October 2, 1999

Sweepers and Strainers

Trip #54

Patuxent River

15 miles

MAP

The last 50 miles have seemed to drag by as I get closer and closer to 500 miles for the season. I thought for sure I would reach that this weekend, but my truck needed a few minor repairs and an oil change so I ended up 7.6 miles from crossing the big 500.

But I'll get there.

Saturday Joan and I decided to try and paddle up from Route 4 to Highway 214 on the Patuxent. Rumors have circulated that earlier in the year it was passable from Route 50 all the way to Route 4. I didn't know how far up the river was tidal, and how far up we would begin to feel the southbound current. The tide was in our favor as we launch in a rising tide about 9:15 and high tide is around noon.

Around Spyglass Island we came across a buck floating in the water covered in flies. The wind was in our favor so the swarm of green flies was the only clue we had that something had died. We would pass down the other side of the island on the way back, bypassing this view, but paying for it with our noses.

We paddled up river making pretty good time. Finding a place about an hour out to stretch our legs proved to be difficult. The soft and slippery mud finally won as we decided to take our chances anyway. The place we decided to land had all the comforts one could ask for; a crude privy, grill, covered shelter, everything except a decent bank from which to get out of our boats.

After struggling ashore and anchoring our boats to keep them from being carried away with the tide (the bank was too steep to drag them ashore) we slipped up the bank to stretch our legs. Back into the boats trying our best not to carry much mud with us, we headed north again till we found a little marshy 'pond' we could explore by carefully navigating around the rocks blocking the entrance. The pond was small and we were soon underway again north.

I noticed at this point the water was now running south. Too early for the tide to have changed, I guessed it must have been from the recent rains in the area. There were large pockets of red-winged black birds all along the river. As soon as we passed a large group and were beginning to fade from earshot, another large group would come into range. We continued north against ever increasing current. The further north we went the more often we had to maneuver around logs and sunken branches.

As we neared Queen Anne bridge, the sunken logs became fallen trees across the river. We managed to squeeze by 5 or 6 until we got to the bridge. It looked as if this bridge once carried cars, but now was reduced to an eroding foot bridge. The bridge was covered in rust and from the bottom you could see the metal getting thin in places.

North of the bridge we continued on, the current becoming faster against us and the trees becoming more and more of a challenge to get through. Just 6/10s of a mile from highway 214 we squeezed around one tree only to be completely blocked in by another 20 feet away. We would have to turn back. The water was becoming too swift to make headway and the portage around these trees did not look easy. Through the tree blocking our way it appeared there were even more trees to prevent us from reaching our goal. So we turned south and pulled ashore for lunch.

The trip south was even more challenging as the current would try to push our boats sideways as we tried to thread our way back through the narrow openings around the fallen trees. The water was not flowing fast enough to pin us, but just enough to turn us sideways if we didn't approach from the right angle. Several times Joan and I would have to back off and try again to slip through a gap, usually when we would pass through a gap on one side of the river, and have to quickly cross to the gap on the other side of the river.

We made it back in record time as the current turned again to receding tide water. But not before we were treated to several hundred honking geese as they made their way south. The wind picked up the last several miles, robing us of a completely effortless return.

The last stretch of water we passed a young child paddling solo in an Old Towne Loon. He was wearing a PFD, but still struggling away as he made his way north. Once back at the launch site we saw a couple eating lunch before launching their SOTs. A man who had returned from a paddle north was loading up his kayak. We loaded up and my mind turned towards home for the hour ride back.