The Floating Islands of Casco Bay

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noseykate
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Joined: Thu May 17, 2007 6:50 pm
Location: South Weymouth, MA

The Floating Islands of Casco Bay

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On Friday, July 5, with forecasts of shimmering heat, I headed to the mid-section of Casco Bay. Cool water, many islands, driveable day-trip distance, and an area I hadn't explored before - seemed like a perfect choice for a vacation day. I had put out a line to a few friends but no one could make it, so I called it a solo trip.

Leaving at 5:30 am, it took 2-1/4 hrs to get to Cousins Island. The put-in has a long path downhill and over a small boulder-jumble breakwater to the sandy beach. It was my great good fortune to share the parking area with a man and his 3 kids. He was kind enough to help me muscle Dora the Explorer (LV) down to the beach. The kids showed me how to surf a boogy board in 3" of flatwater (basically stand on it and get excited), and asked where was my paddle (couldn't be that stick thing on the front deck). In a few minutes I was off, gliding across the calm smooth water.

At this point I realized that of the 4 charts I'd printed out the night before, none actually had my put-in on them, nor even which way was north! I knew to paddle around the island to the eastward, but at what point I'd be on the chart, I wasn't sure. After a few times of uncertainty (is this a separate island or is that channel just a deep inlet?) I saw the unmistakable bulk of Chebeague Island (and then, in case I'd still not figured it out, a boat named "Chebeague Islander" moored alongside).

Crossing to Chebeague and rounding the point, a vista opened, of island after island in all directions. My kind of place. I wanted to explore every one of them. However, my plan was to island-hop to Cliff Island, then to Jewell, so I stuck to the plan.

This part of Casco Bay was not exactly wilderness. The larger (and some smaller) islands were inhabited, houses dotting the shores. Lobster boats ran their inscrutable and unpredictable slaloms through their buoys, pretty much throughout the waterways. I saw tents set up on more than a few islands. The area is heavily used. I'd had no expectations of solitude, so was content to enjoy the bay with everyone else.

After a brief lunch stop on a tiny island mid-way to Cliff, I finished the crossing, noting some current here going opposite what I would have guessed. Hard to know which way it might go, when there are many islands and many source points. Cliff is sort of two islands connected by a narrow land-bridge. The outermost section faces open ocean, and this was the only place where I could pretend I was intrepidly seakayaking over water that goes up and down. I can imagine that this area could be interesting with a little swell. Soon I was in the shadow of Jewell Island and the "conditions" calmed. I crossed over just to say I'd been there, not knowing where there might be a good beach or landing. I could see this as a wonderful place to camp. Here I realized that I had not brought my marine radio and had no idea if thunderstorms were in the offing. Clouds were massing on the horizon. Discretion dictated I cross back to begin a return.

Little-known fact about Casco Bay: the islands float. This I discovered as I began paddling back. It seems that they all drift toward the mainland, packing close together on the flood tide (which is what I'd paddled against on the way out), but on the ebb (as it was for my return) they drift out, becoming farther and farther apart. The crossings began to feel like effort. Wanting to look at a few different islands on the return, I stopped at Stave Island for a good long snack break. Curiously, the chart makes a point of marking the dwelling on this island in capital letters: HOUSE. Duly noted, I picked a spot out of sight of said HOUSE, and stayed on the cobble which would surely cause no problem for the HOUSE residents.

From here I rambled to Bangs Island, which on the trip out had seemed wild and lovely but now felt quite enclosed within the layers of islands. As I moved from there toward a rocky outcrop on the way to Chebeague, I realized I hadn't seen a single seal all day. At that very moment, a seal popped up in front of me, snorted, and disappeared again. A few more made an appearance just to emphasize the point and to make my heart glad.

The weight of miles began to feel heavy. I stopped frequently, dipping into the water to cool off from the heat that even Casco Bay couldn't avoid. Finally I arrived back to the Cousin's Island bridge, having paddled 18 miles over about 6 hours (I'd forgotten my watch too).

It looked different. The ebbing tide had revealed a vast sandbar. There were people standing ankle deep in the middle of the channel. With no energy to paddle around it to get close to the path, I landed in the barnacle-laden muck of the near side. Beware, paddlers. Find that last ounce of strength to go to the other side.

Fortunately there were lots of people there, and I spotted a victim to ask for help hauling Dora back up the hill. The temp was in the mid-90's, and even with help this was an onerous task.

I'd left much unexplored. Dora would surely like a return trip. Perhaps you will join us.
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