Monday, October 22, 2012

But there's still water out there!

Sometimes...often...as I'm finishing up a guided tour I realize I'm nowhere near ready to get out of my kayak. Just because the paying part of the paddling is over doesn't mean there's not still water in the creek. Fortunately, I'm almost always in a position to do something about that need to stay out just a little longer.

I was loading the boats onto my Subaru after a Chatham Vineyards Paddle the other day when the bug bit me. (Not an actual bug, you see. An actual bug would NEVER bite you on the Eastern Shore of Virginia.) The breeze was so nice, and the air was so clear in the late afternoon light that I felt like I could see every single waving blade of cordgrass on the shoreline. And, oh my gosh, I just love kayaking on the Shore in October so much. So, I did what any good self-propelled boater would do in such a situation. I rode back up to the winery, asked Julie to pour me a glass of Church Creek Vintner's Blend, and took myself for a little excursion.

breezy times on Church Creek
The family who owns Chatham Vineyards has put every bit of land they own along Church Creek under conservation easement, thus securing it as the middle of nowhere forever. It is thanks, in great part, to stewards like the Wehners that we have so many pristine paddling locations on this narrow strip of land.

My little round two was very pleasing, but it wasn't very long. The tide was pretty low, so I couldn't sneak into the sheltered parts of the creek to hunker/paddle where the wind (which had really picked up!) couldn't get me. Around one bend, I found a slightly deeper "pond" where I put my paddle in my lap and drifted for a bit. The water is especially clear at this time of year, and I was perfectly delighted to float along watching snail tracks in the mud beneath me until I ever so slowly eventually ran aground. Turning myself around, I looked up and saw that a juvenile bald eagle had been watching me meander through the marsh while I had been watching the snails meander through the mud. Like I'd busted him spying, he immediately swooped off his branch and away, showing off his already impressive wingspan.

It seemed unlikely that I would get to top that in the last hour or less before sunset, so I started back towards Chatham. My phone buzzed in my pfd, and a friend told me she and her clan were on their way to Cape Charles and wondered whether I was in town. I told her that I was, in fact, nowhere near town but that I didn't consider that to be a hindrance. The quiet of the post-tour solo paddle is a wonderful thing, but sipping something icy cold with loved ones on the harbor afterwards is pretty good, too. So, I loaded one more kayak onto the Forester and headed on down the road...

-Margaret 10/22/12

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Paddling Chincoteague...worth waking up early for.

    I typically guide in lower Northampton County, so any opportunity to paddle up on Chincoteague is worth waking up early and making the hour and a half drive from Cape Charles to our Island shop. The waking up before 7:00 am (yes, that's early for me) was a little rough this morning, but we're having an early September cool snap, so I was awake the second I stepped out the door and the air hit my face.
    I'm always blown away by the number of birds you see as you drive the Chincoteague Causeway through the marsh to the Island. Most notable are the great egrets and snowy egrets which stand out whiter than white against the cordgrass and mud flats, but there's a lot of everybody out there. The last time I came up, I saw a laughing gull standing on a sign that said, "KEEP OFF." Delightful. Birds can't read.
    My guests and I had spoken on the phone a couple of days earlier, and I already liked them. They'd come from Richmond to partake in Chincoteague's Second Saturday Art Stroll and decided to make a vacation out of it. She had done quite a lot of canoeing but not much kayaking. He had never kayaked at all and described himself as, basically, the lanky guy who could never quite get into his comfort zone on the water. I like it when people are honest. And, no, he didn't fall in. He really did a pretty good job...and he loved it! 
    Before we even hit the water, we saw a little green heron stalking along through the oysters. Little green herons (That's their whole name, by the way. I'm not trying to diminish them at all.) were our escorts in the marsh today. At almost every turn, we'd come across one. They make a seriously squawky ruckus when you surprise them, then fly off with the feathers on their head puffed out like you just woke them up on the couch, and they can't believe the nerve of you. One seemed sure that we were chasing him as he flew and landed, flew and landed in ten foot spurts along our path.
    This was a low tide paddle, another rare treat for me, and that almost always means loads of bird activity. I took us off the beaten path and down a relatively deep (maybe 1 1/2 ft) creek through the marsh in hopes of checking out some mud flat action away from everyone else who was on the water this morning. That paid off big time! We saw great blue herons, little green herons, snowy egrets and great egrets nearly everywhere we looked, many of whom were so intent on their fishing that they let us get pretty close before grumbling and flapping away. We even saw a belted kingfisher perched on a piece of pvc pipe that was marking who knows what. By paddling along the path of the visibly falling tide through the grass with the assumption that, if water is moving, it must be coming from somewhere, we triumphantly made our way out to Assateague Channel and were treated to a great view of Assateague Lighthouse.
    We were on the home stretch of our little outing, and, while my guests and I were thrilled with all the birds we had seen, I was secretly a bit sorry not to have come across a little blue heron. I love the contrast of their dark blue feathers against the bright green of the cordgrass, and they're such a pleasing size. It's wonderful how holding still out there and focusing on one thing will bring another into view and then another and another. As we were floating and watching an osprey circle on a thermal current high above, a little blue popped his head out of the marsh right in front of us. Then, as we floated and watched the heron hunt among the oysters and ribbed mussels, three herring gulls flew by with the first one squabbing at the other two while a small blue crab dangled tenuously from its beak. There was no question as to the translation of his squawks!
    All three of us were grinning by the time we got back to the kayak launch. It had been the kind of trip that was so wonderful we had to wrap up the morning with a group hug at the boat ramp. Then I headed off to wash our boats down, and they headed off to do whatever it is people do after an enchanting two hour paddle through the salt marshes of Chincoteague and Assateague Islands.
    -Margaret, 9/12/12
   

View of the marsh from the deck of our Chincoteague Island shop.