#he’s kayaking in that big pond in the sky

[laughable-umbrella]

(tma s3 spoilers) no bc the fact that tim’s last words were a bad joke is sending me

“i hear the great grimaldi is in town. you should go see him”

“that’s not funny”

“i know”

[fire works]

[preacha69]

The Demon Storm

By John Norwood

             It started out like any other trip. Kayaks loaded and strapped into the back of the truck, gear stowed away in the back seat, destination set. My brother-in-law Jeff hops in on the passenger side and we head out to Wallace Lake in Jonesville, Louisiana. My mom and dad have a camp there and I’ve been on the lake many times, but this would be my first time on a kayak. I pulled into the local gas station to fuel up for the trip and we notice that the sky was dark and ominous behind us. “Uh oh, looks like we might be in for some bad weather.”

“Yea, but we are going in the opposite direction. Maybe we can beat it.” Jeff said as we climbed back in the truck.

“I sure hope so.”

It took us about an hour to get to the lake. Once there we spoke with my mom and dad for a minute and then drove down to the boat launch. As we began to unload the kayaks, I noticed that the sky was looking even more threatening to our west. “I don’t know man, maybe we shouldn’t go out. It looks like a big storm is coming. Let me check the weather on my phone.” I pulled out my phone and opened the weather radar app that revealed a band of thunderstorms headed straight for us. “So, what do you think?” I asked holding the phone for Jeff to see.

“It’s up to you dude. I’m game if you are.”

“Well, I tell you what, let’s go out for just a little bit and if it starts getting bad, we’ll come back in. At least we can mark Catahoula parish off our list.”

Let me explain. I was invited to join a Facebook group called Kayak 64 Tour of Parishes. The idea is to kayak as many parishes in Louisiana as you can and see if you can get all 64. I loved the idea, and so did Jeff. I figured, if we only got to go out for 20 or 30 minutes we would still be able say that we kayaked Catahoula.

We pull the kayaks down to the water’s edge and get in. “Hey, let’s go this way,” I said, pointing toward the dark clouds looming over the trees in the distance. “That way, if it starts getting bad, we will be rowing with the wind instead of against it.”

“Ok,” Jeff said as we both began to paddle away from the bank across the lake. The water was calm and the sun was shining down on us as we made our way to the middle of the lake.

“Hey, you got your phone with you?” I asked.

“Yea, I’ve got it right here.”

“Would you mind taking a picture of me? I want to use for my new blog.”

“OK,” Jeff said grabbing his phone and snapping a few shots of me as I turned my kayak back toward him. “I got about four pictures.”

“That’s good. I appreciate it.” The words had no sooner left my mouth when we both heard a roaring sound coming toward us. The wind began to pick up and I shouted, “We better head back!” I started paddling toward the bank.

“Yea, OK, I hope that’s wind and not rain I hear,” Jeff said as he as he followed on behind me.

I was paddling as hard and as fast as I could, but it seemed that the water was flowing toward the storm. I didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. I kept paddling thinking, the wind should be in my favor. I shouldn’t have to be paddling this hard. It was as if the storm was sucking me backwards into itself. I called out to Jeff, “This is crazy, look, there is blue skies in front of us.” I didn’t hear him respond so I turned my head and looked back to see where he was. OH NO! To my horror all I saw was Jeff’s kayak upside down. My heart sunk. I couldn’t see Jeff at all. Lord, please don’t let him drown in Jesus’ name. Neither one of us were wearing our life jackets.

I turned my kayak and started paddling back towards him. His arm came up and grabbed on to the kayak and his head popped up out of the water. Oh thank the Lord, I thought. The wind blew with the fierceness of a lion attacking a wounded gazelle. The water was white capping as wave upon wave beat against us. I was paddling forward with all the effort I could muster, but the wind was pushing me backwards. It was as if the storm took a deep breath sucking us toward it and then blew out with hurricane force winds. I watched as over and over Jeff’s head would disappear and then reappear as the waves pounded him. Up and down, up and down he bobbed like a cork in the rough waters. At this point, the wind blew me up against the edge of the concrete boat landing. I see my dad standing there watching us. I yelled, “You may have to go get him with your boat.” He didn’t hear what I said and repeated back to me,

“I may need to go get him with my boat.”

“I think so,” I said. I threw my paddle up on the landing thinking I could use both hands to step out of the kayak onto the concrete landing. However, as soon as I threw the paddle on to the bank, a gust of wind hit and blew me away from the bank. Oh no, now what am I going to do? I have no paddle and the wind is blowing me back out into the lake. Before I could come up with a plan another gust of wind blew, the kayak flipped, and over I went into the lake. Luckily, I was close enough to the bank to stand up and drag the kayak to shore.

Daddy had quickly got into his bass boat to try and help Jeff. While he was doing that, another boat passed by. The guy driving the boat saw Jeff’s predicament and made a circle to try and help, but the waves kept pushing him back. I prayed, Lord, please let this wind stop and let them get to Jeff. The guy circled back again and Jeff was able to grab onto the side of the boat. Jeff’s kayak was floating away and the guy was trying to get it when my dad pulled up next to them in his boat. He grabbed the kayak and both boats started trying to make their way to the shore. The wind and waves tossed the bass boats up and down rocking from side to side. After a couple of minutes, Jeff finally was close to bank and out of danger, but as I looked over at my dad I saw that he was struggling to hold on to the kayak. He was being tossed around by the storm. His face looked nervous and maybe slightly panicked. He was rocking so much that I was worried the storm might capsize him. Three times he tried to make it to the bank where he parks his boat between a bundle of swamp grass and a small cypress tree growing up from the bank and three times he was blown into the tree. I waded out into the snaky water to try and grab the kayak. My knockoff brand crocs that I was wearing buried down deep in the mud. When I took a step my foot moved out of the mud, but my right croc did not. My left croc also came off as I waded out, but I was finally able to grab the kayak. I pulled it up over the small cypress knees that dotted the bank back onto shore. I watched as one of my crocs floated away in the wind as if it were a wild crocodile finally set free. I waded back out and grabbed the rope on dad’s boat and pulled him in. Finally, we were all safe on shore.

Jeff was shook up quite a bit, but he was OK. He said, “I thought that was it. I thought I was done. I sucked in a ton of water. Every time I would come up for a breath, the waves would push me right back down.” He said, “When I was first blown over, I flipped the kayak back upright, but the wind blew back over on top of me hitting me in the head and knocking me back down in the water.” He laughed nervously and said, “It felt like hell had opened up and was trying to swallow me.”

As we compared our stories, we both felt the same pull of the storm like it was trying to suck us in. It almost felt like it was out to get us. My dad who is an avid fisherman and has spent his entire life fishing lakes, ponds, and rivers said, “I have never seen anything like that before.”

It truly felt like it was a demon storm bent on our destruction, but praise God he sent help just at the right moment. I feel certain that if the guy in the boat had not come when he did, Jeff would’ve drowned in that lake. Before he left we thanked him and I said, “You literally saved a life today.” Our kayak adventure didn’t go quite as planned, but after that ordeal, I am sure we can now mark Catahoula off of our list. Next time, we’ll be careful to not go out in a storm. Also, we both agreed that from now on, we will be wearing our life jackets whenever we go out. Now on to the next adventure.

