Newfoundland - Baie Verte Peninsula

By Phil Nester
Coastal Adventures
June 24 - 1 July 2003
This is the second time I have gone on a professionally outfitted trip. The disadvantages are that you are watched over and guided like a yuppie tourist. You have no say in trip planning, campsite selection, or itinerary. Finally, an outfitted trip is considerably more expensive. The advantages are that you do not have to worry about doing any of the above. The biggest advantage is the outfitter provides all meals and meal preparation. The usual clientele of an outfitted trip are likely to expect a much higher quality and more elaborate cuisine than I would provide on my own trip, so meals are first rate. The food included steak, pork chops, fresh fish and scallops for dinner and bacon and eggs for breakfast. Participants are asked to chip in with slicing vegetables et cetera and clean up. Finally, the outfitter and staff will watch over the participants to assure their safety, and well being. This can be annoying at times but it can also be fun to have someone worrying about you. Scott warned at the icebergs, "Back up Phil. You are too close!"

Coastal Adventures of Nova Scotia was started by Dr. Scott Cunningham who gave up a career in molecular biology to create Coastal Adventures and provide guided trips. Among his accomplishments are circumnavigating Nova Scotia in an open canoe, he is a Senior Instructor in the British Canoe Union, author of the guidebook Sea Kayaking in Nova Scotia, and many magazine articles.

The original trip plan was to paddle from Jackson's Arm to Harbour (sic) Deep. Then return on the ferry that serviced this small town. However, the village of Harbour Deep has recently been shut down by the government and the ferry service discontinued. The ferry was the only access and all of its citizens were forced to relocate. Cod fishing provided the main occupation for many residents. Unfortunately, the Grand Banks fisheries have been destroyed by years of over fishing. Foreign trollers and factory boats took everything leaving no breeding stock to sustain the fishery. The industry collapsed leaving Newfoundland fisherman without a means of livelihood. Coastal villages are dying as the population leaves to seek employment on mainland Canada. The village at Round Harbour, where we ended our trip has only six occupied houses out of about fifty that are there. With the closing of Harbour Deep, Coastal Adventures was forced to make other arrangements. The Baie Verte Peninsula was chosen as an alternative

The Characters

Scott Cunningham, the leader, is sure of his self in word and manner. Michael Embree, a very accomplished paddler and guide. Genny Killin, a guide who served as a kind of glue that brought everything together, and regulated the various forces in a subtle but effective way - Very much like the way that a governor on an engine controls the RPM's. These three made up the staff. Paying participants were Dolores Wilmshurst, a feisty lady who has the better part of building three boats to her credit, Deborah Freeman, an 'outward bound' personality that is sure about who and what she is, Mike Forbes, a Canadian by birth who is now living in Colorado. And finally, myself, who has learned never to take anything too seriously.

The Trip

Our group met at the Deere Lake Motel on June 24 at 9:00 a.m. The drive from Deere Lake to Fleur de Lys is about one hour. Finally, as we descended the mountains to Fleur de Lys, the deep blue or the North Atlantic Ocean came into view along with some icebergs on the distant horizon. They shone brilliantly white in the bright sun like the wedding dress of a virgin.

Fleur de Lys is a quaint little fishing village trying to make the transition from a fishing economy to a tourist economy. Its main claim to fame is an Inuit soap stone quarry. Ancient people quarried round cores of soapstone that they then fashioned into square bowls for cooking. At this archeological site is a museum and research center. Scott treated the group to a tour before we headed off to start our trip.

Thanks to the airline loosing his baggage, Colorado Mike was without his gear, but Coastal Adventures was prepared to provide him with what he needed to paddle and camp the first knight. Arrangements where made for his gear to be shuttled ahead the next day. However, with the long daylight of the season, accentuated by being north of the fiftieth parallel, we ended up delaying the start until his gear arrived. It was late in the afternoon when we finally launched and turned our bows to the sea, but there was plenty of light left, and it proved worthwhile to wait. Waiting had given us plenty of time to pack the expedition equipment and supplies into our kayaks.

Coastal Adventures provided gear according to the needs of the participants. You could arrive with nothing but your cloths and rent as needed. Most provided their own tents and equipment but used Coastal Adventures' boats. I provided my own, even though it would have been more cost and time efficient to fly to Newfoundland and use one of theirs. I wanted to paddle my home built Chesapeake 17. Now I can say "I paddle this boat from the Florida Everglades to the north shore of Newfoundland." There was one tandem kayak in the group. It provides a large capacity center storage section, and is an ideal vessel should a paddler become tired, or injured. All the gear provided by the outfitter was quality equipment.

Following the contours of the coastline, our flotilla of seven people in six kayaks covered 87 statute miles from Fleur de Lys to the small fishing village at Round Harbour. Our first day was rather short because of our late start. The only open crossing we make was to the opposite side of Baie Verte, the namesake bay of the peninsula. We paddled though and along Ming's Bight, Hardy Harbour, Confusion Bay, Canillie Cove, Cape Saint John, Manful Bight, Harbor Round, Shoe Cove, Tilt Cove, and finally, ended at Round Harbour.

The rugged coast provided few places to land. Most of the interface of land and sea is along vertical cliffs reaching hundreds of feet into the air, or jagged out croppings of rock where the ocean swells churn in tumultuous confusion among the rocks. Narrow channels through rock, and small islands, or towering pinnacles provide interesting challenges during the routine of paddling. Some you can simply paddle through with little regard to the action of the waves. While others require precise timing to dart through a narrow opening on the crest of a swell that provides the water needed for clearance or the push of current. Of course it is best to be mindful of the directions of flood and ebb of the currents at all times while near the rocks.

It was to our fortune that whenever it was time for lunch or to set camp, a cove, harbor, or bight hove into view. We took advantage of them as we found them; fore to pass one by could mean a long paddle to the next. Of course coves and contour lines on the topo maps give strong indications of where landing sites might be, and Scott took advantage of local knowledge wherever possible, but we had no firm knowledge of this until we were there. As Scott said in the beginning, due to the logistics problem forcing the change of trip location, "This is an exploratory trip." His years of experience with coastal navigation helped to find safe harbor when the time came to land. A typical landing involved a steep beach with rocks the size of cantaloupes and watermelons. The rocks coupled with wave action and our heavily laden boats resulted in considerable wear and tear to my painted wooden hull. A landing in a cove that provided no beach involved riding a swell over a rock ledge, through a notch, and into a semi rectangular pool. As the wave receded, the boat would bottom out and the occupant could extricate from the cockpit before the next wave rushed in. The boat could then be lifted out of the way for the next boat. Launching the next day was the same process in reverse.

