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.

 

 

Stretching the Eyes

In the morning, I was busy in my studio, but by noon it was time to stretch the eyes. I pulled in at the usual launch site, under the highway bridge on the far side of town. Today is one of very high tides, and even though it is just a short hour past the peak, the ebb current is already speeding by. On top of that is a north wind, and the prospect of returning to this spot against the current and into a 15 mph wind is... not preferred. I head down to the Wildlife Refuge launch site instead.

This launch site puts me directly into the marsh and I use it less often mainly because the extra two miles of river travel give me more time in the water. With the tide dropping, I have something like three hours to mess around. After that, getting out will involve some mud slogging. It is plenty of time to do some exploring.

I head up to try the back side passage around Cat Island. You won't find Cat Island listed on any map. I got the name from a friend who grew up in the area, and I am pretty sure that the name doesn't go too far beyond him and the childhood friends that explored the island. Today, I can't make the passage. The spartina has been growing thicker with each year, and it's just too dense to get through, at least until winter.

I head out, take one of my known sneaks into the middle of the marsh, head down to bottom, check the depth at my put-in... I have a good hour left to wander, head into another sneak and come back around to call it a day. I didn't see many birds today. With the high water, the best feeding is away from the channels. I saw a Harrier, 2 Kingfishers, 4 Swans, 1 Canada Goose, 1 juvenile Night Heron, a few Ducks and a few Cormorants.

Looking for Change

It is another windy day...such is autumn.  I went up above the Shelton Dam, putting in at the Eagle Scout launch. With the wind is out of the north at 15 mph with gusts as high as 25 mph, this narrow valley of the river will be about as good as it gets, with a lot of the smaller rivers and creeks running pretty shallow. I have not been in here since the flash floods that blew out a part of the access route, although that was above the launch site.

The launch site is on a small creek that only has enough water to float a canoe for the last 50 yards. There is a strong, low autumn sun, and as I settle into the canoe, it causes the sand on the bottom of the creek to shine golden. I paddle out through a floating carpet of orange and yellow leaves. My outlook on the day soars.

I head upriver into the wind.  I've been wanting to check this section of the river to see the effect of the floods. It is a bit of a grind into the wind, but only for short spells. Just as often, the forested hillside absorbs the breeze and I end up moving along quite well. 
The first sign of the floods is near the Shelf, a bank to bank cobble bar that I am more than familiar with. The current is accelerated as it passes over the Shelf, and in high water it can be impossible to get up past it. A large pile of drift wood and whole trees is on the river left bank. It is a good ten feet high, and there is a large tree, roots and all, in the yard in front of the nearest house.

I continue up noting a good number of trees that washed down and were caught by the edge of the forest. It looks like the water in this narrow section might have been six or eight feet higher, and it would certainly have been a torrent.

The rapids section comes next. This is a minor class 1 (if that) rapids of maybe 200 yards in length. From shore it would look the same as it always has, but from the canoe it is different. The water has fewer eddies or pillows, the area around the boulders that cause the disturbances being filled in with gravels and sand, at least for the short term. A hundred yards into that and I can see the cause. There is a new metal bridge, which looks temporary to me, on RT 34. A ravine that I never before noticed flooded and blew the entire road away leaving piles of sand with large fragments of asphalt next to the river. A shadow overtakes me, and I look up and watch a Bald Eagle head upriver to a perch. There is a second Eagle nearby.

Short Day in the Wind

I put in on what I call, Housatonic 3. It is the stretch of river above the second dam, with the tidal section being Housatonic 1. Also known as Lake Zoar, the touristy paddling websites will tell you that it is one of the better places to go canoeing. It is not. While it does have some forest preserve shoreline, it does not make up for the rather junky shoreline development that most likely started as cabins fifty or sixty years ago, each of which seems to have a beat up dock and a pile of neglected small boats, lawn furniture and float toys. I tolerate this a couple times of year, just to check out an interesting tributary or some of the coves.

