“In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks.” - John Muir

Yackman is Moving!

Thu, 22 Jul 2010 21:10:05 -0400

You may have noticed something missing (or not). No emails from me about new trips for some months now. Yackman has been busy with other things, as Lisa and I have purchased a home in Florida, have sold our home in Troy and will be moving to Sebastian, Florida permanently before the end of August (I want more months of warm paddling than I can get here).
I have taken some trips (about three), but have been too busy to write them up. We spent the month of June in our new home cleaning, fixing and getting contractors lined up to paint the place, etc. while we are here selling most everything we have before the move. So, Yackman himself will move, but his home in cyberspace will remain the same
You can help keep the site going by submitting your stories about trips and adventures along with photos. I’ll publish your work in the Guest Blog section. Check out the new report of a (sort of) paddling adventure by Mountain Man Gary Richer and his buddy Erik there.

A Rafting Experience on the St. Lawrence 1895 by E.R. Barrows

Thu, 29 Apr 2010 16:19:41 -0400

Yackman’s Comments: This is a first person account of a trip on a huge log raft on the St. Lawrence River, from Hamilton Island to Montreal during the summer of 1895, one hundred-fifteen years ago. The author is the grandfather of a friend of mine, Bill Barrows. This account was passed on by Bill and his wife Carol.
Bill’s grandpa was about twenty years old in 1895, having been born only a decade after the end of the Civil War. He had just graduated from St. Lawrence University and was vacationing with friends when a huge log raft carrying wood to Quebec, and from there to Europe, happened by. The narrative that follows was written for a presentation at a Kiwanis Club some forty-eight years later, in 1943 (the year of my birth). What triggered the author’s memories was a family steamship trip over that same water. The story that follows will mention familiar places for those of us who have vacationed and paddled on the St. Lawrence and Saguenay Rivers. But it will also inform us of a life and time long gone when our country was barely 100 years old and the St. Lawrence was still part of the frontier. The photos are copies of originals taken by the author in 1895.

A RAFTING EXPERIENCE ON THE ST. LAWRENCE 1895
By E.R. Barrows

I have had so much pleasure since Labor Day re-living an experience of many years ago that I am going to try to interest you in its recital. This pleasure developed on what is known as the Saguenay Trip of the Canadian Steam Ship Lines down the St. Lawrence, beyond Quebec and up the Saguenay River. Please note that I said down the St. Lawrence. Because on the map the river has a N.E. direction very many people speak of going up the St. Lawrence. But like all rivers that I know the water runs down hill and the fall is about 240’ from Lake Ontario to the ocean.
My home was originally in N, N.Y. and the St. Lawrence had a grandeur that fascinated me. True, in comparison with the Ohio, the water seems colorless and insipid, lacking that rich golden brown. Nor does it have the substance and thick consistency of the Ohio
I attended a little college in Canton, N.Y. known as St. Lawrence University. A classmate of mine locating later in Brooklyn met a N.Y. lady at a banquet one evening who wanted to know where he was from. When he said he was from St. Lawrence she exclaimed, “St. Lawrence – Oh yes, I know. Our Sunday School class is raising money to send a missionary up there”. Maybe missionaries were needed there but that country boasts of Frederick Remington, the artist, Addison Irving Bachelor, the writer of Eben Holden and other books, life saver Nobel who just paid 8 millions for the Blue Network and Owen D. Young. I am from there also.
In the summer of 1895 I rode a bicycle from Canton to Cornwall Ont. 60 miles, crossing at Waddington to visit friends named Kinsley in a camp on Hamilton Island. One evening an immense timber raft came along on its way to Quebec, then England. Some of us rowed out to look it over and the pilot asked if we cared to ride to Montreal with him. Four of us hurriedly accepted and it was this experience that I have been reliving. I was then getting interested in photography and had a camera with which I took the pictures I have here. They were on glass plates and are still in fair condition, although like some of us, they are getting a little gray around the edges.
The raft had five sections or drams of pine and one of oak. Each dram was 62’ wide by 300’ long and when assembled into a raft made a floating island 124’ by 900’ with an area of 2.6 acres. While not positive about the value then, my memory is that it was half a million dollars.
It was handled by a side wheeled tugboat named Hiram A. Calvin. The Hi-ram' as pronounced by the French Canadians. The first night out we were awakened by cries of "the Hi-ram is afire" only it was in French and we didn’t know what it was all about until we got out to look. Nothing serious and we proceeded. The officers with their private cook had a board shack with bunks forward while the craw lived in a tent in the stern.
At the head of each rapid they would take on about 100 extras to break the raft into six drams and man the long oars to steer the drams through the rapids! Each dram had its pilot and from fifteen to twenty oarsmen. The pictures show the oarsmen and long oars.
The rapid water starts just below Prescott with the Galop and DuPlat rapids but they are insignificant compared with the Long Sioux 9 miles long that follows. The Long Sioux ends above Cornwall so we did not get to run them on the raft. Our first was a set of three, the Coteau, Cascades and Cedars and all run by the same crew. One dram got hung up on a shoal in the Cascades and we got a ride back through the canal on the tug boat that had to go back to pull it off the shoal. That gave us the ride through this set a second time and on the tug. I still vividly remember that night ride through the canal. Many of the French-Canadians and Indians that had worked going down took advantage of the return trip to get home and there was hardly standing room. It was a hot rainy night and they were sleeping everywhere. I had a top bunk in the hold for a time but the deck leaked and finally I changed to a chair in the engine room for the rest of the night. A big power dam has now eliminated these three rapids from navigation and boats use the Soulange Canal.
The Lachine Rapids were the last and we went ashore in Montreal. We were on from a Wed afternoon to Friday afternoon. Our only expense was what we paid the cook for meals.
Now to jump ahead to the Saguenay Trip forty-eight years later. I had been around the 1000 Islands and to Montreal but had never been to Quebec. We thought we would make a vacation trip of it this year if possible but could not get reservations until after Labor Day.
Knowing that we would "Shoot the Rapids" again only on a boat this time I got out my old negatives and fixed up the little album I have here wondering and hoping that I might meet someone that would remember the old rafting days and be interested. The interest far exceeded my expectations. I wish I knew how many saw the pictures. They aroused interest all right. On the Rapids Prince the First Officer said he began work on the rapids 54 years before and that only the week before Mr. Calvin the C.SS Agent at Kingston was making the trip and couldn’t talk about anything else but the rafting days. When he said Calvin I immediately connected the name with the name of our tugboat the Hiram A. Calvin. He told me that he was of the family that had been in the rafting business for years and that I could meet him in Kingston on my return trip. The Purser on our boat introduced me to Mr. Calvin and I handed him the pictures. In surprise and amazement he almost jumped as he exclaimed "where did you get these pictures?" Then “you wait right here” and ran of through the crowd to bring his wife. Starting with his grandfather in 1826 the Calvin family had conducted this business until it expired in 1914 from timber exhaustion.
I offered to make a set of the pictures for him and did so with the request that he write me a brief sketch of the rafting business.
I wanted his sketch to accompany a set of the pictures for a rather unique Museum that a Richard Ellsworth now a retired Ex-Secy of S. L. U. has been collecting for years. It is a very remarkable and interesting collection of a great variety of things, pictures, antiques, historical records etc in connection with northern N.Y.

