August 16, 2001

Tangier Island

Monday Aug 13, 2001

MAP

I wasn't going back in time - but I would discover it would be a place like none other I had visited before.

I had been searching for a place to have my last adventure before moving to Japan in November. I considered exploring the Maine Island trail, but several preparation camping trips had taught me I didn't want to move camp every day. It would be nice to just go someplace and day trip from there, moving camp as little as possible.

A trip in July to Janes Island in lower Maryland on the Chesapeake Bay had planted a seed in my mind that it might be possible to camp there and have several excellent day trip opportunities. Before long this seed grew into a somewhat ambitious goal to kayak out 16 miles into the heart of the bay to a small island in Virginia.

Tangier Island rests in Virginia just below the Maryland border in the middle of the Chesapeake Bay. A mere 11 miles from the eastern shore, and 14 miles from the western shore would make this an easy one way day trip - if the weather is calm.

In preparation for the trip I gathered local area information from folks on the Chesapeake Paddlers Association list server (a local sea kayaking club), assembled a few charts, and developed and distributed a float plan. Finally I made reservations at Janes Island State Park and at a Bed and Breakfast on Tangier. I was ready to go.

The Sunday night before I left I was filled with anticipation of the trip. Not an expedition by any means, but it was exciting to get a break from work. On Monday I headed out expecting to be caught in the usual morning Washington DC rush hour, but found the traffic light. Those who spend countless hours stuck in big city traffic jams can appreciate how relieved I was not to get stuck in the stop-and-go commuter hell that normally marks a weekday morning. As I crossed the Choptank a bit later, the first whiff of salt air filled my nose. It helped ease me into vacation mode and forget about work and those things left behind.

I arrived at Janes Island State Park around 11:00 am. This would be home base for the next week and after pitching my tent I decided to walk about the campground. The park was lightly occupied this early in the week, but even on weekends in the past I have not seen the park full. The campers who were there were mainly retired RV'ers. Couples in the twilight of their lives spending time on the road seeing the country in their retirement. At almost 40, there was no one my age or younger in the park today. I was the kid on the block.

After my walkabout I went into Crisfield, the nearest town to Janes Island, for lunch. Crisfield is a waterman's town. Its income depends primarily on the men who work the crab and fishing boats. There is a little bit of a touristy atmosphere, but the folks I met were all friendly. It was apparent most lived hard lives and depended on the daily catch for their livelihood.

Back in camp I decided to pre-pack my kayak so I wouldn't have to do it in the morning. After attaching the wheels and stuffing in everything but my tent I went out to watch the water from the dock. A lone workboat was heading through the channel and several campers were trying to catch a few blue crabs for dinner. I stayed until almost dark reading a book and putting my mind into `vacation mode'. Back at camp I fixed dinner and as I finished putting everything away I sensed a change. I wasn't sure what it was at first, but then I noticed it had suddenly gotten quiet. Then off in the distance I heard a new sound - Rain!

In my tent that night I was kept up till past midnight. The rain was pounding my tent and about 11:30pm I felt the first few drops make its way through the tent fly and drip on my face. The rain was coming down in buckets and I could feel water rushing under the tent floor when I patted it with my hand. I rearranged the fly a bit so the water would run down one of the tent poles and finally managed to get some sleep when the rain finally let up.

Tuesday Aug 14, 2001

6:00 am came early, but because of my pre-packing the night before, I was on the water by 6:30 am after stowing my tent in the kayak, eating a quick breakfast, and locking up my truck to stand watch over my campsite. It was near high tide, but I would have a little struggle working my way against the current in the little channel between Janes Island and the mainland. This was planned so that the bulk of my trip would be with an ebbing current.

The forecast was for southerly winds switching later to the west, but I found there to be no wind except for an occasional puff out of the north. The lightning and thunder were gone from the night before but the occasional boom of a jet fighter in the distance caused me to look around several times.

I stayed to the left shoreline as I passed by the town of Crisfield. By crossing the channel here I knew the boats would be moving slow through the town docks. There was plenty of light but there was reduced visibility with a lot of humidity still in the air. Playing it safe by crossing the channel in town rather than farther out where the boats would be at top speed would add a mile onto my trip as I worked my way around the shore to my first waypoint - Great Point.

Once at Great Point I placed the compass on 230 degrees and headed for Great Fox Island. There were a lot of work boats out coaming the waters for crabs and fish. I really didn't need the compass for this portion of the trip since I was traveling down the outskirts of Cedar Island. This long marshy island provided a safe bail out in the event I were to get caught up in weather and had to bail out.

