our esteemed club president. Again, while there was some bump as we crossed an area of underwater ledges, it was all calm enough, and we chose to go east around Eagle to the landing spot rather than taking the usual western approach. This required either going through, or navigating around, a surfy area, which all accomplished without problems.

Until it was time to land. At which point, Roger in his beautiful hand-built strip Night Heron, side surfed to shore on a tiny wave and managed to land on one inconveniently placed, shaped and sized rock - and put a through-and-through crack into his recently re-finished boat. It was an impressive sight to see those who converged on his boat - which Roger had pulled out of the water, off the beach and turned upside down on the lush green unmowed dandelion-strewn lawn below the Peary house - with suggestions, expertise, and repair materials. Paul, Doug, Peter and Roger examined the damage, debated the relative merits of various approaches to a temporary repair, and then effected that repair.

After lunch - and for some, a doze in the dandelions - the group split up. Some - including Roger, who worried that his boat might leak - elected to head back to Jewell, while eight of us decided to continue on for a trip north to Whaleboat Island, where Warren was - as is his wont - anxious to check out a potential future campsite. Our passage was protected and the water calm. As we paddled along at a leisurely pace, we saw many jellyfish in the water. Some, a few inches across, were clear. Others, which Peter identified as lion's mane jellyfish, were bigger and a muddled reddish color with long trailing tails of rusty red. We were hot in our drysuits, and I wanted to try a roll with the euro paddle I was testing out. However, the numbers of jellyfish were a disincentive. Imagine rolling and coming up with a jellyfish plastered across your face! Peter said that there were likely also fragments of tentacles and other stingy things floating in the water. Thank you; I decided to remain upright and sweaty.

Whaleboat Island is a long slender island with a central meadow accessible when approached from the east side. We got out of our boats at a little beach. The broad meadow sloped upward. It reminded me of the one in the Wyeth painting - only substitute a figure in a red drysuit for Christina. Warren led us up to the top until we were looking out over the west side of the island. I only realized then that on a day trip last year I'd paddled along the west side of Whaleboat, which is very rocky along its length, never realizing what the interior looked like. It was gratifying to be stitching together a map of Casco Bay from the different trips I've taken there. Warren found a sweet spot at the top of the meadow with an expansive view to the west and proclaimed it his. He lay spread-eagled on the grass, and we took photographs to memorialize his possession. On the way back, Judy pointed out lush stands of blueberry bushes interspersed in the grass. Plump berries - whitish still in color - were already formed. Give it a month and you'll have a feast.

From there, we hugged the coastline to the north end of Whaleboat and on to Little Whaleboat. Along the way, we saw several ospreys circling above us. There were two Canada geese standing on a small beach watching us go by. Half of us took a narrow passage that led us to the south end of Little Whaleboat, while the others went fully around. We saw a seal pup hauled out alone on the seaweed covered rocks in the passage and hurried on by so as not to disturb it - or the mother, wherever she was. In the distance, we could see dozens of seals on a rocky island to the south of Little Whaleboat, and while we tried to keep our distance, our presence still flushed them out and into the sea.

It was at that point, having seen in a short time so many jellyfish, birds (cormorants, osprey, eider ducks, seagulls, geese) and seals that I was struck out the sheer quantity of life that we were observing. Birds, nests, seals, pups, the lime green of delicate early foliage… A wonderfully rich time of year.

We headed back over to the west side of Whaleboat, hugged up against the rocky coast sheltering from the increasing wind. We all gathered up at the south end, and facing a four mile trip back to Jewell - straight into the wind - shared some snacks. And then the slog began, into the wind that had been picking up as the afternoon wore on. (So much for weather forecasting!) Two long crossings until home. Southern end of Whaleboat to northern tip of Ministerial. Northern tip of Ministerial to Jewell. Paul offered tips on paddling in waves (dig in at the crest of the wave, not in the trough, to avoid paddling uphill). Off we went. The first leg offered some shelter from the wind as we approached Ministerial. We assumed the same would be the case when we got into the shelter of Jewell. Not so. So much for the image of reaching the calm of Cocktail Cove. There were now four boats moored there for the night. "How far from the island do you think it will be before we feel the effect of the island's shelter?" I asked Warren, next to whom I paddled for both crossings. Answer: About three feet from where we got out of our boats at the end of the day. If anything, the wind became more intense as we paddled into the cove. It was a relief to be at the end of the day's trip - although Peter had at one point mentioned how nice it would be to circumnavigate Jewell. Once out of the boat, no way I was getting back into it until the next morning. We hauled the boats up off the beach (low tide now, so a bit of a walk) and staggered up the stone steps to place them in the grass and away from the high tide (we learned our lesson about that last year…).