The campsites are among the most rugged I have encountered. The first one was a small cobble beach. Above the high tide line is a trench about 3 to 4 feet across and 6 to 8 inches deep of 3 to 4 inch stones created by storm waves. Scott suggested that I orient my tent over this trench so that I would lie in the bottom of the trough, and he showed me how to level the stones lengthwise with his foot. Rain would not be a problem because the hardest deluge of water would sink immediately through the rock. Following his advice, I was surprised at how comfortable it was. With no slope, I did not roll or slide off my pad. The loose, smooth stones allowed forming a uniform surface. A Therm-a-rest pad placed over the stones provides excellent sleeping. I looked forward to camping on the cobbles at future sites.

Another site provides a flat tabletop of bedrock covered with a three-inch layer of moss, lichens, and Alpine like wild flowers of which I felt guilty about walking and setting my tent on. It overlooks a large deep-water cove of the bluest water and sky. It is surrounded with splendid rock formations with bizarre folds in the strata and a 20-foot thick band of pink granite passing through it. It is one of the prettiest sites we had.

The most exciting site was a small rocky beach deep in a box canyon. The sides are rugged cliffs reaching from the water to the sky. A small, narrow, rubble and sand beach wraps around the back wall in a crescent. A short distance back from the water's edge lie large boulders and then the back wall of the canyon. A small trickle of water cascades down the rock at the very rear. Because of the limited space, I suggested to Colorado Mike that he and I share my tent. We found a place that we could make due by removing many bowling-ball size and smaller rocks to reveal a flat area of coarse rust-red sand. The next morning as we were packing, I was looking at the crag rising about 60 feet beyond where my tent had been when a mass of rock the size of a dump truck broke free from the precipice and fell down the side of the shear wall. The sound was beyond any words I have. It was all over in an instant. I looked around to count heads and noted that the others were doing the same. If any one had been there, they would not have had time to perceive it. Scott had prophetically warned when we landed not to set up under an overhang.

The weather for this trip was a wonderful combination. The water temperature, having icebergs in it carried by the Labrador Current down from the arctic through the Davis Straight, was about zero degrees centigrade. We had a few days of unseasonably warm air with sunshine and gentle off sure winds. We had one brief shower during a lunch stop that was of no consequence as we wore dry-suits for paddling the frigid water. It rained once at night, and there was frost one morning. Two days were foggy with the wind off the sea. This added greatly to the variety of the scenery. Rocky points and cliffs would loom out of the gray mist like ghosts. Their tops would simply disappear into the sky giving the impression that they may rise to heaven itself. We all stayed close so that all would be insight of each other. I thought to myself, 'If you got separated from the group, got out of sight of land, and missed the next point, It would be a long way to England.' I really enjoyed the scenic variety brought by the fog. The wind was generally light enough that it did not matter whether it was in your face or at you back. The only time I remember a head wind was for a short part of one morning until rounding a point. Often the wind was at our backs. The sea was usually calm with moderate swells. However, on the last two days a steady on shore wind gave us much larger swells and waves. It was a delight to paddle in large following seas, and I tried to surf. Although I could get a noticeable push from the waves, I never really caught one.

This writing would not be complete without mentioning that I am prone to motion sickness. I had a prescription for a patch to wear behind my ear to prevent seasickness. The day of the big waves was the day that I lost my patch. I do not know when I lost it, but there is a four-hour delay for the transdermal system to work. I replaced the patch after lunch but I still had a moment of seasickness in the afternoon. Nova Scotia Mike appeared at my side from out of nowhere to render assistance if needed. That demonstrated how close the guides keep an eye on you on an outfitted trip. I was okay and continued to paddling at a normal rate, but I was happy to reach shore where we camped.

The scenery from put in to take out along the north shore of the Baie Verte Peninsula is absolutely fabulous! Every point, cove, headland, and village would be at home on a calendar or post card. There are gorgeous waterfalls cascading down the cliffs to the sea, and sea caves are common. One cave was so large as to permit us to paddle into it all at once. It extends about 300 feet into a cliff. At the back, a huge pendulous rock hangs from the ceiling like the uvula of some hideous dragon. It was smaller at its top and bulbous at the bottom. I wondered what holds it in place, and was glad to get away from it. The wonders of the shoreline blend endlessly into one beautiful land and seascape from Fleur de Lys to Round Harbour.

The small communities provide another opportunity for scenic appreciation. Most were founded as fishing communities at natural harbors. Houses are nested into the hillsides in any place that a foothold could be purchased. Many are on stilts with boardwalks to provide access. Of interest in towns all over Newfoundland was the scarcity of trees. The harsh climate makes growth very difficult along the shore. The trees become stunted by frostbite as trees do near timberline. What appears to be a small young tree may in fact be many years old. Another outstanding feature of the villages, are the bright colors! Blue and green houses are very common. I saw pink, yellow, and purple also. The first community we stopped at had a cobble beach just outside the harbor. Some of us headed directly to the beach while the others headed into the town. Scott bought beer while in the town. That was a nice treat back at camp!

As we approached the town, one of the residents saw us while we were far out. He thought we were whales at first but did a 'double take' - He never saw whales behave as we were. He and others watched us as we approached. They had never seen anything like us before. Sure they knew about kayaks, but no one ever saw them in person. We became quite the attraction as the fishermen brought their families in their motorboats out to see our camp. They would glide close by our beach and wave at us. One brought his children out and landed at our site. It was a nice visit. I enjoyed his accent. It was this encounter that made us realize that we may be the first sea kayakers to paddle there since ancient times. We stopped at two other towns. We were always greeted with kind curiosity. We look rather conspicuous in our brightly colored kayaking gear, and we discussed how our dry suits look like Star Trek uniforms. I saw people looking out of windows, and children peaking around corners at us. We provided an interesting sight to the inhabitants. The people of the towns were very nice to us, and I am sure that we provided fodder for much conversation after we left.

