Out and Back Between the High Bridges

I put in under the big highway.  It is overcast and humid although with the temperature still in the 70's, it is not uncomfortable, and there is little wind.  I head right across the river just downstream of the railroad drawbridge and follow the west shore up into the quad islands.  The tide is dropping and there is a stiff current in places.  I flush several Yellow Crowned Night Herons, one of which flies three circles around me all the time scolding me. 

I cross over to the east side below Fowler Island and continue up until reaching the high Merritt bridge, where I cross back to the west shore.  There are surprisingly few boats in the river on what is a pleasant Friday afternoon. Go figure.  It is an easy paddle back with the current behind me. 

I head back through the islands, passing around the west side of Peacock Island, where I flush a few more Yellow Crowned Night Herons.  I also spot a family of Mute Swans.  They have 6 cygnets, 3 of which are white. 

Cygnets are usually gray and I have only seen a single white in any brood before. I cross back from the bottom of the islands and take out.

Shephaug Redux

S and I set out from Pond Brook on a calm somewhat humid and warm day.  Tranquil would be a good adjective. There were clouds, but just enough to shield the day from the sun without making it seem cloudy.

We paddled down Pond Brook, which is a cove ever since this section of the river was dammed about 70 years ago.  At the main river, we cross straight away and follow the shoreline down and around the point into the Shephaug.  There are some kayakers and boaters, but almost all of them are fishing and they don't move about very much.

We paddle, we talk, and we relax.  Such calm conditions can almost lull one to sleep.  It seems that the wildlife might agree with us. We see some high soaring Vultures, a few Osprey and Ducks, a junior high school field trip of Canada Geese, and S spots a white tail deer in the orchard of the old house above the wide place.  We don't see any Eagles today.

We turn back about a half mile below the cascades, both of us already feeling quite washed out.

Restlessness

I set out from Indian Well.  I got a late start, but the motivation for the day was restlessness.  It was about 80F, sunny, and with a north wind of about 10mph.  It was windier at the coast, which did influence my decision for heading to this section of river, being a few miles inland as well as set in a valley. 

I headed upriver for about 45 minutes, spotting one immature Bald Eagle, some Canada Geese and a Common Merganser with three ducklings.   I then turned and headed back.

Hunting Training

It is a calm day with a thick overcast and a for-sure chance of rain.  In fact, it will lightly sprinkle for more than half of the time I am out.

I put in on Pond Brook.  No one is here other than a woman walking her dog.  Her dog was rambunctious all day yesterday, and I tell her that one of our cats was the same.  Something in the weather I suppose.

When I get out to the main river, I cross straight over and follow the far shore down to the confluence with the Shephaug.  Paddling close to shore, my attention is up the hillside into the woods.  Soon, a rock wall appears up near the top of the ridge.  It is a feature that definitely predates the Civil War.  Then, I start thinking about how we date and refer to things by significant events.  More likely, the wall dates to a time near the War of 1812, when merino sheep were smuggled into the country.  I spot several Warblers flying through the trees that overhang the riverbank. The rambling train of thought about how we often date things by connecting them to significant events continues until I notice a deer swimming the river about 75 yards ahead of me. I pause to watch, and also to flag down Jimmy Jetski, just in case he should come ripping up the river with a head full of stupid. Fortunately, I seem to be the only one on the water.  The deer makes pretty good time crossing some 500 feet of river and I watch it disappear into the forest.  

I head up to the cascades.  Just as I get there, I see a guy pull about 30 inches of Northern Pike out of the water.  I tell him he should put a saddle on that fish.  He tells me that he had just hooked a small bass and was pulling it in when the pike came up and ate the bass.  He's going to photograph it and release it.

Snapping Turtle

On the way back down, I spot a medium sized snapping turtle giving me the "eyeball."  I spot a pair of Orioles flying along pretty much like the Warblers did earlier.  In fact, I thought they were Warblers until I was able to see their orange feathers.

The parental unit

When I get to the "wide spot", I see a mature Bald Eagle perched well up the hillside. I know from previous trips that there is a nest nearby, so I am always on the watch in this area. Although I've never seen the nest, I have heard the racket of Eaglets at feeding time. I spot a pair of newly fledged Eagles in a dead tree about 20 yards away from the adult, which is watching them carefully.  This is definitely school time of one sort or another.

Fledgling Eagles learning to eat on their own

When I zoom in with my camera, I find that there is a third bird with the fledglings.  It seems that I have come across just as one of the parental units is teaching the young ones to feed on their own.  The third bird looks like it might be a dead Great Blue Heron, and I suspect that the elder Eagle stashed it in the branches of that tree for the fledglings to feed on.  I take some photos and while I am checking my shots, I hear an Eagle whistle.  When I zoom back in, I find that the two fledglings have dropped the dead bird, doh!

"You dropped it!"  "No, you dropped it!"

I continue on out.  It has been a most excellent day for wildlife.

The Bottom of the Connecticut

A Great Egret, a Yellow Crowned Night Heron, a Cormorant, I hear Marsh Wrens and Red Wing Blackbirds.  I sit among things I do not understand.  I find comfort in mystery.

