Journal Entries

I got disoriented paddling in fog once on the river where I live - this unsettling feeling was one I didn't want to repeat on the ocean. And thankfully it didn't here: we were committed to staying in sight of each other, several paddlers had compasses, and this group had an overall sense of calmness.

Day 4: hiked up the hill and read a memorial of a young islander's death - and got a foggy view of 'where we were going' for the day's paddle.

Full moon shot viewed through the wharf's line-up of lobster pots and rusty anchors.

To the left of the kayaks you can see 4 of the 6 six tents - the other two opted for elsewhere on site.

Camping decadence - an outdoor shower we could attach to that outdoor tap - with hot and cold, no less!

How many lobsters could one boil in this cauldron??!!

Sheep roamed everywhere: rams, mamas and bleating lambs. We did a reconnaissance walk to see if there were places with less smelly sheep **it than others, an explanation why every dwelling had a well-used garden-leaf rake leaning on their porch!

Though there wasn't another human soul on Deep Cove to welcome us - we knew we weren't trespassing.

So many variables - ocean tide and currents, wind, fog- dictated when we paddled, to which island and when to stop and find camp (even though the sun's shining and you feel like going further!). In addition to the refreshing lemonade at Harris Island, in our conversation with 'locals' we were given permission to pitch our tents on Deep Cove Island: with private-home, small cottages (called shanty's), a fisherman's wharf, fresh water taps (very important) and a dock to tie up to.