A Taste of Sea

I'd wanted to paddle and camp this past Labor Day weekend, Sept 3-5 for those of you non-US readers. In fact I wanted to paddle and camp all the major surf holidays, and get groups together to pad out my leadership log, but I missed the last one and then spent most of July and August teaching. So, I arrived at the end of summer not sure what I'd do this weekend.

Fortunately, in addition to Mr Cowgirl, I was able to cajole three members of my local paddling club into coming up to Westport, Massachutesess to do some coastal kayaking. There's a local paddling shop there on the Westport River, great camping at Westport Camping Grounds, and easy access to a variety of coastal features. 

While I will assert that New York City offers a variety of sea kayaking opportunities, certain things are hard to find good examples of, namely surf, and committed shorelines exposed to open sea. For those of you following along at home, take a look at NOAA chart 13228 and you'll see what I mean.

There's some nice tidal eddies about a mile up the river mouth, below the Route 88 bridge. There's exposed coast at Horseneck Beach, with a too-convenient spit of land called Gooseberry Neck that has 1) free parking and 2) a proper ramp and therefore the expectation that mariners will land there. There's Sakonnet point, which we didn't get to, and then farther east there's the beginning of Buzzards Bay. 

On top of that, another club member has family in the area, and in exchange for giving her a ride up (and back) we got to overnight in a proper coastal cottage and put in on a privately owned beach. Bliss, buckaroos. Pure kayaking bliss.

I packed up the buggy and we set out on the road.

Stopping for Dinner on the Highway.

Sunrise Hospitality.

Saturday

Following the drive up Friday, we cleaned up, met the folks, and laid out our sleeping bags on the air mattress and sofabed provided by our hosts. Only half our group, myself and G, were present, but with out fellow club member and her s.o., we put together a tidy group and set out for an area called "Dumpling Rocks", near Round Hill Point, and then to an area of rocks, and then on to a Christmas Buoy - red and green, marking the intersection of two channels.

Launching from the Beach. G, A, and L.

Paddling Out.

It's Christmas in Heaven!

On the way out, we took the opportunity to try some very light rock-hopping near Dumpling Rock. We were light on helmets, and the environment was new to some, so we played it safe - going around the big rock and taking a deeper channel. There was a more narrow constriction that had some interesting current flow, but most of the group was not ready for that.

One word: Millenials.

The ride back was fairly pleasant. Our big concern for the weekend was tropical storm Hermine (later, "post-tropical" storm Hermine). Traveling up the eastern US seaboard from the Caribbean, Hermine promised storm surge and high winds and rain, but ultimately steered ENE and petered out several hundred miles offshore. We got high winds over the weekend, and nothing more.

At the time however, that was not a certainty. In the afternoon, we met up our other friends at the campsite and checked in, and after setting up camp drove out to Gooseberry Neck, a small spit jutting directly out from Horseneck Beach. There's free parking, easy access to the water, and just like that you're at sea. No rivers, no coves, just the ocean.

As we launched, a larger group of paddlers came in. They were part of a Rhode Island club and had gone out to Elevator Rock, a spot where surf can place a skilled paddler on a rock, and then take them right back down. I've only heard of it recently, and with the impending weather had already ruled it out.

Instead, we paddled out from the east side of the spit and then south, taking a trip around it. We expected the easterly winds to become stronger and produce more challenging water, and the water we had was challenge enough for this group. For some this was their first time in the ocean proper, and just getting acclimated was enough. We practiced some brace strokes and how to manage paddling in the wind, then set off on our journey.

Around the southern tip we spotted some clever rocks to play near. We also discussed some navigation, using nearby buoys to triangulate our location against the southern tip of the spit. In the rocks, we found a long shallow shelf that created some dramatic looking waves, but they were just a long, wide area that lost energy quickly. We practiced paddling in place to hold position.

Coming back along the western side of the spit, the water was calm and the air was more quiet. With the sun setting to our, it was a relaxing end to the day. I landed first, followed by the other two women in our group. The men lingered. Why?

Kayak Cowgirl's trusty steed.

Turns out they were being followed by seals. Seals! Three of them. As they approached only one seal followed them in, and we could spot him from our landing spot.

Men, chased by seals.

Driving out, we passed over the road with sea to our left an to our right. The water to the east was clearly darker and more agitated, while the water to the west was calm and relaxing.

Sunday
Sunday was predicted to be very windy, initially 20mph but proving just to the mid-teens. We decided to stay sheltered from the sea, up the Westport river about a mile from its mouth. It turns out there is cheap ($5 per car) parking there, with a giant rock in the middle of a narrow river offering a fun place to stay  .  .  .and play

Getting ready to roll out.

Off we went, playing around the rock and then heading downstream to the mouth of the river. The wind proved constant, blowing us downstream, and reminding us we'd have a bit of a battle on the way back.

