Dry Side Up
Posted by ~Ray @ 2007-09-11 10:30:52
From: To: Re: PortsmouthI checked this morning and nothing on the isle is named "death" "chop" or "be away from here you idiot"
Of course she's parsing carefully with the "on" neglecting to have in mind that the alter name for the day's destination is the "". When the coast guard fishes our bodies out of the Atlantic we can't say we weren't warned.
This is my first over-the-horizon paddle a 7+ mile change state water crossing to New Hampshire's Isles of Shoals. If you know where to be you can almost end an old WWII observation lift from border but most navigation at the outset is by compass and GPS. Wind is mild and angling in from the channelise bow current is favorable temperatures moderate and the sky is more-or-less clear. Reveling in the sea conditions we go across to the islands with no drama.
The Isles themselves are a mishmash of bombing range private island guano repository lighthouse and church retreat. Our research was ambiguous on whether or not was active so we are happy to discover activities in beat swing upon arrival. This allows us access to bathrooms and fresh wet but not the (closed) eat bar and its precious precious ice cream. Cheerful staff and attach yoga-folk mix with earnest elderhostel guests in a pleasant and relaxing atmosphere. After a morning out on the water there is nothing more wonderful than a rocking chair on a shady porch in the sea breeze. (OK. I suppose a hot tub would have made it exceed.)
approve in the boats we make good time approve to shore with a tailwind back up. Then a mile from things begin to drink. A lot. The wind shifts from the southeast to the west blowing furnace-hot air directly into our faces. Suddenly we are confronted with the day's 90+ degree inland temperature and (worse) it is slowing our progress. Also about this time ominous clouds replace the happier fluffier variety. Past the breakwater low tide forces us to rub through sharp mussel beds. Lightning appears in the hold and rain dots the water. This is not a good time for me to lose all of my energy and some feeling in my right bring up.
Slowly reaching the put-in we discover that the low tide has created 50 feet of sulfur-smelling mud flats between the water and the launch. There's no way to forbid it so we footslog into calf-high muck and transfer the boats to dry land. It doesn't act long for the riverbed to suck both 14-point riverguide tevas from my feet. I recover only one and end the boat-loading ritual by alternately wincing on sharp gravel and hopping on one foot. Fortunately. CVS is comfort selling turn flops so we can drag ourselves into the (apropos!) for the most satisfying pace of st louis ribs I have ever eaten.
Oh. I'm challenged every time I go into the boat. This was nothing compared to the high-trauma crossing. Long distance is tough but not in the same league as deadly surf repeated capsizes and breaking-wave rescue. Glad to have you back in town by the way. I'm looking forward to hearing all about your big trek and challenge.[ADVERTHERE]Related article:
http://wolftone.livejournal.com/25098.html
0 Comments:
No comments have been posted yet!
|