Crossing a small open water patch to Clump Island and then I could see the hunting lodge that was the landmark to tell me I had reached Great Fox Island. The lodge is a long two story building and can be seen from a long distance away. On reaching the tip of Great Fox, I turned my kayak to point towards 245 degrees. My destination was invisible; hidden in the misty haze of the horizon.

Tangier is a fairly large island at about 9 miles when navigating around the outer edges. It would be hard to miss, but I was glad to have my GPS with waypoints plugged in just in case. It would turn out not to be needed as my piloting skills seemed to be working exceptionally well this day. About 2 miles out from Great Fox I picked up the green bell buoy that was my next waypoint. The water turned from an emerald green to a much darker color as I crossed the channel, then lightened again as I approached the buoy.

As I got closer to the buoy I realized I had made a tactical mistake. My original plan had called for a short stop at Great Fox Island for a stretch. I had been feeling so good and making good time that I decided to continue on to Tangier. Now I was paying for it as my butt and lower back began to ache. I hung out near the buoy for a few minutes trying to stretch as best I could and as I did I noticed a work boat getting closer and closer. I kept telling myself he would see me and turn, but he kept getting closer by the moment. I reached forward with my paddle and with a few powerful paddle strokes put the buoy between me and the oncoming crab boat. As soon as I started to sprint out of the way, the boat veered and turned away. I wasn't sure if he ever saw me, or if this was the line he was taking to lay his next group of crab pots since he immediately slowed and started tossing them over the side.

I made a final course adjustment to take me in to Tangier harbor. Nearing the outer marker I began to hear the foghorn. I stayed well to the southeast of the channel until getting within the protected confines of Tangier. The island is in three main parts, with a `T' shaped channel in the center dividing the island pieces. I had to work myself back into the channel as the water was getting shallow in other spots. At low tide most of this harbor would be mud except for the channel.

I needed a place to get out, and my aching back wanted it to happen as quickly as possible. But searching as far as I could see showed few options for pulling the boat out. The docks were high - too high for me to climb out on. I paddled to the left and asked a woman standing on a dock is she knew where I could take out. She suggested it might be possible at the marina and pointed off in its direction. I thanked her and started looking for a marina. It ALL looked like a big marina to me! But eventually I found a dock with the word marina on it and found a muddy shore just behind a portion of the dock. I nosed my kayak into the soft bank and stepped into shin deep mud and pulled my kayak up onto the grass.

Once on shore I fought off the urge to want to walk around and stretch my legs and just laid back on the grass to stretch out my body as much as possible. Gathering my aches and pains together, I rose and started putting my kayak cart back together and placing the boat on top. The Paddleboy heavy lifter had taken up a lot of valuable space in the rear hatch. I had to place my clothes dry bag between my legs for the trip over, but in hindsight should have strapped the bag on the rear deck as there was not enough wind to make additional items on deck an issue.

I pulled the kayak up near the dock and immediately engaged an older man in conversation. After answering his curious questions about where I had come from, I asked for directions on how to get to Shirley's Bay View Inn. He immediately motioned me to follow him onto the dock and pointed to a red roofed house with two red brick chimneys. The old gent then told me to leave my kayak where it was and which roads to take to get across the bridge to the B&B. I loaded up some gear into a mesh bag and struck off across the island towards the red roofed house. I was quite a sight as I walked still dripping water with odd things slung over a shoulder and looking pretty much like I had washed ashore from a shipwreck.

When I got to the B&B someone on the front porch told me to enter through the side of the house, and I tossed the heavy gear to the ground and fished out my wallet. Shirley Pruitt was the first person I would meet in the house, and she checked me in and began to run through the details of check out time, where to eat, etc when I had to excuse myself as I was starting to drip water on the hardwood floor. I told her I would return in a bit after I retrieved the rest of my gear and settled in.

It had been such a short walk, I declined Shirley's offer to have her husband take me to get the rest of my gear. It was only noon, and I had plenty of time to kill so after emptying my mesh bag in my room I headed back to the boat. This time I decided to just wheel the boat, as it was only a five-minute walk to the house on a flat road.

The roads were more like wide sidewalks; most not wide enough for two golf carts to pass without one moving to the edge of the road. About the size of a single lane road and in pretty good condition. As I pushed the kayak through the middle of town, I could feel everyone stop and look as the Gulfstream and I made our way back to the B&B. I parked the boat across the street from the B&B and carried in the rest of my gear, hanging out my wet things across the chairs on the porch outside my room.

