Joseph Berkovitz

And some beat up gloves for sure.

“Tom Morey: inventor of the Boogie Board wanted everyone to experience the ocean” https://www.theguardian.com/sport/2021/oct/23/tom-morey-inventor-boogie-board-dies i remember my first boogie board and the joy it brought to me. It was not very different from the freedom and happiness I feel in a sea kayak. A gateway drug to the ocean.

[This is a report on the Beginner-Friendly Casco Bay camping trip.] This trip began by not beginning. Two days out, it became clear that we would probably be launching into 15-20 kt headwinds out of the south, coming right up the channels between the islands of Upper Casco Bay against the ebb current with a potentially violent cold front in tow. Not beginner-friendly, and also, not friendly. So Janet and I made the uncomfortable decision to defer the whole trip by one day, knowing it meant that Janet and possibly others would no be able to make the full trip due to work commitments. In the end, the roster had to be pared back to myself, Beth Sangree, Beth's sister Cora, Barb Ryan and Jody Harris. Sunday finally arrived and the weather was much better: sunny skies, and moderate northwest winds running at right angles to the islands. We would take it! We launched from the Brunswick town Merepoint ramp, which is occasionally open to overnight parking with the harbormaster's up front permission. The water was calm in this location on the lee side of Merepoint Neck... but where was Janet? We missed her! Our destination was Little Whaleboat Island, a beautiful island that today is private but will hopefully be purchased by Maine Coast Heritage Trust if they can raise the money - read more about this. The current landowners have always generously allowed visitors on the island, but they now need to sell. Who knows what the future owners will do? Please consider donating to MCHT to make this purchase possible: we all need to help preserve access to the Maine coast we all love. Our route ran like this: With the gusty NW wind, the segments in the lee of the islands were crystalline and calm as we paddled by the rocks of Upper and Lower Goose and stopped by both of The Goslings. But the two crossings were exposed to steep chop and a rear-quartering wind, particularly the second one from West Gosling to Little Whaleboat. Skegs were let down and there was some water splashing onto our boats from our right. But we made it, and unpacking ensued... We first had to do some reconnaissance to determine where the campsites actually were. There are two, one for 4 on a N-facing beach and one for 6 near the NW corner. The larger one seemed more spacious and suitable for the group although on this day it was definitely more windy there. It has a nice beach that functions at all tides and stone steps up to a fairly open bit of woods: From here we settled into the homey business of setting up camp: Before our drysuits were even off, Joe foraged a hen of the woods mushroom which Jody found growing on a beech tree right in the middle of our campsite: There was some puttering around and lazing. There were whitecaps and no one felt like getting back in boats. Later in the afternoon as the wind decreased, we explored the beautiful west-facing shore of the island with many incredible rocks and views: Monday saw us waking to another morning of northwest winds. We were not sure what the day would bring but we decided to explore southeast step by step, reserving the option of turning around at any point. Our route eventually wound up looking like this: Our first stop was along the shore of the large (not Little) Whaleboat Island, where one might never realize there was any wind blowing. This island is high at either end with a low meadowy center. We took a look at the group campsite that lies at the south end of the indented tidal area seen in the map above, where the island gets narrow. It looks nice, though quite grassy. We then crossed over to Harpswell Neck with the intention of checking out Basin Cove, a place I've always been interested in paddling near high water when one is not fighting a strong current at the constriction... After a bio break on the west side of the cove, we played for maybe 45 minutes or so in the rapidly building ebb current at the site of a former tide mill with a near-perfect clean eddy line. Then on to the seasonally closed Dolphin Marina for lunch on a tiny lawn: A few light showers were coming through but the wind seemed lighter now. We hadn't seen much chop for a few hours. We decided to head out to the end of Upper Flag and assess conditions for crossing Broad Sound to reach Eagle Island and the Peary residence. When we got to Broad Sound, it seemed unexpectedly peaceful. The wind had largely wound down. We decided to go for it, and headed over to Eagle where we landed and made a circuit of the island on a beautiful loop trail. When we chose to head back, it became clear that the planet had tricked us. The NW wind promptly sprang back up from near zero to 12 knots at around 4 pm. Well, like it or not, we had to fight our way back via the lee of whatever islands were available. The crossing of Middle Bay to Whaleboat was probably the hardest. But we all maintained good spirits and we knew we would make it back, despite some less than comfortable conditions along the way—I don't think the chop was much over 1 foot, though the headwinds were discouraging. It was good to get back to camp and some hot food. Our dinner spot was in a sheltered mini-beach adjacent to our campsite beach, with some nice ledges at chest height for setting out food which we dubbed The Buffet. Beth broke out the Luci Lights and we dug into some very well deserved food. Sleep came quickly although we could hear the wind gusting all night. There was some ongoing discussion about how far to go in protecting our food supplies given what we'd heard about raccoon activity on Gary's recent trip. I think in the end we all went the vestibule route, and there were no problems. Perhaps this wasn't the wisest. Maybe there are fewer raccoons on the less-visited Little Whaleboat, or perhaps our location meant the wind did not blow food scents inland where the animals could pick up on it. Either way, we luckily did not lose any of our precious goodies. The next morning's sunrise was spectacular: It hurt to leave our island redoubt. But we had to. The wind had decreased a bit overnight, and we had a mostly peaceful journey back including a visit to an oyster farm where Beth and Barb had a nice chat with the folks tending the oysters. The final crossing from Upper Goose to Harpswell was probably some of the rougher water on the trip but we knew what to expect and it was over quickly. Unpacking and returning ensued. Thank you to everyone for making this such a lovely trip! It was truly the highlight of the early fall for me and I believe we all got a lot out of the experience. I know I learned lots from watching what everyone else did, and there was a lot of good information-sharing along with the shared joys of paddling and visiting a beautiful place!

Trim gaskets only as a last resort since one tiny screwup can magnify into a tear. Better to leave it stretched out on a saucepan bottom when not in use. if one absolutely must trim, use a razor blade on the gasket while stretched out as per above, don’t use a scissors.

I’m grateful myself for all the people who came to WLPs and made this season such a good one. Lots of new faces and familiar faces too! If you have gear for cooler weather, look for occasional postings throughout the fall and winter. We keep going whenever conditions permit joe

Neither Bob nor I are available to organize the final (scheduled) Wednesday Lunch Paddle of the season. There's no reason someone else can't, of course. But this post at least explains why nothing's happened yet. If someone wants to step up and make it happen, by all means, please do!