Today, the main interest was to check out the shoreline for signs of the flash floods that occurred a month or so ago. I put in at the state boat ramp, planning to head down to Kettletown State Park. I sometimes launch at the park, but it is closed indefinitely as the road leading to the park was blown away during the floods, as was Route 34, which I normally use to reach this area and the next river section above.

It is a particularly fine day to be outside, but it might not be so good for canoeing as it is quite windy. I cross the river to the shelter of the far shore. The wind is no big deal up close to the forested hillside. I paddle close by dozens of junk docks. As I pass the last dock, a Great Blue Heron flushes from nearby. When I get down to Kettletown, I turn out to cross the river. Then, the wind hits me. The waves are no problem, the wind is just skittering across the surface at something close to 20 mph. It is an upwind paddle to get back, and I decide to get going in that direction just in case the wind gets worse.

About half of the way back is a bit of a claw, the rest being unusually protected. Across from my start, I assess the situation again. I have something I'd like to check upriver, but it is a mile of straight into the wind to do it. Time to call it a day. A pair of Red Tail Hawks fly over as I turn towards the put-in.

Mattebasset with E

My artist friend, E, joined me today. We met a couple years ago and I don't think we've seen each other more than one time since. I also had some artwork to return to her, and it turns out that I have paddle past her house before.

We put in on the Coginchaug. It is a sunny day, but autumn is here and the temperature will hit a high of 60F. There is also a stiff wind, maybe a dozen mph or so, but it is coming down the Mattebasset, so it will make for an easy return. The water level is low right now, as we've had little rain in the Connecticut River watershed. As I tell E, the Connecticut River rules as far as the water levels in the Cogichaug and Mattebasset. If the Connecticut is high, these two rivers just back up, sometimes to the point that you can leave the river and paddle through the bottom land forest.

The Coginchaug is just to shallow right now for an upstream trip of any length, so we head down. We're going to talk a lot, about a lot of different stuff. I've been taking new art friends canoeing for several years, precisely because being in a canoe together, and working as a team, seems to make the conversation flow. Besides the art-stuff and what-your-background-is-stuff, I'll give E a good introduction to the marsh, as this is my kind of turf.

The Big Lodge seems to be in use. The beaver were flooded out by repeated floods last year, and while the lodge is a little ramshackle on the outside, there is a fresh trail leading up the side of the lodge, a sign that the beaver have been adding material.

We spot the first Great Blue Heron, of maybe a dozen that we see on the trip.

We turn up the Mattebasset when we get there and fight the wind through the open area known as the Great Meadow, to people that look at old maps. There is a bank burrow just as we get to the trees. I'd seen this before, but couldn't be sure if it was in use. I explain why and how the burrow was made by the beaver, and how to spot one - they look like a pile of dumped tree prunings. This one is being mud fortified with a defensive branch pile in the water, which should be protecting an entrance tunnel that is exposed by the low water.

We continue up the wooded section of the river. The Point Lodge is in use. This lodge was built after the flooding and it has grown some in size. There are fresh clipped branches with green leaves in the food stash next to the lodge.

We continue up to the higher put-in by the Dunkin Donuts. With that, we turn around and get the wind at our back.  More Herons, one Flicker, one Kingfisher, a female Wood Duck, a pretty nice trip.

As a bonus I get treated to an excellent grilled cheese sandwich.

The Unexpected

The intention was to visit the main entrance channel leading into the center of Nell's Island. I made it through the maze of pannes and channels on my last trip, and noticed that the entrance channels had cut banks due to fairly strong tidal currents. I am using old glass bottles as a dating method for estimating the rate of soil deposition in the marsh, and cut banks are ideal as I can measure the depth of the bound bottle.

The tide has been coming in for about an hour. It is sunny, 60F, with a light west wind. The lower angle of the sun at this time of year makes the Egrets look even more spectacular than usual.

