Nells Island Maze

M was long overdue for a trip, and by the time she arrived, the unexpected early morning wind had died down. We went to put in at the Refuge launch, but there was an sketchy idiot with a stalled truck...wait for it...parked at the water's edge of the rather steep and rutted dirt launch. He needed a battery jump, which I could not help with, and given the whole picture, I decided to put in upriver rather than run the risk of returning to find my car without a battery.  

The day was most excellent with clear skies, a very little wind, and temperature in the mid 50's. We headed downstream from beneath the high bridge on the last hour or so of flooding tide.

With the high water, it was time to show M the interior maze of Nell's Island. This time, we headed in on the most upstream entrance, which I had not before used. In about 200 yards, we came to a log jam that I remember, although from the other side. We took our time and pushed the floaters out of the way and eased over the main log with just enough water that we didn't rub. Then, M spotted a critter to our right, and we backed up to confirm it as a opossum hunched on some drift wood staying dry.  It definitely looked interested in staying dry, so we moved on. We managed our way up and out through the main entrance channel with just a couple of wrong turns. Tidal marshes fill from the outside in, as a sponge set it in water. Nell's Island does the same with a couple main flood/drain channels and a maze of others that don't fill/drain with much of a current.

We crossed the marsh to the east zigzagging through spartina islands and channels. Spotted a couple dozen Black Ducks, one Teal, a dozen or so Canada Geese. The Geese were migratory, being that they spooked from quite a distance. Then in and out of Beaver Brook, where we spotted some more Ducks and a couple of active Kingfishers.

Draw Down Day

I get to Pond Brook and find the water down about six feet.  Surprise... it's reservoir draw down so that the dam can be inspected. I can't reach water that is deep enough to float the canoe without going knee deep in mud. I get back in the car and head upstream a mile to the bigger launch that the motorboats use. 

Three motor boats are at the ramp, their owners struggling to get them out of the water. The ramp is greasy with old algae growth. Their tires spin as they try to haul up the slope. I promptly slip on the greasy surface and get pile driven into the ground by the canoe on my shoulders.  I get out of it with a bang on the knee and a fresh new coat of algae on my pants.  One of the guys asks if I'm okay and I answer, "Yes," but I'm thinking, "I'll let you know after I go canoeing for a few hours."

It is a fine day with the temperature already at 70F, no wind, and nothing but a high haze of clouds between here and the sun. I head upstream.

Drown down exposes six feet of shoreline height that is rarely seen. It is all rocks - some bedrock, and a lot of boulders and cobbles that most likely come from the same source. The edge of the forest floor shows that the soil is not much more than 12 or 18 inches thick before it begins to mingle with the underlying rocks. The reservoir, of course, washed the soil away from the exposed shoreline, which I imagine settled fifty feet below in the old river course. There are still quite a few stumps on shore from when they cleared the forest before flooding the area in the mid 1950's.  I paddle close to shore just in case something interesting is exposed. However, I don't expect anything of significance as this modern shoreline was just a line of elevation high in the forest above the river, which is where any people would have chosen to live.

The other thing that the draw down exposes is the infestation of zebra mussels. The broken shells litter the bottom, and many of the boulders and drift logs are coated with them. They are harmful non-native invasives, and inedible. They are why I make my partners wear shoes when we canoe here.

I paddle upstream to the Poison Ivy Island.  From here, it is about an hour and a half round trip to Lovers Leap, which I would like to see at draw down. But, my late start and my tumble at the start makes this, far enough. On the way back, I hear a mammal calling from the bank up ahead. I can't place it, but finally I spot the critter. A racoon. I recall that sound from a time when, one night,  we had a family of them climbing in the tree outside of a our bedroom window.  A bit farther on, a mature Bald Eagle passes me and takes a perch on the far side of the river. Add sixty Mallards, two dozen Canada Geese, a Great Blue Heron, and a few Kingfishers.

I get back to the put-in after three hours. I saw not one other boat the entire time.

It is Definitely Autumn

I put in under the highway bridge on the big river. The tide is on its way out and the current is going gang busters downstream, so my thoughts of heading up to the quad islands get shoved aside. I head down, following the shoreline with a bit of NW wind at my back quarter. It is sunny, the light is low, and the temperature in the 50's. The water is cool, but not yet cold.