Yesterday's event of Sept. 25, 2021 was an exciting first! NSPN and Salem Sound Coastwatch collaborated on organizing a cleanup of town-owned islands in Salem Sound including Coney Island, North Gooseberry Island and South Gooseberry Island. The cleanup was huge fun and, while the volume of garbage was not so huge, we collected valuable data using the Ocean Conservancy's Clean Swell app. For now, at least, you can visit these islands and see nary a plastic bottle or beverage can. (We did not collect fishing gear due to legal and safety concerns.) The cleanup was originally conceived by myself and Bob Levine before the season began, when we were watching someone pick up trash at Nahant one day. Who better than sea kayakers to clean up a bunch of islands? We had the idea to involve Salem Sound Coastwatch and make the most of both organizations' visibility and connections to the community. Things moved rapidly forward from there. At first we thought we would transfer bags and large objects to a waiting power boat, but the logistics of this were complex and very conditions-dependent. The eventual plan involved paddlers picking up, bagging trash, and stowing the bags in their kayaks, with large objects to be optionally placed in a pack raft and towed back to shore. Our trash collection odyssey began at 10 am on Marblehead's Riverhead Beach with a team including: myself, Bob Levine, Prudence Baxter, Janet Lorang, Don Martin, Mike Habich, Ricardo Caivano, Pat Donohue, Shari Galant, Beth Sangree, Nick Pearson and Rich Zwiercan. From Riverhead, we headed out to Childrens Island. There was virtually no wind but once in open water, it was obvious that some long 2-foot swells were moving around. Beautiful conditions to paddle in: We went through the gut at Childrens/Cormorant and crossed to South Gooseberry. Once there, it became apparent that landing while perfectly feasible was still not trivial, as swells were wrapping completely around the island and impacting the typically more sheltered inside of the gravel shoal that tails off the island. A quick recon revealed that the outside of the gravel beach was actually a better and more predictable landing zone, with a lot of swash but little breaking action. About half the group landed, while others waited offshore — I had all the garbage bags and it was awkward to split off a separate party until the South Goose effort had gotten going. Also, I wanted to make sure the Clean Swell app was working properly and that we had a reasonable process for gathering up the trash. The general run of things was that a few "data loggers" had the tracking app installed on their smartphones and responsibility for counting the numbers of trash types by tapping buttons in the app. Others played the roles of trash picker-uppers or bag-holders, and called out each batch of found objects to the data-loggers who confirmed by repeating it back, kind of like cooks working in a short-order grill. It seemed to work. South Gooseberry is mostly washed over except for its high ground where there was not so much trash, so I left the island and along with the waiting paddlers we headed over to North Gooseberry, where there was 2-3 times as much land area and perhaps 2-3 times as much garbage. We landed and, while working, we could easily see the S. Goose team, who soon finished and launched into the rising waters to come over and meet us. By the time they had fully launched and landed on N. Goose, the North team had finished collecting beach trash and it was time for lunch. No, lunch did not solely consist of chocolate, but it did include chocolate: We decided not to use Beth's pack raft in the end as conditions were fairly rough and we did not really have that many large objects to potentially haul away. Post lunch we headed off to Coney Island via the tip of Eagle Island. Along the way, some tasty trash was collected from the water too by some highly motivated volunteers: Coney was our last stop, and it probably had the most stuff including a rough shelter built from a now-rotted tarp and scrap lumber, which Bob helped to dispatch: By the time Coney was done, we were running a bit late and we straggled back to Riverhead. The group became a bit spread out. At the end, we were able to pile up our treasure on the beach for one final garbagey goodbye: Home it went with us, fanning out to our various household garbage bins. It was great fun and a beautiful paddle besides. We're already plotting to do this again next year! [Thank you to Prudence and Don Martin for the photographs]

To anyone who wants to attend: please register via the form whose link is given above, and take care to follow the ACA event waiver instructions carefully. Unfortunately I cannot keep track of people based on posts to this thread. The registration process alone determines who is in the event.

The final Skills Practice Session of the year will take place Saturday 10/2/21 at 9 am. The location will be determined mid-week based on the forecast. The expectation is that this event will take place somewhere in the North Shore area. We have more venues open to us with the end of beach season. Topic: It's finally fall, and I would really like to end our Skills Practice season with some conditions to work with. This summer did not have a lot of wind and waves to offer, but I am hopeful for some combination of stronger winds, bigger sea conditions or surf. The location will be chosen to give us the best opportunity to work with what we get. There is no single long-range forecast right now, but for Saturday 10/2 one model suggests strong NE winds and the other one suggests large swell. Whatever's happening, we'll try to find some place that lets us achieve the right level (or, better, multiple levels) of challenge to practice in. Things we might consider working on include: * launches and landings in the surf * surfing on waves * boat handling and incident management in the surf zone * boat handling and rescues in wind and chop * reading the water in larger conditions Whatever we work on will need to be appropriate for the environment we wind up with, so there are no guarantees. It's October and the doldrums are over! Registration and Insurance: NSPN insures participants and facilitators through the American Canoe Association (ACA), similar to club pool sessions. This protects everyone involved. If you’re a regular ACA member ($40/year), you can fill out an annual online waiver once for all skills practices, and merely provide your ACA member number on each signup. Non-members have to pay a $10 ACA event fee through the NSPN Store, and fill out an ACA online waiver for each session. The registration form is here, and will walk you through the insurance steps (links are provided to the ACA and NSPN websites as needed). https://forms.gle/4jGLX2DShWvv2ZNT6 We will be limiting the size of this session to about 12 participants (not including the facilitators). I will append more info to this thread as more becomes known. Hope to see you there! Please PM me with any questions you may have.

Note: this trip is closed now and the venue was moved to Riverhead.

Last Wednesday myself, Bob Levine, Barb Ryan, Jody Harris and Ricardo Caivano had the pleasure of paddling the Gloucester/Rockport coast between Lanes Cove and Andrews Point. As mileage goes it was not a lot of distance, but this trip packed in some really great experiences. The weather and sea state predictions were interesting, for starters. This was the first day on which Hurricane Larry's swells (generated in the mid-Atlantic) would reach the East Coast of the US, with waves of 1-2 feet and a 16-second period. We were expected to have a mild sunny day along with a stiff south wind 12-15 kt which had been blowing since early morning and possibly increasing through the day. Thanks to southerly wind chop combining with the swell, we expected that seas in Sandy Bay off Rockport would probably be on the rough side once we passed Halibut Point. We did not count on going all the way to Rockport and had planned to perhaps turn around and lunch at Annisquam Light. Our launch commenced with a slight mishap as Ricardo's Mazda locked itself with the keys visibly inside, in a fit of evil behavior that was never supposed to occur. The Gloucester Police helpfully connected us with a towing company who turned up (after Bob flagged them down when they were about to leave having failed to go to the end of the street). The towing guys deftly broke into Ricardo's car with zero damage (if he wants to, he can explain how they did it below) and liberated the keys as well as all of his paddling gear. We wound up leaving no more than a few minutes after our planned launch time of 10 am. The weather was indeed beautiful at Lanes, where the conditions seemed near flat. Visibility was perfect. Then it was on towards Halibut Point. Once we were near Folly Point it was clear it was that large swells were affecting us with long, graceful, powerful rhythms of water piling against the shore and washing back. Care was required and exercised! A large set — invisible in open water — suddenly broke in large curls near the point ahead of us. The height of the swells varied quite a lot. At times we saw what looked like a big field of breaking waves off the point, then it would quiet down. Eventually, as we reached the point, the picture became clearer. Sets of long swells that were larger than average were breaking very close to the point, with sizable lulls in between. Just past Halibut Point, 1 to 2 feet of very steep chop kicked in from the south wind running up waves in Sandy Bay. Bob timed his way carefully next to the point, while I accompanied the rest of the group around the area of occasional breakers. Past Halibut we could see Andrews Point, and we decided to take on this next leg to see what conditions would be like should we choose to paddle down to Rockport. Andrews Point itself was the scene of magnificent crashing waves from the huge swells, and adjacent Hoop Pole Cove to its north was surging and draining as the waves alternately filled and emptied. Although the swell was reported as only 1.5 feet, the very long period was taking the water level up and down in the cove by a large multiple of that height. Making our way around Andrews Point we continued a short while in washing-machine conditions from the wind waves, the swells, and reflections from the rocky coast. The wind chop was almost at a right angle to the swells and it was hard to see the swell except where it piled up or broke. The group decided to turn around rather than go down to Rockport and then return in conditions that would likely be a few notches bigger (and become a following sea). Back past the points we went, Bob almost having a close encounter from an outlier wave that snuck up behind him. We decided to have lunch at the beach in Folly Cove since it was a high spring tide at that very moment and we'd be able to avoid the usual slippery rocks there. After lunch it became an entirely different paddle. With the high water and the amplifying swell, Folly Cove and the coast all the way back to Lanes became the perfect venue for low-velocity rock gardening among the many ledges and slots, playing in the long swells that behaved more like rhythmic currents than up-and-down waves. Pourovers were never easier or more languid, with 8-10 seconds to work with an incoming swell. It was hard to believe this ocean was the same chaotic one we'd just experienced on the outside. We slowly played our way back to Lanes, arriving at about 2 pm.

It's a shortie, 7-8 nm. You can always lengthen it by going to Milk Island or including more of the Cape Ann coastline.

