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. 

A Quiet Day in the Mattabasset

S had an errand to do just a few miles from the river, so the plan was set in stone.  We put in on the Coginchaug and headed upriver.  It was in the mid-80's and a bit on the humid side, but there was a light breeze and a mostly overcast sky.  That's pretty good conditions for canoeing on a warm day.  

The water was higher than I expected - we apparently met high tide by chance.  

With a late start, we were not the first in the river, so we were not going to see as much wildlife as usual.  Great Blue Herons, Cormorants, and a some songbirds were all we saw.  But, the day was pleasant and quiet and all in all, a peaceful day.

We got to the big gravel bar just below the old railroad trestle.  This gravel bar is a wade at normal water levels, and at that level not always worth the effort as a portage under the trestle and fast water under the next bridge deliver a one-two punch before coming up against a logjam, and more of that. 

We turned and headed back out, a very quiet day.

Birds

Morning was the hurry up and wait show.  I set out early in the afternoon when the tide was just about bottoming.  I had to stare at the water to see any current.  The temperature was in the 80's with the air rather humid, but with a light wind that made it all feel rather pleasant. 

I crossed the river right away and followed the west shore down towards the sea.  It took an hour to get down past Milford Point, this section of the river a large arcing turn counter clockwise around the Wheeler Marsh.  It is always impressive how much longer the west shore route is than the east side.  

Spotted a couple of Oyster Catchers on a small rock bar that only appears at low tide.  I went a little farther out, then crossed the river back to the east shore and followed the edge of the expansive bar outside of Milford Point.  

I spend a fair amount of time just drifting in the canoe and observing what surrounds me.  It is a good day for this. 

I had just barely enough water to take the first shortcut towards Nell's Channel.  A long sliding tone whistle caught my attention and I turned to spot two Black Bellied Plovers.   Continuing on into Nell's Channel, spot a few Yellow Crowned Night Herons, some Willets, and a few Least Terns near the island, where there are also a dozen Egrets feeding in the shallows.  The Terns and Great Egrets are feeding on small fish that are schooling in the shallows.  One more Black Bellied Plover watches as I leave the marsh and head back upriver. 

The Huldrafolk

Last night, I dreamed of huldrafolk.  The huldra and her male counterpart, the huldrekarl, are the hidden people of Norsk folklore. Huldrafolk have the ability to shapeshift - the female huldra often appears as a beautiful woman and may use that to lure a man to her people where he might become a captive.  I suppose that this tale may have been a more palatable excuse for why a skilled outdoorsman disappeared without a trace.  A huldra can be recognized by viewing it from behind, where it will either appear as a burned out hollow log or, have a tail.  I dreamed of a tall skyscraper, something similar to the Empire State Building, and when I walked around behind it, I found it to be a burned out hollow log.  Our modern huldrafolk are the obesely wealthy who often appear as brilliant and talented, but just as often turn out to be ruthless, self-centered, and greedy people with little in the way of a soul.  Waking from my dream, I realize and think about how our current President is very much a huldrekarl - a shapeshifter who lures people into his circle where only too late, they discover that he is burned out hollow creature.

The day was windy near the coast, but much less so inland.  I put in near the route 133 bridge over the Housatonic with an aim of paddling to Lover's Leap.  On my last trip here, I was met by high winds coming down river that convinced me to abort the trip after little more than a half mile.  Today is sunny, temperature in the low 80's, and a moderate wind.

As I head upriver, I find the wind to come from all around the clock, tailwind in places, headwind in others, crosswind or calm at times.  While the forested hillsides are not particularly high, the geography someone whirls and redirects the wind. It is noticeably odd.

I sight and flush Great Blue Herons more than any other bird, and it maybe totals a dozen.  Otherwise, it is just a pleasant cruise with little boat traffic or distraction.  It is an easy cruise and I am surprised to reach Lover's Leap, a distance of 6 miles, in several minutes less than 2 hours. 

I head back, finding the wind to be no different than on my way out - no stronger than before and still coming from any direction depending on where I am.  The exciting moment is finding a mature Bald Eagle eating a large dead carp.  

Ibis Day on the East River

I set out with a friend from the old ford on the East River.  The tide was still coming in, but the water was well deep enough that we didn't have to dodge any of the boulders in the upper section and the flood current was very light.  It was sunny and in the mid-80's with a light wind out of, more or less, the south.

Midday and already warm, it seems that much of the wildlife is laying low, or at least keeping things to a dull roar.  W is not from here, so I point out some of the historical features and we stop at the Parmalee dam ruins. As we continue I introduce W to the idea of tidal freshwater marshes and the salt marsh that makes up the majority of the trip.

Things get going in the center marsh as we approach the Big Bends.  We start spotting Glossy Ibises, and as we near they continue to multiply.  By the time we get into the Bends, we've spotted about 40 birds. The first Willets show up in the Big Bends, as usual.  And, there are a couple of Great Egrets in the area, and the usual Osprey ilk. 

Out of focus proof of Glassy Ibis presence

Below the railroad bridge, I turn us into the Sneak, then up Bailey Creek, and then back to the East River via the Long Cut.  Spot more Osprey, of course, but we alarm the Willets in that last area and they fly over while sending out their warning call to the nesting Willets in the area.  

We head back through the upper end of the Sneak and head up the East River.   The Ibises are still in the middle marsh, although dispersed into different areas than when we first saw them.  We have seen at least 50 Glossy Ibises today.

Near the Duck Hole Farms, we flush a mature Bald Eagle that we did not notice until we were underneath it.