Notes From Wampanoag Canoe Paddle 2013
by Peter Kelly-Detwiler
What a difference one year (and a lot of rain) makes. Last year, the canoe trip from Scituate to
Dighton was something I had not undertaken in about 35 years. We went in May, after a very dry spring. And I had not appropriately described the
trip to the other paddlers in terms of the mud, poison ivy, logs to cross, and
potential for getting lost. That
escapade resulted in: enough exposure to the ivy that two of us itched for
nearly a month (I had never had subcutaneous itching on my palms before); a
canoe with a broken bow; a two hour bushwhack up the wrong stream; and hours of
pulling canoes through mud and grass that was marked as water on the Google
map.
So this year, we were ready.
There were two crews. Nik Tyack
had his team of four – who went about the trip with style – and I had my team
of four as well: two ex-rowers and one of their sons (Clay – who had been with
me last year). These were tall, strong
guys who a) knew what they were getting into and enjoy hardship and, b) know
how to move a boat.
The week before, my friend from Kentucky had emailed north
to say, “I hope this trip is as hellish as you have advertised.” As it turns out, it wasn’t.
The first day saw us leave with a huge contingent from the
Driftway for the beautiful North River paddle.
First Day with everyone paddling the North River starting at the Driftway!
With the tide, we canoed and floated our way up into Norwell and
Marshfield, and took a short break at Couch Beach. From there, our group broke off and started
to paddle with more determination: our goal was to make it to the Herring Run
Park on Route 14 by late afternoon, so that we could loop back to the paddler party
at the Tyack’s house.
We fairly flew up the river with the tide, and found the
outlet to the Herring Brook on the first try (compared with last year, where we
paddled past it, into the appropriately named Swamp Brook, cut our way with
loppers through heavy brush until the stream ran out on us, then backtracked to
the right watercourse). The first part
of the Herring Brook was easy. Last fall
I had dropped down from the Herring Park and cleared the section with
loppers. We easily followed the trail
for some time, until we lost it completely and ended up on a stream that simply
did not exist last year. With the higher
water, the area that usually has two braided streams now had additional flows,
and we followed one of those additional braids.
So the loppers had to come out once again as we cut new trail.
Tiring of that, I left the group and walked through chest
high grass to find the larger stream (so that all of last fall’s work would not
be useless), and eventually found it, about 50 yards away. We dragged the canoes through the grass to
this channel, climbing in and out of the canoes to maneuver around tight
corners, and made it to the Herring Brook park by late afternoon.
Chest High Grass Portage
The party was a nice end to the day, and we
met up with Nik’s team there to coordinate the events of the following morning.
Day two saw the two teams meet early the next day (having
skipped about 5 miles of paddling and portaging that my team is determined to
try the next time – in two years), and put in at the outlet from Stetson
Pond. Shortly, we were hauling canoes up
over the train tracks, and putting in again in the cranberry drainage ditch
that takes one to the swamp before Monponsett Pond. Nik’s team determined that the wiser course
was to portage canoes through a construction site and down a road to the water:
my team was determined to give the swamp a try.
Truth be told: it’s my favorite part of the trip, because it is the one
place where you really cannot tell exactly where you are. We paddled the wrong way once for about 50
yards, but turned around once we reached a dead end. In places, it’s so dense in there you cannot
see 10 yards ahead. The best way to
determine the correct course is to watch the water and see which direction the
flow is going. This year’s higher water
made that task easier. Then you cut
through the bush with the loppers, check the channel again, and so on.
The swamp was also made easier than last year because I had
been there once before. There were
occasional lopper marks on branches, confirmation that we were going the right
way.
Following last year's lopper marks!
Rubberized gloves helped too. The only poison ivy I contracted was on my
legs. When you cut the stuff, it falls
into the soup around you – pretty much a guarantee.
Coming out of the swamp, we paddled the two Monponsett Ponds
and Stump Brook, where we met up with Nik’s team. The next section – which was a mud slog last
year – went about twice as fast this time, and we quickly powered through to
Robbins Pond in East Bridgewater.