I'm bumping this thread up again to clarify what is happening, since the plans have finally come together for the cleanup. - We will be putting in at West Beach in Beverly at 10:00 am. We are definitely cleaning up North Gooseberry Island, South Gooseberry Island and Coney Island in Salem Sound. The mid-tide situation in the late morning is optimal for landing on these islands. Even though this is turning out not to be an effort that requires lots of people, I will try to keep it open to a sizable group as it is also a fun outing, besides being useful. It is a Level 2 trip in good conditions. - We may also work with residents of Tinkers Island to help clean up its beach, but that is not clear yet. If we do, the put-in for that piece of the effort would be Marblehead. - There is not really a large volume of trash on the islands, so we will be hauling plastic trash back in our kayaks in kitchen-size garbage bags, and disposing of it at home as household trash. Fishing gear will be left there for legal and safety reasons (too bad, since it's the majority of what's there). - We will be using an app called Clean Swell from the Ocean Conservancy to track what we are picking up in a global database. So even though we aren't picking up mountains of trash, this information is still helpful to scientists and organizations trying to understand the worldwide distribution of ocean garbage - Coastwatch will not be participating on the ground but has been providing logistical support with the Salem harbormaster (Salem owns these islands) and we will do a joint press release with them afterwards. If you want to come, please sign up with this form: https://forms.gle/ngZDaRKuC2AauRCY9. The signup form is the only way I will be tracking who is on the trip and who is not. I can't keep track of replies on a thread. (Nick and Ricardo: you have not signed up yet. Prudence: you signed up a long time ago using the form.) Salem Harbor Tides: 2021/09/25 Sat 08:36 AM 1.11 L 2021/09/25 Sat 2:49 PM 8.99 H 2021/09/25 Sat 9:05 PM 0.67 L 2021/09/26 Sun 03:19 AM 8.19 H 2021/09/26 Sun 09:17 AM 1.45 L 2021/09/26 Sun 3:30 PM 8.77 H

Yes it is. Just putting the finishing touches on the plan with coastwatch this week, will post shortly.

This week's Wednesday Lunch Paddle is on Wed, Sept. 8 will meet no later than 9:30 am and launch promptly at 10:00 am at Lanes Cove in Gloucester MA. Please plan on arriving earlier if you need more time to prepare or allow for traffic — school holidays are over. We'll be limiting this trip to 8 because of the small amount of parking available. Please park in the state lot at Lanes Cove at the very end of Andrews St.: https://goo.gl/maps/TJqCvwJKc7S5WfDD6 Registration: To attend, please register using this form which will also add your information to the float plan: https://forms.gle/8qBZkSk4Peg4ubNx5 You must be a paid-up NSPN member to join this trip. Your signup information will only be shared with other members on the trip. Predictions and Plan: The forecast is for partial sun, temps around 70 F, with south winds 10-15 kt much of the day. On the outside of Cape Ann and in some of Ipswich Bay we will also see 2-3 foot swells from Hurricane Larry, spinning way way out in the Atlantic. These very long-period (15 second) waves are usually gentle to paddle in, except when they are breaking on shore or rocks (which we'll obviously avoid). We can dodge much of the wind and chop by paddling along the north side of Cape Ann. Bob and I are thinking we'll head east as far as the tip of the cape at Halibut Point and nose past it just to see what conditions are like north of Andrews Point. This is always a fun area and often it is a transition point between very different sea states. If it is too windy and choppy we will double back and lunch at the Annisquam Lighthouse. If we like what we find and the group wants to continue, we can continue to Rockport for lunch on Bearskin Neck. Rockport Harbor tides: 2021/09/08 Wed 06:38 AM -0.34 L 2021/09/08 Wed 12:48 PM 9.47 H 2021/09/08 Wed 6:54 PM -0.24 L Covid-19 paddling: this trip requires paddlers to be vaccinated against Covid-19 per request of the trip organizers, as rescues or first aid may require close physical contact. Trip level: Most WLPs do not have a specific level, but note that this trip incorporates an open-water crossing of about 0.5 nautical miles. Conditions are expected to be mild except on the outside of Thacher and Straitsmouth Islands. All properly equipped members are welcome: please bring boats with rigged deck lines, bulkheads, spray skirts, and dress for immersion. NOTE: The Wednesday Lunch Paddles are cooperative adventures, not guided trips. Each participant is responsible for her/his own safety.Don’t assume the trip initiators are smarter, stronger, better at rough water, more attractive, or more skilled paddlers than you are. For more information, see this description of our trip philosophy from the NSPN web site. We encourage paddlers to make their own independent decision about their comfort level with conditions at the time of the paddle. Please PM me if you have questions or if you haven’t paddled with me or Bob before. Hope to see you there!

The trip is now full. Please PM Janet and myself if you want to be on the waitlist (don’t post waitlist requests here, thanks!)

Photo credits for the above are mostly due to Prudence. I took a few of them though, including this one:

People: Joe Berkovitz, Bob Levine, Liz Neumeier, Prudence Baxter, Barb Ryan, Jody Harris, Ben Rechel, David Mercer Conditions: Light N wind becoming W 5-8 kt, Swell 1.6 ft @ 8 sec, overcast with occasional light rain, air 68 F, water similar This trip was planned as an outing to Thacher Island to see the island and go up in one of the towers. We made our way out to Thacher where we landed in a bit of a crowded situation as two successive shuttle boats were using the ramp around 11:15 am when we arrived. (NOTE: the shuttle boats only operate on Wednesdays and Saturdays during the season and the season is now over). Bob, David and Prudence stayed in the water to continue a circumnav of Thacher while the rest of us landed and climbed up the south tower to an amazing panoramic view, where a docent awaited us. We had just made it in time as the docent was about to leave and close up the tower. We left the tower and had lunch in the pleasant little camping/dining area with its privy+art gallery, a must see. Then we launched (just before another shuttle boat was coming in; it had to wait a few minutes while the last of us got off the ramp) and did a Thacher circumnav joining the others, who were now doing their second round trip. The outside was dynamic and beautiful as usual although less rough than on many other occasions. Then around the outside of Straitsmouth and back to Granite Pier by 2:30. Please everyone on this trip feel free to append your pictures to this thread! I did not take any pictures this time.