Another small community, Tilt Cove, was the site of a copper mine. The mine has long been depleted, and of the few thousand residents who once lived there, only about a dozen remain. A small museum gives a detailed history of the town and the mine, and the gruesome tail of the December 12, 1867 shipwreck of the barque Queen of Swansea on nearby Gull Island just six miles away. The passages and crew were stranded in a December Nor' Easter. Three letters written in blood with a matchstick of Felix Dowsley to his wife tells of how they suffered until they perished from cold and starvation on the baron island that held no shelter, food or water. Two half-eaten skeletons and the letters 'neath the tattered canvas of a sail were discovered four months later. The last letter was written on Christmas Eve.

We not only drew attention while visiting the towns. One day a large capelin fishing boat approached us. They saw us in the distance and steered for us to investigate. We chatted with the friendly crew for several minutes before turning back to our separate headings.

The ice could well be included with the commentary on scenery; fore it certainly is a part of the sea and landscape. However, it demands more as it is like a living thing. Its life beginning as it fell as snow on Greenland 3,000 years ago where it compressed into glaciers and traveled in a slow but unstoppable journey carving earth and rock before it for hundreds of miles to reach the sea on the west coast of Greenland. Here it calves as icebergs into Baffin Bay and Davis Straight. The bergs spend about one year lingering in these northern waters before the Labrador Current carries them south into the North Atlantic. Some go directly out to sea, while others are carried by tide, current, and wind into coves and bays of Labrador and to the north shore of Newfoundland. As you approach them you can hear the life in them as they sizzle like the sound of bacon frying. It is their breath that you hear. Air trapped in the snow as the tremendous pressure of accumulating layers of snow over centuries compressed it. Now as the berg melts millions of tiny chambers of trapped compressed air explode into freedom. When you heft a small piece in you hand you can feel the popping of these invisibly small chambers. It is like the pulse of the ice. And like a living thing you must be cautions not to get in its way. As they melt pieces brake off and fall from above, or rise from below the surface. Seven eighths of the berg is below the water. The melting changes the center of buoyancy, and the berg can roll over like a giant creature tossing in its sleep.

We saw many icebergs at sea. Some looked like crystal cathedrals with spires extending high into the air, but the real thrill came when we saw them near shore. The first was a bergy bit about the size of an automobile. Safe enough to approach and touch because of it's small size. Next, were two table bergs, so named because of their flat tops. They were close together with the one being about the size of a football field and extending 30 to 50 feet above the water. The sides were faceted like a cut gemstone. The colors range from brilliant white to deep translucent blue with all imaginable shades in between. The other, the size of a four story apartment building. One end reminded me of the prow of Admiral Dewey's flagship Olympia, but ten fold the size. It had a fall of melt water cascading from the top into the sea below. Seeing these behemoth icebergs satisfied by desire to paddle among the ice, but there was more to come. As the trip continued, we saw other smaller bergs close at hand, and many bergy bits near shore. We used some of the smaller pieces in the center hold of the tandem kayak where our perishables and beer were kept, and I took the opportunity to place small chunks into my water bottle. It is almost hard to believe that things of such beauty can be so dangerous as to sink ships.

Progressing from the seemingly animate to the actually living, the wildlife on this trip was equally spectacular. Starting with the small end of the scale where the millions of little fish called Capelin. They are about 6 to 8 inches long and form massive black clouds in the clear water. During the high tide at night, they wash up onto the shore and lay their eggs. The sea gulls feast on them, the fishermen net them and the whales gorge on them. Many shore birds, all kinds of gulls, and black guillemot were common. We passed at least three major rookeries, where thousands of birds made their homes on little ledges and niches in the rock faces. Some so small that you wondered how they clung there. To say that we saw a flock of eagles over our camp sounds like an exaggeration, but what would you call no less then a dozen bald eagles soaring overhead at one time? The white head and tail left no doubt what they were. Pods of many dolphins appeared while we paddled. The main wildlife attraction was the whales. The first whales we saw were far in the distance, and all we could really see was their blows. Then we saw one closer waving his tail in the air. He did this over and over, standing on his head with his tail straight out of the water as if he was waving to us. Then it would slap down on the surface and disappear. Then he would do it all again, and again until will paddled out of sight. Each time we saw the whales, they seemed to be closer. In one of our camps we watched them rise and blow in the bay in front of us. I saw one rise and blow only a few yards in front of our camp! It was spectacular. Twice we saw the whales feeding by circling schools of cadelin with streams of bubbles and then rising up through the center to eat them. The best sighting was when a whale coming toward me, surfaced about 30 feet in front of my kayak, blew and dove under me. I would have felt fortunate to see a whale in the distance, but to see so many and at close range thrilled me beyond my wildest expectations. The whales were the icing on the cake.

I think this is the best trip that I have ever made. It included a small group of very interesting people. The scenery was one continuous geological marvel. The people we met on the way were extraordinarily friendly. Seeing and paddling among the icebergs in my home made kayak was a dream come true. Paddling among the whales was beyond my wildest expectations. It was a truly wonderful experience that I will treasure forever.

Assateague Island Trip

by Michael Free

Day#1

I'm sure that anyone who went paddling last weekend, the 5th, 6th or 7th of September has some great stories to tell. What a beautiful weekend for paddling......anywhere! It has been years since I had been to Assateague and I have never paddled there before. Based on the trip reports that I read and the recommendations from members on this forum I headed down there early on Friday morning. My first stop was the National Seashore Visitors Center where I purchased the topo map for $7.50. There was a beautiful breeze, the bugs didn't seem too bad, and I wasn't working so I decided to try the Bay, see how far I got and check out the interior camping spots.

I launched at the end of Ferry Landing Road after signing in at the ranger station. Tent, two sheets sewn together too make a light weight sleeping bag, bug spray, suntan lotion, H20, Pocket Rocket, small cooler with dinner, breakfast, coffee, cooking gear, a bottle of Chardonnay and of course a collapsible wine glass all got loaded in less than five minutes.

A horse munched the grass nearby as I launched into the Bay. The best approach to Assateague Bay is not plan on going anywhere fast. There are endless rivulets to explore and I found that I wanted to explore each and every one. My original intent was to paddle south to the Pine Tree Campsite for Friday night and then on to Pope Bay for Saturday night. I paddled out and around Great Egging Beach and then just lost track of time. I explored dead-end rivulets, watched turtles come to the surface, passed several herd of horses, sat watching a beautiful Bald Eagle as it sat perched in a tree waiting for any movement in the marsh below, and generally just meandered along. Several times I had seen blue crabs just below my boat and I decided to find a spot to do a little crabbing. One of the nice things about the Bay is that if your legs get tired or you just want to cool off you just step out of your boat into 3-foot deep water.