When you get to the fork in the marsh, take it.

I take the side entrance to Nell's Channel, but steer clear of Nell's, taking the east of Nell's Channel Channel, so to speak. I expected no other paddlers, but it must not be hunting season either, because no one is in the marsh. I flush some migratory Canada Geese, which in turn flush a couple dozen Black Ducks from someplace out there. As I get up near the top of the channel, I spot a lone Duck tucked in under the edge of the spartina. Lone Ducks are a bit strange and the last time I saw one it turned out to be a Ruddy Duck.  This turns out to not be a Duck, but a Coot. I don't see Coots all that often.

I circle around to the east and head back out. Of note, this might be the first day in a long time where I did not see a Night Heron. While most of them are south, a small few of them will winter over.

I cross the river at the lowest drawbridge using the current and eddies to move sideways. It's not tricky water or anything like that, but I enjoy seeing how little effort I can put in to do the ferry. I sneak up the shoreline behind the marina, marveling at the awesomely poor condition of the wooden dock platform. No way I would drive any machinery on that. Then, I recross the river at the train drawbridge. There is still a 3 knot current coming down.  

Saw just 3 Great Egrets - one in the marsh, the other two on the return upriver. One Great Blue Heron, two Kingfishers.

Autumn Leaf Time

Yesterday's winds are a thing of the past, and it is, once again, too nice to not be out. 

I put in at Indian Well State Park, and head down river to just above the dam. There is a sign at the put-in telling everyone that it is 3 miles to the dam. This means I can cruise at 6 mph without cracking a sweat...not. I wonder when they will fix that sign, as it is precisely 1.56 miles to the dam, and when one turns around, they can see the park's boat launch.

I cross the river to avoid a fisherman working the shaded west shoreline. A good sized mature Bald Eagle takes off from in front of me and crosses the river to a shaded perch about 75 yards downstream of the fisherman.  

I turn at the dam and head upriver as far as the Eagle Scout put-in, and then return. The leaves are just tilting over to spectacular with the maples going bright yellow. It won't be the best leaf year that I've seen here, but it will be a good one.

Is this Indian Summer?

I was busy in the morning, but the day is so gorgeous that it would be crime of nature to not go canoeing.

I put in on the East River, at the old stage crossing, where I usually start. The tide is near low, but coming in. Two bends down, I cross the Gravel Flats, already with a foot of water to glide through. I flush seven Black Ducks from just below the Flats.

It seems a quiet day with little in the way of wildlife. I add 3 Great Blue Herons to my sightings while in the freshwater marsh above Clapboard Hill Road.

Once below the railroad bridge, I find enough water to use the Sneak, cutting through to Bailey Creek, taking that down to the East River. The tide is still coming in, so I have a gentle current to ride upstream. Just past Cedar Island, I take another cut back over to the Sneak, then up and back into the East River.

At the lowest of the Big Bends, a large Bald Eagle takes off from a nearby tree. It scatters a half dozen nearby Yellow Legs, but the Eagle isn't concerned with them, knowing that the Yellow Legs know the Eagle is there. Eagles prefer to pounce on unsuspecting prey. Ducks and other small birds can outmaneuver an Eagle. Anyway, the Eagle flies low across the marsh, and I lose sight of it for a few seconds. Then I spot it circling near the 2nd and last of the Big Bends. When it took off from the tree, it had something in sight that was some 500 yards away. The last I see of the Eagle, it is flying south away from the river.

I find some resident Geese at the 2nd Bend.  Bald Eagles don't go after Canada Geese. Although they would make a good meal, the flapping wing of a frightened Goose is enough to break an Eagle's wing, which is a fatal injury for a bird of prey.

I continue on, just enjoying the day.

The Boatwreck Reach of the Connecticut

I put in on the Connecticut River at Cromwell. The section upriver from here is probably overlooked by most canoeists. The river is wide and I imagine that people might think it to be a bit featureless. However, most of the shoreline is forested or backed with swampland, and housing is rather sparse. Last time I was here, the wind was howling down river and the day was not much short of brutal. Today, it is already near 70F, with clear skies and calm air.

The river is about as low as I've seen it with the Hartford gauge bouncing somewhere around 2 feet. 4 Feet is a more normal level for this time of year. I get into the canoe with just a little ankle deep mud bogging.