[travelonlinetipsofficial]

8 Reasons to Visit Michigan’s Upper Peninsula

New Post has been published on https://www.travelonlinetips.com/8-reasons-to-visit-michigans-upper-peninsula/

8 Reasons to Visit Michigan’s Upper Peninsula

Michigan’s Upper Peninsula is known for its small towns surrounded by wide swaths of thick forests that in the late summer are swallowed in heavy early morning fog coupled with winding dirt roads—you can literally count the number of cars you pass on one hand. While it may sound like the perfect setting for Stephen King’s next chilling novel, The Upper Peninsula of Michigan is also home to a diversity of natural beauty untouched by humans. 

Places to Visit in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula

I won’t lie, Michigan’s UP wasn’t always on my travel list. I had heard about its flawless beauty but as a vegan, I thought I would starve in a land that prides itself on its hunting prowess. Dining amongst horned and furry trophies just didn’t appeal to me. 

But then our travel lives changed. We began switching out jaunts across the pond for staycations and the allure of mineral-stained cliffs and turquoise waters beckoned me to Northern Michigan. I’m glad they did. I was in awe of the beauty that had been beneath my nose all these years.

Even if you’re not an avid outdoorsman wanting to connect with Mother Nature, I promise, you too, will be in awe of its amazing scenery. Need more convincing? Check out these 8 reasons to visit Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.

Marvel at Michigan’s largest waterfall, Tahquamenon Falls

Whether you visit in the warmth of summer, in the midst of autumn’s kaleidoscope of colors, or during winter’s chilling wonderland where trees are perfectly covered in a blanket of lush white snow, a visit to Michigan’s largest waterfall is a must! Located in the second largest park, Tahquamenon Falls State Park houses two powerful waterfalls-the Upper and Lower falls. Nicknamed “The Rootbeer Falls” by locals, the falls have an unusual brown tinge to the water thanks to cedar tannins that have made their way into the water. Nothing to be concerned about but it creates an interesting color to the flowing falls that you’re sure not to forget!

Tips for visiting Tahquamenon Falls

Most flock to the Upper Falls first, but if Tahquamenon isn’t your final destination, I would stop at the Lower Falls and then continue to the Upper Falls because Google will most likely have you continue your travels south along 123.

At the Lower Falls consider renting a rowboat for $7 a person or $20 per boat to get an up-close view. If you’d rather stay on land there are a myriad of hiking and biking trails, including a short trail with a ½ mile jaunt to scenic overlooks and a 13-mile Rivermouth Trail. Whatever your choice there is plenty of room to explore! And, if you want to stay a little longer, consider renting a rustic or modern campsite.

Enjoy one of four National Lakeshores in the United States, Pictured Rocks

Best known for its wildly rugged cliffs that look as though someone unleashed a toddler with a paintbrush, The Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore is a must-see destination in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. The lakeshore stretches 42-miles from Munising to Grand Marais and offers visitors the opportunity to explore over 100 miles of trails, 12 miles of pristine white sand beaches with Caribbean blue waters, multiple sand dunes, an array of flora and fauna (including black bears!), and so much more. 

You may be wondering what caused the painted cliffs of the National Lakeshore? The cliffs’ coloring actually comes from deposits of iron, copper, manganese, and limonite that, when mixed with the groundwater running down the face of the cliffs, creates exotic coloring of orange, white, red, blue, and green.  The end result has become one of the most photographed spots in the UP because of its unique beauty.

Cliff dive in Presque Isle State Park

Not to be confused with Presque Isle in Pennsylvania (always Google it with Marquette in the search), this 323-acre park is located just outside downtown Marquette. The park looks as though it has truly been untouched by man, and to some degree, that’s true, thanks to Fredrick Law Olmsted. Olmstead is known for his involvement in designing New York City’s Central Park and in the late 1800s, he made a visit to Marquette to advise the city on how to utilize Presque Isle. His advice was simple, “don’t touch it.” Over 100 years later his advice is still being followed.

Visitors can take a break from the hustle and bustle of life and hike through the park’s many trails or consider biking the 2-mile Peter White Drive loop, which circles the entire park and takes visitors through canopies of fragrant pines and skinny birch trees. Every once in a while, the forest breaks to reveal Lake Superior.

But, the number one reason visitors flock here in the summer is to tackle their fear of heights and jump from the park’s 10-15 ft. black rock cliffs and cool off in Lake Superior. To find this special place, head to the northern tip of the park where, in the heat of summer, you’ll see cars lined up along the road. A small parking lot is also available.  

Even if you don’t want to take the plunge, it’s fun to watch others hesitate, re-consider, and ultimately jump into the emerald waters. 

Enjoy lunch in the UP’s largest town, Marquette

After exploring Presque Isle Park, head back into the charming college town, Marquette. With just over 20,000 people it clocks in as the UP’s largest town and one of the few places in the UP where you can enjoy the charismatic small-town vibe and shop at well-known stores to stock up on creature comforts. 

The town offers a great mix of dining from greasy pizza to dishes sourced entirely from local Michigan farms. My suggestion is don’t miss The Bodega, this LGBTQ-women-owned restaurant sources almost its entire menu from local Michigan farms and prepares everything from scratch, daily. Dining here is a treat! The menu is well marked for vegan and gluten-free dishes, making it the prime spot to experience the fresh flavors of Michigan for all its diners. I also suggest you try the sweet potato-filled Que Pasa tacos. 

Where to stay in Marquette – Landmark Inn is a lovely boutique style historic inn that is located downtown Marquette.

Hike or bike until you just can’t go anymore

If you love to work up a sweat and get your heart pumping, then the UP is the place for you! Michigan is well on its way to being known as a “Trails State,” with thousands of hiking and biking trails that weave through heavily wooded forests and snake along sandstone cliffs on Lake Superior.

Bike to Munising or Grand Island

If you want to clip in and explore the terrain with two wheels, head to Munising! The city has been hard at work creating a variety of trailheads to entice bikers to saddle up. The trails are all located within easy reach of downtown Munising but the track you don’t want to miss is on Grand Island. Hop on the Grand Island Ferry for $20 and get ready for rustic wilderness and 40 miles of trails to explore. The trails range in difficulty but if you’re looking for a scenic work-out then hit the island’s 20-mile 2-lane perimeter track.

For those of us who’d rather stick to exploring with our own two feet, there are an endless array of trail options that range in difficulty, many come with Instagram-worthy views, waterfalls, and hidden beaches! A few spots not to miss include The Chapel Loop Trail in Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, Sugarloaf Mountain in Marquette, and The Lake of Clouds in the Porcupine Mountains. 

Kayak in Lake Superior’s Caribbean blue waters

Lake Superior’s emerald and turquoise waters beckon visitors to jump on in! Not only is it a fun activity but it’s the best way to view the mammoth Pictured Rocks. 

For seasoned kayakers, you can bring your own and get paddling, but if you don’t own a kayak or are maybe unsure of your paddling prowess, consider joining a guided tour. The guided tours in Pictured Rocks take paddlers by many gorgeous sites like Bridalveil Falls, Chapel Rock, Kissing Rock, and Lovers Leap Arch, among others. The tours are leisurely paced and take anywhere from 2 – 6 hours. 