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Honeymoon and Caladesi Islands

Thu, 29 Apr 2010 14:29:02 -0400

March 28, 2010

The wind had been blowing cold and hard out of the northwest for days. But this morning dawned bright and mostly clear, with warmer temperatures and diminished winds. I was to meet other Intermediate/Advanced Tampa Bay Sea Kayakers just beyond Honeymoon Sails, a sailboat rental on the Dunedin Causeway. The causeway connects Dunedin with Honeymoon Island and the Honeymoon Island State Park.
A group of a dozen or so paddlers assembled on the beach and proceeded to prepare for our adventure. Soon on the water, we headed west along the causeway, then headed north under an overpass to paddle But not Richard. He’s from New Jersey and this weather’s warm to him!along the northeast shore of Honeymoon Island. The weather was in the high sixties, warm and pleasant to my northern blood. Still, I was wearing a Farmer John wetsuit, and most everyone was in either a wetsuit or dry suit, as the Gulf water was still cold. Honeymoon Island and its neighbor, Caladesi Island are reputed to have among the best beaches in the world. I’m no beach expert, but beaches on both islands look great and remind me of those tropical paradise shots you see in beer commercials.
Before long we rounded the end of Honeymoon and started paddling along the exposed (to the Gulf) western side of the island. You could feel some swells here but they were small and of no consequence. The light wind had swung to the northwest at our backs, providing a little push. The sea, sky and scenery were perfect for a wonderful paddle. We watched the beach and the occasional beachcomber gathering the abundant shells to be found there. Eventually we reached the southern end of Honeymoon Island and paddled along that shore for a while before heading across a busy channel to a beach on Caladesi for lunch.
The water approaching the beach at Caladesi is very shallow giving waves a long run at the shore. There was little surf, but as one who has done only aClick here for a short video on paddling in the Gulf and landing on Caladesi Island. few landings through any surf, I was mildly apprehensive. The memory of dumping out of my boat on the approach to a shark-infested beach in California came to mind. Anyway, I made it in with no problem beyond getting myself out of the boat and on to my feet with the bow of the boat at an upward angle where I drove it up onto a mound of seaweed on landing. Most everyone made it in easily. At least one paddler dumped, but I can’t be sure that he wasn’t practicing a roll.
We had a relaxing lunch with all of us lined up like birds on a fence, sitting along the beach, watching the water. Caladesi was covered with shells, a shell collector’s dream! When it was time to renter our boats and go back out through the minimal surf, I didn’t suspect a problem. But the waves knocked my bow around before I could get my bottom unstuck from the sand. Soon my bow has washed over the bow of another paddler - how embarrassing! I had to call for help to get off the beach without causing any other calamities.
The trip back to the causeway was uneventful. There was a pretty good current running between the islands, but if anything, that gave us a nice push. The paddle was over too soon. This would be my last paddle with the TBSK this season. I said farewell and promised to be back again next year.

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Ancolte River, Tarpon Springs, Florida

Sun, 25 Apr 2010 21:23:10 -0400

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Lisa and I headed to Fred Howard Park in Tarpon Springs for the Tampa Bay Sea Kayakers (TBSK) monthly paddle and picnic. The park was about twelve miles from our rented condo in Dunedin. We arrived at the appointed rendezvous a little before nine o’clock. Several other TBSKers were already in the parking lot. The wind was blowing at +/- 15 MPH, which was a concern to the organizers. At whole club activities like this one, paddles are offered for all levels of paddlers – Beginner, Intermediate and Advanced. (The TBSK club has some excellent material to help club members identify their own skill level-see below) This is reminiscent of the Adirondack Mountain Club Tuesday night paddles that split into the Lilly Dippers (beginners) and the more advanced paddlers.
Because of the wind conditions, a decision was made to scrub the advanced group paddle to a near by island and paddle north along the coast to the Ancolte River. The intermediate paddlers would go this far before turning around, while the advanced group would continue on up the river. The beginners would paddle to a near by lake enclosed by mangroves where the hoped to see some unusual sponges.
Our paddle began along the southeast shore of the park, east of the causeway. We paddled into a strong headwind on our way to and under a bridge, part of the Howard Park Causeway. We then headed north along the coast into strong quartering winds. At between two and three miles we entered the Ancolte River, heading east. We paddled for another two miles or so, reaching a point where the river splits, with one branch going northeast toward the sponge docks (this is a commercial sponging area), and the other heading south toward Kreamer Bayou. At this point we were running out of time, so we turned around and headed back. We made one quick stop at the Ancolte River Park on the north bank of the river where the river meets the Gulf. Then we returned back along the coast and under the bridge the way we had come in much diminished wind. We had covered about 8.5 to 9.0 miles (our various GPS units didn’t exactly agree) in about 2.5 hours of paddling.
Back at the put-in we found a great picnic lunch waiting for us. This is a wonderful monthly event that this club holds in different places around the Tampa area.

