Maine Island Trail - Day 9 - June 25th

As I attempted to drag myself out of my nice warm tent this morning, I realized I had forgotten something rather important in my kayak: my shoes. I had wandered around in flip flops all of yesterday afternoon. It was around 50 degrees out, and I was not going to subject my feet to that, so I hopped right back in bed for another hour. Probably not the best plan when I was supposed to paddle 27 miles, but I'd make it work. The weather was supposed to be fantastic, so I wasn't worried. I figured it would take me 10 hours, getting me to camp around 6.

The morning started off slowly enough, with a short calm paddle. As I neared Jonesport, the boat traffic increased and I was constantly surrounded by lobster boats. Normally this would be concerning for me, but apparently Jonesport is home to the friendliest lobster men in the state. Not only did nearly every one I passed smile and wave, but they even slowed down on their way by so they wouldn't blast me with their wake. If my last 8 days were any indicator, either of those occurring was an extreme rarity, let alone both of them.

As I paddled through the reach, I passed two groups of kayakers headed the opposite way. While I had been lucky and had the tidal current going with me, they were stuck going against it. I exchanged a smile and wave with the first group of 3 as they sped on by. They seemed to know what they were doing, at least. I ran into the other pair of paddlers at the far end of the reach, barely inching along against what seemed to me to be relatively weak wind and current. They did not seem like they knew what they were doing. They had nice boats and gear, but were paddling 100% with their arms, and it was showing. Neither of them looked particularly happy. I felt bad for them, but I had places to be.

As I exited the reach and began my first real crossing of the day, I spotted a small boat blasting down the bay. As it neared me, I stopped to let it pass by before continuing. Around a hundred yards away it came to a stop and started turning towards me. Without the huge wake around the bow I could now see it was the bright orange of a small coast guard patrol boat. As they came over, I was sure I had done something wrong. Had I accidentally triggered the SOS on the inReach? Nope, turns out they just wanted to make sure I had the proper safety gear: radio, light, whistle, etc. I was floating around in the middle of a decent sized bay, after all. After a few questions about my gear, they were curious where I was headed. I responded that I was headed Lubec, which raised a few eyebrows. The next logical question was where I was coming from. I wish I had had a camera for the look of shock when I said I had started in Portland. One of the guy's voice jumped about two octaves asking "portland?" as if he had misheard me. After a bit more chatting, they headed off to do whatever it is they do, and I headed off to Halifax Island, where I could stop for a rest. Their looks of confusion kept me entertained for those 5 miles. If I had gained one thing from this trip, it was the ability to entertain myself with the simplest things.

After a short break at Halifax, I hopped in my boat for the last 10 miles. My constant companion, the noaa weather broadcaster, had informed me that it was only supposed to be light winds this afternoon, and I hoped he was right. Sure enough, those 10 miles passed with no real wind, other than a small area where it funneled between two islands. Hopefully he was right about the winds for tomorrow as well.

I got in to camp earlier than expected, and spent awhile lounging in my hammock before getting my charts and clothing in order for tomorrow. The trip was almost over, just 5-6 more hours of paddling. All my planning for the next day complete, I settled in for bed. Thankfully, because of how the tidal currents in the area flow, I wouldn't have to be on the water until 9 tomorrow, so I could sleep in a bit. Little victories.

198 miles down, 27 (ish) to go.