If you’re paddling on your own be sure to keep an eye on the small craft water advisories as Lake Superior can become choppy quickly! If that happens, take off from Sandpoint Beach and paddle to Grand Island. The waters are sheltered around the island creating a smooth ride and Grand Island has great painted cliffs too.

Capture beautiful views from Sugarloaf Mountain

If you want a breath-taking view but don’t really want to spend hours hiking to find it, then head to Sugarloaf Mountain. The trailhead is located just a few minutes outside of downtown Marquette. There are two trail options, easy and difficult, but to be honest, they both take about 15-20 minutes and require a fair amount of stair-climbing. It’s worth it once you make it to the top, you’re rewarded with unobstructed views. On a clear day, you’ll be able to see Lake Superior, Marquette, Presque Isle Park, and Little Presque Isle as well as Hogsback Mountain and the large swath of forest between Marquette and Big Bay. ?

It’s a great spot to enjoy the changing fall colors too.

End your day with spectacular sunsets 

For most city-dwellers, sunsets are obstructed by buildings, power lines, and more making it difficult to get a clear view of the pink and orange sun-soaked sky. Michigan’s Upper Peninsula is filled with countless miles of wide-open sky and sea, making it the perfect place to sit back, relax, and enjoy the view.

A few great spots to enjoy the view include Sandpoint Beach in Munising, Grand Sable Dunes in Pictured Rocks, Brockway Mountain Drive in Copper Harbor, and White Fish Point in Paradise. 

These are 8 amazing reasons to visit the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. If you are looking for adventure, outdoors and a great food scene, be sure to add Michigan to your travel list.

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[nationalparkposters]

Best Things to Do in Mammoth Cave National Park

Best Things to Do in Mammoth Cave National Park: There's something magical about the subterranean world of south central Kentucky, where the world's largest known cave system lurks like a grand peculiar labyrinth, ready to explore. Its mysterious system of 400 miles of passageways and rooms captures the imagination of all who enter. Explorers are discovering new passages even today. Located east of Brownsville in the central part of the state, the caves are home to 130 animal species and have been used by humankind for thousands of years, with fascinating characters who entered the misty depth and led interesting lives. In addition, there are river valleys, historic churches, sinkholes, and vast forestland to discover. Activities can be done here year-round, and events are always happening at this UNESCO World Heritage Site and Biosphere Reserve. Ranger-led Tours and Talks All year round is a good time to go. It's underground, after all, so no having to deal with the elements. The park offers many different tours, focusing on the history, beauty, passageways, and other discovery tours showcasing the many different aspects of the caves. There are also cave tours made accessible for wheelchair users. Talks at the visitor center are often held on the back porch and are a nice 10-minute introduction to a variety of topics about plants and animals, history, scientific research, among others. Evening talks meet at the amphitheater between the lodge and the camp store. The Wild Cave Tour The most in-depth tour offered at Mammoth Cave, you will literally be crawling on your hands and knees for a portion of the tour. But don't worry, you won't be in such a compromising position for long, and you'll be given overalls and knee pads to protect you and your clothing, helmets with lamps at the ready, bandanas, and gloves. These guys don't mess around when it comes to your comfort and safety. Offered spring through fall, it is six hours of fun with lunch included. Those who are afraid of heights, are claustrophobic, in ill health, or under 16 should not go on this tour. Reservations are required; be sure to check the website for the latest. Hiking Trails Galore Easy access trails for those who like their hiking on the more casual side will find 18 miles of well-kept trails on the south side of Green River. Along the way, one can explore the history of the park and discover its unique geology. Around the visitor center, seven miles of trails feature scenic river views, ridgetops, cave-fed springs, cemeteries, sinkholes, a historic train engine. Over 10 miles of forested trails on the south side feature the Cedar Sink Trail, Sloan's Crossing Pond Walk, Sand Cave Trail, and Turnhole Bend Nature Trail. The Finest Backcountry Hiking The best way to get away from the crowds is to grab a backpack with all of the needed provisions and head for the remote wilderness. A dozen scenic and peaceful campsites are up for grabs should you wish to make it a multi-day trip. To get here, a minute-long ferry ride is all that is needed, but plan for possible delays, as the ferry can only accommodate one car at a time, and no RVs. From there, take your pick of several trails, some of which will take you near water sources, such as First and Second Creek trails. If you really want to feel like you're alone in the wilderness, take Collie Ridge trail, and Homestead is a great place to camp. Be sure to get your free backcountry pass from the Visitor Center. Go on a Horseback Riding Tour This park has plenty of trails and campgrounds that can accommodate our trusty horse friends. Whether you have your own horse or opt for paying for a wonderful horseback riding experience. There are over 60 miles of backcountry trails north of Green River, just for this type of adventure. Grab a free trail map, and ride side saddle through the wilderness. Explore the Trails on Two Wheels Biking enthusiasts are not left hanging in Mammoth Cave National Park. Here in the backcountry, there are four designated off-road trails specifically for mountain biking. Explore the Mammoth Cave Railroad and Big Hollow trails, both running about nine miles in length. The Maple Springs Trail is an easy one mile, while the White Oak Trail is about 2.5 miles long. Street bikes are permitted on all paved roads in the park, and mountain bikes are allowed on all administrative roads. Get Out on the Water The Green and Nolin Rivers run through Mammoth Cave National Park, offering many opportunities for boating, canoeing, and kayaking. There are three river access points in the park and are accessible by car and are located on the south side of the Green River: the Dennison Ferry, Houchin Ferry, and Green River Ferry. This is an amazing opportunity to watch for wildlife, explore the springs and river bluffs, and even do some fishing. Anglers can expect to find bluegill, catfish, muskellunge, perch, crappie, bass, and other game fish. You can also paddle or boat your way to one of the islands to camp; there is also camping at the Houchin Ferry Campground. The Best Stargazing is Here People have used the stars for thousands of years to help in navigation, to keep track of time, or to simply ponders the wonders of the universe. Mammoth Cave is an ideal spot for such a pastime. Find a wide-open space, such as a grassy field, to get the best view. The parking lot at the visitor center is also a popular place. Try to avoid areas with artificial light, and carry a flashlight with red lights that will help you navigate to your spot without disturbing your night vision. Here, you don't need a telescope; however, having a good pair of binoculars may aid you in your nighttime viewing. Ranger-led stargazing programs are offered throughout the year, as well, and offer a unique opportunity to gain an appreciation for the park's dark sky environment. Click here to see the Mammoth Cave National Park Rob Decker is a photographer and graphic artist who had the rare privilege of studying under Ansel Adams in Yosemite National Park when he was just 19 years old. Now, Rob is on a journey to explore and photograph all 61 of America's National Parks. He's creating WPA-style posters to help people celebrate their own national park adventures — as well as encourage others to get out and explore! Join the growing community of 75k+ National Park enthusiasts to receive insider deals and updates. See why 75k+ National Park fans have already joined... https://national-park-posters.com/blogs/national-park-posters/best-things-to-do-in-mammoth-cave-national-park?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=Sendible&utm_campaign=RSS

[messysuitcaseblog]

Why We’re in Vermont for the Summer

I thought I’d take a step back and explain why we are suddenly blogging from Vermont instead of Mexico.

Our Vermont History

Friends who knew us when we lived in Mamaroneck, NY (1998-2008) know that during that time, we bought a couple of vacation rental houses in Vermont. We wanted a rural place to escape from the hustle bustle of the NY metro area, and we loved New England, where I lived for much of my childhood.