TBSK Skill Level Self Assessment Guide
Click here to visit the Tampa Bay Sea Kayakers Website

Paddling at Spanish Cay, Bahamas

Mon, 12 Apr 2010 17:13:15 -0400

February, 2010

Lisa and I were visiting our friends Carol and Bill at their place on Spanish Cay, just north of Abaco Island in the Bahamas. Bill’s friend Gary had an Ocean Kayak XL double sit-upon kayak hanging in his shed that he was gracious enough to let me borrow. The boat could be paddled as either a double or a single, using a third middle seat. The boat was very basic, without seat backs or rudder. Never the less, I was very happy to have it.
As with most of our two months in Florida, cold and high winds ruled our time in the islands. As a result, it was several days before I could Click here for the video, Wind, Cold and Beauty!launch the boat. It was usually calmer in the morning, but with the tide out it was too shallow to launch. So I headed out on three different occasions at noon or later.
The first paddle led me around the shallow bay in front of the house. I noticed dozens of conch and several starfish. I headed out into the lagoon that was protected by a reef a mile or so off shore. Waves from the heavy wind were crashing hard on the reef. There was still a substantial swell within the lagoon that tossed me around on the unfamiliar boat. The boat was nothing if not stable, but there was no way to lock myself into the craft and it paddled a bit like a big pontoon.
Heading east, I soon came upon a wave raked opening into the south bay. After watching for a while, I timed my entrance over the rocks and into the bay without bottoming out. I paddled east then south along the shore of the bay formed by Spanish and Goat Cay. I spotted more conch and starfish, and a variety of fish including Trigger Fish and Barracuda. Rather than trying to paddle back through the opening and risk capsize, I decided to paddle around the outside of Goat Cay, into the waves and wind.
It took a while to get back. When I arrived in the bay in front of the house, the tide was about half way out. Soon I bottomed out and had to get into the water. I stepped into a bed of quicksand and was soon in past my knees. I was so surprised I wasn’t sure what to do. Lying across the boat, I slowly worked one leg, then the other free. Then using my paddle as a probe, I slowly worked my way toward shore. That ended my first paddle!
Next day I tried again. This time the wind was blowing just as hard as the day before. The sky was filled with clouds. I again headed out of my home bay, this time heading west along the shore toward the airstrip and safe harbor. I paddled past the abandoned raw bar and into the deep bay beyond. All the while the wind was at my back and I could feel it building while the clouds came together in one solid darkening mass.
As I paddled along the airstrip I noticed that the beach would soon disappear into a jagged mass of limestone. I decided it would be wise to land and evaluate the weather. I landed easily and turned to feel the full effect of the building wind on my face. The clouds were now thick and dark. The weather looked threatening. I had three choices. I could continue on to the safe harbor, knowing I would probably have to pull out there and walk back. I could head back and hope to beat whatever was coming. Or I could leave the boat where it was and come back for it later. It wasn’t that far back to the home bay, so I decided to head back, paddling into the wind and waves. The boat was more barge like than ever, making progress slow. But, soon I was back, ending another Bahamian paddle.
The third paddle was much like the first. I paddled the right side of the home bay, then headed out to South Bay again. This time, the wind was much less, but there was a substantial swell left over from the several days of high winds. This time I went to the second entrance (I hadn’t seen it on the first trip) as the tide was lower. I timed my approach and surfed in on a big swell. I poked around the shallow water on the Spanish Cay side, finding Trigger Fish and Barracuda, conch and starfish. Then I paddled over to Goat Cay and pulled ashore on the only beach visible at that time. At low tide, you can actually wade from Spanish to Goat, with many more beaches visible. I poked around, exploring and taking photos before getting back on the kayak and paddling out through the big swells for the trip back.
Click here to view the video,
Paddling Spanish Cay
Knowing this was probably my last opportunity to paddle here, I paddled slowly close to shore on the opposite shore of the home bay. I disturbed a big ray in shallow water and spent some time playing tag with him before reluctantly heading to shore.

A beautiful Bahamas sunset!