We passed through an extensive marina before the river widened and we came to Horseneck Point. From there we could make out a giant boulder called "The Knubble" marking the far entrance to the river - and beautiful surf rolling in. The group was taken in. "Surf!". Only, almost no one had done it before, so we landed briefly to go over surfing, and landing in surf, and setting the boundaries.

Everyone had a good time. I caught the fewest waves, but mostly because I was keeping an eye on everyone. The wind was coming abeam and so we kept getting pushed across the river. After a few runs, and with the surf depleted as the tide lowered, we set out back the way we came - and this was the start of the hardest part of the day.

The current had only started to ebb an hour earlier, but was already quite strong. Couple with the wind, we had a long slog back. In hindsight, and to some of us at the time, we actually made expected progress: a little over one nautical mile in thirty-five minutes, fighting about a knot or knot and change of current, with a F4 headwind. Good on my group for making the distance. Once we'd returned, we took a long lunch and rested, before going out for a couple more hours.

We didn't go anywhere for that last bit. Instead, we played in the rock eddy some more, this time with more eddies to work with, as the lowered tide had revealed more rocks to ferry between. We also tried a rescue in the eddy area, and I demonstrated some swimmer recovery methods.

At the end, we packed up and dried off, then walked in to the local establishment for sizable meals and beer followed by dessert.

Monday

While I'd hoped to paddle a bit Monday, by then even the sheltered area of the campsite was demonstrating stiff breezes, and the coastal wind prediction was to be 20 mph and more. The group had gotten a taste of the sea, and were plenty well buffed and chuffed from the day before, and one of the drivers had to leave to make it to work in NYC that afternoon, so - we called it a weekend. 

Packed and sorted, I dropped off one boat we had borrowed from our local friends, visited the local paddling shop (Osprey Sea Kayak Adventures, check them out sometime), and then we were off for the four-hour drive back home.

This was a great trip and I hope to do it again sometime, with some more people and certainly more time at sea. With summer nominally over, it's on to the next part of the season. More to come, for sure.

Maine Again

There I was, watching the surf road in towards me as I peeked out from behind a little rock. I to the first wave well, but the second one caught my starboard bow and I was pushed into the cliff and capsized on a shelf, unable to roll up . . .

Or, There I was, bobbing up and down in the surf trying to catch some admittedly not-great waves, getting some speed, getting a little cocked by the wind, and suddenly I'm sideways to two feet of water column crashing over my boat, bracing, then getting cocked again and dropping a stern rudder to keep it straight. . .

Or maybe, I taught the class of new-to-sea kayakers how to launch into surf - pointing perpendicular, getting some speed, not getting between their boat and the shore if the came out prematurely. Then I launched them, one by one, all successfully, including the fellow who was nervous because his spraydeck did not fit well and all his previous surf experience was, in his words, "disastrous." The lead instructor later told me I managed a Four Star level launch.

They say, lead with your strengths, but those are never the good stories.

I was in Maine again, in the Georgetown / Five Islands area, for less time that I'd planned for. I was going to be up there Wednesday through Friday but day job responsibilities meant that I only got two of those days, rushing home Wednesday evening to hop in the car, completely pre-packed, and make the drive to Maine by midnight (some detouring made it more like 1 AM). Five hours of sleep later, I was meeting the crew, mostly paddlers from the New Jersey and Hudson Valley area, whose experience was primarily lakes and the calmer portions of the Hudson River.

John Carmody and Matt Kane were teaching the course. What the other students described sounded similar to my first time up there: some work in eddies north of camp, and then some surf, and then some rock-hopping. They were all very excited about the eddy work. The area around Knubble Bay is rife with narrow tributaries all keeping into Sheepscot Bay and thence to sea, with some tideraces as well as strong eddy lines.

My role was as a sort of flywheel; I learned and reinforced some of what I'd learned in previous trips to the area, but also got the chance to instruct and lead in an environment with features that are not easily found in New York City.

Surf
For the surf session we drove out to Reid Park and observed the shore from an elevated area, talking about different water features. As we prepared to unload boats and kit out, one of the instructors approached me and asked, "you're OK with coaching a surf launch here, right?"

Well what am I gonna say? Yes! And then I'm thinking, I better get down to look more closely at that beach. 

Not to worry, it was perfectly fine. The wave period that day was about 8 seconds farther out, and the beach was such that it had a gradual slope resulting in 1-2 foot waves that petered out over about 10 yards at the break. So I coached them. The only two things I would have done differently were to launch one at a time (I'd tried two, and it was just hard to keep track of) and also, setting them further into the surf. I ended up having to drag four or five boats a full boat-length to get them floating. But the students were great.

