The most important thing you should know is this: Neither picture you see is actually us or even the day of our adventure. This guy looked like he'd be boss to go kayaking with, and the sunset is pretty, and apparently taken from a kayak. Consider this a disclaimer. Now, onto the story...
Yesterday afternoon marked the first day of fall kayaking.
A group of friends and I decided to explore the Lieutenant River, a beautiful spot tucked away on the other side of Ferry Road in Old Lyme, Connecticut. Four of us were in kayaks, and one guy brought a canoe. Our trip began with much promise - calm water, a cool breeze, clear + sunny sky. We paddled along, laughing and talking, all the while taking in the beauty of the area. The river, which winds in many directions, is enveloped by cattails, so although we could hear boats and water moving, we could not see it. The water trail that we followed feeds into the Connecticut River, probably 100 yards to the left of the Baldwin Bridge. Suddenly the calm disappeared... we found ourselves instead in choppy water, the occasional boat wake spilling onto my lap. Strenuous paddling ensued. After fighting the current, we reached another channel at the far end near an island, and decided to break for a snack. We pulled the four kayaks together, split some crackers and drank gatorade all-stars. It was rad and I felt like I was 10 again. Caleb (canoe guy) had pulled his boat onto the nearby island, and proceeded to hack down reeds. Those of us in the kayaks surveyed our two options - continue down this second channel, and hope it led back to the launch, or explore a narrow passageway that looked like it cut back through to the original channel we started off in. We chose the narrow channel. It seemed like the more obviously wise choice. And here is where the real adventure began.
Two minutes in and we all agreed on one thing - it felt like a movie. Whether that movie was "Heart of Darkness," "Apocolypse Now" or something scary, none of us could decide. This channel weaved right and left, the same way a go-cart track might be laid out. We were spread far enough apart to not be able to see each other when the leader would turn a corner. But we laughed each time we hit the reeds or ran aground. Then, from up head, the lead kayaker called out, "I don't think we can go any further." The thought of paddling backwards, the prospect of it, was only underscored by its impossibility. The only way to get back was to turn my boat around. And at a whomping 12.5 feet long (the width of the channel about 10 feet) there was no way for me to turn my boat around. Try, I did, but I hit each bank of the channel like a pinball stuck between two metal pieces. Back and forth, back and forth. Another kayaker tried to push me in order to turn the boat; I hit that person with a paddle accidentally while trying to frantically paddle in the opposite direction. I stuck one foot into the water to see how deep it was, and when my foot sunk into the mud and water, I decided it was deep enough to not do that again. This scene, which probably lasted 10 minutes, was mostly funny, with a pinch of terrifying. Then, out of the reeds, Caleb came paddling along. In these types of situations, I have to say, dude always had a plan.
The plan, first and foremost, involved doing a portage. That is, you pull your vessel on to land and walk it to water. We were pulled up in our kayaks - like riding a rollercoaster backwards. Once we were all on land (in this case, deep in the reeds), we had to find the best route back to open water. This invovled trekking through marshland (probably protected) and sinking our feet in the mud/muck. My black fleece pants were soaking with marsh water. I tried to look at it as nature's way of moisturizing my legs. We walked through more reeds, cattails, cotton, grass, mud, prickers, and probably poison ivy, quicksand, venus flytraps and wet cement. Awesome. Some artifacts we discovered along the way were a vintage Old Spice bottle and a lacrosse ball. After we walked through and cleared the area for a new launch site, we headed back to get the boats. Despite having to drag our kayaks, we made it to the next cove, and found another channel that we were able to cut through. The ride back was as pleasant as the original ride out, with the exception of the paddle-water fight Caleb and I got into. This led us back to the bridge, and finally back to the launch. Our trip ended the way all good things do, with Starbucks.
Huck Finn's got nothin' on us.
