Deer Isle, ME or What Was That Thing? I was planning on going to the Atlantic Coast Sea Kayaking Symposium in Castine, ME. from 7/10 thru 7/12 and wanted to get in a couple of days of paddling before that. I took off at noon on Wed for the 5 hour drive to Deer Isle, an hour or so above Castine but not quite as far as Acadia National Park. Driving past the small coves along the road on Deer Island around 5pm it was obvious the tide was out. There was no water anywhere, just mud and sand flats with a little tiny channel that looked like a giant anaconda had slithered by a short time earlier. I missed the turnoff for my campground and while driving around noticed the ol' fuel gauge was on the wrong side of empty and spent the next 15 minutes going from one closed gas station to the next. 5 o'clock and everything seemed to be closed already, not that there was very much in the area to close. Guess this isn't one of your touristy areas. About the time I started thinking about where the 1-800 number for my truck's service plan was, I found a gas pump still open. It was after 7 when I finished setting up camp, ate and took a shower. I headed down towards Stonington which is a popular Maine sea kayaking area. There are 30-40 islands pretty close to each other within a 10x15 mile or so area, many of which are part of the Maine Island Trail. I found a town ramp without too much of a problem but couldn't find a place to park. The only other apparent deep water was taken by commercial activities. (I found a parking area the next day at the ferry to Isle Au Haut, an island further out, part of which is included in the Acadia National Park). Oh well! Maybe I'll get back sometime after the season is over and things are less crowded. I headed out around 7am the next morning (Thursday) to find a suitable putin. A suitable putin is one where I don't have to lug or drag the kayak a great distance to water. A great distance is anything over 150 feet. Again, most of the coves I checked out were either bone dry or contained lobster docks, etc. I did come across a few deer so I guess the island's name is appropriate. I eventually made my way back north a ways to Little Deer Island where I found a nice steep gravel beach with water around 8am. Good enough for me. I tried to match up my road map to the chart and after a couple minutes figured out the top half of Deer Island was not on the chart. Oh well, the cove or bay was fairly large, 3-4 miles to the fartherest point with many islands off in the distance. It was a nice sunshiny day with little wind so I would be happy just paddling around the area. I saw maybe a dozen seals in the water (or maybe the same seal a dozen times?). Around mid-morning I saw something out of the corner of my eye about 50 yards away and thought it was a seal that had just dived so I stopped to see if it would come up again. It did but it had a dorsal fin. Flipper! I bet that was Flipper! Hey Flipper, over here! I haven't seen a porpoise before and waited impatiently for it to surface again. But it didn't. Hmmm, maybe it wasn't a porpoise after all. If it wasn't a porpoise what was it? What else has a dorsal fin that would be sticking up out of the water? Uh oh! It must be a shark! A kayak crushing, bone crunching, man eating, 25 foot, 4,000 pound, monster white shark and me a half mile from any shore. I immediately got my feet on the pedals, knees and thighs against the deck and started reviewing the little I knew about bracing. I got my paddle ready to jam down the shark's throat for when Jaws surfaced and came at me with its mouth wide open. And then I saw the dorsal fin about 75 yards away as the beast surfaced and dove, and then surfaced and dove again. Well, maybe it wasn't 4,000 pounds and maybe it wasn't really 25 feet long. Maybe it was a porpoise after all. Actually it might be a small porpoise in the 75-100 pound range. But it didn't surface again so I'm not really sure what the hell I saw. About an hour later it did surface and dove twice more, about 10 yards in front of me. I never saw its head, just about 2-3 feet of back and the dorsal fin. It was much darker than the gray I associate with dolphins. The rest of the day was just leisurely breaks, leisurely paddling, leisurely lunch and a leisurely trip back. I got back a little early and wanted to practice some braces (after the close encounter with that monster shark) but the wind picked up and it cooled off. Instead, I worked on a sling for self rescues. I had brought a piece of PVC and included it for a stirrup and will carry the whole sling inside the float bag in case it's ever needed. I managed to lose my keys again. After taking a load