But, canoes are not the ideal vessel for getting things to go as planned. Not far into my paddle down Nell's Channel, I begin finding new specimens. 

Specimen 17
100 yards down Nell's Chan. River-left, 15 inches deep
Brown glass crown top beer bottle

Specimen 18
Half way down upper island in Nell's Chan. River-left (west side of island), 18 inches deep, clear glass screw top Owens-Illinois bottle, possibly pharmaceutical - reminds me of a big vitamin bottle

Specimen 18

Specimen 19
50 Yards down from #18 and same side of island, 18 inches deep, found in a near vertical orientation (this is unusual) clear glass Owens-Illinois crown top soda bottle

Specimen 20
River-right on Nell's Island where the channel bends west. Glass Snapple bottle, 3 inches deep.

There are a dozen or so Great Egrets and a couple Snowy Egrets in this area. Fish striking the surface shows that there might be a schooling of smaller fish. I turn up the main interior entrance channel to Nell's Island. I come across a large sandpiper type bird, larger than a Willet, and rather tame in that it tolerates me within a couple canoe lengths. It is most definitely an unexpected sighting.

Juvenile Hudsonian Godwit

Specimen 21
Nell's main interior entrance channel, about 200 yards in, river-right, 14 inches deep, plastic 6-pack ring

Specimen 22
Nell's main interior channel, about 50 yards in, river-left, 7 inches deep, fragments of a glass Coca-Cola bottle

I exit Nell's Island and head back upriver, taking the side entry channel, as I usually do.

Specimen 23
Nell's Side channel entrance, river-right, 6 inches deep, another plastic 6-pack ring, with one ring torn.

Specimen 24
River-right, triangle cut-off at the top of the marsh, estimated 5 inches deep in a partially slumped bank, green glass crown top soda bottle

The Nell's Island Maze

I headed into the Wheeler Marsh. I'm making a map and needed a better idea of where the cut banks are and where the shoreline tends toward mudflat. I put in about 2 hours before high tide on a sunny day with a fresh breeze coming downriver. 

When I reach the marsh, I realize that this isn't the best time to be assessing the banks, as they are already mostly submerged.

I head up my inner sneak to the Central Phragmites patsh, finding a drift log blocking the last fifty yards. It is not really a drift log, it just looks like one. There is a rusty eyebolt and hook on the back side of the log, and it would be a pretty rare occurrence for a log to get where it is. Hunting season is just starting and I am pretty sure that this is a "road block" from the fish and game people. This location is a popular site for the Night Herons, and the log is probably a clever way to prevent someone from setting up a hunting blind on Night Heron turf. 

Mylar balloon stabathon...before and after

 

Night Herons are definitely the most numerous bird today, and i will spot a total of about fifty. Most are young, but there are also some adults - both Yellow Crowns and Black Crowns. 

I head out and continue around the marsh. I find a pair of Goose hunters in the lower marsh. They are wading about for some unknown reason, and figuring out that they don't want to wade in the Wheeler muck. I continue on to Nell's Channel. With the tide still rising, this is a perfect time to explore the interior of the island, which is a maze of channels and ponds. And, it really is a maze.

It is possible to cross the island, and I have done it west to east.  It is more challenging east to west, however. There are a good number of birds on the island - largely because I am probably the only person to come in here in a month or more. I flush a flock of 10 Green Wing Teal, many more Night Herons, severl Mallards, and when I stand up to see if I can find the exit channel, eight Great Blue Herons from a fairly small area. I do notice that the main interior channel on the island has cut banks, so I need to come in here when the water is lower.

After a half dozen wrong guesses, I find my way out into the main river , and head back upstream.

Up to Wooster Island

My last canoe trip was one of continuous beaver dam crossings - twenty two crossings in just six and a half miles. I barely had time to paddle before having to step out and pull the canoe over a dam. I picked today's route accordingly.