VT House #1: The Lake House

The first house we bought was meant to be our retirement home, and we nicknamed it “The Lake House.” It’s a six-bedroom chalet nestled on a wooded three-quarters of an acre across the street from 200-acre Lake Rescue, where we keep a dock with boats. The kids and I would escape for half of every summer to decompress in the Green Mountains, go swimming and boating, hike nearby trails, sit around a fire pit making s’mores and singing camp songs, gaze at stars and explore Vermont. We had a Zodiac boat with a motor and used to go tubing. Bob came up for vacation a couple of weeks each summer, and otherwise took Amtrak from NY every Friday for a weekend visit. During the winter, we came up on occasional weekends and some school breaks to ski nearby Okemo. I would XC ski on Lake Rescue.

As soon as the contract was signed on The Lake House, we found ourselves in the vacation rental business, because it came with winter seasonal renters, and that was our plan for paying for it.

VT House #2: The Brook House

We bought the second house, which we call “The Brook House,” a couple of years later because the real estate market was booming, and it seemed like a good investment. The Brook House is a 120-year-old, five-bedroom former chicken coop that backs to a creek and Tiny Pond Recreation Area, 400 acres of state forest that no one seems to know exists. Echo Lake is less than a quarter-mile away. The yard is big and there’s a little country store across the street.

We dubbed it “The College Fund.” Alas, that real estate “boom” turned out to be a bubble when the market tanked. The region is only now recovering, so we still own both houses, though the Brook is on the market. One rental home is quite enough to manage from a distance!

Two Houses Filled With Love

The houses, especially the Lake House, are an integral part of our family story, especially since we moved to Colorado in the middle of the kids’ childhoods, so this region served as an anchor for their lives. We filled the houses with people we loved whenever we could. Family – grandpa and grandmas, aunts and uncles, siblings and cousins – and friends came up to the lake for summer vacations, year after year, creating so many dear memories.

Our friend Marie Laguerre brought her twins Omar and Kayla to attend Farm & Wilderness Barn Day Camp (eight miles up the road, and extraordinary) with my kids, and lived in the house for two weeks with us. I remember Omie would eat nothing but ramen noodles. Marya and Mickey Carter did the same with kids Spencer the bed at the Brook House (and I was so proud of myself for adding plastic covers to the mattresses that summer before their arrival), is now a brilliant athlete attending Harvard!

Cousin Jeanine Troisi came and learned to ski one year; another summer she ran a hilly 5K race along Echo Lake not long after giving up smoking. I was so proud of her! My brother Mike, sister-in-law Paula and their three kids visited; we rode bikes together around the lake with the smallest kids in kiddie seats. My nephew Jake and I kayaked into the middle of the lake to watch the Perseids Meteor Shower. Our friend Valerie Rasmussen, who has since passed away, came to hike and waterfall jump one summer, and to ski one winter.

My dear friends Mary and Sam Wiley brought live lobsters from Newport, RI, and we watched lawbstah races on the front deck of the Lake House before enjoying scrumptious steamed lobsters. I think of her whenever I see those lobster pots, which we still have, just waiting for her next visit. Mary came back another year and used the Brook House as a base while visiting colleges with her son Henry. Or was it Frank? I remember Lex’s stuffed lamb Buggya Guy disappeared during that visit, somewhere between going to car to leave for the Killington Adventure Zone to enjoy the alpine slide and arriving at the mountain. Forever a mystery.

(Above - Hiking the Vista Trail at Echo Lake. Below, the view from the top!)

My cousin Loraine Carapellucci and husband Dave Handley brought their three daughters for a week, and our kids really bonded. I remember we had a merry time on the rope swing of Discovery Island, in the middle of Lake Rescue, giving kids Olympic scores for “poses” before they dropped into the water. Alas, that swing is gone now; the tree from which it hung was brought down in the Great Flood of 2012.

We even hosted a Dominican-American girl from the Bronx named Clarissa Delgado through the Fresh Air Fund, to give her her first nature experience. I remember watching stars with Clarissa, a phenomenal sight for a girl accustomed to bright street lights and no view of the starry sky, and teaching her how to fish. In fact, it seems I spent countless summer hours putting worms on hooks and extricating fish from the same hooks over and over as I taught countless munchkins how to fish off the dock. I failed hopelessly to learn to fly fish, however, despite efforts summer after summer from my friend Eddie Eagan, who was director of the local Chamber of Commerce and taught flyfishing on the side.

I loved running around the lakes, and often woke up early to kayak on the misty lake, alone on 200 acres of calm water save for a couple of loons.

(Misty morning on Lake Rescue)

So many thousands of wonderful memories! When we moved to Colorado in early 2009, we were saddened to realize our Vermont summers were abruptly over. We took a financial hit from the recession that took years to recover from, and couldn’t afford to fly the family across the country. So the houses became vacation rental businesses that I managed from afar, and Bob and I would go back every couple of years to make improvements and do work on them.

We sort of forgot that the Lake House was originally supposed to be our home.  

Reconnecting with Vermont

But this past November, we went up and stayed in the Brook House for five weeks after Bob retired. We took Bob’s mom and sister Beth, and it snowed a good two or three feet during our stay. Bob and I spent an hour every morning in the hot tub on the back deck sipping mimosas and enjoying the sound of the creek while snowflakes gently played with our hair and ice from 13-degree mornings formed little spikes on his beard. My brother Phil, wife Rose and son Philip came for Thanksgiving, and 2.0 (pronounced 2-point-oh, as we like to call Philip the 2nd) sat in the same highchair my kids had sat in as he dropped his pieces of stuffing on the rug. My niece Catherine and her daughter Audrey also came for a few days, and Aud built a snowman in the yard.

And suddenly we remembered that these weren’t just vacation rentals. They were our homes! And even though we had left Colorado behind for the traveling life and sort of felt homeless, we weren’t!

Part-Time VT Residents

So we have decided that we will live in Vermont during the summers. The houses give our kids a place to come to from college that feels like home. They can get summer jobs. They can visit their favorite ice cream place (the Ludlow Coffee Company, formerly Scoops) and eat at their favorite pizza joint (Goodman’s American Pie). They can feel anchored.

(Seward’s in nearby Rutland is another favorite ice cream joint.)

We are working hard, though. Because we are trying to sell the Brook House, Bob and I are spending long hours making improvements – painting the house and some doors, pulling up a rug and refinishing a floor, planting grass and landscaping, buying furniture, and hiring and overseeing workmen. But we’re also going for long bike rides on scenic Route 100, a refreshing opportunity after the challenge of riding in Mexico. We’re hiking the Long/Appalachian Trail, enjoying our favorite ice cream places, trying to visit every bar in the Okemo Valley. We’re running and doing yoga and lifting weights, and hanging out on the Tyson Store chatting with neighbors.

Come October, we will head back south of the border and explore Mexico for the next 9 months. But when Lex gets done with their first year at Champlain College in May, we’ll return to the Green Mountain State and move back into The Lake House for the summer. (Hopefully, the Brook House will be sold and college paid for with the proceeds!)

I relish the opportunity to enjoy the region and explore the Green Mountain State more, without the burden of juggling full-time work, as I did when my kids were young. I look forward to connecting to the community and making friends. And I urge our family and friends to come visit! Because the Lake House has in fact turned into our summer retirement home. And we want to build more memories!