Crystal River Springs and the Manatees

Thu, 8 Apr 2010 22:10:28 -0400

Saturday, March 6, 2010
Paddling With The Manatees

An e-vite from the Tampa Bay Sea Kayakers:
Contact: Marv P**** mp@gmail.com or call 352-333-3333 or cell 352-222-2222. Description: Great manatee-viewing trip. Meet at Hunter Springs Park, 104 NE 1st Ave, Crystal River 34429. GPS coordinates N28.53.70, W82.35.54. Loop of about 6 miles. Visit Three Sisters Spring, Gator Hole Spring, then paddle to Crackers Restaurant for lunch. Canoes are welcome. Bring PFD, water and money for lunch. Please RSVP by March 3. Paddle Difficulty: Beginner
Lisa and I had joined the Tampa Bay Sea Kayakers club (TBSK) from our home in Troy, New York in January in anticipation of the month we would spend in Dunedin in March. Dunedin is small, quiet old Florida town just north of the very busy cities of Tampa and Clearwater. Information on the TBSK website led me to believe that the TBSK group was very active with many activities planned each month. This proved to be true, as the March calendar showed several paddling opportunities for all skill levels scheduled every week.
We responded to the announcement above, our first experience with the group. We got an early start for the hour plus drive to Hunter Springs Park, as Crystal River is more than an hour north of Dunedin, above Homassasa. We wanted to be there early enough to meet people before getting on the water. Hunter Springs Park was very pretty and the day was sunny for a change. (We had been plagued by cold, windy and rainy weather since leaving Troy.) On the road, we spotted several kayak laden boats heading north with us. We guessed they might be part of the TBSK group, so we tagged along, forming a small convoy. We easily found the group. As it turned out, we were correct about this as we all arrived at the park together. Just ahead of us was Richard (a kayaker) and his wife Evelyn (a biker) who quickly became friends. After greetings in the parking lot and the formality of signing the usual liability paperwork, we prepared the boats for the water and launched on to the Crystal River.
The river is beautiful. Soon we were seeing what we had come for – manatees! There were dozens of them, usually swimming in ones, twos and threes just under and around our boats. We saw many cows and calves, and some really large solitary animals, which I assumed were males. Eventually we arrived at a place called Three Sisters Spring. The passage into the spring is very narrow and blocked by pilings to only allow kayaks, canoes and swimmers to enter. After a few hundred feet the spring opens up into three pools fed by the three springs. It is an absolutely beautiful, pristine place where manatees gather in the winter to stay warm. The spot had been saved from a developer’s cockeyed vision of surrounding the springs with highrise condos by a determined group of local conservationists. Thank god for determined folks like that!
As luck would have it, most of the manatees had moved out onto the river, but the crystal clear spring allowed us to see the Click here to view Manatee Videofew that remained. I was able to take a video of one, a rescued and recently released manatee that was lounging on the bottom in the sum with my waterproof video camera (follow the link to see the video). It had a loose fitting collar around its flipper with a line attached that towed a floating beacon. The beacon beamed information on the animal’s location, water temperature and other data to the scientists tracking its behavior.
The current was giving us a pretty good push on the way out of the springs. I gave myself a good push to get between the pilings and snagged my paddle blade on an overhanging branch. This spun the paddle around to where it caught on the pilings. I wisely let it go and coasted through the opening. Within seconds I had grabbed one half of the spare paddle I keep on my front deck and was headed back for the lost blade. However, another paddler had grabbed it and returned it to me. I have carried that paddle on my fore deck for years. This was the first time I had a reason to use it. I was glad to see that I could access it so quickly.
Shortly after noon we were back at Hunter Springs Park. With lots of help from club members, we all loaded our boats and headed for Crackers restaurant for a wonderful and relaxing lunch, with great conversation. Special thanks go to Marv and Rachel, our trip leaders, and to Susan, Richard, Evelyn and so many others who made us feel welcome.

This is the camera I used to film the manatees underwater. I recommend it. Buy it here and help support this website. Yackman

Florida Adventure (Not What I Expected!)

Fri, 2 Apr 2010 20:53:32 -0400

January 29, 2010 through April 2, 2010

We began our adventure on the coldest day I can remember in upstate New York. At 7:00 AM on January 29th the temperature stood at 5 degrees, with a strong wind pushing the wind chill to -19 degrees. My boats, thankfully loaded the night before, were covered with a dusting of light snow. I struggled to load the car for our two-month trip, first carrying everything into the garage, then quickly opening the garage door to load boxes and suitcases into spaces I had already picked for them in my mind. By noon, we had locked the doors, said goodbye to our neighbor Helen, who would watch over our place while we traveled and were heading for our first stop in Pennsylvania.
Spending several winter months in Florida had been a dream of Lisa’s for all the years we had been together. She would live in Florida if I would agree to it, but I had lots of questions and concerns. Anyway, Lisa’s retirement last May gave us the time to pursue her dream. They say, “timing is everything”, and in choosing this year to spend two months in Florida, our timing was terrible. This was to be the coldest winter Florida had experienced in over 100 years.
Lisa had promised many people we would visit them on our way to Dunedin, Florida, where we had a condo rented for the month of March. Our trip first took us to Pennsylvania and a visit with Lisa’s son and his family, then on to Rock Hill, SC to visit relatives. From there we went to Wilmington, NC, a lovely city on the Cape Fear River, to visit our friends Diane and Steve.
Finally, we had several days to ourselves. We spent a few days in St. Augustine, then moved on to Cocoa Yackman “flying” a Mercury CapsuleBeach where we toured the Kennedy Space Center and Merritt Island Wildlife Refuge; both very interesting and highly recommended. After several days at Cocoa Beach we moved on to Sebastian and the home of our friends Pat and Chuck. We spent several delightful days with them before moving on to Vero Beach and our friends Carol and Bill. We spent a few days visiting several environmental areas before joining them at their place in the Bahamas (see Paddling the Bahamas). After a lovely stay on the island, we returned to Vero Beach and soon headed for Dunedin and our rented condo.

Dunedin is a lovely old Florida town, surrounded by three big cities (Clearwater, St. Petersburg and Tampa). While Dunedin itself is quaint and very pleasant, to get anywhere you have to enter the world of six plus lane highways with heavy, sometimes stop and go, traffic. This was not to our liking at all.
I had found the Tampa Bay Sea Kayaker’s Club (TBSK) on the web, liked what I saw and joined before leaving Albany. My assessment was a good one. This is the most active paddling club I have ever seen, with several events aimed at various levels of paddlers each week. The club has a club paddle and picnic one Saturday each month, with leaders and events for beginners, intermediate and advanced paddlers. Lisa and I attended three of these events and found them to be great fun and the people wonderful, warm and welcoming (See the trip reports that will follow). If you plan on spending any time near the Tampa Bay area, I recommend joining and participating in TBSK club activities.
The bad weather meant too little time on the water and too much time to explore. The result: We bought a house in Sebastian, Florida and will be moving Yackman.com to the Sunshine State in the near future.
By the way, I have a lovely townhouse on a pond in Troy that is for sale! Feel free to contact me for information if you are interested.

Link to: Tampa Bay Sea Kayakers

Never Paddle in Pennsylvania in Early April!

