Junk Yard Cove

 I put in from the Feral Cat Park on a rising and near record high tide and as I rounded the lines of two fishermen and headed out into the big river I was surprised at the level of the upstream current.  It would be a good day for a long trip upriver if not for a troublesome wind that I just did not trust to stay within reasonable levels.  But, the east shore was in the lee and I followed it closely.

 

I heard call of an Osprey from the usual place near the powerline crossing.  A little further on I spotted a second Osprey knowing it was a second Osprey as the call of the first was from behind.  Not long after the first Osprey overflew me and headed upriver.

With wind as it was, I decided to not go upstream farther than the first island.  A strong current was flowing into Junk Yard Cove and it occurred to me that I had never really explored that spot.  I rode a fast flow into the cove and started a clockwise circuit.  The cove is clearly man made and I suspect that it may have been a gravel or sand quarry at some time.   There is a narrow levee separating it from the big river and it is possible that at some time a flood breached the divide.  Although rimmed with industrial sites such as the town transfer station and a gravel and recycling operation, from the water the cove is pleasant enough with a long stand of paper birch on one side.  Birch trees aren't that common here preferring area a bit farther north.

 

Junk Yard Cove

I head back out into the river finding the current still coming upstream.  When I get back to my start point it just hasn't been long enough, so I cut across river and paddle downstream the narrow channel  along the shore rounding Pope's Flat, Long Island, Carting Island and Peacock Island, all low spartina islands that have been in their present shapes and position for a long time.  It's a grind into the wind as I near the bottom of the islands, but from there just an easy crossing of the river and a quick return on a dying current and a not dying wind.

Late Osprey

Two days of wind and rain has left behind a sunny and calm autumn day that is about as fine as it could be.  I put in on still water and head upstream planning to go as far as I can without having to portage.

It is a straight forward and quick paddle with no waves or wind to correct for.  I spot a few Great Blue Herons and tucked under in the shade under the shoreline trees are often some Mallards or Wood Ducks.  Mostly, I just paddle and burn through thoughts, and with all of the busy work created by the political toads, there are a lot of thoughts to burn - far more than a 3 or 4 hour trip can handle.

At the first narrowing, where the width drops to about a hundred yards, I spot a swimming mammal.  Low and long in profile, it doesn't fit the usual suspects.  So, I speed up some in order to watch it as it exits the water.  It turns out to be a squirrel that has just completed a hundred yard swim all of the way across the river.

Squirrel

As I near the Rock Garden, I spot a late Osprey.  Most of them have migrated south, but I've gotten used to seeing singles that tough it out longer into winter.  I get a photo as it perches.  As I put the camera down it does a dive direct from the branch to the river, but it comes up empty.

I head up the left side taking advantage of a long eddy to make my way into the fast current.  From behind a boulder, I slide right across fast water and tuck into another eddy on the right side.  Then it is just a bit of weaving through boulders in disrupted current.  One last effort of about a canoe length puts me into easy water that leads 300 yards up to the dam.  The Rock Garden is a easy brief rapid that I sometimes bring people to just to teach them how to look at moving water and use the flow to their advantage.

After a short break I head back down. 

Somewhere

I put in on the long secluded cove noting that the water was clear again; the temperature has dropped and made the algae go where algae goes during the winter.  It was nice to see the bottom a few feet down.  The leaves are just starting to turn.  But, they are not the explosive Kodachrome colors yet.  That will come in a couple weeks.  The strongest notice that my senses pick up is the smell.  The still air in the cove smells of stale wood smoke, the smoke of the last night or two.  So, the night temperatures are dipping down enough that locals are burning some wood in their stoves and fireplaces. 

I head out of the cove into the big river thoroughly enjoying the new colors and the autumn light that casts shadows and creates contrast.  Gone is the washed out light of summer.

I soon figure out that I have nowhere to go, at least nowhere on any map.  A canoe always takes me someplace, even if I go nowhere.

I hear Geese in the shadows of the far shore.  As I stare and scan in that direction I finally see them at the edge of my hat brim.  It is a big V of thirty Canada Geese about 300 ft up.  It morphs into two sloppy V's, then morphs again back into the big V.

I head down and around the point.  I think to myself that someday I have to take the time to find where the old railroad rises up from the reservoir.  Most of this trip I am paddling somewhere above the old bed.  

The shallow cove where I sometimes see Eagles seems far enough.  There are no Eagles today.  Then, I see one flying about a half mile upriver.  Too far to see the markings, it is a process of elimination...Turkey Vulture, Great Blue Heron or Bald Eagle.  The speed of the wing flapping signals that it is an Eagle.  I paddle on.  Then, I just happen to be looking up at the tree tops and the Bald Eagle flies past.  I assume it is the same bird.

I've been somewhere and I can return.

 

 

 

 

Glasswort

 I set out with S from near the sea while the tide is just peaking.  There is a 10 mph wind to push us around but the sky is mostly clear with just enough clouds to give it some photographic punch.  There were quite a few cars with roof racks at the put-in. This is a tip off that there is a kayak club somewhere ahead of us and while I don't mind other paddlers, large herds of them with their constant neighing and mooing are to be avoided.  I really don't understand why people go to wild places in big groups.

So, we head up the Neck River and into Bailey Creek.  With the high tide the small passages that most people can't imagine to exist are passable.  S gets a lot of good practice using her draw stroke to pull the bow into the wind and around tight corners.  She is so light that the canoe doesn't trim very well and the bow often catches the wind.  We make one brief stop so that S can get out and look closely at some glasswort, a plant I've told her about but that she's not noticed in person.   

