Joseph Berkovitz

Hi Alex due to a weird confluence of events I wound up doing salem sound this AM and I am doing a Cape Ann paddle tomorrow since my wife wants to spend the day Gloucester. So... Another time. It's a long weekend! not sure when you have to go back to school...

I'm interested. Current forecast has SE light in morning w 20kt gusts from S in afternoon. Maybe put in at Mhd and head south to Ram/pigs? Then return would be easy (w option to land at devereux beach which will likely be empty)

Prelude Bob Levine at Eastern Head The Bold Coast -- the easternmost twenty-odd miles of Maine’s oceanfront -- stretches from west of Cutler to Lubec, which itself is the eastern extremity of the US. It has a reputation as a place of both beauty and challenge. Some of things the Bold Coast is known for: high, dramatic cliff landscapes exposed directly to Atlantic swells; frequent confounding fogs; extra-cold water; extreme tidal ranges and currents. Some things it’s not known for (at least, not yet): tourists; boat traffic; gourmet food; places to get off the water in a pinch; coastal campsites. Our August 2017 trip got its start in the wake of a John Carmody training session back in early June. A bunch of us were sitting around at dinner in Boothbay, and the topic came up. Peter Roderick expressed a lot of interest in doing this trip with NSPN people, as he had paddled the Maine coast from Stonington to Cutler and wanted to add this final stretch to his collection. The idea met with quite a bit of enthusiasm. Peter also was in touch with Dan Carr of MITA, who had visited the area before and had an interest in paddling there again this summer. For my part, paddling the Bold Coast has always been a fantasy ever since I vacationed there with my family several times in the 90s. I loved the remoteness and wildness of the area, attributes it still has today. Every day I sat at the top of the cliffs near our cabin and looked out at the ocean, an occasional whale, and, rarely, human paddlers. The paddlers really caught my attention. At the time I wasn’t a kayaker, but I began to fantasize about doing it, especially in such a dramatic setting. In the present, having actually become a sea kayaker, paddling this stretch of coast felt like it would be a realization of that long-ago dream. After the usual planning and scheduling difficulties, the cast of characters for the trip boiled down to Bob Levine, Dan Carr, Peter Roderick and myself, with Bob in the lead planning role. Bob introduced the great idea of doing the trip as a modular “section paddle”: each day would be either an out-and-back or a shuttle, to give us maximum flexibility in responding to conditions as we found them. We would use Cutler Harbor, Bailey’s Mistake, Carrying Place Cove and Lubec’s town landing as our core launch/landing points, and craft our trips around these. Many others at NSPN have visted the area (see Gary and Rob’s notable jaunt of 2016). A familiar approach is to use the fast flood current running offshore (a/k/a the “escalator”) to quickly propel paddlers up the entire Bold Coast in a single-day trip. This requires careful timing, commitment, positioning and speed. You need the flood running in your favor most of the way up the coast, but you also need to make it through the Lubec Narrows before the tide turns there: fighting the ebb at the end is not a viable option. This means you are ideally positioned in the flood current, which in turn requires paddling somewhat offshore to avoid fighting various eddies near the land. Bob’s approach was different, and had its own special advantages. Instead of a single committed paddle, we would do shorter out-and-back trips, and we would hug the shoreline to see the amazing scenery and learn more about the coastal features and potential bailouts. On any given day, if conditions were bad, we could go to Cobscook (swells too big) or take a hike (wind too strong). The trip into Lubec would necessarily be one-way due to the strong current in the Narrows, but we could start from Bailey’s Mistake instead of Cutler to give us lots of time flexibility. And if things deteriorated on the water, we’d head back to either our launch point or a car dropped off at an alternate landing. As a not-very-seasoned paddler in big conditions, I appreciated the extra options and safety built into this plan. It also turned out to have other advantages; more on these later. Day 0: Arrival I arrived on Wednesday after an uneventful 350-mile drive from Marblehead through overcast and occasional drizzle: a cold front was moving through the region, although weather was supposed to improve. I certainly hoped it would. On arrival in Lubec around 2 pm, the scene at the International Bridge over the Narrows was this: Blue sky