I decided that I would make Tingles Island my home for the night. Not exactly the most hospitable campsite. I trekked through mud and sank to just below my knees in order to get to the site. Originally it looks like planks were layed down but these were long gone. The site was fine for my purposes but the bug spray had to come out I checked myself assiduously for ticks. I quickly setup camp and then headed back to the boat with a chicken leg, rope and net.

There are several narrow and shallow cuts into the interior of Tingles. I paddled (or mudslogged) through one of these and got out of my boat in 6 inch deep water. Looking this way and that I could see crabs on the bottom. I'm not sure that I really needed the chicken. I think I could have just scooped a couple up in my net but there is no challenge in that. I stood and caught and released several (or was it the same one several times?). They latched onto the chicken in no time. There is a rhythm to crabbing, which is soothing. throw line, wait, gently draw, raise the line and scoop. I kept one large one to have as an appetizer later.

It was getting dark....where did the day go.........so I headed back to camp. Boil some H20 and throw in the crab and voila a small but tasty appetizer. Save some of the crab for flavoring. Cook noodles, throw in some pre-cooked chicken, crab meat, peas, cheese, and let simmer. Pull out the Caesar salad. Pour a glass of Chardonnay as the sounds of night takeover.

Crawl into the tent as the bugs are getting bad. I pull out the headlamp and read a couple of chapters of "Enchanted Vagabonds" by Dana and Ginger Lamb. Personally I think it is one of the best kayak/canoe/sailing adventures ever written.

8:30 PM Lights Out!

Michael Free

(more coming soon!)

Paddle with Pride

Trip Report by Meredith Peruzzi

Pictures

Waking up at 4:00am on a Saturday morning doesn't sound like fun to most people, but it was all part of the plan for the 27-mile trip I was going to take. We arrived at the departure point - Manhattan Kayak's headquarters, on Pier 63 - at a little before 5:00, and had some of the provided snacks before finally getting into the vans around 5:30. We were supposed to leave just then, but we didn't get on the road until about 5:45. The van ride seemed to stretch on forever as we drove through what felt like very secluded areas - we couldn't believe that every mile we drove in the van, we'd have to paddle back!

We finally reached the launch site - Nyack Beach State Park - at about 6:30, and began putting on sunblock even though the sky was barely light. We discovered that the event coordinator would be paddling with us rather than watching from one of the first aid boats, because one of his guides had called in sick the night before. So after months of preparation and stress getting ready for the event, and less than two hours sleep, he was going to paddle close to 30 miles with the rest of us! My friend C. and I would be paddling a Necky Amaruk together, which weighs more than 90 pounds, so a member of the support crew helped C. carry the boat from the rack down to the beach. There were less than a dozen of us launching from Nyack, and C. and I were the first double to hit the water. Except for a terrible trip one freezing Halloween, I had never really paddled a double before, so we just did a few strokes and turns around while waiting for everyone else to get in the water. There were only two women in our group, myself and a young woman in a single kayak.

We finally set off around 7:30am. Because none of the support boats had arrived yet, we all had to stay behind the coordinator and in front of the other guide. This proved to be rather difficult as we wanted to go faster than some of the other paddlers, and eventually the leader gave up and let us go a little bit ahead of him as long as we stayed close by. There was one canoe in the pack, a father-son team who did very well - nobody was certain how well a canoe would manage on the trip, but they were quite successful. Our support boat, complete with Coast Guard, ham radio operators, medics, and experienced guides from Manhattan Kayak, turned up about a mile before we reached the Tappan Zee bridge, and after that we were allowed to go at our own pace. C. and I had been having a bit of trouble going in a straight line because I couldn't seem to learn to steer the boat from the front seat (I'm used to being the master of my own destiny!), and we didn't put the boat's rudder down which meant that C. ended up doing all the ruddering, slowing us down considerably. Of the three doubles to leave from Nyack, we were the last to reach Piermont Pier, which extends a full mile into the Hudson River. The current wasn't quite with us yet, as the tide didn't start turning until around 9:00. One of the other doubles had stopped to use the restroom, and the other was far gone almost all the way to the east side of the river! We didn't stop at Piermont, so we got to see a small dinghy launch from the support boat to keep an eye on the double kayak that had gone out so far into the river.

After Piermont, we had a great view of the Palisades, and I took several pictures there. There were also members of the event crew at various points along the route, whistling and waving from wherever we might be able to see them. I got tired several times but kept drinking from my hydration pack and I ate an entire Powerbar very quickly - I'd never had the vanilla flavor before, but it was pretty good! C. also paddled for a while, as he's a much stronger paddler than I am. We chatted a few times with others in single kayaks along the way, and every so often we'd wind up near enough to the canoe to see how those two paddlers were doing. The coordinator came over to us at one point to relay a funny story about a paddler in one of the other doubles. The guy is known for being an aggressive paddler, so he insisted that he wanted to be out in the middle of the river to take advantage of the current. What he didn't realize, though, was that the tide was turning late, and he was paddling against the current! We stuck close to the west bank and avoided that problem.

By the time we were approaching the Englewood Boat Basin, I was getting really exhausted. We'd already put more than 15 miles behind us in just a few hours, and I wasn't the only one tired - I could see one of the single paddlers ahead of us veering a lot from side to side as he made it up to the beach. I couldn't steer very well at all by that point, and we ended up pointed in the wrong direction from the beach, at which point I panicked and just about cried from the fatigue. But C. got us turned back in the right direction and we managed to make it up to the beach together. There were a lot of rocks there, and a member of the event crew dragged us up out of the water. After what felt like just a few minutes, the coordinator said it was time to get back into our boats so we wouldn't miss the tidal window to arrive back at Pier 63. I quickly finished refilling my hydration pack from the water bottles the crew provided, and got my PFD and skirt back on. We were told to paddle down to a flagpole just before the George Washington Bridge, and then cross the Hudson, aiming for the famous Little Red Lighthouse.

C. and I actually crossed a little before the flagpole, because we could see the boat traffic had picked up considerably. We waited for a break in the pleasure crafts - some of which included waving children, so I waved back - and then sprinted across the river. We headed down along the east side of the Hudson, with C. pointing out various landmarks such as a big church (he thought it might be St. Patrick's, but I think it was the Riverside Church) and Grant's Tomb. We hoped to see some of the rafts or kayaks that had launched from Englewood (for an 11-mile trip), but we never did get to see them as they had left before we even arrived at their launch point. As we approached the North River Treatment Plant, one of the support boats came over with its Coast Guard staff and called to us through a bullhorn that we needed to move away from the plant. C. and I weren't too sure what they were so concerned about - their explanation was kind of garbled - but we angled away from it anyway.

