I'm not a morning person. I never have been, and I sincerely doubt I ever will be. So it should come as little surprise that again, I was late getting up. Between waging a war with an island full of seagulls and repairing my sleeping pad in the dark, I really didn't get enough sleep, especially for someone who had just finished 28ish miles of paddling. I was woken up at around 6:30 by the squawking of a seagull. Turns out, a pair of the chicks had wandered directly into the middle of my camp, and the parents were having none of it. It took me another hour to drag myself out of bed and start getting ready.
In what's becoming a serious problem, eating just about anything is making me nauseous. I forced myself to eat breakfast, hoping that I wasn't feeling well because of hunger, but I quickly discovered that no, my stomach just hates me. I packed up camp slowly, loaded my boat, launched around 9, and immediately regretted eating breakfast. It had been almost an hour since I'd eaten, but my stomach was just not having it. I paddled for about an hour, constantly ready to brace in the event that I had to feed the fish some pre-chewed breakfast, but thankfully I didn't and eventually it got better. Note to self: leave more time for breakfast.
Once I was on the water, the lingering soreness from yesterday quickly went away. While my stomach and sleep schedule were taking a beating, at least my muscles were adjusting. After going through two days worth of water, my boat was also lightening up and beginning to behave normally again. Despite the rough start, it seemed today would be a good day.
Due to my horrendously late start, I really needed to push to get around Pemaquid Point before strong winds kicked up, as it had a reputation for being a rough area for paddlers. Nothing noteworthy happened all morning, until I was rounding the point. The waves around the point were building up, and I pretty quickly understood why I had heard so many warnings about it. The shore is a steep rock face, so when waves hit it, they reflect back at odd angles, causing very confusing water. Just as I was entering the worst of it, a lobster boat heading out to the buoy around 200 yards off the point decided to take a sharp right turn, cutting between the buoy and shore, around 50 feet from me. As if the reflecting waves weren't enough, now I was dealing with a huge wake as well. Lesson learned: lobster men could not care less about any thing that doesn't have their lobster pot attached to it.
I got around the point at just about the perfect time, because as soon as I started heading up the coast, the wind and the waves started picking up it was fun to surf up the coast for the most part, but when the whitecaps started spraying I got a little concerned. I had been out in heavy wind just a few days ago, but not with nearly as much fetch, so the waves now were much larger. By the time I reached the first little crossing to head out to my campsite, I was pretty confident surfing along on the waves, but crossing would be a whole different story; I would have to deal with them coming directly from the side. I stopped in a cove to check to see if there were campsites nearby. As it happened, there was one right where I was crossing. I was already aiming for my backup campsite for various reasons, but at least now I had a backup to my backup.
I zigzagged my way across, turning slightly into and away from the waves so I wouldn't risk getting caught straight on the side and capsizing. I reached the other side and realized I had mis judged the tides a bit. The bar between two islands that I had hoped would be covered was maybe 2 inches too shallow for me. I had to hop out, wade across holding the boat, try not to slip in the seaweed, and hop back in. Typically it wouldn't be that exciting, but I had waves coming from both sides of the bar and smashing together in the middle. I continued on, despite the wavy conditions. The last crossings were the most difficult stretch of the day, with big waves coming from the side in rapid succession. I made it without capsizing, gained some confidence in rough water, and took a way longer nap in my hammock than expected. I'd call today a success.
61 miles down, 160 (ish) to go.
No comments:
Post a Comment