Tue, 5 Jan 2010 17:24:25 -0500

Bruce and I decided to take Alan up on his idea of paddling several sections of the dammed Susquehanna River. It was spring vacation, 2009. We were a little worried that it might be cold, but Pennsylvania is warmer than Albany in April and we were paddling just north of the Maryland border and the Chesapeake Bay. A little sunshine and we’d be just fine.
Monday, April 13, 2009: Bruce and I met Alan at the Otter Creek Campground before noon. Alan had arranged for a small cabin with one of those flameless Amish heaters you see advertised in magazines. The cabin was uninsulated and consisted of bunk beds and a double bed at one end, with a dorm room size refrigerator, a small microwave and a table with four chairs. It was tight. It was really tight when we dragged our stuff in.
Bruce and Alan gave the double bed to the senior member of the trio –me. I think this was more out of pity than respect for my status as an elder in the group. Bruce got the lower bunk and for some reason Alan (he is the biggest person of the three) got the upper bunk. Alan has the weakest bladder too, which makes the choice of the top bunk even more ironic. Maybe he was hoping to take some late night revenge on Bruce by climbing in and out of the top bunk all night – or worse.
Anyway, we came to paddle and the river was not far from our door. It had started to rain lightly just after we arrived. I rigged up a cooking fly outside the cabin and we had a quick lunch. We geared up with long underwear and polartec under Farmer John wetsuits and dry suits, then headed down to the put-in.
The wind was blowing and the river looked gray and uninviting. There was a light intermittent rain and it was cold. This dammed-up section of the river is called Lake Aldred. We paddled north toward the Safe Harbor Dam, which was about four miles away. Surprisingly, the lake/river was very shallow in places, making for some spots of fast water. I bottomed out several times, cursing at the gel coat eating rocks. I got really cold on the return trip as the wind and rain managed to chill me even though I was dry. We were on the water for about three hours and covered about eight and a half miles.
Back at camp we warmed ourselves next to the little heater before making dinner. Everyone turned in early to read and be ready for the next, hopefully better, day. It was still raining.

Tuesday, April 14: Everyone slept late. It was cold. We were cold. Our little heater was pretty, but all it could do was take the edge off. I began to understand why Alan might have volunteered for the top bunk; heat rises!
We made breakfast. I had brought an automatic coffee maker. We soon found that if we operated the coffee maker and the microwave with the heater on, we tripped a breaker. It took a while to find the breaker box and only a few more power outages to remember to only operate one of the appliances at a time.
Today we would head for Lake Clark, another dammed section of the Susquehanna. We were to drive to a place called Shanks Mare to put in. For those of you unfamiliar with the term, “shanks mare” is an old term used to describe walking. (“He got there by shanks mare.” The shank being your shin, and mare being a horse. What that had to do with our put-in is anybody’s guess.)
We arrived about 10:30. It was cold and windy again. The temperature hovered in the high forties to low fifties. We took a few minutes to check out the Shanks Mare Outfitters store just across the road, then unloaded our boats and started paddling. It was about 11:30. Bruce and Alan wanted to paddle up the east side of the lake, so we headed across, a distance of about a mile and a quarter. The wind and waves were such that the crossing was fun.
As we headed north up the east side of Lake Clark we entered a relatively narrow channel between low rocky islands on the west and a high bank, topped with a highway on the east. I found the area noisy and not very attractive. Again, the water was shallow and I was bottoming out from time to time. At one point, I got stuck on a mud flat and had to get out to tow my boat.
We pushed through some fast water and continued until we could see a dam ahead. Before turning around, we passed an old building in some disrepair. Out front was an older gentleman watching us. (He was really, about my age – I haven’t come to terms with how I must look to other folks yet. I feel younger on the inside.) He was still there when we turned around. We were looking for a place to get out of the wind and have some lunch, so Bruce approached him and asked if we could come ashore to stretch and eat.
The fellow’s name was Tom. Tom was putting in some volunteer hours, part of the cost of membership in the Columbia Canoe Club. Tom welcomed us ashore and offered us the use of a bathroom and the club’s covered porch and picnic table for our lunch. We gratefully accepted this offer and soon had lunch cooking just outside the porch. Hot soup, cheese, beef stick and apples were on the menu. We asked Tom to join us, which he did.
Tom told us that the Columbia Canoe Club, established in 1887, was the oldest canoe club in the country. We were surprised because our friend Jack Gillman has always claimed that his club, the Yonkers Paddling and Rowing Club was the oldest. A little investigation shows that the Yonkers club was started in 1886 and incorporated in 1888. The Columbia Canoe Club was apparently incorporated in 1887. It seems to me that both clubs can claim bragging rights on this one. And if being successful and growing is any factor, the Yonkers Club has it all over the Columbia Club, which seems to be in decline (by way of example, the Yonkers club has a robust website http://www.yprc.org/ while I cannot find a link to the Columbia Canoe Club). In any case, we were very appreciative of Tom and the Columbia Canoe Club for their hospitality. We were provided with a warm spot on a cold, gray day.
Back on the water, we picked our way through the rocks to reach the western side of the lake. The trip back to Shanks Mare was into a twelve to fifteen mile per hour headwind that threw up short but confused seas. Never the less, I found it to be an enjoyable and exhilarating six plus mile paddle back to our put-in. After loading our boats on the cars, we again went to the Shanks Mare Outfitters store and, of course, spent some money on things we “needed”,

Wednesday, April 15 and Thursday April 14, 2009: Well, the weather continued to deteriorate through Tuesday night. Wednesday morning brought a cold heavy rain. We decided not to paddle and instead drove into Harrisburg where we visited another outfitter, again buying more “needed” items. The only other thing I remember about that day is the great pizza we had for lunch.
Back at camp, Bruce befriended a couple of bicyclists camped in a tiny tent who were peddling to the husband’s fortieth high school reunion in New Orleans. They were cold and miserable, so Bruce invited them for dinner. We all put our various foods together and had a happy feast in our cramped cabin, which this couple found warm and luxurious.
On Thursday, our last day and the day we would travel home, no one wanted to get out of bed. It was colder and damper than ever. Alan and I just couldn’t shake the chill that seemed to penetrate to the bone. Would we paddle today or not? Bruce would have gone paddling, but Alan and I were frozen. We would only have an hour or two of paddling before needing to head for home anyway. So, we cut our losses, packed up and headed for home, vowing not to do this again so early in the season.