I was very impressed by the trip down the west coast of Manhattan. Most of my urban paddling has been in Georgetown, the view of which gets old after a while. But the remaining miles of the trip were filled with interesting things to look at, from electronic billboards to old buildings. We did have one mishap, though. I suddenly felt my back getting very wet, and I assumed C. had splashed me with his paddle - water that made it past his drip rings had been collecting behind me in the sprayskirt the whole time. He took a closer look at my back, though, and discovered that the hose of my hydration pack had come unscrewed, and the water was spilling out all over! I rested my paddle on the deck in front of me, and struggled to get the pack off, but by the time I had it in my lap it was too late. I opened it up to see what the damage was, and was impressed that the t-shirt I'd had in there stayed mostly dry. My remaining Powerbars, wrapped in foil as they were, naturally survived just fine. I put the Powerbars into my PFD pocket and the t-shirt into my drybag, stuffed the useless hydration pack under my decklines, then picked up my paddle and continued paddling. The coordinator, who had been hanging back with the last paddlers, caught up to us briefly to tell C. that he trusted C.'s experience in the Hudson and that we should go ahead and paddle all the way in - that the support boats would be mostly watching the last paddlers.

We paddled by the 79th Street Boat Basin, where several people were playing in the sit-on-tops that are available for rental there. They are supposed to stay within certain markers, though, so we didn't get close enough to wave at any of them. As we passed the large port, we paddled behind two cruise ships: the Carnival Miracle and the Celebrity Zenith. After that we went behind the USS Intrepid, and we were surprised by how small the Concorde seemed compared to the massive aircraft carrier. We were a little concerned about passing the ferry terminal, but Eric Stiller - owner of Manhattan Kayak Company - was nearby to greet us. We chatted with him for a moment and then proceeded to cross the terminal - we had timed things very well and didn't have to wait at all.

The last moments of our long paddle were spent racing another double that had launched from Nyack with us. We started out ahead of them, but they were much faster than the two of us and pulled ahead. We made the left turn in front of the Frying Pan and set ourselves up to slide right into the dock. There were several crew members standing on the dock cheering and clapping as we approached, and before I even got out of the boat I wanted to know what time it was. A man told me it was about 12:20, which shocked me - I thought it must be at least an hour later! C. hopped right out of the boat onto the dock, but I was pretty weak by that point and I couldn't remember how to get out - my recent launches and arrivals had all been beaches, and I forgot how to climb onto a dock! A support crew member was about to assist me when I finally remembered what to do, and I made it onto the dock myself.

Shortly after changing into dry clothes and getting something to eat, I had a moment to chat with the coordinator. He said that we had actually paddled twenty-eight miles, not 27! Everybody made it back with no problems, and it was a really interesting journey.

Georgian Bay - Franklin Island Trip Report

Jenny and I returned to Canada this summer for our kayak vacation. We've been going to parts of Ontario for kayaking for the last several years. Our first trip was to the southern section of eoGrgian bay - Beasulieau Island - several years ago. Nice area, but too many powerboaters for our tastes. For the last several trips we have headed further north into Ontario,but this year we decided to go and paddle the middle section of Georgian Bay out of Snug Harbor.

Trip preparation: White Squall, a local outfitter/retailer, has a great website for paddling this area, and we gleaned some information from there. We bought the Canadian marine charts for the area. We had heard that they weren't that good, but we found we didn't have any problem navigating from them. The area has hundreds of large and small islands, so you always need to keep track of where you are, but navigation was pretty straightforward. We carried the full size detailed chart on one kayak, and a full size smaller scale chart on the other. Worked well. This was the first long distance trip on which I would have a gps along, and of course there are no detailed loadable topo maps for Ontario, and I wasn't going to pay mega bucks for charting software and electronic loadable charts. I was able to track down several waypoints from other sources to keep in the gps, but was not confident in their veracity. I also felt guilty about the sack of disposable batteries I was going to carry to keep the gps supplied. On day trips I usually use rechargeables, but often have to switch them out at the lunch stop, and I couldn't cound on solar recharging along the way. We also packed a small hand charging fm radio to listen to weather forecasts. 88.7 FM "the Moose" broadcasts pretty complete marine forecasts that are understandable. Marine radio weather stations are sometimes hard to pick up in Ontario and difficult to understand, as we knew from previous experience. Having had previous experience with Ontario rocks vs kayak hull, I had added a dynel keel strip to the Pisces I paddle. During the trip there were of course a few random groundings on rocks. After many years of hull scrapes, I can usually tell how bad the scrape will be by the sound as I go over the rock, but the dynel performed way above expectations and I was very very pleased! I do have some extra bias cut dynel laying around if any of you are interested, so that you don't have to track down a wholesaler. Other preparations followed our normal kayak camping preparations, with the menu accumulating in small piles on the kitchen table, and Jenny doing last minute minor boat repair. Canadian rules now require each kayak to carry fifty feet of floating tow line. Jenny and I bought one hundred feet of polypropylene line, cut it, and spliced in eyes in each end. Stuff it in a mesh bag, with one eye going out the bottom, add a carabine, and you have a poor man's canadian compliant tow rope. Just before the trip Jenny did purchase a towbag/belt combo made by Northwater that we had previously seen and like very much. As it is a Canadian product, I was later able to buy one in Canada at about a 20% discount from what it sells at in the USA. The nice thing about Ontario paddling is that the water is all fresh, so we would only have to carry one day's water and a purifier. I got out my first need purifier prior to the trip and tested it using the food dye method - and it failed, so the filter cartridge was replaced on the unit, and we purchased a spare to take with us.

Itenarary, the plan: day 1, drive to Parry Sound, stay at motel in town, approx 12 hour drive from Bowie. day 2, check out local outfitter/retailer and town, launch from snug harbor, and camp on Franklin island. Days 3-10 work our way northwest along the island chains, with potential trips to some of the outer islands if weather cooperates, then return to the launch point. Day 10, pack up, stay at a different resort inn. Day 11, drive back to Bowie.