People: Joe Berkovitz, David Mercer, Janet Lorang, Prudence Baxter Locations: Western Bay, Eastern Bay, Englishman Bay, Great Wass Island, Jonesport I think it may have been Prudence and I who came up with the idea of a long, substantial Downeast Maine island-camping trip about a year ago (maybe two?), along with others who had been involved in a 2018 trip to Iceland. The trip slowly took shape over a number of months in the spring and early summer. The roster of people kept mutating, but the location was a constant: we were drawn towards the area of Jonesport, Great Wass Island, and Roque Island with their associated island chains and bays. The idea was to explore and enjoy a new area, without the pressure of getting from A to B by date C. We would leave plenty of time to make plans suited to whatever each day might bring. This was an area that I had wanted to visit for a long while. The Great Wass archipelago and its satellite island chains in Western, Eastern and Englishman Bays looked strange and other-worldly on a map, at least to me. They hung together in odd curvy shapes, enclosing irregular sheltered bays and coves. The landmass as a whole stuck way out into the Gulf of Maine with exposed south-facing coastlines. There was reputed to be a lot of fog and swell and current here. While adjacent areas (particularly MDI and the Bold Coast) offer superb coastal paddling with a similar degree of exposure, the Jonesport area was notable for its many islands. There were lots of them, and they seemed to have very individual personalities. We wanted in. The planning required some care. There are few islands open for camping in this part of the Maine Island Trail. Some of those felt a bit too close to the mainland to offer the remote experience we were looking for (Doyle, Daniels). Others seemed to have too few viable campsites (Halifax). Yet others could not be reliably reserved (Stevens). Some (Ram, Cross) were far enough away that they would require us to move camp more often than we wished to; we wanted to use 2 or 3 campsites at most, so that we could explore the area in unloaded boats most of the time. In the end, the route planning boiled down to this: we would reserve Norton Island for the first 5 nights. This would guarantee us a nice campsite to the west of Jonesport, one well offshore but also easily reachable after driving up on the first day of the trip. We could then relocate further west to Stevens Island, if it was both superior and unoccupied. Either choice would let us access the western and central parts of the region for several days. Finally, we would journey across Moosabec Reach and Chandler Bay to the more distant and exposed Halifax Island, well to the east. We were able to reserve Halifax for the final 2 nights of the trip, the maximum stay allowed since it is a USF&WS refuge for threatened species of seabirds. Crossing the region from west to east would also let us stop in Jonesport resupply water for the end of our trip; we were not confident we could pack enough water for 7 days in our kayaks. The tidal situation was imperfect, driven by the dates we were able to travel. The currents actually ran contrary to most of our west-to-east movement (this area mostly floods to the east and ebbs to the west, driven by the Bay of Fundy). However, we were confident we could work the eddies and time our journeys to avoid any outright battles. One final piece of the planning puzzle was parking and launching. Janet researched a bunch of options, both free and paid. In the end we all felt the most comfortable with one particular choice: the Jonesport Shipyard. We were happiest paying local people for their help and facilities, rather than leaving a bunch of cars in a church parking lot. And it turned out to be very well worth it. Day 1, Sat. 8/14: Jonesport Shipyard to Norton Island (3.5 nm) Janet and I drove up early this morning, hitting the road at 6 am. (Well, that was when Janet picked me up; actually, she had to hit the road earlier than that.) We headed up the coast with a number of breaks, easily making it to Jonesport a little after noon, which had been our goal. We stopped to get lunch at one of the few open convenience stores. Their crab roll sandwich was good. The store also stocked a combo of Trump 2024 hats and stun guns, placed together in a display at the front, perhaps anticipating that one would want both items conveniently on hand in some future scenario. We moved on to the shipyard, where Prudence and David had already arrived (they had stayed overnight in Machias) and were beginning to pack their boats. It was clear right away that the shipyard had been a great choice. The people were very friendly and easygoing. They had potable water, bathrooms, showers, laundry machines — although we really only needed the first two. We were able to drop all the boats and gear by their all-tide ramp and then move the cars to a parking area, leaving the keys with them. If you are going island camping, this is a first-rate jumping off point. (When we arrived, a metal tripod was set up blocking the ramp. A white-haired gentleman rolled up on a motorized cart, moved the tripod out of the way, smiled, and spoke to us. "This is my boat ramp, and you're welcome to use it. You can talk to the people in the shipyard office about parking." It was a kind reminder that access to the water here is not to be taken for granted, and that the shipyard's business depended on local rightsholders and landowners.) We packed the boats with what seemed like a pretty astonishing load. I believe I had nearly 90 pounds of cargo, the largest component of which was the 16 liters of water in dromedaries stashed in my cockpit. Others were in a similar range. Freeboard was not generous. Our wary gaze out to Moosabec Reach revealed banks of fog with various bits of Beals Island peeking through across the strait. We could make out the bridge to Beals in the distance. Fortunately, our initial paddle would be mostly a matter of island hopping, with crossings within the limit of visibility. We expected sudden rain showers from a cold front that was expected to come through and then clear everything out for the next few days (a previous NSPN group in the area had just endured nonstop dense fog for their entire stay, which we were grateful to avoid). Thankfully the forecast didn't include any big wind or sea conditions. We launched into the murky overcast somewhat around 1:30 pm. We crossed the Reach next to the bridge for best visibility with boat traffic, and also because the bridge piers gave us a place to stop safely if someone came through fast. Even though slack was not far off, we noted that the ebb current under the bridge was pretty swift; Moosabec Reach really gets constricted there and a lot of water was moving through smartly. Once past the bridge, we didn't notice much current. Onwards we paddled to East Sheep I. (the unexplained absence of a West Sheep was noted a number of times) and then to a long, thin finger projecting from the NE of Norton Island. Norton, which borders the southwest end of Moosabec Reach, is a very sizeable island. Its north side hosts a compound of buildings that constitute the Eastern Frontier Educational Foundation's writers/artists' residency program. We continued around to begin paddling through the narrow channel between Pomp and Norton Islands. Then two things happened simultaneously: 1) the skies cut loose with a huge torrent of rain, and 2) the clouds partly cleared, with the sun shining brightly. We were suddenly in a world of sparkling jewels, one for each raindrop hitting the surface of the water as we trolled past the rocky shoreline of Norton: pure, joyous, undiluted trail magic. The rain stopped again suddenly, and it seemed as though the overcast returned almost immediately. We knew we were looking for a large glacial erratic boulder on the shoreline that distinguished our campsite—and 1/2 mile later, there it was, just as expected, sitting on a flat rocky shelf with a small cove and sand beach just north of it. We landed on the beach and unpacked our boats in what was to be our new home for a while, finding that there seemed to be only 4 viable campsites in the woods adjacent to the shelf. Well, there were indeed 4 of us, but Janet's site was in a sort of mini-gully and looked like it might develop a puddle if the rain continued. At this point we were collectively less than thrilled with the campsite as a whole. The fog was returning and mosquitoes were coming out. The patch of woods devoted to tenting was dense and a little cramped. Before changing out of paddling gear, we did a short excursion further around the island to see what it looked like, then came back to the site and our "home erratic". We set up camp as the fog set in once again, denser than before. Looking out from our slice of coastline the one visible island disappeared, leaving a blank canvas, a kind of gray Rothko painting. We ate dinner on our flat rocky shelf—which was starting to seem convenient—while a small swell lapped at its edges. An interesting sliced-bread vein of rock sliced through our patio: We still weren't totally convinced about this spot. But despite the gloom, more trail magic was on its way. The fog gradually began to dissipate and reveal one island after another. The first to appear was neighboring Hardwood, which Prudence fell in love with (only to abruptly reject it later in favor of younger, hotter islands). Sinuous tendrils and wavelets of fog wove themselves through the view. Blue sky quietly crept into the picture. The moon appeared, as a muted sunset began to play hide-and-seek with the fog. I walked to a private little stretch of shoreline near my tent to hang up some wet clothing, and as I looked up at the moon, a searingly bright meteor etched a trail from the moon downwards towards the horizon leaving a bright green afterimage on my retina. It was one of the last of the Perseids meteor shower which had peaked 3 days ago during a stretch of cloudy weather. This hanger-on, this one procrastinator was the only Perseid I was to see this year, but it was a very good one. No others appeared. We slept soundly. Day 2, Sun. 8/15: Sand Islands (9.1 nm) and Island Hike When we woke up the next morning, the cold front had replaced our muggy fog with bright, crisp weather and a fresh westerly wind. We could now see the entire landscape to our south and west. To our surprise, Cadillac Mountain on MDI loomed in the distance, 37 nautical miles away; it was to remain a presence throughout the trip whenever conditions allowed us to see it. We were also on a lobster superhighway. Some faction of the Jonesport/Beals lobster fleet loudly chugged through the nearby channels from 3 am onwards. The traffic let up in the early morning. The change in the weather seemed to alter our feelings about our campsite in a positive direction. With the oppressive fog gone and the wind dispelling what few bugs there were, we were starting to appreciate the setting much more. The flat rock ledges were a convenient front porch for our campsite and gave us a superb view to the southwest. They were much cleaner to sit and cook on than a sand beach (although we had a small one of those, too). Facing out into Western Bay, there were only a few distant signs of civilization on Moose Neck to our west. And the large glacial boulder was both interesting to look at and an obvious marker to shoot for when returning. Janet moved out of the gully (which had not flooded) and found a much nicer and more private spot tucked further back in the woods, which she christened "my annex". We decided to head out in the direction we could see the best, and explore the main island chain in Western Bay starting with Stevens, then Drisko, Toms, Inner Sand, The Sands, Outer Sand and ultimately Stanley Ledge. Our first challenge was simply to launch on the expanse of low-tide rockweed in front of us. What had been a tiny sand-beach cove turned out to be just the top 10 feet above a long, shallow bed of slippery seaweed-covered boulders stretching out to the waterline. We had a 13-foot tidal range to contend with, and this was perhaps the only clear disadvantage of the location. Boats were moved cautiously, and in due time made it onto the water. We were excited to begin exploring with Stevens looming up ahead: The crossing to Stevens was only 1.5 nm and went by quickly. When we got there the tide had dropped enough that we were not interested in repeating a slippery scramble on the northwestern beaches, one of the two primary landing points on Stevens, so we continued down the chain. At some point we settled on doing figure-eights around the islands, switching between the east and west sides of the chain each time we came to a gap, so that we would be assured of seeing the entire shoreline of each island. Stevens, the Driskos and Toms all looked like typical midcoast islands of spruce and pine on granite ledges. Toms had particular charm in its small size, rustic buildings and several distinct chunks of land with tiny bays in between. When we got past Inner Sand, The Sands supplied a surprise. This MITA island is an extensive low-tide sand beach that is piled up around some very small rock ledges. At high water (which it wasn't) only the tiny ledge tops remain above water. These ledge tops admit perhaps one tent, perhaps zero tents, depending on the tide cycle. It was very striking and the beach looked luscious. We deferred landing until our return when the water would be somewhat higher, and continued around Outer Sand. Conditions were perking up as we entered the open waters of the Gulf of Maine proper. Outside Outer Sand was a final feature that was not an island: Stanley Ledge. This turned out to incorporate a very enjoyable deep-water surfing spot, with long swells coming in and standing up on a submerged ridge. We played there for some time, trying to catch just the right wave as the water level slowly changed, altering the spot's underwater profile. When we were done with that, we returned via the dynamic rock gardens off the southern and western cliffs of Outer Sand Island, winding around and eventually landing on the curving, gentle Caribbean-like beaches of The Sands, protected by Inner Sand to the north and Outer Sand to the south. A palm tree would not have been out of place visually, but we had only barren rocks. There was a brisk cool breeze and we used the rock ledges as a windbreak to eat our lunch, while