After a quick shower and change of clothes I decided to go in search of lunch. First I stopped back to chat with Shirley and find where I could use a phone. The phone line for guest use was out of order, but the Pruitt's were kind enough to let me use their phone to call a friend who was holding my float plan and expecting an "I arrived safely" call. I finished my call quickly and chatted for a few minutes with the rest of the Pruitt family. I immediately felt right at home as their warm hospitality immediately put me at ease and helped suppress the introvert part of my persona.

Back near the docks I stopped in the first restaurant I came upon. Fisherman's Corner fixed me up an excellent cheeseburger to replace some of the calories I used up on the trip over. While there I learned one of the specials of the day were fried scallops, my all time favorite seafood. I had already decided where I would have dinner that evening, and inquired as to closing time before I left.

I explored a few shops and made my way back to the marina to tell the nice gentleman who had let me keep my kayak at the marina that I had taken over to the B&B. I found him sitting where I had originally left my kayak dipping flat sticks into a can of white paint. The sticks were used to make it easy to identify the owner when they were wedged into a float marking a crab pot.

Grocery store - I had a headache so I stopped by the grocery store on the way back to the B&B to pick up something for my head. This was worth a stop as there were lots of items on the shelves - It reminded me of what would have been called a "dry goods store" many years ago.

I walked back to the B&B to finish putting away my gear. I opened my clothes dry bag to find water had leached around the roll top into the first layer of clothes. The roll top had sat on the bottom of the boat for the crossing over - in the bilge water. I hung up the damp clothes and met up with Mr. Pruitt. We talked a bit about the kayak and he told me that the creek (West Ridge Creek) in front of the B&B went all the way out to the harbor and also out to the southeast side of the island. If I had known this sooner, I could have paddled all the way up to within 30 feet of the B&B.

I could see all 4 bridges that crossed the creek on the island. The bridges on the North and South ends of the creek were higher than the two center bridges. The northern center bridge was called the `school' bridge. The southern center bridge was for Wallace road, so I called it Wallace Bridge although I don't know if it really had a name. I learned that Mr. Pruitt's grandfather had helped build it many years ago. I discussed my plans to paddle around the island in the morning, and Mr. Pruitt said I could put in right on the creek.

Wednesday Aug 15, 2001

In the morning I had breakfast with several other folks in Mrs. Pruitt's dining room. Eggs, bacon, sausage, fried bread and orange juice and coffee provided just the right fuel to get me motivated for my trip around the island. The evening before I had moved my kayak within the white picket fence of the Pruitt B&B. Rather than deal with the cart this morning I picked up the kayak and placed it over my shoulder for the 30 foot walk to the creek.

It was high tide, so it was easy to step from the grass right into my cockpit. At low tide this would be a little muddy. Swinging the boat north I headed for the school bridge, but as I got closer, I realized my kayak would not fit under it. My bow was a good inch too high to go under, and the deck only got taller as it approached the cockpit. I turned south for the Wallace bridge. My kayak could fit, but not with me sitting in it. I debated taking out and dragging the boat around the bridge. Instead I looked under the bridge and saw a railing I could hang on to while leaning over near the water. I sat down my paddle to test the clearance, leaned the boat over to 90 degrees, and went hand over hand across the beam under the bridge. I had made it through easily, but had left my paddle on the other side, so I crossed under a second time to retrieve my paddle and then back through a third time to start my morning exploration.

The creek twisted and wound through the island and under the southern most bridge (I called this bridge the Factory Bridge). This bridge I could easily take sitting upright. Past the bridge I turned right and explored the marsh a bit before returning back and to the left to exit into Cod Harbor.

Cod Harbor makes up the `hook' on the southern end of Tangier Island. Although shallow, a few workboats were out this morning checking crab pots. As I made my way near the tip of the island, I saw nearly 30 brown pelicans standing on the beach. They didn't seem to mind my presence, but I kept my distance. The wind was blowing this day and waves were breaking near the beach. Out on the point there was a long sand bar just below the surface. The waves rose and broke for a long distance out from visible land. I took a moment to clip my tow belt from me to the kayak. Although I could easily walk to shore from here, my kayak might not see land for 50 miles if we became separated. I paddled out to where I believed it safe enough to cross the sand bar and avoid the biggest breaking waves, then rounded back behind the protected waters of the island.

This area protected from the north wind, had snow white sandy beaches. I beached to take a look around and found a large salt water pond which had been hidden from my low view in the kayak. After exploring a bit I returned to the boat and launched in dead calm water.