Crown Point Bridge Across Champlain Comes Down

Mon, 28 Dec 2009 14:54:22 -0500

The Crown Point Bridge came down at eleven AM today. Bruce, Alan and I crossed this bridge on out return from Woods Island in October, just four days before it closed for good. Below you will find a history of the bridge from Wikipedia, along with links to the full Wikipedia article on the bridge. You will also find links to video of the bridge’s demolition. These video links will only be active for a few days.

Woods Island, Lake Champlain - October 2009

Wed, 9 Dec 2009 20:11:00 -0500

October 10-12, Columbus Day Weekend: For several years, Bruce, Alan and I have done a three-day paddle over Columbus Day weekend in October. Our usual target is Lake George. The Lake is beautiful and as of that weekend, you do not need advanced reservations to take an island site. This year however, Bruce suggested traveling to Lake Champlain’s Inland Sea to do a base camp paddle out of Vermont’s Woods Island State Park.
I must admit, I was a bit put-off by the idea. Champlain is big water. One of the worst days I ever had on the water I had on that lake, and only once out of half-a-dozen times was it calm. Every other time I was in a blow or paddling against an unrelenting headwind. But, Bruce persisted, so I looked into it. I found that Woods Island is two to two and a half miles from the closest put in at Kill Kare State Park. There is about two miles of open water paddling to get to the island that, depending on wind strength and direction, could be challenging. Still, it was only two miles.
Bruce had stopped by the island during a summer paddle and had identified a campsite on the southern end that he thought offered a gorgeous view of the lake and the Adirondack Mountains in New York to the west. Since Alan and Bruce are still working men and I am not, it fell to me to gather the details and plan the logistics of the trip.
I found the Vermont State Parks website to be excellent, with all the information I needed to begin my planning. A contradiction regarding the need to register for a site after the season led me to call the Kill Kare park office. I left a message and to my surprise received a call from the park manager a few hours later. He answered all my questions. (I was impressed with the personal attention the Vermont Park Service gave to an out of state guy.) There was indeed a new permit system in place, so I secured the proper forms on-line and submitted them immediately. From Bruce’s description we wanted site #4 at the south end of the island.

OCTOBER 10, 2009: With our plans made we were ready to go. Somehow Alan left Philadelphia by 3 AM and made it to Bruce’s house in Schodack by seven or so. They both were at my house in Troy before 8:30 for the four-hour drive to Kill Kare in Vermont. We arrived around 1:30 and immediately began loading gear for the paddle to Woods Island that we could easily see in the distance.
The sky was overcast and the temperature was hovering around forty-five degrees. There was a strong southwest wind blowing on shore at fifteen to twenty miles per hour. It was cold. We loaded up and climbed into dry suits and wetsuits layered with long johns and other gear to stay warm. Despite the temperature and the wind we were bedeviled by swarms of bugs we identified as termites. They got into everything and were making us nuts.
The paddling was hard but not difficult. We were really pushing to get to the island so that we would have enough time to set up and cook dinner before dark. It felt like a forty-five minute sprint. I was winded by the time we arrived. The landing was miserable, as it was rocky and there was no place to entirely escape the wind or breaking waves. We managed to land the boats without serious damage and set about scouting the camp. The area designated for tents sat up on a cliff above the lake. It had a magnificent view, but was wide open to the wind.
Bruce and Alan set up their tents near the cliff edge, hard in the middle of the wind. I found a hollow that let me place my tent mostly below the wind. I was concerned that rain might flood out the area, but a close look convinced me that any run off would be slight and could pass under my tent without harm (I was using two ground cloths- a footprint outside and a larger ground cloth inside).
Soon we heard a friendly voice call out hello. It was Phelps Holloway, one of our Vermont friends who had paddled out to join us. Phelps wisely set up farther back in the woods.
We gathered firewood and built a fire. Alan put a pan of prepared lasagna on the coals to warm. We had a great meal of lasagna, bread and brownies. It was dark by six-thirty. We sat around the fire for a while. There were more stars than I had seen in years. I was even able to see the Milky Way. Off to the north there was a bright glow on the horizon. Phelps said it was Montreal, only about seventy miles away from where we camped. We were puzzled by a long string of lights blinking in unison on a mountain on the far New York side of the lake. Phelps said it was a wind farm. The lights were to warn off aircraft.
The weather radio said that there could be snow by the morning and we were all starting to get cold, so about nine-thirty we headed for our tents. I tried to call Lisa, but no cells registered, so I gave up. I layered up, pulled the extra blanked over my sleeping bag, pulled on my watch cap and turned out the light. It would be a cold night.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 11: We didn’t paddle at all today. The wind continued to build through out the night. It woke me up several times, not just from its howling, but also from the thrashing of the cooking fly. I hoped it would make it through the night. About four o’clock there was a brief shower that sounded like hail slamming the tent. I stayed in bed until seven-thirty.
A look at the lake showed sea conditions that were terrible. It was just not worth the very real risk of a capsize in this cold weather, especially since no one but Phelps had a roll he could rely on. Click here to view Video Diary.
Thankfully the temperature was in the low forties, not the low thirties as predicted. The warming effect of the lake must have protected us from the predicted freeze. It was still overcast and blowing harder than ever. Bruce had been out for his morning walk and said that wind conditions were better at campsite three, so we grabbed breakfast and our cooking gear and headed over there. When we got to site three we found conditions nearly as bad as at our home site. Eventually we strung a tarp between two trees as a windbreak to cook behind. Even so, it took a long time for Alan to get our breakfast of bacon and French Toast cooked.
Somewhere around mid-morning the overcast lifted and the sun appeared, offering a little more warmth when out of the wind. We spent our day hiking the island, cutting wood, sleeping, reading and just trying to stay warm. The island is very pleasant. We explored the few trails that exist and were able to check out all the campsites. It seems that there is one site on the southwest corner of the island (#4) and one on the northeast (#5). The other sites are all strung along the western side of the island (sites #1, #2, #3). Only site five would offer any relief from this wind.