[dannofaust]

It was Friday evening and as I sat in my recliner browsing FaceBook, I ran across an announcement for a canoeing/kayaking trip down the Middle Fork of the Vermilion River. The trip was being organized and lead by Mike & Anja Metz through the Champaign Ski and Adventure Club. I met Mike many years ago when he used to lead joint trips with the Mackinaw Canoe Club. Mike has been doing this for a long time and always has some good trips. I immediately decided this was a trip I should do. It was a decision I would not regret.

The next morning I was up bright and early, packing gear, gathering snacks and food for lunch, and loading my kayak onto my little white Mitsubishi Mirage. Our instructions were to meet at Ogden, IL by 9 am, so I was on the road by 7 am. It’s a 90 minute drive, but I needed to stop for gas. I arrived at the appointed meeting spot with 5 minutes to spare.

There are a couple different “Vermilion Rivers” in Illinois. It can be confusing. I live along the Vermilion River of the Illinois River watershed. The Middle Fork of the Vermilion River is one of three rivers ( Salt Fork, Middle Fork, North Fork ) which form the Vermilion River system of the Wabash River watershed. Both of these “Vermilion Rivers” start in the same general region of Central Illinois which used to be a large marsh, but they flow in opposite directions. One explanation for the two river systems having the same name is that the native Americans considered these rivers to be part of the same system, since they both started in the same marsh, and called them both by the same name.

The Middle Fork of the Vermilion River is the  only river in Illinois that has received “Wild and Scenic” designation. It is indeed a very beautiful and scenic place which deserves to be protected for future generations.

I think there were 14 boats and 15 participants in our group. A good turnout. The water level was just right, but I would not want to paddle at a lower level. The current was obvious and adequate most of the time. I only scraped bottom in a few places and never had to exit my kayak for lack of water. 1.76 feet on the Oakwood gage.

USGS RiVer Gage #03336645 – Middle Fork Vermilion River above Oakwood, IL

Once we dropped a couple of cars at the take-out at Kickapoo State Park, we made our way upstream to the Put-in. The parking lot at the put-in is very nice, but the turn-around on the boat ramp access was way too muddy for my little car. Next time I will know to park in the lot and use my kayak cart to get my boat to the water. I ended up using my cart for the short trip to the water any way and if I had simply started at the parking lot I could have avoided unnecessary crowding the boat access

Everyone waited patiently as one by one we all got into our boats and on the river, but once we were all afloat, the group quickly disbursed. Mike went first, since he has a lot of experience on this river and wanted to watch for any possible hazards ahead of us. I hung towards the back of the group, figuring that if anyone did have a problem I would come across them sooner or later. I wasn’t in any big hurry any way. I wanted to spend more time on the water than on the road that day. Our trip would be approximately 13 river miles.

  One of the many riffles we went through during our trip. The water level was just right.

Our group was an eclectic mix of mostly older folks, some of whom have a lot of paddling experience and some with very little. I think there was only one tandem canoe in the group. Everyone else paddled solo. We were pretty evenly divided between canoes and kayaks.

At first there were four of us guys paddling together at the back of the group. One of the guys is named Brooks Hauser. Brooks recently graduated from the University of Illinois. He was by far the youngest member of our entire group. Before we had gone very far, Brooks paddled over to a deadfall on the river bank. I wasn’t sure why. Then I looked back to see what he was doing and he had a snake in his hand. Well THAT was interesting. I paddled over to get a better look. Brooks said the it was a common Northern Water Snake. It was squirming furiously and biting at Brooks’ hand at every opportunity. Brooks maintained that he could hardly even feel the bites, but the snake did manage to draw a tiny bit of blood in a few spots.

  Obviously, Brooks knows a lot about snakes. In fact, Brooks knows a lot about wildlife in general. At last count, I believe Brooks located and caught 11 snakes during our trip. They including a black rat snake, northern water snakes, and a queen snake. Brooks also located and caught at least two baby turtles, which were the smallest that I had ever seen in the wild before. And just for good measure, Brooks also caught a small crayfish ( crawdad ).

We also saw an adult American bald eagle, its nest, and several eaglets in the nest. I didn’t notice the Eagle, perched high in a tree on the river’s edge, as we approached. It was spooked by our presence and flew downstream for several hundred yards. We saw it as it took flight and I was disappointed, thinking this was the last that we would see of this majestic bird. To my surprise and delight the eagle turned around and flew back to it’s perch in the same tree it had just left. As we paused to take in this sight, we could hear eaglets calling for their parents. Brooks spotted the huge nest in a nearby tree and we could see little heads bobbing up and down in the nest. For most of my life I never thought I would have the opportunity to see a wild bald eagle in Central Illinois. Even though bald eagle sightings are much more common now, I am always excited to see a bald eagle in the wild, especially here in Illinois.

I believe this was a black rat snake. Yikes! Thanks Brooks Hauser for sharing your amazing photos.

The sky was a bit overcast most of the day, but the temperatures were very pleasant. It wasn’t too hot and the water was cool, but not too cold. It did sprinkle a very light rain for a little while during the early part of the trip, but there was not thunder or lightning. It was actually quite nice. I didn’t hear anyone complain.

We caught up to the rest of the group at a wonderful little lunch spot, complete with a nearby pit toilet and benches overlooking the river. That’s luxury when you’re on the river. Even though I have done this stretch of the river many times before, I had never stopped here in the past. Mike knows all the good spots and interesting places along the river. Thanks Mike! I’ll try to remember this little oasis for the next time I’m here.

After lunch, we all made our way back to the river and quickly fell into the same rhythm. Brooks and I found ourselves bringing up the rear of the group once again. I don’t think either of us minded it a bit. I know I didn’t. Brooks is such an interesting young man and I was having fun getting to know him a little bit. We continued to watch for snakes or whatever there was to see and enjoy.

Brooks enthusiasm and love of nature was obvious and contagious. I have paddled with people who were experts in the areas of plants, insects, geology, geography, history, wildlife, fishing, photography, canoeing, kayaking, and a host of other subjects, but this was the first time I spent the day with someone who knew so much about snakes and was so comfortable handling them. Thanks for putting up with me all day Brooks! This is a trip I will never forget.

    Further on downstream, Brooks took a break to answer natures call. I warned him not to take too long or I would have to come looking for him. Not fifty yards downstream and around a bend in the river, there stood Mike in the middle of the stream. He warned me that there was a deadfall in the stream just ahead that had caused a capsize. He was worried when he didn’t see Brooks. I told him that he had just stopped and would be along shortly, which he was. We knew that there were more paddlers just behind us, so we stopped to make sure they got through safely.  We helped several people avoid the log jam and helped on person recover after a capsize. I even recovered a set of car keys, on a Chicago Cubs lanyard, that someone lost in this tricky spot. I later turned them in to the canoe rental office at Kickapoo State Park.