As I began to make may way up towards the straight, western side of the island, the waves increased to 1-1.5 feet. I fought the wind and waves the 1.5 miles to western entrance to the Tangier Harbor, passing the airport and what smelled like a garbage incinerator.

The small harbor has three entrances. One from the west, an entrance from the northeast, and an entrance from the southeast. It is these three entrances that divide Tangier into its three main island components. The southern third is the populated portion of the island. The eastern third looked uninhabited, as well as the northern third except for a few mobile homes on the northern tip.

I followed power lines up to the northern tip of the island. The handful of mobile homes looked uninhabited, but the power lines seemed to indicate that it had been used within the recent past. This area looked like it might make a good place for overnight camping.

The rebounding waves off the northern point made for a rough ride until I crossed the point and turned southeast. I followed this side of the island back to the main channel that I had entered the day before.

Arriving back at the harbor, I turned west at the fuel dock and started looking for the northern entrance to the creek. I had hoped the tide had dropped enough to make passage under the school bridge possible, but even if it hadn't, it was only a few hundred feet carry to the B&B from the school bridge.

I passed the marina and worked my way out to the western end of the island. No luck in finding the creek. I turned back east to look again and this time found it hidden behind some docks. It wasn't hard to find, and I'm not sure why I missed it the first time.

I headed into the creek staying close to the sides that had old pilings at the edge of the water. The channel worked its way close to the pilings as if zig zagged through the island. I crossed under the north bridge (I never attached a name to this bridge, but it was the busiest of the 4 bridges on the island) and I passed a boy checking crab pots from a dory. Within minutes I came to the school bridge. The water level had gone down, but not enough to simply just paddle under. I laid the kayak over on edge again and crossed under this bridge as I had done the Wallace Bridge at the beginning of the trip, making sure this time to take my paddle with me.

Shirley's B&B was easy to spot from the creek. First time travelers will know it by a miniature lighthouse right on the edge of the creek in front of the house. My adventure around the island had taken me about nine miles. I carried the boat back across the street and placed it inside the picket fence.

I went back to my room still reeling from everything I had seen on the morning trip. I spent some time writing in my journal and reading, still trying to digest everything that I saw. In the Tangier harbor I had seen many stand-alone docks. From a distance they all looked connected and lined next to the channel. On closer inspection each dock stood unconnected to anything else. Each could only be reached by boat and each contained a small shed and a long trough with water running through it. Many were occupied with people, mostly women, waiting for the workboats to come in or taking care of chores.

There were several signs in the harbor, which asked visitors to support their way of life by not supporting the Chesapeake Bay Foundation. The signs appeared weathered, indicating this was not a new battle between the workmen and the Foundation. This island was caught between a way of life and declining bay seafood populations, which puts them at odds with environmental groups striving to restore the bay.

As I wrote in my journal the power went off in the room at least a half dozen times. It would start with the lights dimming, followed by a few seconds of being bright, and finally darkness. After the first time I opened the blinds to have light to write by, but as the evening wore on I wondered if the restaurants would have power for dinner. The hungrier I became, it seemed the more frequent and longer lasting the outages. I began thinking about the emergency food and stove I had brought for the crossing as a possible last resort.

My luck was holding though and I enjoyed a large seafood dinner at Fisherman's Corner that night. I managed to eat dinner and walk the perimeter main roads around the island and still get back to the B&B within an hour.

Church plays a big part in this island's existence. As I finished up my walk around the island I heard the church bell calling people to worship, and met Mrs. Pruitt as she climbed into her golf cart with bible in hand.

Cemetery plots seemed to be at a premium on the island, as small parcels of land filled with headstones spilled over into adjoining yards. On Tuesday I had seen a woman meticulously cutting the grass around some headstones with a weed trimmer. I passed that area three times during that afternoon, and each time she stopped, smiled and gave me a nod.

Back in my room I readied my gear for the morning, packing away what I could and staging the stuff that I couldn't. I was a bit sad to be leaving this place so soon as it had done wonders for setting my soul at ease. It was also sad to see Tangier as it really is - A slowly dying island whose children are going off to college and not returning. The population on Tangier is growing older, and those that stay find life gets a bit harder each year. Tourism has breathed a resuscitating breath into the island, but only for a small percentage of the island's inhabitants. The harshness of island living was etched into these people's bodies and blurred by their smiles and friendly attitudes.