We found that the stay-at-home crew had had productive days. Gary borrowed a chain saw (don't ask!) and cut up a large tree that had been lying all the way across the main camp area when we arrived the day before. I was sufficiently tired that I didn't even notice that the tree was gone until someone pointed it out. Gary also saved ticks that had hitched a ride on his legs and put them in a small ziplock bag for everyone's viewing enjoyment. Cathy and Rob explored the island, climbing the towers. Rob Hazard and Mary…looked for birds? The crew that returned from Eagle did whatever they did all day. Napped? Sat on the beach? Enjoyed the beautiful day? Bill circumnavigated Jewell alone, discovered that that had not been such a great idea, but fortunately returned safely. It was good to find out that Roger's boat had not leaked on the trip back; the patch held.

And then…supper. All potluck, almost all leftovers. Humus. More humus. Even more humus. A fresh batch of Doug's pulled pork. Vegetables that Judy steamed in foil. Hot dogs. Leftover cheesecake. Brownies. Chocolate chip cookies. An entire watermelon. Libations of various kinds to wash it all down. (Beware the clear liquid, purportedly made from prunes, sent by Rene's relatives in Czechoslovakia!)

Rob F got the fire going earlier than the night before. We sat talking, and were joined by three other island inhabitants: a solo paddler who had come ashore at the south end of the island earlier in the day, and two men from Peak's Island (OK, the guys with the chain saw) who were camping for the week on Jewell. The latter arrived clutching beers, carrying two comfortable fold-up chairs, and sat with us asking questions about how we managed to carry all our gear for camping with us.

It was colder the second night than the first. I don’t know when the wind died down, but come morning, the cove was flat calm; the sky once again clear blue. Then it was only a matter of packing up our gear, cleaning up the campsite, checking once again to make sure we didn't leave too much for the chain saw guys to find with their metal detectors (!) when we left. We launched at 10 am into a very warm, very still morning. We paddled south, passing the chain saw guys' campsite. They stood on the bluff of their campsite, high above the water, waving goodbye. We picked up our other three at the lower campsite, and off we went, crossing over to the south end of Cliff and through the waves and swells there. A crossing past Hope and Great Chebeague Islands. We spread out in the channel, aware that if it were a month hence we would need to be more mindful, to stay closer together. But on this May weekend, even though it was very warm, there was little boat traffic. We ran into a pod of five or six kayakers - some of whom were known to some of us. And then there were two ducks, swimming miles from land with a small brood of tiny chicks hustling along between them. Mary shouted out for us to give them a wide berth. Parent ducks have been known to fly off when spooked, leaving the chicks vulnerable to predators from above. We gave them their wide berth, and they all swam on. We continued to paddle at a leisurely pace in the heat and sun, to the south end of Cousins, where we got out to stretch our legs beneath the attractive (not!) backdrop of the imposing power plant. An anxious black dog bounded up the beach, barking and wagging his tail - unsure of exactly what to make of us or how to greet us. He was joined by a woman and a man, with whom we chatted about the beauty of the day.

From there, more calm water back to our original launch spot. Although when we rounded the point under the bridge, it was a surprise to see the beach filled with small children in bathing suits, parents in shorts and t-shirts. Some of the little ones looked in awe as our massively overdressed crew pulled ashore.

Another hour of unloading boats, changing clothes (heaven!), hauling boats up the path to cars, and saying goodbyes.

As Rob and Cathy F brilliantly suggested, let's make it four days next year for those who can do the extra day. Time for the water, the land, paddling and walking, napping and adventuring. Although it may be too much to hope for a duplicate of the three-day stretch that we had, where, yet again, the Weather Gods smiled down for sure.

Thank you, Gary, for organizing this special trip!

Pru

As always, Doug, your pictures are terrific. I particularly like #14!

pru

Congratulations to Peter, Phil, David, and any other NSPN member in the 4* assessment group. It was a pleasure to be a "tea-bag" this weekend, and to meet other paddlers from Canada, NY, and CT. (David, thanks for the pointers on the forward stroke.) Great job everyone!

Bob

Ooops - sorry David - I wrote your name as John - of which there were many on the assessment day. The aging brain is a terrible thing...

pru

Because they will likely be too modest to toot their own horns, I'll do it for them: I had the pleasure to be one of the volunteers for John Carmody's two day BCU 4* Leader Award assessment this past weekend. Congratulations are very much in order for the NSPN members who underwent the assessment: Peter Brady, Phil Allen, and John C (sorry, John, I don't know your last name!) all passed! Just another confirmation of the incredible level of talent in this club.

pru