the water slowly rose to the peak of the sandy ridge where we had dragged our boats. I quickly verbally claimed The Sands in the name of the Empire of Spain, in a vain and dated tribute to the ghosts of colonialism. None of us knew about other colonial ghosts being exorcised at the same time, but on a different continent. At the exact moment when we were ready to leave, our boats started to signal their own readiness by beginning to float. We got into them and paddled back along the chain. Strangely, from the distance of our campsite on Norton we could never see The Sands as more than a slight bump on the horizon, although up close at low tide it is very prominent. On our way back we stopped in the eastern side of Stevens to check out its other main landing site, a protected cove. This cove turned out to contain a gorgeous and substantial sand beach sloping all the way down into the water, with no rockweed boulders, terminating in a wild hedge of beach roses. That seemed promising. We landed and checked the campsites out. There appeared to be room for three tents in the woods near the cove (described as capacity 6 people in the MITA guide), adjacent to some very damp-looking areas thickly overgrown with ferns. The northwestern "group" site, described as holding 12 people, turned out to be a square clearing in a grassy area capable of holding about 4 tents in very close proximity. We decided we would pass. We liked the setup at Norton Island better with its smooth rock ledges and drier-looking forest and annex, even if low tide was a pain in the butt. We returned to our campsite more or less at high water. Then three of us took a walk around the entire island. Some of this was on a trail that ascended to higher ground in the interior, then wound through mossy and grassy lower-lying bogs. Brightly colored mushrooms abounded. We then circled back to hike the rocky shoreline around the eastern and southern shores to our campsite. It took a surprisingly long time as the trail dipped and swooped to follow the many ins and outs of the shoreline, followed by scrambles on small headlands where the beaches were interrupted by higher granite ledge. We found a more extensive sand beach area in the southeast that would be nice for swimming, but it was pretty far from our campsite. Eventually we found our way back to our "home erratic" and had dinner. The sunset was clear this night and energetic waves beat against our ledge in the dying light. Day 3, Mon. 8/16: Great Wass and Mistake Islands (17.3 nm) We awoke to another bright day. The wind this day was to start in the north and progress to a brisker SW wind in the afternoon at 8-10 kt. This was perfect for a trip over to Great Wass Island Preserve and Eastern Bay: the north wind and ebb tide would help us down, and the SW and flood tide would (at least in part) help us back, as Eastern Bay floods to the north unlike most of the area. We were not sure what we would find over at Great Wass but we knew what the estimable Michael Daugherty had told us to expect in his excellent guide to sea kayaking in New England: exposed ocean bumping into big cliffs. That sounded good. The sea state was calm over at our camp, as usual. But we expected we'd see more active conditions over at Great Wass, just as we had at Outer Sands but more so: Great Wass sticks out the most of any landforms in this area. This time David and I experimented with sliding our boats directly down the rockweed off our campsite's ledge, avoiding most of the messy cautious scramble over slippery boulders. It did work, although it's hard to say if it was any faster. We headed over by way of the Ram Islands (based on the unusual name, I'm going to make a crazy guess that rams were kept on these islands long ago). Around this time we noticed another large landform to the left of Cadillac Mountain, and wondered what it could be. The northern part of Great Wass is settled and has houses, but the southern part is the wild Great Wass Island Preserve. Past Three Falls Harbor, human evidence disappeared from the shoreline and the land began to become higher. As we finally rounded the southernmost extremity of the island at Pond Point, large swells rocked the water back and forth, filling and draining the many coves over kelp-covered ledges. We were in a different world. On Janet's recommendation our first visit was to The Pond, which is in no wise any sort of pond. Rather, it is The Mother of All Tidepools. At high water this is a substantial shallow cove, connected directly to the ocean. At low water (which is when we arrived), it becomes a 150-acre tide pool separated from the ocean by a kelp-covered reef through which water from The Pond drains out in many small rushing streams. Looking down into any of these streams reveals a colorful Atlantic microworld of plants and animals. The whole spectacle was indescribable and took my breath away, it was so completely unexpected. We got out of our boats and waded through the streams, transfixed. Next it was on to a traverse of Red Head, the ocean-facing pink granite cliffs of Great Wass. These cliffs are deeply fissured and cut with slots, a few of which extend hundreds of feet deep behind the rocks in twisting channels to emerge elsewhere on the shoreline. Next the cliffs themselves, the swells carried us up and down and sideways in dramatic, graceful sweeps. A kayaking dream sequence unfolded as we slowly worked our way along this headland, stopping at many places to explore or play. Along the way we met a friendly bunch of five female kayakers celebrating the 60th birthday of one of their number, and floated and talked with them. Reaching the end of Red Head we looked across the opening of Eastern Bay towards Moose Head Light on Mistake Island. A narrow tidal channel between Mistake and neighboring Knight Island would be a good lunch spot, and returning from there would allow us to ride the flood back up Eastern Bay and see some more islands, so we opted to go for the 2.5 nm crossing to Mistake. The tidal channel at low water was a sort of sandy ramp running up to a high point and then inclining back down the other side. It was not easy to access the top of Mistake Island from here, where a boardwalk could be seen traversing a raised bog. This trail connects to a boathouse, but reaching the boathouse from our side of the channel turned out to be an arduous wading and clambering expedition on which I decided to pass. It was quite hot and sheltered here, and not all that attractive at low tide, but we were hungry, so lunch was eaten! Perhaps more exploration on Mistake would have been in order, and that will have to wait for another trip. The lighthouse was impressive though: After lunch the water was still a long way from flooding our narrow channel so we worked our way back to the outside of Knight, crossing over to a large and apparently featureless vertical granite ledge on neighboring Steele Harbor Island. Reaching the rock face, we were surprised to find a long slot running for much of its length between the cliff and an adjacent rib-like ledge. We paddled through this enchanted, sheltered environment... ...and then headed up Eastern Bay via a chain of islands, including two completely different Green Islands less than two miles apart (did no one notice a problem when they were named?). Then up to the bay's northwestern corner, where the narrow Pig Island Gut allowed us to enter Beals Island's Alley Bay adjacent to the Reach. This gut is well marked although almost invisible until you enter it, and it sees very heavy boat traffic since it's an important cutoff to reach the town of Beals from Eastern Bay. We were careful to stay out of the tiny channel and keep our eyes peeled. A couple of us wanted to resupply water and we stopped at a public ramp in Beals to see if we could find some. The local folks were very friendly but indicated, no, the nearest water was in Jonesport across the reach. Well, we could handle that: across we went, back to the shipyard, to fill up some water bladders. The flood current on the north side of the reach was considerable, and we did our best to dodge it as we returned to our camp following our refill stop. On the way back, we took the opposite, southeastern way around our island to complete our water-borne survey of its shores. The closer we got, the more the wind picked up. It was nice to return to our home erratic after a pretty epic paddle and eat dinner on the rock. Day 4, Tues. 8/17: Western Bay Ramble (7 nm) This day dawned cooler and with noticeably more haze and moisture. Winds were calm and forecast to remain out of the south under 8 knots. David elected to stay in camp this day; the rest of us de-camped after breakfast with a short trip in mind: heading to the southwestern patch of Western Bay where the aptly named Tibbett Narrows affords navigation past the headland of Moose Neck. We headed past Stevens once again, this time taking a right and heading for Plummer Island where Janet performed some acrobatic model moves. Then on to another Green Island and another Ram Island. On this latter Ram, we got out and attempted to take bearings to a number of visible landmarks including Cadillac and the abovementioned Mystery Mountain to its left. It was still not obvious what Mt. Mystery could be although from this angle it seemed to align with what I thought was Schoodic Head. We also viewed an odd nearby island called The Ladle, which did strongly resemble an upside down ladle whose steep-sided 80-foot-high circular spoon shot upwards abruptly from the water. It would be cool to paddle to this ladle some other time. We then sought out a lunch spot, as we progressed back towards Stevens and Norton. Ultimately we passed by Duck Ledges, a tiny spot of an island with a tiny 540-square-foot house on it. No one seemed to be home and the surrounding ledges were disconnected from it and mostly covered in rockweed, though with a smattering of gravel in places. We took advantage of one such smattering and landed there for lunch. While researching the public/private status of the island, we determined that the house and entire island were in fact for sale: $339,000 and it's yours. Read the real-estate listing. We briefly considered pooling our resources to buy it as a paddling outpost, but further consideration (combined with a lack of super-crazy spending money) dampened our zeal. The island is really, really small; at high tide (or worse, in dense fog) the house would almost feel like a prison of sorts. Landing on the ledges would be really problematic except in the calmest conditions at high water. It is no doubt the right place for the right person, and we were not that person. Do let us know if you wind up buying the place and we'll come back and visit you, possibly bringing you a beer. We returned home via Hardwood Island, on which some substantial land-clearing and possibly house-building project was taking place. Back at our site, the fog returned once again bringing us a damp evening and more mosquitoes. However, there was a silver lining: the mosquitoes appeared not to have finished mosquito school, and perhaps had never even cracked open a textbook. They were slow and incompetent and easily dispersed. If only the mosquitoes later on our trip had been more inclined to party, less inclined to study... Day 5, Wed. 8/18: Crumple Island and Red Head (13.2 nm) The fog cleared overnight to overcast skies. At least, it was still not raining and had gotten much less damp. Our plan was to go back to Red Head and spend more time exploring its spectacular cliffs and slots without the additional overhead of crisscrossing Eastern Bay. We would also head south to Great Wass via the secondary island chain of Browney, Fisherman and Crumple Islands, exploring the outside cliffs and ledges of Crumple. On this morning the kayakers we had met previously at Red Head paddled by to say hello. Right after that we left around 8:45 am and headed for Outer Ram, then for Browney where we stopped for a brief break on its north-facing gravel beach. On the way we saw seals and porpoises. When we got to Fisherman we started hearing a distant, plaintive, singsong howl. Someone (I forget who) thought it was David singing to himself, but David denied it and in any case one suspects his singing would have been more tuneful. No, it was seals on the ledges around Crumple Island, their voices carrying impressively. Much of our morning was taken up exploring the spectacular ledges and dynamic waters around Crumple Island (which boasted three small homes) and to its west the trio of Seal, Green and Curlew Rocks. Even though the conditions we had seen along the way were small, the water here seemed wild, untamed, choppy and swirling. Gray and harbor seals were everywhere, generally objecting to our presence. We did our best to avoid them but they slid off the rocks and followed us around, popping up and glaring at us. Crumple Island itself had at least one spectacularly long slot penetrating the steep cliffs of the island and going far back towards the back yards of the houses. It was a preview of the other long slots awaiting us on Red Head, where the rock gardening conditions were truly perfect on this day with virtually no wind and a substantial long-period swell. We played and pondered and made our way into and out of many nooks and crannies. A large bald eagle viewed us from the top of a ledge as we went by, then took off. Eventually we had an incident (thankfully inconsequential) when David got hit by a larger swell that penetrated into the very last (and very narrow) slot on the headland. Not much energy was able to make it in there, and it was really one of those slow-motion low-impact mishaps; he was able to push his boat out of the back of the slot where it connected to protected water, and get back in by himself. The rest of us were positioned at either end ready to help, but we weren't needed. We returned via Slate and Ram islands under what were now sunny skies. Light sprinkles after dinner sent us to our tents to fall promptly asleep after a great day on the water. Day 6, Thu. 8/19: Move To Halifax Island (11.8 nm) Early fog this morning lifted with the arrival of the sun. An amazing fogbow appeared. For some of us the mood remained somber because of a mysterious visitation we had endured during the night. All of us (except for Janet, safely tucked away in her annex) had been woken in the middle of the night by a loud series of