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Assateague Island Trip, April 14 – 19, 2008

April 18, 2008 - Assateague Island: Back to Pine Island Campsite

I guess I’m hard to please. It was almost too warm last night. I finally got the ratio of spoons full of coffee to water right. The coffee was good. Pete and Ken joined us for a while. Pete had some coffee while we finished our oatmeal. Bruce gathered more navigation data while I began breaking down the cooking gear and packing up my sleeping bag and pad. Pete and Ken were staying at Pope for several days. Today they would head south to Chincoteague Island to do some exploring. While I was busy packing my boat, Bruce got involved in getting them launched. I didn’t see what happened, but all of a sudden, Pete’s boat was on its side, he was in the water and Bruce was apologizing profusely.

Soon we were packed and underway. It always feels good to be back on the water. We headed out heading generally north, following the shoreline. The wind had switched from NE to SW, so we again had the wind at our backs. It didn’t take long to see our error of the day before. From the abandoned house, we should have paddled due south, not

southwest to find Pope Bay. This would have taken us deeper into the bay and closer to the actual shoreline. We had paddled along the outer side of a secondary group of islands. Looking across them to features on the actual shore, it was impossible to see that there was more open water in between. Next time will be easier.

Sticking to the shore, we again tried to find the Green Run campsite. On the trip down yesterday I paddled along a bay that had signs warning paddlers to keep out, as it was a protected area. I had a hunch that Green Run was somewhere

near this spot, and my GPS readings confirmed this notion. This time I paddled along the line of sight toward another abandoned building. The restriction signs seemed to leave a narrow channel at the south side of the bay, leading past the building. Just past the building was a sign for the Green Run campsite. The trail in was poorly marked and very misleading, as the restriction signs seemed to indicate that the entire bay was off limits.

We couldn’t land near the campsite sign because there was only a narrow shelf of shallow water there. We paddled back toward the building and found a wider shelf that allowed us to get out and pull the boats ashore. There was nothing in the immediate area that looked at all like a campsite beyond a forlorn port-a-john parked under a tree. Remembering the Pine Point experience, I followed a road for some distance into the woods and there found a three site open camping area, surrounded by trees.

I went back to the boat, grabbed the lunch bag and headed back to the campsite, where Bruce was trying to take a nap on a picnic table. I say trying because he was busier slapping mosquitoes than napping. Lunch was more of a snack than a meal. I drank a lot of water, then we headed back to the boat to resume our trip.

We both enjoy paddling close to shore because we see so many interesting things. Because it was less than five miles to Pine, we poked along, investigating every little bay and indentation. Soon the day began to get away from us. It was four o’clock, we were not yet at camp, and we needed to set up camp and prepare a meal before dark. Bruce showed no indication that he wanted to move any faster. When the GPS read that we were less than a mile from camp, Bruce poked into another little inlet. I stopped paddling to wait for him. I sat quietly for some time, just enjoying the warmth and the slight breeze. When I looked around to check on him, Bruce was nowhere to be seen.

In this shallow water and wearing a dry suite, I knew he was all right. Still, I needed to check “just in case.” I followed the inlet back to a bridge where the inlet passed under and turned south. No sign of Bruce. Paddling faster, I flew up the other side until I reached the bay. Again, no Bruce. Now paddling faster along the shore, I start to wonder what my next steps were if I still couldn’t locate him. Finally I saw him ahead, paddling slowly from behind another low island. I was hot and sweating. He was oblivious.

As we pulled closer to Pine, we could see many boats pulled up on shore, essentially blocking the whole launch area. I counted two sailboats, at least four canoes and four kayaks. There was a loud Bocce game being played on the open area where we had camped previously. We each got out of our boats and found an open space to pull them ashore. I was not in a friendly mood at that point, so I busied myself gathering my tent and sleeping bag and heading up toward the camping area. Bruce stayed behind to talk to the folks playing Bocce.