I cooked dinner; chicken fried rice. I made enough for six people, but we ate it all. After dinner and cleanup, we all carted things to the boats, a hedge against rain (or snow) in the morning. Alan wanted a fire, but with the wind still rising, we all said no. We were concerned that we might ignite a fire that we couldn’t control. My new miniature butane lantern allowed us to stay up and complete some tasks till about eight o’clock when we all headed for our tents. The sky was crystal clear. Temperatures in the low thirties or high twenties were predicted for tonight.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 12: Monday provides an anti-climax. On waking, we found that it had never gotten as cold as predicted. I had been quite comfortable all night. The wind had dropped by half and as a result the wave action was much more moderate. Not convinced that the weather would hold, Bruce, Alan and I decided to skip breakfast, pack up quickly and paddle back to Kill Kare. Had the weather been better we might have stayed to paddle, but Alan was driving. He had a four-hour drive to get us back home, and he was planning to continue on to Philadelphia. Phelps elected to stay a while longer and make his way back on his own later on.
The paddle back was great. It was what we would have wished for the rest of the weekend. To stretch the paddle out a little, we paddled around the outside of Burton Island and back into the cove that held the ramp at Kill Kare. At the ramp we were bothered again by those bugs we had called termites, but Phelps had called something else. I don’t remember the name. It was a local nickname for the pests. (Maybe one of the other paddlers on this trip will chime in and remind me.) The bugs were swarming. They got into all of our gear as well as into our eyes, nose and mouth.
Soon we were packed and the boats loaded. We were ready to say goodbye to this misadventure. Now to find breakfast and a good cup of coffee. (Click here for Woods Island Photo Album)

Karl (Comment #3 below) mentioned the splintered outhouse found after a terrible storm this summer. It happened to be the one I mentioned above at site #3. I am including the picture of Rob Gordon that Karl mentioned. And I’ve taken refuge from a severe storm in an outhouse before!

Thoughts and Reflections on Paddling the Saguenay

Thu, 3 Dec 2009 15:50:45 -0500

Here are some thoughts, reflections and information on paddling the Saguenay Fjord:

PLANNING: This trip down the length of the Saguenay Fjord rates as one of my top five paddling adventures. What makes it even more special is that we did it on our own with out an outfitter or guide. The advanced planning by Marie-Photo by Marie-France PicheFrance Piche, Gaetan’s wife, was outstanding. She selected the route from the menu of options provided by the park service, contacted the company that would ferry our boats from Le Baie to Saint Catherine, and found the campground for our first night’s stay. Through an exchange of numerous emails we were able to coordinate equipment and meal planning. The great unfairness of it all is that, after all that planning and coordinating, Marie-France could not join us on the fjord because of a last minute emergency at work. While I know she would have added much to the trip, we were fortunate to have Gaetan with us. We really enjoyed getting to know Gaetan over Marie-Francethe week of the trip. Bruce, Alan and I all feel blessed to count them both among our friends.

TRIP LEADER: Our decision to appoint one of us as “leader” on the water was a good one, and Bruce filled the role very well. One of the things he is good at is staying attuned to the concerns of all the paddlers and making decisions that are best for the group. He has Our fearless leader standing watch.a good sense of direction and can look at and understand a map faster than most people. I would gladly see him in that role again.

THE PADDLING EXPERIENCE: While there were moments of exhilaration, as when we were surrounded by whales, and moments of danger when agitated by wind and waves, most of our time Yackman. Photo by B. Romanchakwas spent paddling in ideal conditions, surrounded by the beauty and wildness that is the Saguenay. For mile after mile, in silence and in quiet conversation, we paddled by beautiful waterfalls, towering rocks, deep valleys holding isolated farms, and the occasional village, looking like a primitive painting by Cate Mandigo. These are the things I remember and will return to many times. I have created a video that gives a sense of what paddling the Saguenay is like. Click here to view that video.

MINIMUM NUMBER FOR TRIP: Our experience indicates that the minimum number of paddlers needed to make a trip like this is four. This is mainly because of the need to move boats a hundred yards or more up boulder strewn, slime covered rocks to get them above the Bruce, Alan, Gaetan and Yackmanhigh tide line. We always had four men on a boat; one front, one back and one on each side at the cockpit. It would have been impossible to safely move the boats with fewer people. (I’m sure Scott Keller, the leader of the Great Hudson River Paddle, is smiling if he is reading this as four men to a boat is the mantra he drilled into all GHRP paddlers.)

THE CAMPING EXPERIENCE: Every campsite was beautiful. I particularly liked the sites at the top of the fjord. They seemed wilder and more remote. They were also newer and had the bigger 12’ by 16’ tent platforms. Most sites were wet. Most sites required negotiating some sort of uphill climb to reach the platforms, often on a primitive trail. At least some platforms in most sites had views of the fjord. Photo by B. Romanchak

One issue for us was that we felt trapped in camp once we arrived. We usually left camp for our next site at 8:30, shortly after the tide began to fall. To leave later would mean a longer carry of loaded boats over slippery rocks to get the boats to the water. Since distances between camps were short, we generally arrived at the new camp by noon, when the tide would still fall for several more hours. By the time the boats were unloaded they were high and dry. We could have carried them back out to the water to paddle some more, but that would have meant an even longer carry to above the high tide mark when we returned. So, once we were in camp, we stayed there. And only one camp (Delta) had any kind of hiking trails.

Our decision to get four platforms, one for each of us, was a good one as well. Originally we thought we could double up on the platforms, but as Bruce and I discovered at Petites Iles, that wouldn’t have worked too well. The individual platforms gave us some space away from each other. This space is more important than you might think when you are spending twenty-four hours a day for seven straight days with friends.

WEATHER AND PADDLING CONDITIONS: The weather and paddling conditions on our trip were incredibly benign. Our days and nights were unusually warm. The only rain we experienced came at the very beginning of our trip. Conditions on the water were calm. When there was a breeze, it usually gave us a friendly push in the right direction. This is not the norm. Though you could experience similar conditions, you should not expect them.

LINKS: Here are some links that will help you in planning a trip on the Saguenay, whether on your own, or supported by a guide and outfitter.