repeated snorts, that sounded as if they were only several feet away. Which, perhaps, they were, seaweed-covered ledges suitable for seals being located immediately below our perch at the very early morning's low tide. While I muttered to myself, "what a noisy seal!" and went back to sleep, Prudence apparently entered some kind of Stephen King monster netherworld. At various later times in the trip, we concocted fragments of various horror-genre plots involving Norton Island, pinniped/wolverine hybrids, ghosts of frustrated writers or artists who had committed suicide at a retreat session, etc. etc. We had targeted an 8:30 am high-water departure from our site for our final days on Halifax Island, and the group seemed to naturally find its way to being prepared at almost that exact time. This unconscious synchronization was one of the happy aspects of our trip together. We left via the south and east sides, saying goodbye to our home boulder, headed for Jonesport. Again we traversed Moosabec Reach next to the bridge, this time finding the ebb current the strongest it had been yet and requiring an aggressive ferry angle to reach the large eddy near the north bridge footing. Eventually we found ourselves back at the shipyard a third time, to resupply water and dispose of trash—things we all needed to do at this point. (The shipyard charges a reasonable $2 per kitchen-size trash bag.) We exited the shipyard via the narrow channel east of the breakwater and ran along the north of Moosabec Reach in order to stay out of the opposing ebb. Our next, brief stop would be at Kelleys Point, a MITA campsite on the mainland that lies at the very eastern end of the reach. This property is not a commercial campground, but offers camping to MITA members only by advance permission and is documented in the 2020 MITA guide. Janet hopped out of her boat (having previously called the owners) to take a look around for future trips. She reported the site seemed like a great spot, with some amenities like potable water freely available. It certainly affords a great jumping-off point for exploring the area if island camping isn't your thing, or if the group is larger than would fit on one of the island sites. We moved on. From Kelley Point we had options to cross Chandler Bay west-to-east by a couple of indirect routes touching on Mark Island or Ballast Island. Looking out at these islands, we decided to just hoof it directly across Chandler towards our destination: the more easterly group of islands surrounding Roque Harbor, at the mouth of Englishman Bay. Our route took us to the entrance into a narrow passage called the Thorofare, that lies between Little Spruce, Great Spruce and Roque Islands. This passage was invisible until we were quite close. Once inside the passage, we felt like we were in some kind of gateway leading into a different realm altogether. The rocks were dark, sharp-looking and clearly a species apart from the light-colored granite we had found everywhere so far. When we exited into Roque Harbor, a new kind of view greeted us: this body of water is enclosed on three sides by large Roque Island with its expansive crescent of fine sand beach, and on the fourth side by a chain of islands including Double Shot, Anguilla and, easternmost, our new campsite Halifax. The stunning Roque Island beach was our lunch stop. This is one of a very few large Downeast beaches composed entirely of very fine sand top to bottom, continuing as sand underwater for a good distance. Except for the island vegetation, it would not look out of place in the Carolinas or the Caribbean. The beach is divided by a marker that sets off a private area to the left from a public-welcome area to the right. (The entire island is owned by the Gardner family dynasty of Boston, who maintain it in a mostly wild state.) A number of cruising sailboats were anchored in the harbor and a family had motored over to the beach in a couple of small rafts. A strange and inviting little paradise overall. Time was moving on and we were concerned about the onset of the remnants of Tropical Storm Fred later in the day. We did not want to set up camp in the rain. We set off to Halifax via another snaking route through Lakeman Harbor off the eastern arm of Roque, emerging about 1 mile opposite Halifax. We could see at a glance how different Halifax was from its neighbors. Instead of a dense thicket of spruce atop ledges, it consisted of two distinct parts joined by a bar. To the east was an extensive low plateau of mostly level bog with sparse trees scattered throughout. To the west, a small, high (100 feet?) knob of grasses and trees surrounded by high cliffs dropping to the water. We arrived quickly, finding the landing on the north side of the bar quite easy with a well-defined gravel route in between slippery ledges. We surveyed the gravel bar, the only area in which camping was allowed. We had been a bit worried about what we might find, after David noticed earlier in the week an online description of Halifax which noted that storm erosion had reduced the number of tenting sites to only two. However US Fish and Wildlife didn't bring this up with me when I reserved the site for a group of six, so I felt that something would probably work out. What we actually found was this: a tiny groomed area of flat gravel big enough for only two tents, delineated by logs, set within a larger area of the bar incorporating both grass and brush (not at all good) and un-groomed small rocks (not quite as bad). Our campsite at ground level: The mosquitoes here were a different breed entirely from those at our initial site, having not only completed mosquito high school but gone on to graduate and even postgraduate studies in bloodsucking. Prudence and David shared the groomed site, and Janet and I mostly hand-groomed some of the rocky area by removing the largest and sharpest rocks from where our tents would go. The result was still bumpy but would allow tired paddlers—which we were—to sleep. While Prudence and David set up camp and took a breather, Janet and I engaged in a hike completely around the high grassy and mossy knob of Halifax, a feat we deemed "circumknobigation". The footing was at times dicey, requiring scrambles up and over small headlands. The views of the islands in every direction were incredible. We could clearly see the radio antennas of the Cutler Naval Station on the Bold Coast, what I believed to be Eastern Head, and what may have been Grand Manan far off in the distance. Blueberries, raspberries and blackberries were found, and were eaten. We got an aerial view of our camp: We also had a chance to appraise the location of the gravel bar, located between two coves. The one we had chosen to land in faced Roque Harbor—which was why we had chosen it—while the other, larger one faced open ocean to the south. At the low water of the present moment, a large ledge blocked the south-facing cove and spray was coming up over it. An ominous fringe of mares' tails-like clouds approached, perhaps signalling the arrival of Tropical Storm Fred. We retired to our tents to escape the voracious bugs, wondering what weather the night would bring, and whether the ocean-facing cove would decide to extend itself onto our bar. A south wind was blowing and was expected to strengthen, although only to 10-12 knots. The strand lines on both sides seemed uncomfortably close to the bar. In the actual event, we received a steady pour of rain from maybe 9 pm until 1 am or so, and then a strong but brief torrent. The wind never picked up much, but early in the evening at high water it sounded like waves were right next to us on both sides of the bar, much louder on the ocean side. Slightly unnerving. But in the morning, there was no evidence the water had come any further than the bar's edge. Day 7, Friday 8/20: Roque Harbor Islands, The Brothers, Pulpit Rock (11.7 nm) Thick fog laid heavily on Halifax Island this morning, the first true pea soup of our trip. In the wet early morning, most of us tried to stay in our tents as late as possible in an attempt to avoid losing more blood to the locals. There was no lobster superhighway nearby: it was quiet, a world away from Jonesport. Our paddling today was divided into two chapters. Chapter one was improvised to work in near-zero visibility, and saw us handrailing westwards down the inside of the island chain towards Great Spruce Island, with three short but compass-guided crossings between the islands: in general, the next island was invisible from the one we were departing. These crossings were notable because the strong ebb current out of Roque Harbor (exiting strongly to the south in these gaps) was opposing incoming swell from the remains of Fred, or perhaps from the start of Henry which was somewhere off the mid-Atlantic. There was no wind to speak of. The resulting conditions in each island gap were something a bit like a tide race, but more graceful and powerful. Swells entering the gap on the outside stood up and rolled through the gap in a heightened shape, without breaking, gradually lowering and fanning out as they encountered the slower current inside the islands. Crossing one of these gaps was fascinating to me, with the swells pushing one inside and the current pushing one outside. In larger conditions this could have been a serious danger, but the sea state was perfect this morning. The visual aspect of the crossings offered a striking illusion, with the water on the outside appearing to impossibly slope downhill towards the quieter water inside. At the same time the water surface was visibly moving in the other direction, from the inside to the outside, ascending the illusory incline. It left one slightly disoriented and vertiginous. We reached the Roque Harbor side of Thorofare again, this time from the other direction, turned around, and returned to Halifax. After a brief respite and snack, Janet, Prudence and I commenced chapter two. Our plan for this leg was to paddle the remaining north shore of Halifax to the eastern end and then, visibility permitting, go out to The Brothers, a pair of exotic-looking islands in open waters a little over a mile and half southeast of Halifax. We were not concerned about actually finding the islands in dense fog, but we did not know how strong the crosscurrent would be during the crossing and had missed the short window of making the trip during slack. But it didn't matter: when we got to the end of Halifax, we could see The Brothers and intervening Green Island, partly visible through wisps of fog. This would be more than enough visibility to figure out the right ferry angle, if we needed to. Reaching the Brothers Passage, which is between [yet another] Green Island and The Brothers, we found it an empty place, sheltered by The Brothers. Janet observed that the islands looked like a landscape type we had never seen in Maine, and reminded her of western Ireland. I thought so too. They were bright green and verdant but treeless, shot through with ledges and cliffs. The islands are supposed to harbor nesting razorbills, terns and puffins, but we didn't see many birds; perhaps it was a bit late in the season. We made our way around to the outside of the Brothers where we were greeted by spectacular high cliffs and energetic swells. We took our time to enjoy the conditions and move slowly along the shore, finding places to take in the show, and sometimes participate actively in it. After making our way completely around the Brothers, we landed on the protected inside at the junction between East and West Brother where there is a cobbly beach of sorts. While East Brother is off limits, West Brother can be hiked and has a Fish and Wildlife cabin which was unoccupied at the time, tied down with guy wires to prevent it from meeting the fate of its older sibling shed lying in ruins some yards away. We made our way up to the shed but the area was very overgrown and hard to walk in, so we descended back to the cobbly beach for lunch. Our final stop of chapter two took us to Pulpit Rock, a lonely chunk of high rock to the west of The Brothers surrounded by seals and swells. A rhomboid piece has cracked away from one corner of this small island, creating a fanciful podium that doubtless inspired the name: To our delight, a long high-walled slot completely bisects Pulpit Rock and could be entered with some care from the east side. Janet and I went entirely inside the rock, but due to low water we could not make it through to the other side. The view from inside and the feeling of being enclosed by the rock was pure sea kayaking magic. Our paddling day ended with a return to Halifax marked by views of the island chain through wisps and strands of fog. We paddled the remainder of its shoreline, this time on the rougher outside. We capped things off with an entrance into the ocean-facing cove going past (and, partly, over) the ledges at its opening, followed by one last circuit past the cliffs of the "knob". Day 8, Saturday 8/21: Return to Jonesport (7 nm) Saturday was fairly calm, with an eastern wind that would help us back to Jonesport. The fog had dissipated entirely. We left at mid-tide and returned via the narrow Thorofare, more or less retracing our steps to Jonesport but minus the detour to Roque Beach. The current in Chandler Bay was again minimal, perhaps because it is something of a dead-end and has little of an east/west axis. We again passed Kelley Point and made our way past the breakwater to the Jonesport Shipyard, to land and unload. It was a quick and uneventful departure from Halifax overall. Arriving around the same time as our group was a gentleman who had been sailing up from Kittery the past few weeks in a 19-foot open Caledonia Yawl named the "Howdy". He had decided to get off the water before TS Henry weighed in the following day. We talked to him for a while, curious about how he made out in an open boat. He had quite a system worked out, involving popup tents inside the boat, and quite a lot of gear. You can read more about his lifestyle here: https://www.cruisingworld.com/story/destinations/sailing-and-camping-east-maine/ Packing up did not take long, and Prudence had a dinner appointment in Cambridge, so we put ourselves back together relatively quickly and said our goodbyes. A group hug reminded me of what I already knew: this had been a really great trip with great people, a perfect adventure on the water. One of the very best. Who knows what's next?