What really happened: A very pleasant drive north, once we got around Harrisburg. We took US-15 north through PA and NY, and entered Canada at Niagra. Smooth drive around Toronto, where we took the new electronic toll road. This road tolls you by reading your license tag and sending you a bill. We're still wondering if a bill is in the mail somewhere on it's way to us, but it's a great road. Arriving in Parry Sound, we located our motel in the center of town, and took a walk down to the waterfront for dinner and a look around. Parry Sound is substantially larger than the towns we typically spend the night before a kayak trip at.

Day 2: Visit the outfitter, see other kayakers who are heading out, and get some advice from the storeperson. Today's weather is a small craft advisory with 1 meter waves and wind from the west. Temps in the 60-70 degree F range. We get to Snug Harbor, which is a government dock - literally, just a dock and rustic ramp. Next to it is Snug Harbor Marina, with a concrete ramp, small restuarant, and more secure parking. $5/day is the rate quoted by the owner, who then proceeds to charge us $25 for 8 days. Canadian math? There is an outiftter group there, about a dozen in plastic boats. As we work to pack, a group of four kayakers we saw in town shows up and starts to unload. Jenny and I elect to goo with shorts and fuzzy rubber long sleeve tops. We've got loading down to a science, and we launch within 30 minutes of arriving. Two hundred feet out of snug harbor's marina entrance the west wind hits us. It's strong enough that when we get to the entrance of snug harbor and stop to consult our charts, we are blown back several hundred feet in a couple of minutes. We take the "canoe route" out of the harbor, which gives a more protected passage for small craft. But we come out of that into Georgian bay and it's whitecaps heading at us as far as we can see into the horizon. Franklin island is on the starboard bow, and we begin to paddle toward it. 3.5 hours to travel 1.4 statuate miles. (Yes, my best use of a gps is to track mileage). After a thorough deck washing, we get to the island's shore, and check out several inlets for possible camping locations. We're just inside an outer ring of rocks, and 1 meter waves are breaking against them. We pick a site on granite protected from the west, north and east, and set up camp. Since we're camping on rock, we anchor the tent by moving the storm tie down ropes down onto the ground loops, then tying the ropes around small rocks, stretch out the rope from the tent, and set a larger (50-100 lbs) rock on the rope, so that the smaller rock keeps the rope from pulling out from under the big rock. As I lift and carry these large rocks I remind myself that Franklin's claim to fame is that it is the home of the Massanagua rattle snake, a small rattler that likes to hide under warm rocks. I check the rocks a little more carefully before I lift the next ones.

Today is Jenny's birthday - so I bake her a cake complete with birthday candles. What a wonderful paddling partner I have. Paddling with someone in challenging conditions, who you enjoy being with, has the same skill set you do, and can save your butt if necessary is a great feeling.

Night has stars, with a low in the 50s. We sleep well.

Day 3: The radio says small craft advisory again. Wind from the S, going to NW. Not a day to start going up along the island chain. We decide to circumnavigate Franklin Island. We pass one other kayaker camping west of us as we enter the open water side of the island. It's nice to play in the waves and the swells coming off the open bay. We can see the Mink islands farther to the west, but today is not the day to try and go there! There are good sized waves breaking against the boulders on the western shore of Franklin, and we paddle on and around the north end of the island, entering Corbman bay, and finding four canoists who had a very tough time coming out yesterday using a more protected route. They look landbound today. Lunch is on a small cove in the northeast of the island, then we head down the eastern channel with the wind finally starting to swing behind us. We come across the group of kayakers who we saw in town, and they note that trip planning is tough with this wind - and they've only been paddling on the protected side of the island today! 5.5 hours paddling, 14 statuate miles. Did some fishing. Much colder tonight - into the mid to low 40s.

Day 4: The wind is still in the 20-25 knot range today, but is expected to shift to the south/southeast, with thunderstorms tomorrow and rain. Our current camp is too exposed for our liking to that direction, so we pack up, scoot around the south end of the island and head up the eastern side looking for a good protected campsite. After much scouting, we find a pocket sand beach with a group of trees in between two large rock formations. Just enough room for a tent. There are two varieties of small green frogs - dozens of them - along the beach and reeds. We set up, eat lunch, and go paddle some more. We explore a bit into the islands northeast of Franklin, several with cottages on them. We see the same group of paddlers, who comment that we seem to do a lot of miles in a day. Several of them have CLC boats - and I saw that at least one had loaded pool noodles in his boat for use in landing. I would not want a wood boat here unless it was well glassed! We walk the island a bit, and see a stag - from hoof to top of antlers I guessed it was at least 6-7 feet - and it was a deer. How it got that rack through that forest I have no idea. Back in camp ee play dominoes by headlamp. I think to myself - if you paint the dots with glow in the dark paint you wouldn't need lamps. Then I think that when all the pieces are face down you wouldn't be able to find the pieces. Brilliant Welker. 5 hours paddled, 11 statuate miles covered.

Day 5: Small craft advisory again this morning, but it looks better as the morning progresses, and we paddle off on a day trip to the northwest of the island. We paddle around the northern end and down the western shore again, this time poking into the inlets. We find a long inlet, that goes almost all the way back to connect to the inlet where we first camped. All water except a 50 foot portage. In between the islands the wind and water are relatively calm, but we do a two mile crossing to one island to the north and it's all whitecaps by the time we get there through the headwind. We work our way back along the mainland shore, then head back to camp, where we brave the water to swim and wade a bit. We use Jenny's paddle float to carry water away from the shore and up onto the island rock to wash our hair. Chilling! After day 2 we've been paddling in wetsuit farmer j suits and fuzzy rubber tops. 3 hours paddled, 10.3 statuate miles.

Day 6: Another Small Craft, but from the SW then SE, so we paddle northward along the island group, staying in protected waters. We find Dillon's Cove, which has a marina from which some people launch. This is a more protected route out to Franklin than Snug Harbor, but it's not mentioned much in the literature. The ramp is a town resident only ramp for parking, but you can launch from the ramp and then park for a fee at Dillons. Dillon's store has ice cream and cokes! We sit in the sun on warm flagstone steps and treat ourselves. As we prepare to leave, we meet an elderly gentleman from Texas, who bought one of the islands in 1942 for $17 at a tax sale. We talk for a while, and he invites us to come and camp on the one side of his island. We do a little more exploring of the one river, then head back to camp. We put up a fly for the evening's rain, but end up taking it down in the night as the wind rises to the point of risking the tarp's integrity - and we're in a protected spot!. It rains most of the night. 8 hours paddling, 17 statuate miles.

