It's been too many days. Too many bad weather days, too many work days, too many days out of the canoe. The world tilts and goes askew when too many days go by.
With each stroke of the paddle, the world evens out. By Pocket Knife Corner, not much more than a 1/4 mile from Foote Bridge, the jumble is falling into order.
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| Pocket Knife Corner |
The tide is very high. So much so that the lower put-in was flooded and I started at Foote Bridge instead. There will be a fast current once the ebb hits mid-stride, but right now in the forest section there is little movement other than a Kingfisher hunting over the Gravel Flats.
When I get below the Arch Bridge I leave the river to paddle the inlets and pockets that are usually dead ends. They are passages for the next hour or so with only short pushes through cattails or sedges to get from one path to the next. The geese are back here today, out of the main river. Eventually, I have flushed about a hundred.
By the time I reach the Big Bends, the current is starting to move fast. Just above the railroad bridge I explore a channel that I've never bothered with. After a few hundred yards I come to an old stone dike, one of those unplanned, unapproved obstructions that someone put down to reduce tide flow, maybe 50 years ago, maybe a 150 years ago. It's just enough of a pain to make me turn back. I'll time a further look for a peak tide, that'll get me over the rocks.
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| Foote Bridge |
I turn back from here, a shorter trip than normal, but I have a stiff current to paddle against.
The marsh has accomplished the task.
