Some people never learn...
Sep. 22nd, 2005 02:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rsc...and that would definitely include ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jwg and me.
Yesterday was a beautiful day (as is today), and there aren't going to be that many more of them, so we figured we should take the canoe out while we had a chance. Where to go? Where haven't we been this year -- Annisquam? Oh yes, and high tide is at 2:17 PM, just perfect.
"Hmm," said John as we walked down the right-of-way to the public landing, "Kind of breezy. Well, it's blowing across the river, it'll be OK."
The tide was as high as I've ever seen it (although our tide table indicates that it wasn't even the highest tide of this part of the lunar cycle) -- over 11 feet over MLW, and the big rock that's about halfway between the high and low tide marks was completely submerged. This also meant that we didn't really have to carry the canoe down to the water, but just sort of eased it in.
So off we went down the river, and up into Lobster Cove, which was so high that I ducked under the pedestrian bridge (although John assured me that I had a foot of headroom to spare), and we were able to go further up to its north end than I can remember ever getting before.
Then we decided to go home.
You'd think we'd have noticed by now that when the wind appears to be blowing across the river, once you actually get out on the water you discover that the river's banks tend to funnel it directly along the river, which on days like this at this time of year means more or less due south-to-north, which is to say in exactly the opposite direction to the one in which we were going. And it had gotten rather fresher since we'd set out.
As we were crossing the mouth of the the Mill River and approaching Wheeler Point, and just managing to make forward progress, John said "This is is always the worst part -- once we get past the point it'll be better." Well, no, it wasn't really better, if anything it was worse.
We did something we've never had to do before: rather than exhausting ourselves to stay in the same place (rather like Alice with the Red Queen), we brought ourselves up to somebody's (currently unused) mooring buoy and held on to the line for a few minutes to give ourselves a break without losing headway. We did this a couple of times (and once used the end of someone's dock), although I pointed out that the now-falling tide was only getting stronger the longer we stayed out, and the wind was showing no signs of slackening. (I was, frankly, fed up, and wanted to get home.)
We did eventually make it back to home port. It had taken us a longer time, and considerably more energy, than we had anticipated when we left. John's intentions about going to the gym, and mine about going for a bicycle ride, got postponed until today.
jwg and me.Yesterday was a beautiful day (as is today), and there aren't going to be that many more of them, so we figured we should take the canoe out while we had a chance. Where to go? Where haven't we been this year -- Annisquam? Oh yes, and high tide is at 2:17 PM, just perfect.
"Hmm," said John as we walked down the right-of-way to the public landing, "Kind of breezy. Well, it's blowing across the river, it'll be OK."
The tide was as high as I've ever seen it (although our tide table indicates that it wasn't even the highest tide of this part of the lunar cycle) -- over 11 feet over MLW, and the big rock that's about halfway between the high and low tide marks was completely submerged. This also meant that we didn't really have to carry the canoe down to the water, but just sort of eased it in.
So off we went down the river, and up into Lobster Cove, which was so high that I ducked under the pedestrian bridge (although John assured me that I had a foot of headroom to spare), and we were able to go further up to its north end than I can remember ever getting before.
Then we decided to go home.
You'd think we'd have noticed by now that when the wind appears to be blowing across the river, once you actually get out on the water you discover that the river's banks tend to funnel it directly along the river, which on days like this at this time of year means more or less due south-to-north, which is to say in exactly the opposite direction to the one in which we were going. And it had gotten rather fresher since we'd set out.
As we were crossing the mouth of the the Mill River and approaching Wheeler Point, and just managing to make forward progress, John said "This is is always the worst part -- once we get past the point it'll be better." Well, no, it wasn't really better, if anything it was worse.
We did something we've never had to do before: rather than exhausting ourselves to stay in the same place (rather like Alice with the Red Queen), we brought ourselves up to somebody's (currently unused) mooring buoy and held on to the line for a few minutes to give ourselves a break without losing headway. We did this a couple of times (and once used the end of someone's dock), although I pointed out that the now-falling tide was only getting stronger the longer we stayed out, and the wind was showing no signs of slackening. (I was, frankly, fed up, and wanted to get home.)
We did eventually make it back to home port. It had taken us a longer time, and considerably more energy, than we had anticipated when we left. John's intentions about going to the gym, and mine about going for a bicycle ride, got postponed until today.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-22 09:53 pm (UTC)