Day 7: Once again, a small craft advisory, but this time one for wind, seas, and thunderstorms. We have several thunderstorms and rain showers go through the area from morning to mid afternoon. We would have liked to go visit the gentleman's island, but today is not a good day for being on the water. A day in the tent and walking the island. Day temps are into the 80s, with night temps in the 60s. That evening, sitting on the beach, we see two small hawks land in a nearby tree and preen themselves. Later, a very large dragonfly comes into camp and flys around eating bugs. Suddenly crunch! One of the hawks has flown down and taken the dragonfly out of the air right above me. I could actually hear the crunch of the dragonfly in it's talons.

Day 8: Small craft warning - wind/waves/thunderstorms. We make pancakes. The thunderheads go away in the afternoon, and we paddle into the teeth of the south wind, sheltering between rocks, islands, and using the coast for wind breaks. We scout out part of how we can go to get back to our car tomorrow. We are pushed before the wind back to camp. At least the south wind is warmer. I bake another cake. 2.4 hours paddling, 6.5 statuate miles.

Day 9. The last day on the water has another small craft advisory. We wake up, breakfast and pack up fairly quickly. The weather is anticipated to deteriorate later today to thunderstorms and much higher winds out of the southwest. Winds from the southwest are the worst possible for getting back to Snug Harbor. We gauge the sky and weather reports, and launch, with contingencies for bailouts along the route. The wind stays fitful while we paddle, and we make good time. Several last photos get taken, and we get into the canoe passage just as the rain starts. If you didn't know there was a passage here, you wouldn't find it even thirty feet away. We coast back into the marina. We load up in rain, the end of another great trip. If you stay flexible in your planning, you can make a great trip and change plans as weather and waves dictate, you can have a great trip. The one big lesson I've learned from kayaking is that when confronted with the impersonal huge forces of nature, you learn to deal with what's there, and the enjoyment comes from knowing that you can exist in and deal well with those forces all around you. 1.2 hours paddling, 4.2 miles, statuate, paddled. We head back into town with a brief stop at the outfitter to gear browse, then back into Parry Sound for lunch. Later, the sun comes out and the wind really picks up. Even the locals are saying that it's been a very windy and unsettled month of weather for August. It's tugfest at the docks, and we walk along admiring the converted tugs that are now pleasure craft. Out to our lodge for a shower and shave - eight days of beard takes more than one razor - and we go have dinner, and watch the sunset from the dock. The Canadian broadcast of the Olympics is on - much different from the American broadcast version.

Day 10 - The drive back to Bowie goes smooth, with one brief downpour happening while eating lunch at a diner at the NY/PA border.

General notes:

Kayak camping in fresh water is great.

We had plenty of food. We took along two commercial backpacking meals, mainly because we'd had them a while and they needed to be eaten. We much preferred our own dried meals. We carried apples and carrots, which lasted all eight days in net bags. All food was stored during the night in drybags and under hard (not vcp) hatches in the boats. We later learned that the week we were out there was a black bear sighting on Franklin, but we had no problems from any critters. We kept a very clean camp.

Waste disposal is an issue. On any of the islands that we saw smaller than Franklin, finding soil to bury waste would be a problem. We carried tupperware for that eventuality.

Campfires are discouraged, and not needed.

Very few mosquitoes. They don't fly in small craft advisories! A couple of biting flies. For some reason, this year I've had bad swelling each of the three times I've been bitten by that type of fly, and this was not exception. It took a day and a half for the swelling to go down. Never happened before this year.

Gearwise, the fuzzy rubber was comfortable to paddle in. This was the longest period of time I've used it. After day four, it needed a very good rinse in the lake. I would not count on fuzzy rubber for cold water protection - just cold water comfort. Glad we brought the wetsuits. Particularly in the crossings and on the western side of Franklin a wet exit would not have been pleasant otherwise. Outside of the islands there was a noticable drop in water temperature.

We bought platypus kayak hydration systems this spring. We keep them on the back deck, and find they make getting a drink in rough water much safer and easier. However, the metal spring clips to attach the tube to your pfd rust out at an amazing rate. I've thrown mine away and made my own clip out of fastek pieces and a stainless steel split ring.

Text and photos copyright 2004
Gregory D. Welker

Meredith in Puerto Rico

On Tuesday night I got to experience something many paddlers will never see, even though they live just a few hours away from this astonishing phenomenon. I am referring to the bioluminescent bays of Puerto Rico, which are full of microscopic organisms that light up when touched.

My partner and I had a reservation with Robert Schill of Island Kayaking Adventure, whose brochure I had seen in a bookstore near our hotel in the Condado district of San Juan. After a long bus ride to Fajardo, the city on the east coast where one of these bays is found, we received the standard brief instruction given by guides to new kayakers who will be paddling calm waters. We were outfitted with PFDs and put on bug repellent (no sunscreen was needed as this was during the day), then assisted into our Mainstream sit-on-tops. My partner is not a kayaker, so I sat in back and did nearly all of the paddling; she was willing to help but her pace would have been slower than mine so I told her to just enjoy the ride.

After paddling between the boats docked at the Las Croabas marina, we entered a mangrove channel. One last fishing boat was docked just inside the channel, and after that it was just our three kayaks slipping through the water. The full moon made navigation slightly easier, but we still ran into a few trees because we had brought no forward-facing lights. The mangroves' roots extend into the water further than their branches reach over it, so we had no way of seeing the roots and instead crashed into them a few times. The channel turned multiple times and I had to concentrate hard on the glow stick in the back of our guide's boat. We passed another group of kayakers headed in the opposite direction without saying much more then "hello," and suddenly we emerged into Laguna Grande.

We rafted up in the center of the lagoon for our guide to give his talk about the Cabezas de San Juan nature reserve, and then he pulled out a tarp before his talk about the organisms in the water all around us. There are spectacular photographs taken at Vieques, another bio bay in Puerto Rico, but unfortunately we were not treated to such wonderful visuals. I'd known before going that the full moon would diminish some of the effect, but it was almost invisible. With the tarp spread out and held over our heads, we were able to block out some of the moonlight and see the creatures lighting up as we fluttered our hands in the water. We were so focused on the water beneath us that we didn't notice we'd drifted back toward the mangroves - the guide said it's very rare for the wind to come so strongly from the west.

