Much like last year's trip to Muscongus bay, we found ourselves wrapped in fog. Having learned valuable lessons from navigating in fog last year, I wasn't worried. Instead I poked around the island on which we had camped and took some photos. It's difficult to capture the stillness that thick fog creates. It dampens and distorts the sounds you usually hear on the water, leaving you disoriented and feeling very alone. A very small islet had started to peak its way through the fog and after only a few minutes disappeared again.
A rainy day lead to sitting around not doing anything exciting. After downloading a new plugin for Photoshop I wanted to test it out so I went scrolling through my catalog of images. I found photos that I knew about but never really played around with. Little treasures that made me say, "Why didn't I do anything with that before?" As I found these photos I was reminded of a day I was climbing at Crow Hill in Leominster. An older gentleman, perhaps in his sixties, was leading up routes that I couldn't top rope. As he went up he kept finding old gear that was left behind. A carabiner, a nut, maybe a sling. In his Irish accent he'd say to his climbing partner, "More booty!"
Discarded gear made his day, these photos made mine.
Getting to the buoy went smoothly. We found it without any problems despite not being able to see land or any other navigational guides for most of the crossing. At the buoy, I decided on a new compass bearing to follow and we paddled out. Soon, a lot sooner than I expected, we saw land and made our way to an island in the fog. We found a rocky beach and got out of the boats to explore. A short ways away we found a sign bolted to a tree telling us we were at Black Island. Whoops. We wanted to go to Harbor Island. Black Island was where we were planning to stay for the night after exploring Harbor Island.
Dylan and I went back to the boats and I looked at the chart. Turns out that I hadn't accounted for the difference between magnetic and true north correctly. I had subtracted where I should have added. After that mistake, I'm now able to finally wrap my head around the concept and I shouldn't mess it up again. We were lucky to paddle to an island so easily identified and the mistake didn't have severe consequences.
We set out into the fog again, this time on a proper course and found Harbor island without a problem. On the way we encountered several seals. Dylan explained to me that they're the dogs of the seas. I think he wants one for a pet.
We pulled up on the beach at Harbor Island and I tried to make lunch. Somehow I ended up burning Cous Cous, then instant oatmeal. I ended up settling for some beef jerky and Swedish Fish. Dylan ate a Cliff bar. He probably didn't need to eat for the rest of the day.
After an unsuccessful lunch, we started exploring the shore of Harbor Island. We stumbled across a huge amount of trash, including several lobster buoys. Further down the shore at the southern end of the island there was a collection of buoys, all of them strung up on drift wood and rocks. We saw a path leading into the woods and decided to follow it back to the boats. The path quickly disintegrated and we were left wondering where to go. We ended up stumbling through dense woods, only following small white rocks that had been placed to show the way. We passed a dozen or more strange creations on the ground. They looked like houses that were built for small animals. Dylan decided that a feral child was living on the island and built them, perhaps after a day of trapping and eating seabirds. We didn't pause for photos. The little hike wasn't very enjoyable anymore and we were beginning to feel like we might never get off this island. Thoughts of a feral child sneaking through the woods, following us and waiting for the right moment to trap us kept us moving quickly.
Eventually, after making a couple wrong turns and being lost in the foggy woods, we made it back to the boats and paddled back to Black Island. We made camp here, using an old wooden box as a table, and we explored the island. On the western shore of the island there were huge rocks on the shore that we climbed around. The fog was oppressing and we hoped it would lift by morning.
The trip began like any other. I forced Dylan to wake up far earlier than he wanted. He had worked the previous day but still managed to do all of his shopping and packing just a few hours before we left. He showed up with one box of instant oatmeal, one box of Easy Mac, 12 Cliff Bars and one Gatorade bottle of an unknown liquid. Dylan grabbed the bottle and while tossing it in the back of my car said, "This isn't Gatorade." "Is it piss?" I asked timidly. "Nope. Twenty five dollars of whisky." I feared the worst.
Well equipped with food and liquor, we set out, stopping at a pharmacy on the way to pick up cheap sunglasses and some water for Dylan. The only sunglasses they had were pink women's sunglasses or kid's glasses. We each bought a pair and a case of bottled water. We continued onwards.
The rest of the drive up was uneventful save for one missed turn and Dylan's uncanny ability to flood the car with strange body odors. Dylan suggested we stop somewhere to get scuba knives for killing sharks. We didn't find a place and Dylan seemed upset. When we got to Round Pond, Maine, we pulled into what we thought was the town with free parking. It was actually some other unknown boat ramp but we would be able to park the car on the side of the road a little ways away. Dylan and I spent the next 45 minutes unloading everything from the car and cramming it all into the boats. Not an easy task but we managed.
After carrying the boats down to the water, we set out. After getting a small ways into the harbor I decided to do a roll. I had never rolled a loaded boat. With all the weight in it, I had to really struggle to get the boat all the way inverted and it seemed to take forever to do so. Luckily, it practically rolled up on its own. One less thing to worry about.
We paddled over to Loud's island and stumbled across a pair of hot chicks in bikinis on a beach. The trip was off to a good start. We followed the shore of the island south to Bar Island. The shore was rocky and covered in seaweed. We decided not to land and explore the island. We continued onwards to Little Marsh island. This was where we supposed to spend the night so we struggled out of the boats despite the landing conditions being far worse than Bar Island.
Dylan and I headed up to Thief Island. The island was large, plenty to explore. It had a number of wooded tent sites which meant I'd be well separated from Dylan's funk. It even had a picnic table! After spending a few minutes on the island we realized that we weren't alone. Moles infested the place, scurrying around in the bushes everywhere. But they seemed friendly and Dylan decided not to eat any.
The first day was fun. Dylan got a nasty sunburn on his shoulders despite applying loads of sunblock. He remained upset about our lack of scuba knives. Looks like he would just have to kill the sharks with his own hands.
Part Three Coming Soon