I put in under the highway bridge on the far side of town. The tide was coming in and had about 2 hours to go. I would have both the light wind and the tide at my back as I headed upriver. I cut across to the narrow channel between Peacock and Carting Islands, spotting six Great Egrets and two Great Blue Herons on the way. I wondered if it would be a Great Bird day. In the narrow channel, I flushed a few Mallards, and one Green Heron, which would fly ahead a hundred yards at a time, until I reached the top of the islands. 

I recrossed the river just because I prefer the quieter channel east of Fowler Island.

I saw few birds until I got up to the nameless island above the 15 bridge. There were good numbers of Great Egrets, Great Blue Herons, and one Snowy Egret, for good measure. Between here and the top of Wooster Island, a distance of two miles, I spotted about two dozen each of the Great Egrets and Great Blue Herons. Ripples in the water told why they were here. There were large schools of small fish, perfect food for the waders. And they were waiting... for the tide to go out. The high water was up against the bank, but as it dropped, the fish would be easy prey from the shore.

I took a turn around Wooster Island and headed back, following the opposite shore from my trip up. It made for a four hour trip without having to get out of the canoe.

Beaver Dam-o-rama

Driving over the Route 22 bridge, I glance over to check the river level. This is the only view of the river until I put in. It looks low.

The East Branch of the Croton River

At the Patterson put-in, the river does look low, but not obscenely so. A hundred yards down, I pass through a broken beaver dam, and then step over four more before getting a quarter mile in. These are all low minimal dams - 3 to 4 inches high, but they are structural and I have to get out and stand on the dams to drag the canoe over. The river is narrow, and sometimes the open channel is just barely wider than the canoe. I laugh to myself that if I had brought someone here for the first time, they would look at me and ask, "What river?" Anyway, it might be narrow, but the water is more than deep enough for paddling. 

An ominously open patch of water

Just as the river bends away from Pine Island, I cross my 7th beaver dam. It is obvious to me that the 13 mile round trip down to Green Chimneys and back is not going to happen today. This is going to be a slow picking away at the problem trip and making it down to the Route 22 bridge, the halfway point, will be enough. I'm fairly sure that these low dams will disappear when the river level comes back up. To me, they look more like a water conservation project to hold back some water until it we get some rain.

Dam #8 seen from below

The river widens some. This is an ominous sign. I pass a beaver lodge, then flush forty Wood Ducks. That is a good sign. The swamp seems to be a major stopover point for migrating Woodies. One fall, I spotted over 600 (six hundred) in the 3 miles below the  22 bridge. In fact, today the only Ducks that I will see are Wood Ducks. Of course, dam #8 appears at the bottom of this wide spot in the river. It is about a foot and a half high. I flush a pair of Ring Neck Pheasants. It has been years since I've seen them. They were introduced in the 1880's as a game bird.

With all the dams, all the stepping out and problem solving, I have to remind myself to look around and enjoy this spectacular place.

Dam #9 seen from below

A bit father on is dam #9, also about a foot and a half high. In this next stretch, I pass a well built beaver lodge with excellent and recent mudwork on the exterior. Usually, you don't see that amount of applied mud until closer to winter.  A lodge usually indicates a coming dam. Dam #10 is very well built, about two feet high, and sealed with a thick layer of mud on the upstream side. It is obvious that this dam and the lodge were built by the same colony - "mud" is their middle name.

Dam #11 from below

I sit at #10 for a few minutes. It is about a quarter mile to the 22 bridge, which is today's turn-around point. I decide to keep going, and this dam turns out to be an easy crossing due to some wood and firm ground on the left end. 

Dam #11 shows up, hiding just around the next bend. Then after a bit a of maze work through some low water and drift wood, I come to Dam #12. 12 is an old dam that fell out of use for several years and the beaver have come in and refurbished it. It still isn't holding back any water. I suspect there is an end run that the beaver haven't located, yet.

Dam #12 is close enough, with the 22 bridge not much more than a hundred yards away, hidden in the trees, but there just the same. I turn and start retracing my route. On the way back, I spot a Great Blue Heron and a Pileated Woodpecker, and a very noisy Hawk.