“It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.” That’s one of my favorite quotes from Henry David Thoreau. I got a little better understanding of that quote today as Brooks reminded me how to be a bit more observant and aware of my surroundings. Slow down. Pay attention. Once you know what to look for and where to look, it becomes a lot easier. There’s a lot more going on out there on the river than most of us realize. We pass right by and never take much notice of the flora and fauna. I sure have been guilty of that. Once I slowed down a bit and started paying attention to the likely places a snake would sun themselves I actually spotted a couple of snakes laying in dead falls along the river bank. Snakes are not my thing. I will leave the catching and handling of the snakes to Brooks, but it was fun to spot them all along the river.

This photo shows the scarred up roots of a sycamore tree. Ugly, and beautiful at the same time. 

There is so much beauty along this river. Near the end of our trip we saw the leaching from the coal ash ponds. We saw the attempts to shore up the riverbank in that area. I can only describe it as ugly and disgusting. This river is truly beautiful, but it has been scarred. It’s sad! I am reminded just how beautiful nature can be when we leave it alone. This is a precious place that we need to protect. Too much human impact has happened here already.

The red line shows our path down the river. I measured the distance on the river as 13.0 miles.

               You can view This Map on Google Maps.

I want to thank Mike & Anja Metz, and everyone from the Champaign Ski and Adventure Club, for a great trip. It was wonderfully organized. Everyone was so nice. Thanks to Paul for shuttling me back to my car after the trip, and thanks again to Mike and Anja for waiting with my kayak and equipment while Paul drover me to the Put-In and I drove back. You have the patience of Saints! I also want to thanks Brooks for generously sharing his photos with me for this blog. Those photos are amazing!

I’m still trying to get some video while I’m on the river, but it’s definitely a work in progress. I used an app on my phone to piece together some highlights from the trip. “Slithering down the Middle Fork.“

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Slithering Down the Middle Fork It was Friday evening and as I sat in my recliner browsing FaceBook, I ran across an announcement for a canoeing/kayaking trip down the Middle Fork of the Vermilion River.

[njohnstonphotography]

I’m fairly new to kayaking, and have so far enjoyed a few afternoon paddles in the Hudson River near our home and in Goose Pond near Lee, MA, where we vacation in the summer. The more I do it, the more I enjoy the challenges it offers. It’s a great way to get alone time for a few hours, and maybe enjoy some non-work related photography. Or to just sit, bobbing up and down like a cork, watching clouds.

The Hudson River south of the Tappan Zee bridge. A timed exposure.

And so when Matt Kane of Prime Paddlesports invited me to join with him and a group of kayakers on an overnight expedition to the Execution Rocks Lighthouse, I was totally in. The longest kayak trip I’ve had to date was about 3 hours on the Hudson, so this was a big step up. We’d meet in Rye, NY, paddle 5 miles from the coast, south by south west, to a pile of rocks few miles north of Port Washington, NY, and back again the following morning, which happened to be Memorial Day.

Loading up.

Getting in.

Paddling off.

After meeting up at the appointed time and place, and getting our boats and gear sorted out in the Edith G. Read Wildlife Sanctuary parking lot, we popped into our kayaks and shoved off into the setting sun. Despite the increasing clouds, the weather was calm and pleasant as we paddled, keeping a wary eye out for holiday pleasure boaters and quietly chatting about the lore of the Execution Rocks.

During the Revolutionary War, British soldiers were reported to have used the 9 foot tide at the island to execute prisoners, chaining them to the rocks during low tide. Additionally, Execution Rocks is where cereal killer Carl Panzram claimed to have dumped the bodies of his numerous victims. They say on starless nights you can tortured hear voices calling out as the water rises. This is where we plan on spending the night.

Using charts to navigate.

The sky gets darker.

Feeling very small in a very big place.

Matt Kane glides over darkening waters.

Sun comes out before going down.

We were running late, but thankfully the lighthouse’s beacon began it’s regular pulsing in the dark, and we were able to plot a good path using it and some nearby buoys. Our landing on the rocks of the island was going to be a technical one, and as we finally reached our destination, the ocean seemed to want to test us by picking up its energy. Our hosts, Craig and Linell, helped by shining flashlights down on us as we methodically lifted one heavy, packed kayak after another up the rip rap that makes the island, to safety.

One last navigational discussion before nightfall.

Execution Rocks Lighthouse beacon guides us in.

Craig and Linell, a welcome sight!

The lighthouse is a creepy, remarkable affair, feeling abandoned and ancient until you poke around a little and discover signs of the owners. Tables with glowing lanterns, food and water in the kitchen, a nice grill outside. Ironically, though Con Edison uses the island as a switching point for millions of volts of electricity and the Coast Guard is obliged to keep the lighthouse’s beacon flashing, there’s no electricity for Craig and Linell. Not yet, anyway. They’re in the process of raising funds to renovate the historic structure. So we bumbled around using flashlights and settled in to the smell of cooked meat wafting off Craig’s BBQ.

After a good burger, made fantastic by the long trip, I figured some photography was in order, and began setting up to the complaints of nesting seagulls. I normally do portraits of people, and since the lighthouse now had it’s own persona in my mind, I decided a portrait would be fitting. It being Memorial Day and all, I decided on a patriotic theme, and introduced red and blue light to compliment the white beacon at the top of the lighthouse. I left Matt’s silhouette undoctored because it’s so ghostly, a fitting addition to the image.

The Execution Rocks Lighthouse off the coast of Port Washington, NY.

Later, as I dropped into dreamless sleep, I kind of hoped I’d see a ghost, and at the same time, really wished I wouldn’t experience a haunting. Around 2am I was jerked from my sleep by a loud crash and howling wind. Somehow, a door had come loose and blown open as a storm moved into the area, rattling the living room I was camped out in. Assuring myself it was wind and not spirits that had roused me, I got up and walked outside. It was high tide. The waves that had earlier been yards below us, were now right at the door step, as if to remind me of the location’s gruesome history. Gusts of wind clawed at me and I watched waves roll in out of the east. Though no apparitions made themselves known to me, I felt aware and vulnerable as I realized we might have to paddle back in this.

Still kind of creepy in the daytime.

Aborting our long paddle back to Rye.

Group photo before we shove off.

In the morning we powered up on food and coffee. I had instant coffee in a pink sippy cup. Literally. What? I have 3 little girls at home. That’s how I roll.

After that we packed our boats, casting nervous eyes off the island. The seas, calm and serene yesterday, were now breaking on 5 foot swells, with winds gusting over 2o knots. The plan had been to paddle around, maybe to the north shore of Long Island, and then back to Rye by the afternoon. But that was looking less and less realistic. Matt called a meeting where the group decided the most prudent thing to do was head directly to Pelham, seeking shelter from various islands on the way. From there we’d figure out a way to get our cars and go home.

Some photos just read better as black and white.

Getting our kayaks off the island was just as tricky as getting them on, and once we were all safely bobbing up and down in the water, we paddled around the sheltered side of the island and into the oncoming swells, which were now topping out at about 6 feet. My kayak, a red Wilderness Systems Focus 150, is known for getting pushed around by the wind due to it’s higher stance, and for being hard to edge and turn. To my dismay, this turned out to be completely true. Going into the wind and into the oncoming waves was a cinch, and I found myself having a great time. Until we needed to turn at a right angle from it. That’s where my trouble began.