We paddled back out into the middle of the lagoon, and our guide invited us to go for a swim. I was the only person in our group who jumped in, and I quickly realized how important it has to have a well-fitting PFD if you're going for a swim! This was not a paddling vacation, so I had left my own PFD at home, and I was using one provided by the company. It made swimming very difficult, so after I enjoyed splashing around a bit my partner had to paddle over so I could grab on. I didn't see any phosphorescent effect deep in the water when I moved my feet, but I stayed in a little longer just because the Caribbean-area waters are so comfortable. Eventually the guide said we had to go back, and he came over to brace my boat so my partner wouldn't fall out as I climbed back on board!

Our trip back through the mangrove channel involved a bit more stress, caused mostly by my own mistake. For some reason I'd unfeathered my paddle when I went for a swim (I had clipped it to my PFD as I jumped in), and when I went to set it back I turned the offset the wrong way. Not realizing what I had done, I found the paddle completely useless, and we crashed into several trees while I attempted to fix it. Once it was back to the correct offset, I paddled the rest of the way through the mangrove and back through the marina to the take-out.

Our timing was poor for this trip, as the effect is much greater at a new moon or even something less than a full moon. But we were able to see some of the impressive bioluminescence these bays are known for, and I count myself lucky for having paddled in that region of Puerto Rico.

Meredith Peruzzi

Returning to Winter, Part II

I owe Woody a trip report. That was the price of our very first kayaking trip out of Belle Haven years ago. I now owe him another one, now. I've been wasting away in front of my computer for several winters. I haven't been paddling in really cold water for 2 years. Yesterday I broke that streak at Mason Neck with him so I thought I'd do a double to tell about being back on the water for two days in the winter.

I forgot how much of a hassle cold water padding is if you do it the way we do. Not having been out since October I had to work to be sure to bring everything I needed, plus searching the file cabinet of my mind to identify the special things I need for comfortable cold-water paddling. I packed to paddle last week but I didn't make it so I kind of left to chance what I brought this weekend. Yesterday the only thing I actually forgot was to make lunch, so I hit the 7-11 on my way out, even thought I was already 10 minutes late leaving. When we hit the water I realized I didn't have my deck bag, but I figured I could do without that for a short trip.

We were only planning on going across Belmont Bay and back. We went down Muromsco Creek so ended up paddling maybe 6 miles. The observations I made were that I forgot how annoying all the STUFF I need is. I had a brand new drysuit that still has a just-too-tight neck gasket. Woody loaned me a neck ring that allowed enough air in to keep me a nice shade of pink rather than blue. I had a really hard time getting the thing under the gasket. I finally had to resort to asking Woody to help me fix it. I thought I might loose it before he got it to the point I could inhale again, but I survived.

I also found that my booties would not work with the socks in my drysuit. I finally had to "sacrifice" my Tevas so that I didn't have to walk without some protection for the breathable fabric of my new suit. Burping a suit with a neck ring is another issue. I ended up sucking air out of the wrist gasket because I couldn't get past the Pillsbury Doughboy stage with the suit. I was unable to bend over to pick up things so decided I needed to work on the inflation issue. It looks silly but it works. I got in the boat and only had to pull on the neck ring a bit to let the air out enough to bend my arms to put my skirt on.

Woody was very patient through all of this. He only laughed a little bit but I suspect it was because he didn't want me to feel too embarrassed about the fooling around I was doing. It took me an entire hour to get on the water and even then he had to help me get my skirt on.

We are finally going. I can't get my balance and I'm thinking, "Oh no, not again!" When I first started paddling I had an awful time with feeling balanced in the boat. I really didn't need to go there again. A few minutes out and I was okay I was still watching the wind but the beam wavelets were just fun to ride over, rather than worry about.

We went down the creek as far as we could and came back. There is this point of land that says "Military Reservation" on the maps. Woody said something about there being a Port-A-John and people walking along there. We decided to stop and check the facilities. As I spent forever getting out of my suit to use the facilities Woody went over and read this card they had. It has a map of the place that is now a wildlife reserve. I was really excited about the place because it has lot of great nesting possibilities for birds. It was logged within the past 15 years or less, would be my guess. There is lots of new growth that is too dense for good growth over the long haul but makes birds happy now.

Woody looked at the sky and said he thought weather was moving in so we did a bee-line back to Mason Neck. The wind kicked up and pushed us back which was both rare and fun. I would have been easily persuaded to stay out for a bit, but Woody wasn't persuading so we went in. After getting our cars and starting the disrobing process we looked at the water. The wind had seriously kicked-up and the water was "interesting." I was glad one of us had some sense.

The physical issues I had were that I needed new shoes to go over the drysuit socks, my left arm hurt and I got too much sun, despite 2 layers of sun screen.

On Sunday I was into sleeping in but I had agreed to let Woody know on Sat. evening if I was going to bail, so I got up. I arrived right on time and there was no Katie. She was supposed to be there. I had counted on a slow, fairly short paddle but she wasn't there so who knew what we'd do.

We had planned to paddle up the Occoquan to the dam and back, or at least as far as Katie wanted to go so that is what we did. There was a little wind but only enough to be annoying at times at the beginning of the trip. There were lots of ducks, like yesterday, but we were getting close enough for me to identify some of them that day. I love that. We actually saw a loon, which is rare there. I love the common mergansers, ruddy ducks and buffleheads we saw. I think I saw a grebe and we were treated to a red tail hawk and an eagle, among many other birds. I saw an osprey and we saw several cormorants. I had never paddled up to the dam so it was fun to see all the new sights. I didn't like the area right by all the big boulders but the rest of it was really nice except all the traffic noise. I collected a few feathers from the water around the put-in. There were a lot of feathers floating and I was wondering which birds had been there. I haven't had time to look them up.

I have a persistent problem that I fought off the day before. My left bicep burns after a short period of paddling. I suspect part of the issue is that I was paddling with my arms because it is so hard to twist with a drysuit on. I've had this burning in my left bicep for years and I was really fighting it today. I also think I may have discovered one other source of pain. I put a lot of pressure on my pegs. I think that might be the issue for my left hip, which hurts very badly the night after I paddle and sometimes for days, which it keeps me awake at night. It felt better when I didn't press so I tried that. It seems to have worked to some degree but it makes it harder to paddle. My habit is to peddle as I paddle.

Bottom line: I'm so glad to be back on the water, even if it requires twice the gear and twice the time to get ready and makes me more tired, at least it's a good tired. I'm glad Woody has a sense of humor about all the time he spends waiting for me to be ready.

Joan