Adjective Hunting

I turn the first bend and the word, pastoral, comes to mind. If a river could be pastoral, this would be it. But it's not the right word, almost, but not. I haven't been here in awhile. I pull my camera out, and see that I haven't cleaned the lens in awhile. 

It is a beautiful day with a 50/50 cloudy sky, temperatures in the upper 60's, and just enough wind to shake acorns from the overhanging trees. Plop, plop, plop, one every few seconds landing in the river.

Coming into the Gravel Flats the bow of my canoe patters. There is a leaf wrapped around the stem upsetting the usual clean slicing of the canoe through the water. I don't feel like backing up to clear it, so I watch ahead for the first floating stick or reed. When I run the reed over, the canoe moves silently once more.

There is still some tide coming in when I get to the Clapboard Hill Bridge.  Most of my downstream paddle will be on slack high water. I spot some Yellow Legs at the Big Bends, plus the second Great Blue Heron, the second Great Egret, and a pair of Snowy Egrets that fly off as a pair to a panne on the other side of the river, and some more Yellow Legs.

I see my first Osprey as I come out from under the railroad bridge. There mostly gone south now, but there's always a few that stay late. I head off of the main river using the side sneak into Bailey Creek. There are three more Osprey perched on the little island that the side sneak sneaks around. This is a good spot to find Black Ducks, and I flush a dozen. I see the Blacks as a pretty shy Duck, flushing fro a good distance, and often before they can see me. This spot is a good hide for them as few people know they can get back here, and it is too close to houses, so it's off limits to Duck hunters.

I head down Bailey Creek to its confluence with the  East River, passing a small outboard inflatable that is heading into Bailey. They catch up with me when I am about a half mile up the East, and while I do appreciate their sticking to the 6 mph speed limit, it does take a month of Sundays for them to pass me. Tired of that, I take a side channel into the Sneak. ' nuf with that noise.

I take a brief side trip up to the Pomeroy Dam remains. I've learned a lot more about early dams and mills since I first found the ruins. The dam ran a sawmill during the Civil War period. 

It does not have a mill race, like most mills/dams in the area. The water exited through a stone channel at the bottom of the dam. I once thought that they must have had an undershot wheel, which is a very inefficient power wheel, but since learned that turbines, which are very efficient, were common at the time. Still, I am impressed by the tiny trickle of a brook that they backed up to run the mill.

Wheeler on a Dropping Tide

The tide is about halfway out when I put in under the big highway bridge. It is an easy and quick paddle down to the marsh. It is a fine day, mostly cloudy with little wind and a temperature around 70F. I flush two dozen Mallards from the shoreline weeds as I go.

Eight Yellow-Legs wait for me at the top of the marsh. As I head over to one of my favorite sneak entrances,  I spot three young Night Herons up one of the inlets, all sitting on their own wooden piling.

I take the side entrance to Nell's Channel, and then follow the East of Nell's Channel Channel down. Spot a Snowy Egret on the way. At the bottom of that channel, I magically pick out the correct channel that takes me through the fragmentation of low islands that form the lower marsh. A Harrier flies past, and a Cormorant takes that as a cue to move. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a small Duck on shore, and then think it might be a Rail, as it didn't fly off, but rather walked back into the spartina. Fifty yards on, I spot another Clapper Rail, which confirms the first. Unlike the Yellow Legs, which feed at the edge of the water, the Rails are feeding where the mud flat meets the spartina. I pass a dozen Great Egrets on this stretch, a few more young Night Herons, and one Great Blue Heron. 

Clapper Rail - center of photo

At the east shore, I turn upriver and head towards Beaver Creek. The water is low enough to limit my options, but the creek will be good. 

Flush a few more young Night Herons in the creek, and spot four Osprey. These are the only Osprey sightings for the day.