As I said earlier, it’s quite a hike from the launch area to the campsite. When I got there, there were tents everywhere. I began to look for an open site. The three closest sites were occupied by the Bocce players and their friends. There must have been ten to fifteen tents in this area. Further on was another occupied site, and finally, a good quarter mile from the launch point was the last site, also taken. I asked a woman relaxing in the fourth site if there were any more sites around. She didn’t know. I searched for a while and found nothing, so I returned to the launch point carrying all my gear.

Bruce asked why I was still carrying all my stuff. I answered with some annoyance that someone was obviously in a site without a permit. The Bocce players assured us that they had three permits and had taken three sites. It was after five o’clock, I was tired, hungry and wanted to get on with setting up camp. Bruce went to the forested site, took a look and said we should camp where we had camped two days earlier. I protested because I didn’t want to be out of compliance with the regulations. However, Bruce insisted that we were not the NPS police and it was not our job to find who was there without a permit. He said that maybe the NPS had issued too many permits. In either case, wherever we camped that night, we would be out of compliance.

We set up camp in the lower area again. It was nearly sundown by the time camp was set, dinner was served and clean-up begun. Bruce asked if I wanted to walk over to the beach. I declined. I was tired, I was still cleaning up from dinner and my boat needed attention before dark. My work was done just as the sun set. I tried to call Lisa, but only got the answering machine, so I left a message and turned off the phone to preserve what was left of the battery. I crawled in to the tent before Bruce returned to do some journaling and soon was asleep.

April 19, 2008 - Assateague Island: We Return to Ferry Landing

It was another warm night. I was up shortly after six o’clock. The coffee was soon perking on the stove and

breakfast was laid out. Our breakfasts consisted of a base of instant oatmeal, with a smorgasbord of additions: raisins, walnuts, dried fruit, granola, brown sugar and powdered milk. It was hardy and quick, and seemed to easily hold off hunger till lunch.

Bruce cleaned up the dishes while I packed my sleeping bag and pad. Then I broke down the kitchen set up. This includes two MSR stoves, a small percolator, two cook pots, a camp oven and an aluminum table that packs into a 4 by 6 by 30 inch bag that I strap to my back deck. We were packed and ready for the water shortly after 8 o’clock. That’s when I couldn’t find my camera.

We had had conversations with several of the Bocce players group last evening and this morning. We discovered that one member of the group was an editor for Paddler magazine, the ACA’s official publication. His friend, Tom Wilhelm, had also lost a camera, though Tom thought his camera had gone overboard in a floating camera bag sometime the day before.

I pulled everything out of my day hatch, then started on the rear hatch, emptying my dry bags of clothing. At this point, I guessed it had gotten packed up with either my sleeping bag or tent. I often stored the camera in a side pocket of the tent. Time was passing. I didn’t want to unpack anything more looking for the camera. Tom and I exchanged email addresses in case either of us should turn up the other’s camera. At about 8:40, we shoved off without the camera in hand.

The paddle back was easy and pleasant. Light winds from the SW pushed us quietly along. We were at about half-tide, which meant we had a few more inches of water under our boats than on the trip out. We stayed fairly close to shore, stopping here and there to investigate something or watch the wild ponies feeding on the low islands. At one point we heard some thrashing in the water and looked to find a small herd of ponies wading from one low island to another to continue their foraging for food.

Finding the way into Ferry Landing was more problematic than we expected. We could easily see the boathouse at Ferry Landing, but the way was blocked by several ranks of these same low islands. Which way should we go? North or south? We tried several routes only to end up in a dead end. Finally, we saw a sailboat leave the landing and head north, emerging around a point of land close to shore. Retracing its course, we were soon at Ferry Landing, ready to unload our boats for the trip home. It was about 10:45 a.m.

Morning at Pope Bay. This was a beautiful spot. I wish we had been able to stay here for more days.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Assateague Island Trip Report: April 18 & 19

Final Thoughts on this Trip