20 minutes upriver, I spot two dark figures high in a riverside tree. I zoom in with my camera and find them to be a pair of mature Bald Eagles. If they weren't busy looking at something else, they might have seen me putting the canoe in the water, Eagle vision being many times better than human eyes. I pass directly under without disturbing them, but I do flush a couple of Kingfishers from the brush below.

I continue on until I can see the Rocky Hill Ferry, about 2 hours out. Then I cross over and follow the other side of the river back, spotting two more Bald Eagles at that point. 

There is some heavy rustling in the shoreline brush. At this time of year, with dry leaves on the ground, a squirrel makes as much noise as a running deer. You just have to look.  A Red Tail Hawk wrestles its way out of the brush and takes a close perch. Then a second Hawk, with a bit more effort, comes out of the brush. 

About halfway back, a beaver dashes across the nearby beach. I have never seen a beaver move that fast. Usually, I spot them just as they dive off a bank into the water. This one was sunning on the beach about 6 feet back fro the water. It sprints at amazing speed and makes a full-on Superman dive out into the river. With my eyes, I follow the bubble trail, air being squeezed from the fur, and then pull up to wait. More often than not, a beaver will surface to check out whatever it was running from. They have poor eyesight, so they will swim back and forth and try to pick up a scent. This one has had enough of me and doesn't show. I head over to check out the tracks. The tail drag is clear, but it is the final hind feet prints that are the best. They're not deep enough to bother casting (I have my plaster with me), but it is cool to see how deeply the beaver dug in its toes to make its final spring out into the water.

Beaver hind footprint

 

The wind has come up, a head wind at that. I put my head down and continue.

The First Seconds

The first seconds. I've probably never mentioned the first few seconds. I set the canoe down in the water, then in goes my backpack, my camera box, and my spare paddle. These aren't the first few seconds. The river bank above the small single lane bridge is shaded, the trees still holding onto most of their leaves. No one else is around.

I step into the canoe, kneeling with my butt on the edge of the seat. A moment of calm comes over me. Whatever I was thinking about, whatever was in the back of my mind behind those thoughts, it disappears. There is no future, there is no past, there is nothing beyond what is in front of me. I suppose this to be what someone who is spiritually inclined might feel when they enter a temple or a cathedral. I hope that everyone can find a place that washes them like this. I don't know how else to describe it.

The tide is coming in. Even some four miles from the sea, the tide has reversed the normal current. It is going to be a very high tide, something near a foot above normal. At the first bend, the tide line can be seen on the shoreline brush, still two feet to go. I pass over the Gravel Flats without any hint that they are below. Two Kingfishers.

The cattails yield at the first bridge. The water below the bridge is brackish. Still three miles from the sea, I would not expect it to be too salty, but it must be just enough that the cattails can't make it. Spot a Harrier, but then it flies up high, not acting like a Harrier, and probably some other medium sized Hawk.

Eight Yellow Legs on the downstream point of the island in the middle of the Big Bends.

An immature Little Blue Heron standing on the junk docks. It is a surprise and seems late for the year. I wonder if it is a Snowy Egret with dirty feet, also a bit late for the year. I check my out of focus photo later - it is definitely a Little Blue Heron.

Below the railroad bridge, I do not need to follow the river or channels. I take the side sneak over to Bailey Creek, flushing sixty Ducks. About ten are Mallards, the rest being Black Ducks. This corner of the marsh is a no hunting zone, being too close to a house and the railroad tracks. Generations of Black Ducks seem to have figured this out. I will spot more Black Ducks as I go through the marsh, but it will be in twos and threes, not dozens.

I leave Bailey Creek, and cut west across the marsh, passing Cedar Island, crossing the East River, and taking an inlet until I leave that, paddling across the spartina flats to the Guilford boat launch. When I pass over submerged pannes, I note that there are dozens of tiny crabs scurrying away fro the shadow of the canoe. I think they are fiddler crabs. I am more used to seeing them on the banks, where they retreat into their burrows.

I get back into the East River at the boat launch. The current is still zippy, easily 3 mph upstream. Soon enough, I leave the river again and head cross country back to Bailey Creek, then through the Sneak, and upriver. The current doesn't go slack until I've passed Clapboard Hill Bridge.