was visible, but fog was hugging the Canadian side and a chilly wind was blowing. The ebb tide was ripping through the channel ominously, although I noticed seals were easily swimming up-current all the way from the bridge via a big eddy. They were gamboling in the rip, probably looking for fish caught up in the flow. I took a quick drive over to Campobello to look around. By the time I came back, the front had blown out. A benign calm had returned. I repaired to the aptly named Sunset Point Campground to meet up with the the rest of the crew. Our awesome tent site lay on a peninsula surrounded on all sides by Johnson Bay. A slight breeze kept the bugs at bay as I watched the sun set from my tent: Day 1: Bailey’s Mistake to Moose Cove (out and back) Our first paddle was intended as an easy shakedown cruise, exploring the environs of Bailey’s Mistake and the surrounding coast. This large cove is named after a Boston sea captain who entered it by mistake in a dense fog, thinking it was the Quoddy Narrows. He was wrong, obviously, and he wrecked the ship on the rocks in the cove. Fortunately -- the story goes -- the ship was carrying a load of wood, so he and his crew decided to settle there and built houses for themselves using the cargo. It sounds like a happy ending, assuming that he was able to deal with the locals memorializing his screwup. Low tide was at 7.09a, and we launched at around 8.00a, which meant a long descent to the waterline. The place we launched from was much used by local lobstermen: just a rocky beach with a route down to the water that could usually bear the weight of a vehicle. The weather was sunny and calm; air temp about 60, water temp around 55. Everyone felt like a dry suit was in order, and there was a light breeze from the southwest that kept us cool. After puttering around Bailey’s our first visit was to Haycock Harbor just to the west, a small, narrow and deeply indented channel the innermost part of which is mud at low tide. One of the highlights here was viewing the cabin I had stayed in 20 years ago, but from the water: We then slipped into the deeper recess of Haycock, via a narrow channel with a swift flood current. In there, we saw the wreck of a pretty high-end sailboat that didn’t look too ancient: A local person later told us that the owner of the boat had actually wrecked a previous sailboat by simply leaving it there unused for several years until it sank in bad weather. Then he removed that boat, bought a new one, and left it in the same place for several years. The same thing happened again. So we were looking at the second edition. From there, on to the beautiful (and eponymous) Sandy Cove: the only sand beach on the Bold Coast, as far as I know. We stopped and looked around; it’s open to the public for day use, and a great place to get off the water. It’s a gorgeous, protected place: Dan has some geological expertise and he pointed out an unusual rock feature: an accretion of globular basalt bombs that melted together after an ancient volcanic explosion: An exploded blob is clearly visible at the top of the pile. Yes, folks… some place with volcanoes eventually became part of Maine. From there, on to Eastern Head. This was some iconic Bold Coast scenery: wild, fractured, high cliffs dropping straight into the ocean with sharp rocks protruding from the water nearby. In our calm conditions, a rock-gardening paradise. (See the picture of Bob at the top of this report.) Here, we began to get a taste of what things might be like in bigger conditions. The many rock faces that plunge vertically into the water create a confusing array of waves, reflections and reflected reflections. Even in the light chop we had that day, the result was a soupy, tippy mix of water moving every which way. After this, we went further to Moose Cove where we ate lunch on a small beach as the tide finished rising. Returning, Bob considered “rescuing” a large heavy piece of foam: We talked him out of it -- which, truthfully, wasn’t hard. Then we went to revisit the wreck at high tide, which gives you a sense of the tidal range: Finally, back to Bailey’s, by way of dramatic Jim’s Head: Our trip ended around 3 pm. The whole way, we encountered not much current while paddling near the land, neither flood nor ebb. We could see some likely escalator action further out, but what we mostly experienced was modest counter-currents from various back eddies associated with coves. Near the points and headlands separating the coves, we would briefly encounter small rips where these eddies began or ended. Without wind or swell to amplify them, they didn’t seem to pose much of a threat. Day 2: Cutler to Moose Cove (out and back) LT: 7.53a. HT: 2.01p. The start of the day was again sunny and calm. Our aim