• SaguenayMaritimeTrail.PDF
Camping Circuits outlined cover 2 to 6 days of paddling

• Our Camp GPS Coordinates and Data
GPS locations of our camps with trip data and other information

• Float Plan format form the Maine Sea Kayak Guides
Useful format for leaving contact information.

• Port Alfred Tide Charts (Best tide information)
The most useful tide readings we found.

• Boxell’s Chandlery
You can get charts of the Saguenay from this outfit. Just be warned that they are slow and disorganized. We eventually got the same charts from a local bookstore, almost overnight.

• The Fjord by Kayak (in French)
Useful, if you can read French.

• Sea Kayaking Quebec’s Saguenay Region (AdventureCanada)
Useful information on paddling the Saguenay

• Caribou Expeditions (Outfitter)
Have never used this outfitter. There is another outfitter that we used to ferry our cars but its site is all in French. The URL is below.

• Azimut Adventures (Outfitter)

I’m sure my partners on this trip have other information to add here. I hope they will contribute through the comments section below.

If you head out for the Saguenay, I hope you will let me know and perhaps file a trip report here.

Yackman

Paddling the Saguenay Fjord: Anse aux Petites Iles to Tadoussac

Wed, 2 Dec 2009 16:29:34 -0500

August 15, 2009: Day Six

The story today is whales, lots of whales! One of the things drawing us to the Saguenay Fjord was its reputation as a feeding ground for Beluga and Minke whales. If we were to see any whales, it would be today, on the last leg of our trip. So it was with great anticipation that we arose, ate, packed our gear and readied our boats for the water.
Bernard’s clients were slowly awaking as we traipsed back and forth from our tent platforms, through their campsite to our boats. But Bernard was nowhere to be seen. Then a pile if cloth and tarps laid in a shallow grassy depression near the rocky edge of the fjord began to move. All at once the coverings exploded and revealed Bernard, who had been sleeping there. He was disheveled, with a bad case of bed head. He was still wearing yesterday’s clothing that he had apparently slept in. Staggering to his feet, he took a long drag on his cigarette and coughed. (Bruce says he came out from under the tarps with the thing lit in his mouth, but I didn’t see it.)
We continued to load our boats as Bernard began breakfast for his clients. He apparently had something on his mind as he called to Gaetan. It seems that Bernard was convinced that Gaetan was acting as an unlicensed paid guide, escorting us Americans on this trip. He threatened to report Gaetan to the authorities. That was quite a complement to the planning that Marie-France and Gaetan had done in preparation for our adventure! We all assured Bernard that neither Gaetan nor anyone else was a paid guide on our trip, but I’m not sure he was convinced.
As we prepared to depart, Bernard, concerned that we were intending to pull out at Baie Saint-Catherine on the St. Lawrence River, warned us of difficult currents in the area and recommended that we pull out at Tadoussac instead. Tadoussac is on the eastern side of the fjord where it empties into the St. Lawrence, while St. Catherine is on the western side. However, there is a free ferry service between the villages that would allow us to pick up our cars and return for the boats. We agreed that this sounded like a good idea.
At about this point, Bernard pointed to the far side of the fjord and shouted, “Whales!” He was very excited, but we could make out nothing that we could associate with whales. Even so, our excitement began to build as we paddled out of the campsite at Anse aux Pitites Ilse into the fjord.
The weather was somewhat overcast but not dark. There was very little wind and consequently very little wave action. As we rounded a point to the south Gaetan: Photo by B. Romanchakof Petites Iles and entered a fairly wide straight stretch of the fjord, we spotted plumes of spray along the far shore that could only be the exhaled breath of whales feeding. It was really a thrilling moment to know that all the stories we had heard were true! We stopped paddling and watched. Soon we could make out the white backs of beluga whales as they surfaced for a quick breath of air before disappearing again to feed on the krill that is their major food source.
Click here to view the video “Belugas!”. Duration 3:23
Then, we were surrounded by feeding belugas. Apparently curious about what we were, they had quickly crossed the fjord to investigate. They were in front of us, behind us and under us. Their white coloring made it easy to follow them in the water near our boats. I heard Alan exclaim as a pair of belugas surfaced near his boat and made a graceful dive, passing underneath to resurface on the other side.
I was preoccupied with trying to take videos of the whales and didn’t see this. I was the only one with a functioning camera at that point. Everyone was relying on me to record this event; but where should I aim the camera? I had forgotten how difficult it is to see anything in the camera’s LCD screen with my polarized sunglasses on, so I struggled to find the whales and shoot the video. I only got a few minutes of usable video out of nearly an hour of recording. (Click here to view the video “Belugas!”)
The loud noise of water splashing and the sound of a whale blowing right behind my left shoulder startled me. I never saw the whale but was told that it surfaced right next to my boat. We watched the whales for more than an hour. It was incredible to have these huge, gentile and beautiful creatures playing around us for so long.
Eventually they moved away, heading north into the falling tide, surfacing and feeding, surfacing and feeding in their rhythmic, measured, and graceful procession back toward Anse aux Petites Iles. That was the last we saw of them that day. Later we saw individual minke whales surface and blow on two different sightings. But they were far off. Nothing would compare with that hour surrounded by the beautiful white whales.
After the whales had departed, we paddled to the east side of the fjord hoping to see more belugas and to make our way toward Tadoussac, our end point. We paddled into a bay in bright sunshine to take a break. Some of us explored, some snacked and all of us took some water. Then it was back in the boats. We made one more stop just before the ferry terminal, timing our crossing to miss the incoming and outgoing ferries. Then it was around the break wall and on to the beach at Tadoussac.
Tadoussac is a pleasant tourist village, a place from which many kayak tours depart. Bruce and I stayed on the beach with the boats and gear while Gaetan and Alan headed for the ferry to pick up the cars in Saint Catherine. Too soon, the cars returned and we set about packing gear and boats for the trip back to Quebec City and Marie-France’s welcoming celebratory dinner. It had been a wonderful trip, a trip to revisit many, many times in the days ahead.