The only thing you have to fear is fear itself. So goes the saying. As I wrestled my boat to take the wind and swells broadside, it kept slipping even further away until I had the wind blowing up my ass. The grin on my face from sloshing up and down over the oncoming waves gave way to tight, eye-bulging anxiety, as I attempted to keep the kayak headed in the right direction. It seemed that every wave tried to twist the boat away from me, forcing me to madly counterbalance, bracing first one side up the face of a wave, then the other side as I slid back down. The dread of possibly getting knocked over seeped into me. The water was cold. And murky. And we were at least a mile from the nearest solid ground. Fuck.

I heard my paddling partner Robin yelling at me to relax and go with the waves. “Your kayak wants to float! Let it!” That helped for a bit, and I was able to get myself sorted out. But soon the anxiety rose again, causing me to loose my rhythm and tighten up, fighting more than paddling.

Carl popping over the crest of a wave.

Trying to keep it straight against 6′ swells.

Caught with the wrong oar on the wrong side at the wrong time.

Over we go.

And down.

Getting knocked over was almost a relief, breaking the fear in a cold, wet plunge, cutting it off and replacing it in one motion with the clarity of the moment. One second I was rigid with resistance, and then, almost instantly, forced into the relaxation that comes with holding your breath deeply. I looked around in the greenness for the toggle on my spray skirt, popped it out, and surfaced, making sure not to lose my paddle. Or my hat. Or my camera. Shit, I had a lot of stuff floating around. Robin paddled over and asked in a friendly voice if I was ok, almost casually, as if we were on solid ground and just I’d stumbled a bit as we walked.

Performing an assisted or self-rescue in the chilly, rolling ocean is very different from one in the well-lit, chlorinated safety of a heated indoor pool. Thanks to Robin’s thoughtful coaching and her relaxed attitude, I was able to get back in my kayak and continue on, losing only a little of my pride and my favorite baseball cap, relieved now that the fear of falling had literally been washed away.

Landing on Huckleberry Island to regroup.

Nice kayak!

She and I rejoined the others and we all landed on Huckleberry Island to rest, pull ourselves together, have a snack, take a leak, and to figure out where, exactly, we were going to paddle next. It can be difficult to discern one small island from another when you’re sea level, so after making sure we were where we thought we were, we established a plan for the last leg of our journey, and got ahold of Lynda’s fiancé, Dave. He’d meet us there and drive a group of us to go get our cars.

Back to civilization.

Saved by Dave and the dog!

We shoved off again and paddled through one last nasty bit, quickly finding shelter near the coast. We then navigated past various beach and yacht clubs to an inlet and calm water. The passage underneath the small bridge that leads to Glen Island was as much a psychological relief as a physical one. Boom. Just like that the wind disappeared. And, and I could be mistaken here, it seemed the clouds began to lighten up a bit as well, and we were able to enjoy looking at moored pleasure boats as we dipped our oars in the water, propelling ourselves on.

From Glen Island, we glided around to the backside of Hunter Island and the Orchard Beach parking lot where Dave and he and Lynda’s dog were waiting. Tired, happy, ready to go home, we pulled ourselves from the water and unloaded our boats. Then we figured out which order we wanted to get our vehicles in. Dave drove batch drove away, leaving me with Robin, Gary, Ann and Kerry to chill and wait.

It was over. Happily, only two of us had been rolled by the water, and thanks to the competent experience of our group leaders, the dunkings were uneventful. And despite the challenges everybody seemed to have had a great time. Indeed, it had been an excellent trip, and as I drove home to my family, I found myself thinking about the next one. Hopefully I’d learn to roll my kayak back up this summer so that an assisted rescue wouldn’t be needed. We’ll see.

Thanks for reading! To see my portrait work, please visit my website: http://www.NJohnstonPhotography.com

1st row: Andrea, Kerry, Ann. 2nd row: Robin, Carl, Lynda. 3rd row: Matt, Gary, Nathaniel.

The Execution Rocks Lighthouse is an historic structure built in the 1800’s, and is currently owned by Craig Morrison and Linell Lukesh. Money for the pleasure of our over night stay and the amazing BBQ they welcomed us with go to the restoration of the lighthouse. To donate, please visit their website: www.lighthouserestorations.org

Prime Paddlesports is owned and operated by Matt Kane, and promotes paddlesport learning, adventure and fun for kayakers, creating opportunities for skill development and on-water confidence building with courses, workshops, coastal retreats and events. Learn more by logging on to: www.primepaddlesports.com

execution rocks lighthouse

I’m fairly new to kayaking, and have so far enjoyed a few afternoon paddles in the Hudson River near our home and in Goose Pond near Lee, MA, where we vacation in the summer.

execution rocks lighthouse I'm fairly new to kayaking, and have so far enjoyed a few afternoon paddles in the Hudson River near our home and in Goose Pond near Lee, MA, where we vacation in the summer.

[njohnstonphotography]

I’m fairly new to kayaking, and have so far enjoyed a few afternoon paddles in the Hudson River near our home and in Goose Pond near Lee, MA, where we vacation in the summer. The more I do it, the more I enjoy the challenges it offers. It’s a great way to get alone time for a few hours, and maybe enjoy some non-work related photography. Or to just sit, bobbing up and down like a cork, watching clouds.

The Hudson River south of the Tappan Zee bridge. A timed exposure.

And so when Matt Kane of Prime Paddlesports invited me to join with him and a group of kayakers on an overnight expedition to the Execution Rocks Lighthouse, I was totally in. The longest kayak trip I’ve had to date was about 3 hours on the Hudson, so this was a big step up. We’d meet in Rye, NY, paddle 5 miles from the coast, south by south west, to a pile of rocks few miles north of Port Washington, NY, and back again the following morning, which happened to be Memorial Day.

Loading up.

Getting in.

Paddling off.

After meeting up at the appointed time and place, and getting our boats and gear sorted out in the Edith G. Read Wildlife Sanctuary parking lot, we popped into our kayaks and shoved off into the setting sun. Despite the increasing clouds, the weather was calm and pleasant as we paddled, keeping a wary eye out for holiday pleasure boaters and quietly chatting about the lore of the Execution Rocks.

During the Revolutionary War, British soldiers were reported to have used the 9 foot tide at the island to execute prisoners, chaining them to the rocks during low tide. Additionally, Execution Rocks is where cereal killer Carl Panzram claimed to have dumped the bodies of his numerous victims. They say on starless nights you can tortured hear voices calling out as the water rises. This is where we plan on spending the night.

Using charts to navigate.

The sky gets darker.

Feeling very small in a very big place.

Matt Kane glides over darkening waters.

Sun comes out before going down.

We were running late, but thankfully the lighthouse’s beacon began it’s regular pulsing in the dark, and we were able to plot a good path using it and some nearby buoys. Our landing on the rocks of the island was going to be a technical one, and as we finally reached our destination, the ocean seemed to want to test us by picking up its energy. Our hosts, Craig and Linell, helped by shining flashlights down on us as we methodically lifted one heavy, packed kayak after another up the rip rap that makes the island, to safety.

One last navigational discussion before nightfall.

Execution Rocks Lighthouse beacon guides us in.

Craig and Linell, a welcome sight!

The lighthouse is a creepy, remarkable affair, feeling abandoned and ancient until you poke around a little and discover signs of the owners. Tables with glowing lanterns, food and water in the kitchen, a nice grill outside. Ironically, though Con Edison uses the island as a switching point for millions of volts of electricity and the Coast Guard is obliged to keep the lighthouse’s beacon flashing, there’s no electricity for Craig and Linell. Not yet, anyway. They’re in the process of raising funds to renovate the historic structure. So we bumbled around using flashlights and settled in to the smell of cooked meat wafting off Craig’s BBQ.

