Updated on October 29, 2002

Island Adventures

The following is a true story. The names have been maintained to publicly humiliate the guilty.

Warren Island State Park is the only state park in Maine which is accessible only by boat. Ever since I moved to the area 15 years ago, I knew the state park was "out there," but, until a month or so ago, it remained out of reach. Part of the reason it had been out of reach for so long was because I didn't have a boat. That all changed a few years ago when I got a sea kayak. But even though I had the means, I didn't have the opportunity. That changed when a kayak trip to Warren Island became the trip of choice for a group of us who make a habit of getting together every summer to partake in an outdoor adventure.

As with all good adventures, there must be some challenges involved. The biggest challenge we were to face on this trip was the fact that many of those who were going to attempt the open water voyage over to Warren Island had never sea kayaked before. Generally, this is not a good thing. With it's many islands, Penobscot Bay is, for the most part, a very protected body of water. But the ocean is the ocean, whether "protected" or not, and it is best to treat it with the respect it deserves. Filling it with first-time sea kayakers is not very respectful.

So, we set about trying to figure out how to minimize the potential danger of the crossing. The most obvious solution was to plan a route that involved the shortest open water crossing. Common sense tells you that the farther you are from shore, the more dangerous your situation could become should you happen to tip your kayak. By planning a route that involved a short open water crossing, coupled with longer traverses hugging the shore, we could diminish the chance of anyone engaging in some serious drowning.

Having crossed the bay in this area before during a trip to Islesboro island, I knew that the shortest open water crossing was one from Saturday Cove in Northport, directly across the bay to Islesboro, a distance of roughly one mile. From there, we could head south, skirting the coastline of Islesboro for several miles and then making a short cross over to Warren Island.

An even safer, although certainly less adventurous plan, was to take the ferry over to Islesboro, and then kayak from the ferry landing over to Warren Island. Although we weren't sure of the distance between the ferry terminal and Warren Island at the time, it turned out to be less than half a mile.

After six or seven million changes in plans (it's not easy getting 11 people to agree on something), it turned out that we would be breaking up into two separate groups for the crossing. One group was going to drive up to Lincolnville on Friday afternoon, take the ferry over to Islesboro, and then kayak to Warren Island. The other group was going to wait until Saturday morning to make the crossing, and were going to set out from Saturday Cove by kayak rather than use the ferry. Over time, these two groups began to be referred to as "pods." For the sake of clarity, I will refer to the "pod" that were taking the ferry as the "Wimp pod." I will refer to the pod that were paddling over as the "Cool pod." You can, of course, guess which pod I was a member of.

Saturday morning was beautious - partly cloudy and mild. After having spent the night at our house, the Cool Pod members took the short ride to Saturday Cove, and we were ready to hit the water a little after 7 a.m. - nearly the time we had planned. The bay was calm as we headed out aimed towards Islesboro.

I have found that oceans and mountains are similar in that they make their own weather - and that weather can change at any moment. And this would prove to be true this morning. Half way across the open water, the wind suddenly and unexpectedly (isn't it always unexpected?) picked up. The calm bay became the choppy bay. And we became separated.

Having been the only one in the group that had swamped their kayak before (not surprising, since none of them had been on open water before), I was acutely aware that the best place to be at this point was not where I was. While we had taken a diagonal tack towards Warren Island on the outset, it now became clear that it would be best to head straight towards the Islesboro shore - both to get to calmer water, and because the waves were running perpendicular to the kayak when I was going diagonally, making the craft particularly vulnerable to tipping.

I was within shouting distance of Peter, but Denise, Jesse, and Phil were rapidly disappearing into the distance. So, I tried to get Peter to follow me towards shore. Given the wind and waves, our progress was not what you'd call "speedy."

Soon, Denise, Jesse, and Phil were out of sight, and I was practicing my "you could have gotten killed, or worse" speech in my head. Peter and I did eventually make it near the shore and carefully made our way down the coast of Islesboro. Around a bend, Denise, Jesse, and Phil were waiting for us, ignorant of the danger I judged them to be in. Looking back at the situation and the conditions, I probably overreacted - all of them, after all, were in very stable plastic kayaks that were in little danger of tipping - but I took the opportunity to give them a tongue-lashing anyway.

We worked our way from the Islesboro ferry landing, out into open water again towards Warren Island. We had no idea where our campsites were, so we headed towards the dock on Warren Island. It was tough going with the waves pounding us, but we all managed to ground out on the island. Soon, we were greeted by Vance, one of the members of the Wimp pod who had come in by ferry the previous night. We left our kayaks, found our campsite, and quickly determined that we would need to get back out and paddle to an area that was closer to the campsite, rather than haul all of our gear through the woods.

And so, back into the pounding surf we charged, giving the ocean gods another opportunity to swamp us. The trip around the tip of Warren Island was, of course, directly into the wind and waves. But, at last, we all managed to find our way into a small cove that would serve as our unpacking area.