Maintaining Position. Photo courtesy Chris Brown.

Then, I got to be a student. We went to a spot where an inlet was draining in to the ocean, and there was a gentle yet scary-looking bit of surf that students could paddle through to get to sheltered water, and an even scarier-looking tiderace that I was encouraged to surf through. John caught a great wave and surfed it through, letting it cock the back of his boat to come right around into the sheltered water. Matt went in and out of the rough stuff several times to shepherd each of his charges.

I sidled up to the rough stuff, paddling backwards to keep position, just looking. Where was the line? Where was the big rock to watch out for? I spotted both and then BAM! a big wave caught me and suddenly I was ruddering my way in, and God help me my little 15' Gemini started to pearl - the entire front deck was underwater! I leaned back and the wave passed under me and I quickly got in to the sheltered spot.

Ridin' the wave once more.  Photo courtesy Chris Brown.

There was plenty more. We practiced controlled landings, paddling backwards into incoming surf, paddling forwards into incoming surf in order the land backwards, carving turns to come off waves, back-paddling in order to give up a wave. I got a little more coaching in too, advising one participant to no lean back when he was trying to power forward and over a wave. He noticed the difference and brought that up as a learning point with our group review.

End of a Bongo Slide. Photo courtesy Chris Brown.

I really like surf. I mean to do more locally this summer.


Rock

Can't stop . . .can't stop. . .can't stop, stop, the rock . . .or the waves.

On our final day we drove out to Five Islands and put in near the mooring yard there. Within less than half a mile we had two sizable rock islands to paddle around, with features changing as the tide ran out.

We took the group out and practiced running along the shore, T and I ahead of the group. John encouraged me to back into a little nook not much wider than my kayak. It was sheltered from the incoming current, and somehow there was water that would flow around and back out. I was able to back in, and then get pushed out, eventually surfing my way back out.

A little further up, T and I paddled through and back a narrow race where the water deflected around a rock, and then were given the task to guide the newer students through it. We did, and everyone came through OK, slicing up over some sizable waves and away from the cliff face.

Working out the route with T.

Next, we found a large horseshoe route around a large rock. Here, the incoming ocean swells would hit one end of the passage and then break over the rock. What this meant was, it was harder to enter the first end, but easier on the second, because the energy of the wave was dissipated. The trick was to enter the far end, line up perpendicular to the incoming waves, and paddle out.

I managed this on my first try, and then the group went through one at a time. John pointed out there was a chill spot of water behind the rock. The water level moved up and down but otherwise there was not lateral movement.

On my second go, I made a critical mistake. I got in to the relaxed water and then watched the horizon for a smaller wave set. I saw things flatten out and started to nose out, going a little wider to my left to avoid a rock I knew would be to my right. This put me in a bad position though, as a wave came in and caught me while I was trying to turn into it. The wave caught me boat and pushed me into out little inlet.

No problem, I thought, I handled that well, and started to turn to again. But now, here came a second, larger wave, at a pretty good speed. She caught the front quarter of my boat and as I braced into the wave, I was pushed against the rock face to my left, and capsized. I felt my helmet hit rock. I tried to roll up, but I was on a sloped ledge, no longer with water supporting me. It was time to give up.

Matt raced in and we quickly did a swimmer contact tow to get me and my boat out. I held on the his boat and mine, paddled under my arm, and he pulled me out of the zone, and then we did a rescue.

I'm sure it looked dramatic, but throughout the whole ordeal I felt fine. At the point of capsize I was a little worried about popping my sprayskirt while getting pounded by surf, but before and after I felt like it was fun. I pushed myself. I made a mistake, and I learned from it. I did everything I've been trained for to be rescued in a dynamic environment. I was properly protected both for water temperature and head trauma. This is the sport. This is the sea.

Anyhoo, we continue on a bit. As a group we practiced getting our noses and tales up close to the rock, finding chill spots of water, paddling backwards to keep position. We had a fair amount of eddy current moving us clockwise around the island, and I had to reset a couple of times to find the good stuff. Here's what it looked like, more or less, with my PowerShot carefully balanced on deck.

Kiss the Rock.

After that, we moseyed on home, back to where we put in, at a considerably lower water level. We climbed out and dragged our boats, even the glass ones, over seaweed.

And with that we were done. We unkitted, packed the boats, and a few changed clothes. We made our farewells after final debriefing with the coaches, and then excellent lobster rolls at the local country store (and not for nothing, I found cans of Moxie soda! So rare and divine, and aptly named for my activities there).

I love Maine, and expect to go there again. I will need new shores to develop skills against, but these now-familiar waters provide plenty of development opportunities. Plus it's just beautiful.

Many thanks to Matt Kane of Prime Paddlesports for inviting me, and John Carmody for some long-term coaching and development in these waters.