was to run with the flood from Cutler northeast to Moose Cove, to connect with the southwesternmost point of our trip on Day 1 and thus cover the coast between Cutler and Bailey’s. And, of course, to get back, which would mostly be taking place at HW slack and the start of the ebb. Parking in Cutler can be challenging, but Peter knew someone who knew someone who was related to a local lobsterman with a big front yard... so everything worked out. Launching out of the beautiful harbor nestled between two headlands, we paddled alongside Eastern Knubble and Fairy Head, then around Long Point. At this point we made a notable stop at the beautiful Long Point Cove, a lovely and reasonably protected cove that lies along Cutler’s Bold Coast Trail. From there we worked our way up the coast, eventually reaching another beautiful beach at Moose Cove just up from the farthest point of Day 1’s paddle in time for lunch. What a spot! The water was calm although we could feel a breeze picking up: You can see our constant visual companion Grand Manan Island in the distance. It followed us everywhere, just like the moon in Harold and the Purple Crayon. Separated from the mainland by a 10-mile crossing, it would have to wait for another trip. On our way back, conditions began to change. The wind had been out of the N or NW; now it shifted to SW, became stronger (some said 10-12 kt, some 12-15) and it was blowing straight in our face. Hardly insurmountable, but it became apparent that our return would be a slog at best. Some darkening lanes of clouds suggested that it could be worse than a slog, and we briefly debated whether to duck into a cove and observe/research the weather, but the VHF weather claimed there was no big deal and conditions didn’t deteriorate further so we pressed on. The ebb cycle had begun, and the wind against the current began to reveal to us where the current was actually running. We became aware that the ebb was affecting us strongly only as we rounded points, where the main current was close to shore and it caused the chop to stand up high as we plowed through it. Then one of us noticed that this phenomenon was taking place in a band of water that (except for points) was mostly offshore, maybe 1/4 mile. We surmised that the wind was showing us the escalator! Slog, slog, slog… eventually we came back to Cutler. It was a relief and a motivation to see the lighthouse. We landed on its island (which is open to the public during the day) and gave Little River Light a visit: And then back to our launch point in Cutler Harbor. After all the slogging, it was a pleasure to go back to the campground and partake of the Sacred Triad of showers, dry clothing and beer. Day 3: Bailey’s Mistake to Lubec (one way) LT: 8:56a, HT: 2:55p. It had blown around 5 kt all night, and the forecast was for WNW wind shifting to the NW and increasing. The plan was to run with the flood all the way to Quoddy Head and then head straight up the Quoddy and Lubec Narrows and land at the Lubec town pier. We had some excellent local intel from Glenn Charles, a very seasoned paddler and traveller who is also the bartender and co-proprietor at the most excellent Cohills Inn at Lubec. (Side note: a few years back Glenn paddled the Atlantic Coast all the way from Key West to Lubec, and found himself inclined to settle in his final destination. Echoes of the Bailey’s Mistake story, but without the “mistake” part...) Anyway, Glenn told us that the ebb at Lubec begins 1 hour *before* high tide, and that if we timed things right we could easily blow right through the Narrows with no issues. [Furthermore, for those of you inclined to do a through paddle of the BC and “beat the ebb”, Glenn said that the ebb is actually not an insurmountable barrier! He told us that there is a 100% reliable eddy on the left that runs right from the bridge up to the Lubec breakwater (the narrowest part of the Narrows). From there, you can ferry across to the Canadian side where the current is far weaker, and hop past the lighthouse, then ferry back to Lubec. Glenn says that this trick works even at max ebb.] Anyway, we got going bright and early and launched out of Bailey’s around 8:30 just before low tide. The wind and current were mostly behind us, and at times we moved along at a nice 4.5 knots. After a little under 3 hours of cruising coves and threading little rock gardens (the water was very calm indeed), we reached West Quoddy Head Light: It was max flood. Moving past the light, we found ourselves in an active but not scary bunch of eddies at the opening of Quoddy Narrows. We kind of meandered through them, pushed this way and that, and went around the headland to eat a quiet lunch on a beach on the calm north side. We were far ahead of the 2 pm recommended time