One of the first things I came to realize upon settling in to our campsite was that it was foolish to have waited 15 years to visit this place. Our site has a well-maintained lean-to, a fire pit, firewood!, and complete privacy - the next site over was well off a ways through the woods. A short walk through a path to the shore gave us a spectacular view across the bay to the mainland. Not all of the sites were as isolated, but they were all pretty spectacular. And the sites were all situated on one side of the island, leaving the other side to be explored and appreciated for the many fine views it offered.

No sooner has we set up camp then we came upon the "Wimp pod," all of whom were getting ready to go out for a paddle. I'm sure most of the people from our pod would have rather relaxed for a little bit before heading out again, but we were there to kayak, so we got back in our boats and headed down towards the east end of the island.

The good news was that we were headed to a protected area of the bay that was buffeted from the open bay by Warren Island. It was a whole different world on this end of things - calm and warm and easily navigable.

We paddled beyond the end of Warren Island and soon found ourselves "trapped" by a spit of sand. To continue, we had to portage our kayaks over the sand. We took advantage of this time out of the kayaks to take a swim to cool down from what had become a rather warm day. Upon returning to our kayaks and heading out on the other side of the sand spit, I realized I had left me sunglasses back on the sand. My search efforts proved futile - somewhere out there is a lobster looking way too cool in a pair of LL Bean shades.

As we continued on our journey, we decided to head out towards a small granite outcropping that was identified on our map as "Seal Island." There are, of course, numerous "Seal Islands" on the coast of Maine, presumably named as such for the seals that frequent them, so we were all disappointed to find that there were no seals on the island. As if on queue, however, as we floated about in the waters surrounding the island, curious seals began popping their heads above the surface. They didn't appear to be annoyed, but I'm convinced they were hoping we'd move along so that they could climb up on "their" island.

After the seal sightings, the group split up, with our pod heading back, and the other pod heading out further in the bay to do more exploring.

Having heard rumor that there was a marina on a nearby island where we would be able to buy beer, soda, and, perhaps even a bit of lunch, we headed off in that direction. We did, indeed, find the marina, proving that it was fact rather than just rumor. The part about being able to buy beer and food, though, remained rumor. They did have a soda machine, so that ended up being our "treat" for the journey.

As we got back into our kayaks and headed out to leave, Peter had the distinction of being the first (and only) person to dump his kayak. He misjudged his entry into the vessel and swamped himself in about two feet of water. We were all very proud of him.

Heading back towards Warren Island, we once again came to the sand bar that stood between us and "our" island. Now, however, the "spit" of sand had grown quite large, in that the tide had gone out considerably since we had crossed it earlier (tides generally run in the 8-12 foot range in the area). What this meant, of course, was more "carrying" and less paddling.

What we hadn't counted on, in addition to the longer portage, was the fact that the other side of the sandbar, which was now exposed, was a mudflat. To those of you who don't know what a mudflat is - think "muck" - several inches of oozing, foot-swallowing, shoe grabbing muck. Walking in this alone is nearly impossible. Walking in this while toting a 50+ pound kayak is an exercise in futility.

We're not talking about 10-20 feet of mudflat, either. As it turned out, in order to get to water deep enough to float a kayak, we had to trudge through approximately 200 or so yards of mudflat. All of this would have been beyond annoying were it not for the comic relief provided by Peter. While shlepping his kayak through mud, he, like the rest of us, managed to get his feet stuck to the point where he couldn't pull them out to take another step. Unlike the rest of us, in his effort to free his feet, Peter managed to lose his balance and took a full body dive into the muck. We, of course, were too busy laughing to offer any help. Looking at him trying to extricate himself from his dilemma, I found myself becoming filled with regret...not for having neglected to offer my assistance, but, rather, for having forgotten to bring my camera along.

We made it back to our campsite without further incident (much to Peter's relief). Our thoughts next turned to the evening meal. Since we were only camping for the night, our food stash was minimal. Denise and I settled on a couple packages of macaroni and cheese. Or so I thought. As it turns out, another perk of this wonderful state park is that the park rangers maintain a couple of lobster traps. If they happen to catch any lobsters, they are up for grabs, first come, first serve, for $5 a piece to any campers on the island. They even provide a lobster pot to cook them in. Suddenly, a mundane meal became a spectacular meal.

One word of caution if you plan on cooking lobster on Warren Island. It turns out that the ranger frowns upon building a fire on the beach. Unable to move fire, we finished our cooking before extinguishing the flames.

The evening featured a campfire and the requisite "smores." The next morning, the bay was once again calm. We packed up early and headed out on the glass-smooth water, aimed towards Saturday Cove. This time, the water remained smooth for our entire crossing. The morning light reflecting off the bay, with a backdrop of pine-covered hills on the mainland, made for a breathtaking paddle. I can guarantee you that it won't take me 15 years to get back to the island!