Vlad: I will post a registration link closer to the date.

This week's Wednesday Lunch Paddle is on Wed, Sept. 1 launching at 10:00 am at Granite Pier, Rockport MA. Our goal will be to have lunch on Thacher Island and climb one of the lighthouse towers if they are open, and most likely go around the island. We may also visit Straitsmouth Island conditions/time/group permitting. https://goo.gl/maps/c5DTCwDPDotnnfW78 Registration: To attend, please register using this form which will also add your information to the float plan: https://forms.gle/ocxhhK55sbWt1BzVA You must be a paid-up NSPN member to join this trip. Your signup information will only be shared with other members on the trip. Parking and Fees (please read carefully, it's more than just parking $ this time): 1. There will be a launch fee assessed by the Town of Rockport for the use of Granite Pier. Prices are as follows. Please bring exact change. Non-Resident park and kayak launch $12 Rockport Resident kayak launch $6 (no parking fee) 2. The Thacher Island Association charges a landing fee of $5 per kayak for visitors, which we will each need to bring with us. We will be launching from the main Granite Pier boat ramp. Drop off boats/gear next to (not on) the ramp and park on the upper level of the pier. Predictions: The day is forecast to have mild winds around 5 kt, starting NNW and becoming SE in the afternoon: favorable in both directions, if that actually happens. Air temps around 70 F, water 65-68 F. Increasing clouds and overcast throughout the day. Waves around 1 foot @ 9-10 seconds. Current forecast says that TS Ida is not due to affect the area until late Wednesday evening; if the forecast changes to bring Ida in sooner then we will cancel the paddle. Rockport Harbor tides: 2021/09/01 Wed 07:33 AM 7.17 H 2021/09/01 Wed 1:23 PM 2.12 L 2021/09/01 Wed 7:46 PM 8.24 H Covid-19 paddling: this trip requires paddlers to be vaccinated against Covid-19, and to bring a mask for use in indoor spaces on Thacher Island. The vaccination requirement is per request of the trip organizers, as rescues or first aid may require close physical contact. Indoor and public-space mask use is a Thacher Island Association requirement for all visitors. When/what: Please arrive no later than 9:30; our goal is to have a beach briefing and launch at 10:00 am sharp. Trip level: Most WLPs do not have a specific level, but note that this trip incorporates an open-water crossing of about 0.5 nautical miles. Conditions are expected to be mild except on the outside of Thacher and Straitsmouth Islands. All properly equipped members are welcome: please bring boats with rigged deck lines, bulkheads, spray skirts, and dress for immersion. NOTE: The Wednesday Lunch Paddles are cooperative adventures, not guided trips. Each participant is responsible for her/his own safety.Don’t assume the trip initiators are smarter, stronger, better at rough water, more attractive, or more skilled paddlers than you are. For more information, see this description of our trip philosophy from the NSPN web site. We encourage paddlers to make their own independent decision about their comfort level with conditions at the time of the paddle. Please PM me if you have questions or if you haven’t paddled with me or Bob before. Hope to see you there!

