March 8, 2003

Powells Creek

Powells creek is on the southern boundary of Leesylvania State Park, and in all the times I've been to this park, I've never paddled this creek. Oh, I've tried. But it seems like it was always too shallow. Today I was determined to find the channel come hell or low water.

It was nice seeing the park ranger again when I entered the park. She always has a smile and a warm comment to share. Several years back when I first came through these gates she warned me about cold water, but today she recognizes me and sends me on my way after taking my $2.

There are a few bass boats launching today at the boat ramp, but not many. I drive down to the picnic area parking lot, but the lot closest to the water is closed. It is a long carry to the water and I resolve to do it in just 2 trips. One for the kayak, and one for all other things. It feels warm today and I have to dip my hands and hat in the water to cool off just as I get in the boat. All this baby fat I put on over the winter isn't helping.

It is a struggle, at first, to get underway. Every muscle groans, every joint pops. I start going over in my mind how I want to go today. The way everything is aching I consider going home now, but that thought is fleeting. I paddle past the boat ramps, cutting inside the break wall as I know the boats will be going slow through there. Around the southern park corner and into Powells creek.

I've seen this all before, a wide mouth creek with a train trestle joining the 2 banks. But it is beyond the train tracks that I've never seen. At the bridge, I recall there was rebar and fence just below water level. Just on the other side of the rebar the water was never enough to float a kayak. But today, I see no signs of rebar, and when I reach in with my paddle, I find the water a good 5 feet deep. I'm close to high tide, with no perceptible current moving past the train bridge.

It is funny how I'm slowly progressing through this area - I just know at any moment I'm going to run aground and I'll need to start a search for the channel that runs through here. I expect every stroke to be my last one, but it never happens. I paddle deeper and deeper into the creek, stopping every few minutes to check the water depth. 4.5 feet, 4.0 feet, 3.5...in a few minutes I actually bang my paddle on something and think it will all end soon. But it doesn't. And in another few moments I'm back in deeper water.

White swans begin to take to the air. Maybe 40 or 50. I remember a friend once described them as 'prayer flags' while in flight. They pass overhead in small groups, usually even numbers. One pair circles around for a last look at me. As they fly overhead I think I hear more honking than I see swans and after rounding a corner I see a lot of geese and know why.

Past a few duck blinds I suddenly find myself in the trees. The creek quickly narrowed and the increasing 'suds' that are beginning to flow by me tell me there is some faster water ahead. I spook a few mallards as I twist and turn into the quickly narrowing creek.

A strainer up ahead is the cause of the foam I'm seeing. I stop to study it for a moment. I can easily get through it, but the angle the current is flowing through I'm afraid it will throw me into a low tree on the return trip. Just up ahead I see more strainers and decide to turn around here. By paddling backwards towards the shore, I ram my stern into the bank. This pins it there while the current pushes my bow around so that I'm heading downstream.

A short trip, but a nice first jaunt back on the water. On the way out I watch the construction going up just inside the trees. In comparison to where I was stationed in Japan - there is simply little or no building on waterfronts. The Japanese preferring to keep this uncluttered, and I think more importantly, unowned by individuals.

Passing the cartop launch on my left as I exit the creek, I remember how difficult it is to launch there. Gnarly rock and wire breakwalls are too close to shore, and the carry down is steep. It looks as if the Osprey are beginning to stake out their nesting sites.

Have you ever had this happen? You are paddling along and your paddle hits something that is alive. It feels like something has grabbed your paddle and given it a good shake before letting it go. It sure gets my attention.

For the rest of the trip back I trail my thermometer in the water. It is a chilly 40 degrees on the surface and the water is a sediment colored brown. Throughout the day the VHF has crackled with warnings from one boater to another about the large amount of debris floating in the channel near Occoquan Bay.

As I land, a man sends his golden retriever in to the water after a ball. It isn't a long swim for the dog, but he is obviously exhausted when he gets to shore. I wonder for a moment if the water has zapped his energy. He's lost his desire to play when he returns, and his owner takes him back to his truck. Two long gear carries back to the car and I'm exhausted too. My shoulder aches, my wrist and fingers ache. My back is sore. And I feel good.

Woody