of gear up to the truck and unlocking it, for some reason I put the keys in a little slit in my Aquaterra spray skirt. This may be a good place for keys while you're wearing it but not when it's being carried. I found the keys on the beach after a few minutes. I have a Yakima rack and like to hang the wet suit, PFD, spray skirt, wet shirts, etc. on the ends to give them a chance to dry a little while I'm puttering around after a take out. I had driven about 10 miles at 40-45mph when all of a sudden it dawned on me that I hadn't put the wet suit in the truck. When I pulled over, sure enough, there it was (fortunately), all wrapped around the rack. That's the second time I've done that in the past couple of weeks. Friday morning was foggy, windy and in the 60's with about a half mile of visibility. I went back to the same beach and figured I'd just hug the far shore for a couple of hours and then head back and get an early start for the symposium. After a half hour of paddling I came to a rocky outcrop pointing out into the cove/bay with what looked to be gravestones on top so I decided to investigate. I climbed up on the knoll and sure enough, it was a small cemetery with stones from 1809 thru 1871. I'm standing there, looking at gravestones, the wind is howling (kinda), mist and fog are swirling around and it occurs to me this is the stuff Gothic horror stories are made of and I half expect a ghost to come up and tap me on the shoulder. I turn around to see a van coming across a small field towards me and my first thought is 'Busted again'. A very old, very tall, very thin (cadaverous?) man gets out of the van followed by a young guy (his keeper?). Oh Gawd! Did I escape from that homungous shark yesterday only to be carted off to the dungeon of some haunted castle? It turns out the old guy has just bought the cemetery and the young guy is a surveyor. They plan on restoring the boundries, etc. and he's going to move his people in??? I left as quickly as possible for fear he might want me to stay too. Shortly after, I rounded a point and came to a nice beach with 1-2 chop out there. The wind was still blowing about 15 knots and was still in the 60's. It did look like a good place to practice self rescues but it was also pretty cold. Finally I beached, unloaded everything including a dry bag in the rear hatch. Notice that I'm not saying anything about closing up the rear hatch. I took off my fleece shirt and vest and just kept my Duofold T-shirt and wetsuit on. I paddle out a ways and start arguing with my body that dumping out here in these conditions is really a good thing. My body wanted no parts of that logic and I couldn't bring myself to do it. So I paddle back to shore, get out and wade back out into the chop. When I get about chest deep, I attach the paddle float, inflate it and pull myself up on the cockpit (sorry George). The boat's bouncing around a little but I just hold myself there for a moment to prove how cool and unconcerned I am. I swing around to the stern, pause for another moment of coolness and then complete the rescue. That was so easy I decide to do it again. I use the paddle float to help 'step out' and then pull up behind the cockpit this time. As I pause to be cool again I notice the hatch cover flapping around in the water. Then a wave washes over the stern and the rear hatch fills about halfway with water (the cockpit is already full). I have whitewater float bags in the forward and rear hatches that fill the hold about three quarters of the way leaving room for some stuff. As I swing around towards the stern, another wave washes over me, filling the rear hatch the rest of the way. As I try to maneuver my legs into the cockpit, the bow raises in the air as the stern (and me) slowly sink beneath the water, just like the Titantic. By now the kayak is pretty close to shore. When I roll off of it, I'm on the shore side so naturally get a pretty good rap on the shin from the kayak with the next surge. After dancing around for a minute I try to roll the boat over and it won't budge. I bailed 25% of the water out and then let the surge help me lift the boat up and empty the rest. I paddled around in mild fog for the rest of the day and then headed to Castine, ME for the symposium. *************************************************************************** PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List Submissions: paddlewise_at_lists.intelenet.net Subscriptions: paddlewise-request_at_lists.intelenet.net Website: http://www.gasp-seakayak.net/paddlewise/ ***************************************************************************
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