Resolution

I've been out of the canoe for a few days with either the weather too windy, or in the case of the last two days, prepping for the dreaded every few years butt-o-scope.  Morning rain gives way to a sky that is clear except for a few distant and racing cumulus clouds. Of course, with the racing clouds comes some wind. 

I put in at the old stage ford that is some 4-1/2 miles from the sea.  It is an hour and a half before high tide and there is more than enough water to clear the boulders that lay on the bottom of the first 300 yards.  In fact, the depth at this tide is enough that I don't have to worry about striking a rock with the canoe paddle. The wind at this point is more pleasant than bothersome with the nearby trees buffering the strength or swirling the wind so that it comes from unexpected directions in minor gusts.

I flush 2 Hawks and 2 Great Blue Herons while still above the Clapboard Hill bridge.  Just below the bridge, while I am focusing on controlling the canoe in a prolonged gust, a mature Bald Eagle takes flight from an overhead tree branch.  I did not notice the Eagle until it was airborne.  It skirts the left edge of the marsh down to the lower corner, about a 1/2 mile away.  Then, it begins to circle, climbing without flapping its wings.  It has found a thermal, and as it climbs it moves away, the thermal not being vertical, but leaning with the wind.  I watch, wondering what its flight plan might be - perhaps to use the altitude to glide down onto unsuspecting prey, or maybe to take a long, easy downwind flight to the Hammonasset.  After a minute it blinks out, my human eyes no longer able to resolve the distant bird.  But, I know that if it was interested in me, its bird eyes would still be able to see me.

Below the railroad bridge the wind is relentless.  With the tide high, there is no hiding from the wind, and the marsh, being a mile across and open to the sea is a tough paddle.  I get through the Sneak and into Bailey Creek, but the normal 20 minute trip down to the confluence with the East River is going to take at least an hour today.  So, I cut this part of the trip short and take an old mosquito trench over to the river and head back. (Later I checked and the wind was 25mph gusting to 32)

At the Post Road bridge, I talk with a woman.  She asks if I have seen any oyster boats today.  I haven't, adding that I am only familiar with the large oyster boat that is in there from time to time.  Anyway, the big boat is hers and she is looking for poachers who are illegally working her allotment.  

I continue past my start point, knowing that the water is high enough to push up into the jungle section of the river.  I get a couple hundred yards past the next bridge (Sullivan Drive) before running up against a big logjam and water that is too shallow for a canoe. Then, it is time to head out.