window for hitting the Lubec Narrows, so we took our time. Eventually we set off up the Narrows. The so-called flood current was not in evidence. In fact, ever since leaving the bunch of eddies at the entrance, the Narrows waters had been running against us. It was at this time that a International Incident may or may not have taken place. No hard facts are available, but it is possible that our hardy crew may have crossed the US/Canada boundary without authorization to investigate whether the flood current was running on the other side of the channel. If they did so, it is clear that no diplomatic or military repercussions ensued. In any case, the Possible International Incident resulted in a probable conclusion that the flood was in fact running on the Canadian side, and that the ebb was due to our being in a large eddy. Or something. On up the Narrows we went, stopping just before the bridge to take stock of the situation. We had finally encountered a steady flood current in the region of Lubec Channel Light, but as we drew near to the bridge, the current disappeared. We could see nothing happening whatsoever as we landed on the beach to take a look. It seemed that we had timed it perfectly: arriving 2 (not 1) hours before high tide had effectively put us into the Lubec Narrows at what amounts to slack before HW. We paddled uneventfully through relatively still water to the pier and landed the boats, in time for a congratulatory picture of Peter having completed a large segment of the coast: What happened next illustrates that even if you outsmart the Lubec Narrows on the water, they can still come and get you later. Peter and I left the boats with Bob to go get our cars from Bailey’s Mistake. While we were out doing that, the ebb current started to run in the Narrows. Lulled by the entirely reasonable assumption that the tide was now dropping, Bob left the boats for a few minutes to change. When he returned, the boats had almost floated away on the water, which was continuing to rise *in spite of the ebb tide having begun*. What a confusing deal! The ebb tide at Lubec runs from the basin south of Eastport into the Narrows. This basin lies at a point where the tide arrives from the ocean via two distinct channels: it runs south via Head Harbor Channel (which is deep, but long) and runs north via the Narrows (which is very shallow, but short). As the tide rises, the water moving southward around Campobello through deep Head Harbor Channel eventually dominates the more restricted northward flow through the shallow Narrows, and water begins to move back into the Narrows on the US side -- while on the Canadian side, water is moving (sluggishly) in the opposite direction. Cobscook probably contributes to this too, somehow. Crazy stuff. I wish I could have gotten a good picture of it. Anyway, all this mishigas probably explains why there are NO CURRENT TABLES for the Lubec Narrows. A lot of the time, the water is going both directions! A silly table can’t do the job: you need someone like Glenn to explain to you what the water is doing. Day 4: Campobello/Fundy Ramble Our last day was a short but magical ramble through ultra-calm Bay of Fundy waters, starting and returning from Campobello’s Head Harbor Light. The water was glassy and the sky was clear. There was no wind or current to speak of. I took few pictures since I wanted to take in the incredible scenery. Campobello Island is not like the Bold Coast, but it has a bold coastline, perhaps even bolder than Maine’s. The rocks look different from Maine, and the headlands are very high indeed. There are no lobster buoys, only the occasional fish pen or weir. The view out into the Bay of Fundy this day was like gazing out over a huge horizontal mirror. The Wolves (islands) were visible in the distance, along with bits of New Brunswick coastline with a hilly horizon in the background. In many ways this was the most spellbinding day of the trip. I leave you with this picture of Head Harbor Light: Conclusion Doing this coastline in sections is a really flexible and fun way to explore the Bold Coast in a way that is intimate and improvisational. There is time to stretch out and explore interesting things because (except for sections terminating in the Narrows) there are no hard deadlines. And, if you believe Glenn, maybe not even then :-) I mentioned before that there was an unexpected advantage to this modular plan. It's this: because of the huge tidal range here, the contours and water features of the Bold Coast are enormously mutable. On your way out and back, with the tide changing by 25+ feet, you can experience the same place as two completely different coastlines. Where else in the country can you do that? It's a wonderful experience. Let's go back soon!