After a good burger, made fantastic by the long trip, I figured some photography was in order, and began setting up to the complaints of nesting seagulls. I normally do portraits of people, and since the lighthouse now had it’s own persona in my mind, I decided a portrait would be fitting. It being Memorial Day and all, I decided on a patriotic theme, and introduced red and blue light to compliment the white beacon at the top of the lighthouse. I left Matt’s silhouette undoctored because it’s so ghostly, a fitting addition to the image.

The Execution Rocks Lighthouse off the coast of Port Washington, NY.

Later, as I dropped into dreamless sleep, I kind of hoped I’d see a ghost, and at the same time, really wished I wouldn’t experience a haunting. Around 2am I was jerked from my sleep by a loud crash and howling wind. Somehow, a door had come loose and blown open as a storm moved into the area, rattling the living room I was camped out in. Assuring myself it was wind and not spirits that had roused me, I got up and walked outside. It was high tide. The waves that had earlier been yards below us, were now right at the door step, as if to remind me of the location’s gruesome history. Gusts of wind clawed at me and I watched waves roll in out of the east. Though no apparitions made themselves known to me, I felt aware and vulnerable as I realized we might have to paddle back in this.

Still kind of creepy in the daytime.

Aborting our long paddle back to Rye.

Group photo before we shove off.

In the morning we powered up on food and coffee. I had instant coffee in a pink sippy cup. Literally. What? I have 3 little girls at home. That’s how I roll.

After that we packed our boats, casting nervous eyes off the island. The seas, calm and serene yesterday, were now breaking on 5 foot swells, with winds gusting over 2o knots. The plan had been to paddle around, maybe to the north shore of Long Island, and then back to Rye by the afternoon. But that was looking less and less realistic. Matt called a meeting where the group decided the most prudent thing to do was head directly to Pelham, seeking shelter from various islands on the way. From there we’d figure out a way to get our cars and go home.

Some photos just read better as black and white.

Getting our kayaks off the island was just as tricky as getting them on, and once we were all safely bobbing up and down in the water, we paddled around the sheltered side of the island and into the oncoming swells, which were now topping out at about 6 feet. My kayak, a red Wilderness Systems Focus 150, is known for getting pushed around by the wind due to it’s higher stance, and for being hard to edge and turn. To my dismay, this turned out to be completely true. Going into the wind and into the oncoming waves was a cinch, and I found myself having a great time. Until we needed to turn at a right angle from it. That’s where my trouble began.

The only thing you have to fear is fear itself. So goes the saying. As I wrestled my boat to take the wind and swells broadside, it kept slipping even further away until I had the wind blowing up my ass. The grin on my face from sloshing up and down over the oncoming waves gave way to tight, eye-bulging anxiety, as I attempted to keep the kayak headed in the right direction. It seemed that every wave tried to twist the boat away from me, forcing me to madly counterbalance, bracing first one side up the face of a wave, then the other side as I slid back down. The dread of possibly getting knocked over seeped into me. The water was cold. And murky. And we were at least a mile from the nearest solid ground. Fuck.

I heard my paddling partner Robin yelling at me to relax and go with the waves. “Your kayak wants to float! Let it!” That helped for a bit, and I was able to get myself sorted out. But soon the anxiety rose again, causing me to loose my rhythm and tighten up, fighting more than paddling.

Carl popping over the crest of a wave.

Trying to keep it straight against 6′ swells.

Caught with the wrong oar on the wrong side at the wrong time.

Over we go.

And down.

Getting knocked over was almost a relief, breaking the fear in a cold, wet plunge, cutting it off and replacing it in one motion with the clarity of the moment. One second I was rigid with resistance, and then, almost instantly, forced into the relaxation that comes with holding your breath deeply. I looked around in the greenness for the toggle on my spray skirt, popped it out, and surfaced, making sure not to lose my paddle. Or my hat. Or my camera. Shit, I had a lot of stuff floating around. Robin paddled over and asked in a friendly voice if I was ok, almost casually, as if we were on solid ground and just I’d stumbled a bit as we walked.

Performing an assisted or self-rescue in the chilly, rolling ocean is very different from one in the well-lit, chlorinated safety of a heated indoor pool. Thanks to Robin’s thoughtful coaching and her relaxed attitude, I was able to get back in my kayak and continue on, losing only a little of my pride and my favorite baseball cap, relieved now that the fear of falling had literally been washed away.

Landing on Huckleberry Island to regroup.

Nice kayak!

She and I rejoined the others and we all landed on Huckleberry Island to rest, pull ourselves together, have a snack, take a leak, and to figure out where, exactly, we were going to paddle next. It can be difficult to discern one small island from another when you’re sea level, so after making sure we were where we thought we were, we established a plan for the last leg of our journey, and got ahold of Lynda’s fiancé, Dave. He’d meet us there and drive a group of us to go get our cars.

Back to civilization.

Saved by Dave and the dog!

We shoved off again and paddled through one last nasty bit, quickly finding shelter near the coast. We then navigated past various beach and yacht clubs to an inlet and calm water. The passage underneath the small bridge that leads to Glen Island was as much a psychological relief as a physical one. Boom. Just like that the wind disappeared. And, and I could be mistaken here, it seemed the clouds began to lighten up a bit as well, and we were able to enjoy looking at moored pleasure boats as we dipped our oars in the water, propelling ourselves on.

From Glen Island, we glided around to the backside of Hunter Island and the Orchard Beach parking lot where Dave and he and Lynda’s dog were waiting. Tired, happy, ready to go home, we pulled ourselves from the water and unloaded our boats. Then we figured out which order we wanted to get our vehicles in. Dave drove batch drove away, leaving me with Robin, Gary, Ann and Kerry to chill and wait.

It was over. Happily, only two of us had been rolled by the water, and thanks to the competent experience of our group leaders, the dunkings were uneventful. And despite the challenges everybody seemed to have had a great time. Indeed, it had been an excellent trip, and as I drove home to my family, I found myself thinking about the next one. Hopefully I’d learn to roll my kayak back up this summer so that an assisted rescue wouldn’t be needed. We’ll see.

Thanks for reading! To see my portrait work, please visit my website: http://www.NJohnstonPhotography.com

1st row: Andrea, Kerry, Ann. 2nd row: Robin, Carl, Lynda. 3rd row: Matt, Gary, Nathaniel.

The Execution Rocks Lighthouse is an historic structure built in the 1800’s, and is currently owned by Craig Morrison and Linell Lukesh. Money for the pleasure of our over night stay and the amazing BBQ they welcomed us with go to the restoration of the lighthouse. To donate, please visit their website: www.lighthouserestorations.org

Prime Paddlesports is owned and operated by Matt Kane, and promotes paddlesport learning, adventure and fun for kayakers, creating opportunities for skill development and on-water confidence building with courses, workshops, coastal retreats and events. Learn more by logging on to: www.primepaddlesports.com

execution rocks lighthouse I'm fairly new to kayaking, and have so far enjoyed a few afternoon paddles in the Hudson River near our home and in Goose Pond near Lee, MA, where we vacation in the summer.