We head into the Long Cut.  It is a good place to see ducks, but today there are none at all.  We scare up a couple Great Blue Herons and spot one Osprey as we head there.  We will only spot 2 Osprey for the day, so they are continuing to migrate out.  S likes the Long Cut.  In places it is half a canoe or more in width, in others the spartina rubs on the side of the canoe.  When we get near the end of it she opts for heading into the Sneak.  The Sneak and the Long Cut meet without having to go out in the main river.  In fact, I found the Long Cut by missing the turn into the Sneak. 

Entering the Long Cut

Back at Bailey Creek we flush a pair of Teal.  Then we paddle downstream occasionally wrestling with the wind. 

Through the Keyhole

October 2, 2020

I set out with M on cool and very calm day with a sky that was overcast and sprinkling rain every now and then. I dipped my fingers in the water and found it a good ten degrees warmer than the air.  That contrast made it feel like bath water even though it was not that warm.  There was a beautiful low fog on the water as a result.  

We cross over and follow the west side of the river for no other reason than that I haven't followed that shoreline before.  We stay close to shore so that we can both watch the river and peer into the forest. We wear our rain jackets knowing that to take them off will cause an immediate deluge.

A mature Bald Eagle flies past.  We spot a whitetail doe.  Great Blue Herons are sighted regularly and often unusually close.

It rains in earnest for a few minutes so we take a short break on a small island. 

Six miles out we pass through Lovers Leap, a narrow 1/2 mile canyon that I imagine was once fairly fast water before the dam backed the waters.  We tuck ourselves into the mouth of the Still River, just to show M where it is, then we head back through the canyon and turn into a long narrow cove to see what is there.

A large and sturdy culvert turns out to be a gate to a beautiful narrow and tightly meandering creek that anchors a lush wetland hidden in a narrow valley.  We manage a few hundred yards until we get to a place where we would have to wade some and as we are also at a spot where the creek is a bit wider than the length of the canoe we retrace our path with the idea of coming back when there is a few more inches of water.

After a short break we return following the eastern shoreline.  The clouds drift off and the day becomes sunny with that perfect autumn light  We spot a second white tail doe, then a flock of a half dozen Flickers, and a mile or so later a white tail yearling that had come down to the river for a drink.

Long Cuts and Sneaks

 

I'm not more than 50 yards from the put in when I have my first critter sighting.  A hundred yards up the East River a Harrier flies low, crossing the river and then crossing the entire lower marsh at an altitude of no more than 4 ft.  This is how Harriers hunt - terrain masking.  It ignores a flock of a dozen Great Egrets and I lose track of it.  But then, a flock of smaller shore birds pops up way over by the first bend in the Neck River and I sight the Harrier again.  It meanders a couple times and then follows the Neck River upstream and I lose it again.  When I turn that first bend in the Neck River, I spot it again.  It is all the way back at the East River, still flying low.

I spot five Osprey along the Neck.  Almost all of the Osprey are out of the area at this time as after nesting the count must be somewhere close to thirty or so.  I spot one more at the Big Bends.

The tide is crested and the current almost nonexistent.  In fact, the water is a good 3 or 4 inches higher than predicted due to atmospherics.  We have a minor storm coming in this evening and little surges are pretty obvious in low marshes.

Yellow Legs

I pass through the Sneak with ease as it is full up and full width so the tight turns in the channel are easy to get the canoe around.  The spartina is turning color of course, but if one looks close, it is the glasswort that steals the show.  It has turned to a brilliant rosy-pink-red.

I spot a few flocks of Yellow Legs in the marsh, they are becoming common again having migrated from a bit north of here.  The Willets are all gone.

Glasswort

I decide to explore a bit of the side channels in the upper marsh rather than push on up to the forest.  On the return I take the Long Cut, a narrow passage that takes one from the East River to high up in Bailey Creek.  I've never seen anyone else back here.  It is a reliable place to spot migrating ducks and it doesn't fail today.  I flush a half dozen Mallards and fifteen to twenty of the shyer Black Ducks.

The Long Cut

Back in Bailey Creek I pick up a quick ebb current and have an easy paddle out.

River of the Damned

 I set downstream into a 10 mph headwind.  This is the big river again, in fact, I'm just a few miles upstream of my last outing and this is another section of the river that I've not paddled before.  I'm heading down to the top of Gildersleeve Island, which was my high point on the last trip.

I follow close the right shore, and to hide as best I can from the wind I stay under the tree limbs when I can.  There is a "dike" of milfoil parallel to the bank where the depth is just right for it to grow.  It blocks the chop and creates a narrow path of smooth water.  

This section of river is a mix of flood plain and forested valley sides.  But, as with the downstream section that I last paddled there are few houses intruding on the shoreline.  In the first mile are a few dilapidated industrial wharves.  They are remains from when barges were used on the river, which wasn't too long ago.

The other oddity in this reach of the river is that every half hour I come across a wrecked boat.  The first is an upside down 17 foot skiff that looks like it has been here since spring.  Next is a sailboat that probably blew loose from its moorings as the rigging, broken spar and mast, and outboard motor are still present.  A tree has fallen on the aft section resulting in the hull being crushed and broken in two.  The third is across the river and on my return I find it to be an upside down 20 ft. inboard-outboard speedboat.  It is the newest of the wrecks by a long shot.

Just short of reaching Gildersleeve Island I flush an immature Bald Eagle from the trees overhead.  I spot a mature Eagle in a dead snag on the island as I cross.  Another mature Eagle flies in as I head back upriver.

Bald Eagle #4

I follow the left bank back up.  I pass the upside down speedboat, spot another mature Bald Eagle, spot the nest nearby, then another Eagle, and then another.  Six for the day.