March 23, 2003

Erosion

7 miles - Water Temp 54 degrees F

Launching from Mason Neck State Park I turn right and head toward Kanes Creek. A large mouth bass stares at me near the surface of the water as I paddle by the sandy cliffs along the park. Quite fragile, I recall sitting off this shore watching these cliffs dissolve in the rain. A small pine hangs precariously over the edge. Before long it too will fall from the cliff and into the water below.

I cross the mouth of Kanes and across Thompson Creek, turning north west towards the Occoquan. The air smells fresh and sweet. The water is covered with small birds which soon take flight as I pass through. The sound both becoming louder and more distant as the leading edge of those taking off passed over more birds causing them to take flight.

The birds now gone, I turn toward Conrad Island for a closer inspection of a known bird haven. When I started kayaking in 1999, at high high tide there was just enough water covering the center of the island to float a kayak across. Today Conrad is in 3 pieces, with the two smaller pieces hardly more than a collection of fallen trees. Only a tree or two remains and I float across the center of the island with more than 3 feet below my keel.

From Conrad I turn south towards High Point back on Mason Neck. It has been a long time since I've paddled this part of the neck. I start thinking about where I should turn around to head back to the launch. I'm still not in any shape to paddle far. I move in close to shore and notice a a lot of trash in the eroding shore line. At first I thought it had washed ashore but as I move in closer I notice the Budweiser cans are the old pull tab type. This is someone's old trash pit that the water has sliced through and is now liberating the trash into the river.

A few small breakwalls have been assembled further down to protect the high sandy bank. More trees have toppled over here. I pass a home and another section of small breakwalls and as I contemplate turning around I realize I have paddled into a blue heron rookery. Almost every tree has a nest in it, with some of the larger trees having as many as a dozen. There are hundreds of nests in this short little section of the river.

Reaching High Point I turn around and head back. A few boats pass me by a short distance out in the channel, and I hear an unmistakable sound accompanied by whoops and hollering. Jet Skis. Argh. They too pass in the channel along with a few more boats and the smell of gasoline fumes is almost overwhelming. But I paddle along a few more minutes and eventually the crisp and sweet smell of fresh air returns.

Near the launch I pass a guy playing with his dog. He rowed here in an inflatable dingy. At the launch there is a big single kayak sitting on shore. From its bulbous bow and stern I would guess a QCC design. I land as the guy loading up his kayak is moving his truck to the upper parking lot. A sudden cracking noise gets my attention and I yell "Whoa whoa!" when I see what the source. Backing up his truck he rolled over a wooden and carbon fiber paddle. The wood paddle survived but the bent shaft carbon paddle is toast. The guy tells me it would have been the first trip with the new paddle. Over $300 crunched. I try to offer encouragement by telling him he can send it to the manufacture and get the shaft repaired. Somehow I think he'll need this trip today to de-stress...

Woody