As I head back out to the river, I spot three bottles. This is right near where I located a Borden's Milk bottle and I suspect that this might actually be a trash dump. Anyway, everything has a 1950--1960 sense about it, and two of the bottles are brands of soda pop that I've never heard of. Only one of the bottles is still embedded in the bank, but I collect them all as they might help pin down a date on the Borden's bottle.

Virginia Dare soda pop bottle

Day 100

It's new canoe pants day. Summer canoe pants are good for two seasons, maybe. They're specialty wear - they have to be reasonably sturdy, dry reasonably fast (no denim), and be reasonably cheap, because no matter what I pay, they'll die after two seasons of wading, and paddling from a kneeling position. So, for the next few trips, I am a fashion plate.

The day is windy enough to seek out forested rivers. I put the Mattabesett aside in the summer for just such an occasion.

I put in on the Coginchaug. I've never before started from here, but my usual put-in about a hour upriver is in some sort of construction project. The tide is out, way out. I would've gone up the Coginchaug for a starter, but the water is lower than I've ever seen it, and I know I will run out of river not too far up. So, I head down to the Mattabesett right away. I spot several Great Blue Herons - good fishing for them with the low water. It's clear that it'll be a dozen Great Blue Heron kind of day. 

At the confluence of the two rivers, I spot an Osprey and a couple more Herons. A flock of Sandpipers speeds in and circles back - they're not Sandpipers, rather they are Green Winged Teal... the migration is on. 

Bearded Beggartick

The tide is coming in and I have a little bit of current with me. There is a decent crop of wild rice. I wasn't sure what I would find given that the Pine Brook patch of wild rice, up in Salmon River, was totally zero'd by last summer's floods. At least, that is what I assumed. This area had the same level of flooding, the water being about 15 ft higher than it is today. So, there is something more complicated than flooding. Perhaps it is that the Pine Brook patch was a mono-crop, and here the rice grows up through a wide variety of marsh plants. There are a ton of yellow flowers in the marsh today. It's much too late for marsh marigold (I look them up later, they seem to be Bearded Beggartick).

I head up a bit past the usual put-in. Somewhere in the last few minutes, I paddled out of the tide and I now have normal river current coming at me. For some reason, I started thinking about the time I counted 600 Wood Ducks over in the Great Swamp, and I flush two dozen Wood Ducks.  The migration is on - they're usually in pairs, or maybe four or five. I run out of water about that point, so I turn around.

"Curiouser and curiouser," cried Alice

I recently ran across something that I had written several years ago, "What if the meaning of life is to keep wondering what the meaning of life is."  This morning I was reading a profile of a novelist, someone I've never read, and someone whose name I can't remember. From the profile, I got the idea that the two of us might think alike about lot of things. Which means, if we ever meet, we will either love each other, or hate each other. But, the profile jogged me into thinking about exploration, and curiosity. And that is what that first line about the meaning of life was about, curiosity... what if the meaning of life is to stay curious. I am an engineer that became an artist. Or, maybe I was an artist who unwittingly became an engineer, and then ended up where I belonged. But, in both of those fields, the people that I count as friends are, by nature, curious. Those friends continue to examine, seek out, explore and experiment as a way of life. They've managed families, careers and a score of other big obligations and still remain curious about some thing, many things, the world. 

I needed an exploration, and if it wasn't going to be an all new place to me, then it needed to be someplace that I haven't seen recently. I put in on the Somersville Mill Pond. It's been at least two years since I was last here, maybe three. The Scantic River runs through the pond. It is 38 miles of narrow river that is mostly difficult to access, and when you can access it, the distance that you can travel without canoe wrestling is limited. There is a large Bald Eagle perched in a tree where the river enters the pond. I take it as a good sign.

The pond has a thick layer of algae and frog moss, except for the 30 ft wide clear channel where the current, which is very minimal, moves. It surprises me how little current is necessary to clear a path in the pond. As soon as I hit the river, teh pond scum goes away. Dipping a finger in the water, I am surprised by how cool it is. Near the first bridge, I spot some fish darting below. They like the cool water, they're active and moving with speed.

