Photos by Steven and Nelson

FRIDAY:



After being up for 36 hours straight due to a problem at work, I was tempted to turn my planned weekend excursion into an overnighter so I could get some much needed sleep and head out the next morning. Mom Nature seemed to be trying to persuade me toward this end with repeated thunder and lighting storms, but also dared me with just as many hourly spells of sun. I had already packed the evening before, so decided to proceed to the launch in Hingham with the notion that I could back out if the weather was not cooperating or if I decided that I was too exhausted to sail the 3 miles over to Grape Island and setup camp.



When I got to the launch, part of me must have been looking for an excuse to bail out and return home to my bed. When I saw the white-caps on Hingham Bay and dark clouds overhead, a heated inner-cranial debate began and the less enthusiastic side of me nearly won out. However, after observing the sky for a bit, I realized that an opening was beginning and I might have just the window I needed to get to the Island without having my weekend cut short by a lightening strike to the mast. Since I would be able to island-hop with only one significant crossing, I knew I could get ashore quickly if the need should arise. With no reasonable excuse not to proceed, I loaded ET BUGABOO and made to launch.



One advantage to camping out of ET BUGABOO versus my kayak is that I can be more liberal with my gear list. However, I immediately became concerned that I may have over-done it when I couldn’t budge my beloved boat off the trailer. Hard as I shoved she wouldn’t move. When I backed the trailer lower into the water to provide more flotation, I was startled to see the trailer floating. It was then that my sleep-deprived brain registered that I had neglected to unstrap the boat from the trailer and, had the trailer not been hitched to the truck, the entire lot may have floated away leaving its bewildered captain ashore.



As the wind was out of the Northeast, the initial leg to Crow Point was a beat into the wind. I had just over an hour of light remaining, so when I reached Ragged Island I chose to save time by rowing through the Marina to the point. Once around the point, a new cloud formation moved in and the wind picked up. However, I was now on a reach for the final stretch and skipped across the bay with the occasional refreshing wave spraying over the gunnels.

The landing was uneventful. I signed in with the ranger and, after securing ET BUGABOO, proceeded with the arduous task of lugging my gear up the ¼ mile trail to my site. The sites are all in the same area of the island, but are far enough apart and situated so you hardly know anyone else is there. Choice of site is on a first-come-first-served basis and the prime locations had already been taken. However, I was not disappointed with the site I chose for myself and quickly setup camp so I could begin preparing a late dinner.

Dinner was Empanada a la Doug Lowry… a dish I am determined I will perfect sometime this century. None the less, it’s hard not to enjoy your own cooking prepared on a one-burner in the backwoods of an island. After a crazy couple of days at work… I was in heaven. An after-dinner night exploration of the island proved eerie, but at the same time peaceful. I wasn’t familiar with the trails, but I figured I was on an island… how lost could I get? I was treated to a spectacular view of the lit-up Boston skyline from the north side of the island. By the time I found my site again, I was ready to hit the sack.

Being severely sleep deprived, I’m sure I would have slept the entire night through had it not been for a visit from the local wildlife. Around 11:45 I was woken to metal clanging next to my head. After ascertaining that nothing was in the tent with me, I realized that something was going through my “kitchen” bag that I had put next to my tent, under the vestibule. My first reaction was to quickly zip open the door to see what it was. But, I wisely stopped myself when I suspected that it was either a skunk or a raccoon. I’ve had run-ins with both in the past, and the thought of confronting either from a lying position with my face at their level did not seem wise, nor overly appealing. I had always thought it a bit silly to put two doors in a backpacking tent that barely accommodates one person and his personal gear. However, I was now thanking the tent-making geniuses for the foresight I apparently lacked. How they knew I would eventually need to escape from wild beasties knocking at my front door is beyond me, but I am now including them on my Christmas card list. Once outside, I still couldn’t decide what species I was dealing with because it was hidden by the vestibule. However, I was reasonably sure it was a skunk and knew I didn’t want to startle it. That said, I was also anxious to get back to some REM sleep and was also not particularly thrilled by the mass of mosquitoes now boring holes in my epidermis. I shined my headlamp (which I wisely grabbed on my escape) on the tent and made clicking noises with my tongue. Some may question my approach, but I was desperate and not well versed in the extraction methods for skunks. Besides, I’m happy to report that it worked and Peppy was soon waddling back into the underbrush, dragging a stripe of white behind him. I hung the “kitchen” bag in the tree with the food and trash and was soon back in blissful sleep.

SATURDAY:



I lay in bed the next morning for a considerable time. It felt good to have no commitments, no firm plans, and an entire day at my own disposal. The birds were singing the morning away and a catbird seemed to be making a nuisance of himself, possibly agitating a nearby family.

Since I hadn’t seen much on my night walk of the island, the first order of business was to make a second round in the light and loosen up the body. Truth be known, the former was more exciting since there isn’t much to see but a lot of sumac and underbrush.