I would love to join! Random thoughts: the outside of Tinkers is always interesting for rock gardening. And if there is a swell running and the tide is right, the channel between Children's and Cormorant sometimes serves up some deep water surfing...

Unfortunately I am out -- due to family visit conditions, not weather conditions. If it happens, in whatever form, have fun!

would like to join but family is visiting, evaluating the possibility...

I'm so sorry, but I have to back out of this trip. I need to help my son move to a new apartment this coming weekend (and advance notice was not the biggest consideration :-). ...Joe

I'm fine with it. We might want to lengthen the trip artificially to make for more paddling but that seems easy.

Jeff's updated plan works for me. Liz, your shuttling plan sounds pretty good (and very generous -- thank you!) considering how close you are to Lanes. Personally I love the circumnav idea, though I have not checked the tides. ...Joe

I am interested - I guess I missed the window (I was out of town last week and didn't check the forums) so please let me know if there is a cancellation...

Can do either set of dates so I'll wait to hear more on this thread...

I can make the paddle but not the potluck today sadly. Will be arriving via water in yellow delphin

Thank you, everyone. This community has taught me so much, and in such a generous spirit! ...Joe

Rob - Do we have a location yet?

I would love to go -- this is a great chance to camp on an island right in our area. Thanks for organizing this Liz!

Thanks both of you for the tips! @mhabich Well, yeah, don't lend me your boat for surfing... if there are other boats around... wait, didn't you surf your boat into me once in Maine? Look who's talking!

So my recently purchased used Delphin 155 now has a hole punched in it, due to a surfing collision with another kayaker at Nahant today. No one was hurt and the other guy's boat is fine. We each think it was our fault :-) But it was probably mine, because I'm a surfing novice. Anyway... Right after the collision, none of us could even see this hole. So I'm pretty sure the punched-in tab of plastic can be repositioned so the hull is smooth again, it probably just got deformed from the subsequent paddling later in the day. Anyone have any suggestions on how best to repair it?

I'm so in. It's my NSPNiversary!

I'm in for the Revised New Year Paddle tomorrow. See you there.

Rob -- I'm up for doing something tomorrow as per your plan. And maybe Monday too!

Wow. Monday does look really peachy, at least right now. Very light NE wind. I am free that day in case the collective feeling is to shift the day. Of course most people know Cape Ann better than me so I defer to others on the interaction of conditions and coastal features. Enjoy Palm Beach Leon! like Pru I will go with the flow on this choice

The section from good harbor to eastern point probably gives some lee although my memory is that the landscape is flatter than elsewhere on cape Ann. Forecast midday for Gloucester is now 17-20 mph with higher gusts though. Argh. Maybe some (me included) might opt out of fighting across the mouth of the harbor. But then... two groups...

I like Mike's Beverly/Salem or Lanes/Essex ideas due to proximity and relatively sheltered water. I would also like to put my 2 cents in for keeping this as one group doing a less-demanding trip if possible, since it's sort of a special celebratory occasion...

YES!

Nick, I have the Thule 883 "Glide and Set". Here's a link to the EMS page for that product: http://www.ems.com/thule-883-glide-and-set/19596200012.html?emssrcid=PPC%3AgooPLAs%3A149576170365custom3normal%26brandthule&adpos=1o7&creative=79867308525&device=c&matchtype=&network=g&gclid=Cj0KEQiA08rBBRDUn4qproqwzYMBEiQAqpznsy14yta9KSWMnaNyF1IpKUpUPmNp0bLLNUcbAFM_lDsaAjq38P8HAQ Cath suggested the Seattle Sports boat roller. This is quite similar to the Malone K-Rack in that it is mounted with heavy suction-cups and normally I would say a roller loader is better than something over which the boat must slide. However the K-Rack's geometry is significantly different, in that it juts rearward from the suction mounts by 4-5 inches . In the case of the Subaru I feel this may be crucial because it takes the contact point with the boat closer to that annoying rear "lip" on the Subaru rear hatch. Due to the Subaru design one cannot mount these products on the rear window as intended (because of the glass curvature), nor on the rearmost piece of sheet metal on the roof (because of the groove where the hatch opens). So this rearward offset is quite important.