This river can be a bear to get up. Narrow as it is, storms often drop trees that cross the river blocking the passage or requiring step-overs or limbos. I get one narrow step-over before I reach the old beaver pond. There is no hint of the dam that once held the pond. Usually, beaver dam ruins last for quite some time - years or decades. The old pond is lush. It is in a post-beaver pond stage. The water is down a foot or so and a new and thick growth of shrubs and other wetland plants are filling in the higher spots while the cattails hold their own at the water's edge. I take the round about river-left channel, which is open and easy paddling. 

Above the former beaver pond the river meanders tightly. Fortunately, local paddlers have been in here and the old problematic deadfalls have all been cut. I takes one easy wade to make it up to the second bridge. It gets even tighter above the second bridge, but the going is easy. I get up to my former high point, a series of tight bends next to a hobby farm with a few horses. Looking ahead, I spot a couple of two foot diameter deadfalls at the next bend. The river is pretty narrow and often shallow at this point and without some beaver ponding, there's no point in continuing.

An Easy Day in the Salt Marsh

S needed to sleep in, so we get a late start. The wind has come up some, enough so that the local marsh will be more work than either of us needs. At least, other than the wind, it is a perfect day for canoeing - sunny and mid 70's.

We put in on the Menunketusuck. The tide is still going out, but it is getting pretty low. Fortunately, the river is canoeable at low tide with the shallowest water right off of the put-in. If there is enough water to float the first 50 yards, there will be enough water everywhere.

We head down river through the salt marsh with a 10-15mph wind in our face. With the low tide, we don't have expansive views, but even so, it seems that there are not too many birds about. We spot a Snowy Egret on the way. I take us to the railroad bridge as there is, nearby, a popular perching spot where I usually see several of the large waders. It is a zero today. 

We head back and take the east fork. There we find ten Great Egrets and three Snowys in the marsh below Opera Singer Point. We head most of the way up the fork, until it starts to get shallow and narrow, and then turn around and head out. 

We saw about a dozen Yellow Legs, some smaller Sandpipers, a dozen Great Egrets, and four Snowy Egrets. Of note, we saw no Osprey or Eagles and no Little Blue Herons or Glossy Ibises. The birds that were here appeared to be eating well with lots of small fish and crab at the water's edge.

It was a very casual trip.

The Environmentalist Approves

I put in on Pond Brook, head down the cove that it has become, turn down river, and round the point to head up another river. It is sunny. It is calm. The water is as smooth as it could be. 

I don't see any birds until I am 45 minutes out. It is a flock of Mallards.

I get to the Moneybags's house. When I first paddled in here, this spot held a dilapidated building that might have been storage for some road or farm machinery. After Moneybags bought the lot, there was about a year of earth moving followed by building, more earth moving and more building. The Moneybags's built themselves a big ass house/mansion, kind of in a style that suggested that they had never been here. In fact, I've never seen anyone there except for grounds keepers. The window blinds are perpetually closed. The barbecue pit, the pool, and the patio unoccupied. Each summer a waterski boat, a pontoon boat, and two jet ski things arrive. They never move. They even put in a small beach, which washed away in the first big rain. They installed drain tiling and put the beach back in. There are no beaches in this part of the river - it is valley with steep glacial till hillsides. The shoreline is boulders and cobbles. The Moneybags's are one with nature. They have fake plastic Swans and a fake plastic fox to scare Geese away. They have those spinning wire bird scaring doohickeys on top of their boats. Today, there is a large flock of non-migratory Canada Geese at the Moneybags's estate. They are eating grass and pooping amongst the plastic fox and plastic Swans. A Gull perches on top of the pontoon boat, a quart of white bird shit splattered all over the navy blue fabric. The environmentalist in me approves.