I made a pot of coffee and brought my book, “Swallows and Amazons”, down to the beach where I laid in the boat reading and enjoying the morning sun. By 9:00 I was ready for breakfast but found that my stove was not working properly. Breakfast would have to wait while I disassembled, cleaned and reassembled it. To which I was rewarded with a properly working stove and a meal of bacon, eggs, and bagels and cream cheese.

I had noticed that the folks in one of the prime sites were packing to leave. Normally, I wouldn’t have bothered to switch sites. But, my current site was not great for two tents and it was likely that Nelson would be joining me for the second night. After cleaning the breakfast dishes, I moved camp. The weather forecast predicted possible showers in the evening, so this time I also setup my new Origami Tarp over the picnic table.



I had planned to get on the water for a sail as soon as possible. However, with the lack of sleep, the humidity, and the exertion of moving camp I was wiped. Besides high tide wasn’t until late afternoon and it would be better for sailing then… or so I justified as I laid my mat on the grass and prepared for a snooze in the shade of a sumac tree.

By 1:30 , I had eaten lunch and was on the water heading to Bumpkin Island on the other side of the bay. Mark had mentioned that he and his daughter would be kayaking over and camping on the island that night. So, I decided to see if they had arrived. The wind was from the west and the bay was choppy from boat traffic. The trip over was a sleigh ride while being slammed from all directions by waves. Given the heat of the day, the spray was a welcome relief.

I found Mark and Jess setting up camp. It wasn’t hard to spot Marks “Tony the Tiger” kayak from far away. We chatted for a bit, but I figured Jess wasn’t eager to share her Father/Daughter time with some shmoe who shows up out of nowhere, so left them to continue my sail.

The trick was going to be to set myself up for the trip back to Grape Island without having to spend much effort tacking out in the middle of the choppy bay with all the boat traffic. I ducked behind the leeward side of Bumpkin, choosing to distance myself from the island just enough to have sufficient wind until I came out on the northern end where I bore its full force again. I maintained a broad reach and sailed over to Spinnaker Island , checking out the huge condos that smother the little mass of land. From there I sailed close-hauled over to Sheep Island . I considered landing for a stretch, but it was getting late and I wasn’t sure when Nelson would be coming out. Therefore, I made the reach straight back to Grape Island loving every second of spray and sun.

After securing ET BUGABOO on the beach, I went for a swim. I wasn’t sure what I smelled like after a day and a half, but I figured Nelson would appreciate any attempt I made to better the situation. I went back to camp, made a pot of coffee and a peanut butter sandwich, and then went back to the beach to enjoy the snack and read my book while waiting for Nelsons arrival.



Nelson called in around 7:00 from the launch and we coordinated a VHF channel. He began his paddle while I read another chapter before keeping watch. It wasn’t long before I saw the unmistakable flash of kayak paddles off in the horizon. He checked in for the bearing of my location on the island and was soon on tera firma.



After securing his kayak and lugging his gear up to the site, Nelson situated his tent while I started dinner. I had only tried empanadas with my new outback oven and was eager to try my hand at pizza. Unfortunately, I discovered that since cleaning my stove, its output was significantly greater and baking without burning was more of a challenge. However, I managed to produce food that was still edible and Nelson was kind to my ego.



While I was making the 2nd round of pizza, Nelson had been off collecting firewood. After dinner, we went down to the beach and had a nice little blaze while smoking cigars, sipping beverages and listening to tunes. I was surprised when Nelson finally announced that it was 11:00 .



When we returned to the site, there was the unmistakable odor of skunk. It wasn’t terribly strong, so I wondered if one of the other sites had received the brunt of it. However, the critter had obviously been exploring in our site as well. Having not yet hung our food and trash, we had provided an ideal situation for foraging. He must have been pleased with what he saw, because we could hear him throughout the night.

SUNDAY:

I woke at around 5:30 and decided to cut Nelson some slack. Instead of starting coffee and clanging pots, I went for a walk and let him sleep in a little longer. When I got to the beach, I determined that it was around high tide and therefore we would need to plan on leaving in the next few hours if we were to get back to the launch via water and not trodding through a foot of low tide mud. I went back to the site and tried as best I could to give Nelson the news as gently as possible. Apparently, Nelson is not an early morning person.

I started breakfast while Nelson acclimated himself to the notion of being awake. But, when I went for the bagels, I discovered that the skunk must have made off with them. We made do with bacon and eggs as a first course, and then followed up with oatmeal and raisins. As we were eating, our little friend even had the nerve to come by to see what was now on the menu. Thankfully, he kept his distance.





The trip back to the launch was uneventful. It was a nice comfortable morning with blue sky and puffy cumulus clouds. The breeze blew in our favor as Nelson paddled and I rowed back across the bay at a comfortable pace. We made it back with time to spare and I was almost regretful that we hadn’t made use of it by doing a little more exploring. However, it had been a great weekend and my much neglected lawn was calling.