A climber/writer that I have followed for about 50 years said in an interview that he still climbs and that he climbs to maintain his sanity.  I would never put words in his mouth, but I interpret that statement to mean that he finds something spiritual in the act, or place of climbing.  And, it is probably both.  I used to climb and I remember being in places that were a hundred times more spiritual and magical than the great cathedrals that I have visited.  Now, I canoe. It is the same.

I put in on the Lieutenant River.  It is calm and serene with the clouds mirrored on the water's surface. The birds are as I mentioned, until I reach the Watch Rocks.  A Green Heron, then some Common Terns, Snowy Egrets, Willets, Osprey and Gulls. The tide is out and the water is shallow. But the water is also clear, and what I read as a foot deep is closer to two feet deep.

I head all the way down to the Sound, deciding to skip, this time, the excellent Black River.  There are lots of Common Terns at the bottom of Great Island.  I head across to the Old Saybrook Side of the River.  I haven't done this in a few years.  The crossing is a bit over a mile although there are several miles of open water to my left, and it does feel big.  The Mai Tai Navy is just waking up, but they are restricted to a narrow boat channel on the far side, so I am alone for most of the distance.  I aim for a part of the channel that is a no-wake zone. The water is choppy, a combined effect of tide, river current, wind and boat wake.  By the time I am across, I remember why I haven't paddled the crossing in a few years. It is work.

I make my way up the west shore, which becomes a large salt marsh.  A mile up since making the crossing, I find an entrance into the marsh and explore a few long dead end channels.  It is worthwhile as I find several Glossy Ibises feeding in the mud that has been exposed by the low tide.  This marsh is worth visiting again. I see no one else in this area.

I head upriver towards the railroad bridge.  There is another no-wake zone here where I won't have to deal with idiots in too fast speedboats.  It is an easier and shorter crossing and I feel welcomed by the narrow channel of the Lieutenant River.

 

Wheeler - Very High Tide

The tide is nearing high as I set out, with maybe an hour of flood to go. It is sunny and 75F with a 5mph wind out of the east.

I head down river to the maze.  At the entrance, I take a quick look around before going in - The first rule of maze club is don't tell anyone about the maze.

Red Wing Blackbirds and Willets are very actively bitching.  It takes a minute to figure out that I am not the problem, but rather they are chewing at each other.  And, I think it is the Blackbirds that are being the most defensive as they are also chasing Ospreys.

The tide is so high that the maze is pure beginner stuff - I can short cut between the usual channels. In fact, the most interesting thing about the island at this tide level is that there is no island - just submerged marsh with spartina managing to stick up above the water surface, in places.  

The gnats have hatched and they are a nuisance whenever I am paddling with the wind. A couple times, I paddle a circle to get the wind to carry them away.

I head east out and across the marsh, zigzagging through open water that would normally be land.  There are a good number of Yellow Crowned Night Herons, Great Egrets, Osprey, Mallards and Willets.  The Willets are probably concerned about the water level flooding their nests.

Baby Willets

From the East Side, I head back and through the maze once more before heading up river.  About a 1/4 mile above the marsh I hear some Willets - wrong place for Willets to be.  Up against one of the floating docks is a mass of floating marsh reeds.  A pair of adult Willets are watching over two small Willets.  They have drifted out of the marsh on the high tide.  The current will change soon, and hopefully the Willets will drift back to the marsh. If they get that far, they should have no trouble finding a safe spot as the tide drops and gives them more land to walk on.  Note that in all the time I've been in salt marshes with Willets nesting, this is the first time that I've seen baby Willets.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Over the Threshold

The canoe is nested in the branches of a deadfall.  Two more inches of water and I would have slipped through without any effort.  In fact, the gap in the branches where I sit was caused by other paddlers squeezing through during higher water.  Anyway, it is a nice place to sit as it took 3 hours of steady paddling to get here.  I guess that I might be a mile or so short of the Jay Cronin launch site, but there aren't any landmarks to go by - especially since I am not carrying a map to refer to (my guess is pretty close).  

Someday I'd like to do the full trip to Jay Cronin, but I figure the round trip between here and there might take 45 minutes to an hour with all the weaving through deadfalls.  I even toyed with referring to the mile below me as the "woodpile." Fortunately, someone has cleared passages through the deadfalls, although it still requires a lot of tight maneuvering.

I slide back out of the nest and head downriver.  I am three hours out, and at least two since I saw the last person.  It's threshold time - the point where I become part of the surroundings, when I stop quantifying and identifying.  It is the deep soak of a wild surrounding.  I spot a pair of Osprey after seeing one splash down into the river.  But the big bird is the treat - a Great Horned Owl that flushes silently and takes a perch to watch me pass.  

The trip down is easy with the current faster than I though as I paddled against it on the way in.  I portage the Burdickville dam remains, but take a moment to look over the old mill turbine that is in the mill race.  I've never bothered to walk over and see it up close and I am impressed that it is a 4-foot diameter cast iron turbine, which explains why it isn't decorating the lawn of some nearby home.

I pass the owner of the weird catamaran fishing bug cage, which is made of 2 canoes and a wood deck - truly a Jethro Bodine invention if there ever was.  That ends 4 hours of seeing no one else.

I take out fairly tired, and washed out.