Thursday Aug 16, 2001

6:00 a.m. and I'm wide-awake. I spray myself lightly with bug spray and head outside to load the kayak around 7:00. Mr. Pruitt is out and we talk about my journey home today. It is high tide and I know I can't clear the School Bridge so I will put in on the north side. Before I go back to my room for another load of gear I ask Mr. Pruitt how business has been. "Much better this year since putting up a web site on the internet", I'm told. I confess this is how I learned of the B&B and then excuse myself to gather more gear.

8:00 a.m. and I enter the dining room for breakfast. Staying for breakfast will put me against the tide on the last leg of the trip, but such good food and company is too hard to resist. Several folks are leaving today - A reporter from the Washington Post, a couple who arrived the same day as I. Another older couple just arrived the day before, and a father and daughter from Baltimore is staying a few more days. After eating I say goodbye to my fellow breakfast partners, thank the Pruitt's for their hospitality, and answer a few last questions about my journey back to Janes Island.

Mr. Pruitt comes out to move the golf cart as I leave to make it easier to get out of the yard. The kayak wheels easily down the few hundred feet to School Bridge. I pack the wheels in the kayak, toss my clothes bag into the cockpit (rolled edge side up this time) and hop in for the journey to Janes. In no time I've cleared the creek. Fifteen minutes into the journey I've cleared the island, and by 20 minutes I was clear of the last channel marker and foghorn.

My compass pointed towards Great Fox island, I embark towards a destination I cannot see. A mile later I see a shadowy image of the hunting lodge, but I can't tell from this distance if that is really it or a workboat. I decided to trust my compass until I was certain and ignored the apparition on the horizon for now. Another half hour would pass and I could then tell it was the hunting lodge.

With more daylight this morning than on Tuesday, I stayed further from shore when I reached Great Fox. I didn't want to make the same mistake of not stopping this time, and decided that spot would be near the southern end of Cedar Island. My water bottle on deck was running low by this point and I refilled the bottle on shore and pulled out a big bag of GORP for lunch. The biting flies were horrendous so I opted to get back in the boat and drift as I ate lunch.

Drifting north with the current I began to creep up on a large round object just under the surface of the water. As I got closer it poked its head up and I could see it was a large sea turtle. It looked at me for a few moments but as I drifted closer it finally ducked under and disappeared.

The wind was still and the water mirror like. The paddle from Tangier had been monotonous until I got close to land. The only breeze was generated by my moving forward, so I was consuming lots of water to replace what I was sweating out by the buckets.

As I rounded Great Point, a workboat shut off his engine and hollered over to me asking me where I had come from. "Tangier - this morning" I replied. "I'm from there originally!" came his response. We talked for a few minutes before I headed out to cross the channel. Cutting across to Janes Island from here will save me the extra mile I took on the way out. The extra daylight and lower traffic makes it a safe crossing.

Heading into the channel that runs between Crisfield and Janes Island, I see the current has changed. I'll need to stay close to shore to avoid the worst of it. The final 4 miles feels comfortable, as though I'm almost home. Approaching the Janes Island dock I see Mark and Karl are on the dock waiting for me.

I edge up to the dock saying hello and receiving congratulations from Mark and Karl. Josh, Karl's son is also there and after a brief introduction I toss my clothes bag up on the dock to prevent me from tripping over as I get out of the boat. Paddling up to the boat ramp I get out and get help hauling the boat out. Its heavy - at least after those 16 miles it seems that way.

After unloading the boat and setting up camp we head into Crisfield for a fine seafood dinner. In the morning we'll paddle Janes, but tonight we bulk up on fried food.

At 6:00 a.m. the winds are already up. I pack the boat and head down to the water about 7:15, and Mark, Karl, and Josh show up shortly afterward. We discuss the impacts of the high winds and decide for a protected paddle through the island, with a peek out into the sound for the more adventuresome of us.

Out on the sound side of the island, Karl experiences his first unintentional capsize. We were sitting broadside to the waves having a discussion. I was sitting downwind and about 2 wavelengths from Karl. The wave rose up and started tumbling down its face without warning. Karl set up for a roll and managed to come up by pushing off the bottom.

Josh and Mark went off to explore the island on foot and Karl and I played in the waves. Karl took his first surfing lesson and wet exited when he broached and was knocked over. A quick T rescue and he was back in his boat in under a minute. Several more rides, and he's surfing like a pro. We both spend some time practicing our rolls in the waves and I work on my high brace on the move. We tire before long and head off to explore the rest of the red trail when Mark and Josh return.

To Be Finished.