I reach the cascades in an hour and a quarter - a record time, which is due to the calm water. Canoes do move faster in smooth water. There's not much water coming through the cascades today. I take a short break, then turn around and head out.

Quinebaug

My first trip to the Quinebaug was earlier this summer and it was time for a second visit.  Visiting a river is one thing, knowing it quite another, and it will take a lot more than 2 trips to know this one.

S joined me today. My records showed her to be overdue for a canoe trip. We put in at the Corps of Engineers ramp at the bottom of Long Lake. From there, it is a short paddle over to a tunnel that takes us under the highway and into Brimfield Lake. Then it is a half mile over to the mouth of the river. Long Lake is clear, but Brimfield is quite weedy. When I was here in June, there were no obvious weeds other than pond shield (I'm not sure what it is, but the leaf reminds me of pond shield) and pond lilies. 

The river also has a pretty good growth of weeds. Mostly it is the pond shield growth. It doesn't slow the canoe down and there is usually a clear open water path. Autumn is starting to show on the bordering shrubs and marsh plants with leaves hinting at tans and golds. The other difference that I notice is the large number of game trails leading to the water. I notice more beaver activity this time. I'm sure they were here in June, but this time I notice. We pass two broken dams, and then turning a bend not much higher, we find a new 2 foot high dam. It is new enough that a lot of the branches it is built from still have green leaves. It is an awkward crossing. I perch S on a small patch of firm ground at the end of the dam and then pull the canoe over. The dam is still quite narrow, probably because it is new and hasn't been reinforced too many times. 

We continue on up to Holland Pond, which is the end of any water big enough for a canoe. We've seen no one other than a woman with two toddlers on a patch of beach at the pond. After a short break, we turn and head back. 

We try to run the beaver dam, making it about halfway over, but with a quick step out and push from myself, we're on our way.

Things to Do

You know, there's always things that you should be doing. Over coffee and breakfast, I thought about the things I should be doing. And then, I loaded up my canoe and went canoeing, because I was wondering what I might miss seeing.

It is a very nice day, perfect for canoeing aside from a little more wind than is ideal. By the end of the trip, as I head back upstream, I should have the wind in my face and the tidal current at my back.

With the tide out, I keep my eyes peeled for Clapper Rails. The best place to look for them is on the mudflats between stands of spartina that serve for cover. I head down Nell's Channel and spot a Rail in one of the first mud flat openings. Then, I veer off of Nell's and take the Left of Nell's Channel Channel. There is a good number of Great Blue Herons and Snowy Egrets. The Snowys often feed by shuffling their feet on the bottom to kick up little edible critters. The low tide is perfect for them. 

Liquor bottle ca 1920 or earlier

I cut across over to Nell's as I get near Milford Point, and then return up Nell's. My short trip gets interrupted when I spot a bottle. It is 2 ft. down in a cut bank, so it can be used for estimating deposition. It's mold formed with large bubbles in the glass, and the glass is not particularly thick. It is embossed with the volume, 1qt. 9 fluid oz. Part of the cork is inside. It's probably not a beer or wine bottle, most likely a liquor bottle and no newer than 1920 (large glass bubbles are a pre-1920 thing). It dovetails right into my estimate of 50 years to the foot for deposition. 

Home Brewing bottle

I take my usual side route out of Nell's, and find another bottle. It is marked Home Brewing, Bridgeport. It is in a cut bank that appears to have settled. The bottle design should date it to the 1950's or 60's...and it should be a beer bottle. Right across the channel is another bottle, a liquor bottle from about the same period, but it is out of the bank, so it is useless for deposition.

Borden's milk bottle

I exit the shortcut and turn out toward the river...and spot another bottle. It is square, well embedded in the cut bank and about 15 inches deep. It is a Borden's milk bottle, with the "Borden's" printed on the glass. I have to do a little research, but I'm guessing it will be one of the last of the glass milk bottles - probably 1960's or so. 

From there, I power into the wind a mile back to my starting point.