Due to the fact that the forecast is for small conditions this coming weekend in the wake of Ida, and that the date competes with Labor Day Weekend, I am rescheduling the Skills Practice session that was coming up this Saturday Sept. 4. Instead we will have this session on Saturday Oct. 2. That increases the likelihood of some wind or swell to work with and it doesn't overlap a major driving holiday. I know some people had planned on the original date and I apologize for the inconvenience. If you cannot make the Oct. 2 date please PM me and we can perhaps work something out for Sept. 4.

Glad you guys had such a great time! I just returned yesterday from a 7-night traipse through the same area with Prudence/DavidM/Janet, visiting some of the same places and some different ones also. We also started and finished at Jonesport Shipyard and heard about these “other kayakers” who had been in the area! Trip report will be delayed somewhat since I’m still traveling elsewhere in ME. We spent 5 nights on Norton and 2 on Halifax much further to the east. Weather very different from yours, beginning with clear skies and NW winds and ending with patchy fog. what an unbelievable and unforgettable region. This may be my new favorite Downeast destination. Next year again for sure! Teaser shot of David in a long, long Steele Harbor Island slot:

They are based on Cow Island. I believe they wrap up when school starts.

I've been on an interesting little journey with my new Lendal Storm paddle which I thought I would share. First things first though. Storm owners had been lending their paddles to me at various times over the years, trying to proselytize me and convince me of its superiority. I wasn't sure about the feel of the paddle at first, and didn't like the lock-and-key shaft-joining mechanism (I knew I would lose the key) and probably my skills just needed to grow before I could appreciate it. I think Kyle and Icelandic guide Gudni were among these Storm Preachers. Then in the fall of 2021 I was out paddling with Andy Schoeck and managed to destroy my Werner Cyprus in a rocky misadventure, whereupon he lent me his Storm for the remainder of the paddle. By the time we got to the takeout I was hooked and did not want to give it back to him. It was just such a crisp and exact feeling and it engaged the water so decisively. The shaft indexing was aggressive and I always knew how the paddle was oriented when rolling. The Cyprus now felt mushy and uncertain. It was hard to go back to it. So I ordered a Storm the next day. The waiting time was listed on the Lendal website as 4-6 weeks. Little did I know that Lendal was about to unexpectedly lose access to their factory space due to damage by their landlord's non-permitted wildcat renovation. They then ran into materials and labor shortages due to the pandemic. The wait turned out to last 7 months. Ugh. Fast forward to June: I finally got the paddle — and the wait was totally worth it. I LOVE this paddle! I feel like I am in touch with the water on a whole different level, the "road feel" of it is like a BMW compared to an Olds. They have redesigned the shaft joining mechanism to use a lever that simply grips one tube inside a fitting on the other tube with friction. There is no button to get sticky and stop working. There is no key that you have to stash somewhere. I did get some new calluses in different places due to the indexing, but no big deal. Except... except... the interior of one of the paddle shafts slowly filled up with water. It was not draining out or going away. It could not be shaken out or vacuumed out. It took me a while and some correspondence with Lendal to figure out what was happening. I had kept aggressively shooting fresh water from a hose into each end of the broken-down paddle after each use, just like I had with the Werner (to keep the button from sticking). It was a habit that had bad results in this case. With a Lendal, the bulk of the shaft is not sealed off as tightly from the ferrule as on the Werner, and water can get into the shaft more easily, by leaking past a 2" foam plug that sits inside the shaft. Squirting the water in had also forced the plug way down in the shaft where it was not reachable with any normal tool. More correspondence ensued. Lendal were happy to ship the paddle back to them at their expense, dry it out in an oven, and replace the foam plugs with more robust ones. I did not want to ship anything anywhere and quizzed them about temperatures and durations. Today being a nice hot day, I made a cylindrical solar reflector out of kitchen foil and laid the paddle in the center of it in direct sun. Several hours later I returned and the plug had popped out from the water vapor pressure inside the shaft—just like Lendal said it most likely would. The paddle is now drained dry, finally. So. That's my Storm story. I am expecting to get a more robust plug from Lendal sometime soon. In the meantime, if you paddle with me and you do not have one of these paddles already... I may just encourage you to try it. J