There, we waited for Nik’s team. He planned to spend the night camping at a
friend’s place (where all of his gear had been dropped), which was less than
two hours’ paddle away. As it was early
afternoon, our team decided to push on and see how much distance we could cover
before dark. And we did cover distance.
Robbins Pond drains into the Satucket River, where the flow
was strong and water level high. Areas
where we had to pull and drag last year now had several feet of water in them:
fallen trees from last year passed under our keel, and the new blowdown from
Sandy and the February Blizzard was not as bad as I had feared. Once or twice we had to deviate from the
river and drag canoes through mud and grass – once scaring a fawn in the
process, but the detours were minimal.
We reached the old mill in East Bridgewater around 5
PM. The water running through the
sluiceway was moving at a good clip, but the portage would have taken a long
time, so we opted to run a canoe through the sluiceway – a task easily performed
last year with minimal flow. We snapped
all of the dry bags to the gunnels, attached a rope to the canoe and let it
slide into the spillway. And then the
canoe got stuck. We tried to pull it
back out of the flow, but the rope snapped and the canoe shot through. The good thing about the Satucket is that
it’s full of snags, and the canoe did not go far, resting in the high
reeds. We opted not to repeat the
experience with the second canoe, and ended up lifting it – as well as all our
gear - over the six foot dam, and launching below. Aside from a few things getting damp, the gear
in the other canoe was none the worse for wear.
Running the Canoes through the Spillway
We entered the Town River in late afternoon, and paddled
until 8:30 in the evening, pulling over near the Plymouth Street Bridge in
Bridgewater. Ramen Noodles and other
fare were on the menu. But my iphone restaurant
locator said otherwise. Warm fare and
cold beer (it HAD been a hot day in the low 90s) beckoned us, so we walked two
miles in to Bridgewater to the 99 Restaurant.
I have to say, the $9.99 specials have it all over Ramen Noodles.
I also have to say that although we had been in the river,
we were kind of odiferous, and it was a good thing we were away for other
diners. A two-mile walk back with a near
full moon seemed to take no time.
Fireflies lit up the fields as we walked, and we made our way through a
field into the woods to our campsite hidden on the river. Sleep was not long in coming.
The next day was about mileage. The Town River yields quickly to the Taunton,
the current gets wider, and the bridges more frequent. Great Blue herons croak noisily around every
turn, as one passes through woods and meadows, until one ultimately reaches the
commercialized and industrialized area of Taunton. It starts with the McDonalds, which is on the
right and has a nice place to land canoes.
Bad junk food tastes really good after a half day of paddling, but the
best thing is the unlimited cold drink – free refills!
This day was also about being decidedly unfriendly to the
other boat, and watching for potential places for ambush. The trick in this game is to come up fast
from behind when the other paddlers are not paying full attention, and then hit
the bow of their boat just as they are passing a log in the stream or brush
projecting from the bank. Appropriately
struck, the victim’s canoe gets jammed into the bushes, with the occupants
lying flat on their backs to protect life and limb. Inappropriately struck, the ambusher becomes
waylaid instead. Either way, there is
great potential for humor among grown men acting like fools, and sons watching (and
participating). Thirty years melts away
and in our minds we are briefly in college again, doing silly things, and
laughing so hard that we can barely breathe.
From the McDonalds downstream, it’s solid paddling through
the industrial landscape and soundscape – the noise of trucks and cars is
omnipresent for miles - until Dighton and the take-out at Shaws boatyard, which
we reached around 4 PM. A quick jump into brackish water was intended to take
away the worst of our sweat and stink, before we jumped into the car of Sarah
Head, the intern who pulled the short straw to come get us. A conversation with Sarah a few days later
confirmed that our effort was futile – the car carried a distinct odor for a
few days after she dropped us off. Such
is the price of being an intern for the NSRWA…
From Left to Right - Cabby and Clay Tennis, Sloane Graff and Peter Kelly-Detwiler
Thanks to all who supported us. In the final tally, we raised just shy of
$10,000 to support the activities of the NSRWA.
Come join us next time.
Through my internship, I had the opportunity to work on a variety of field projects with ecologist Sara Grady. Fellow interns Margo, Sara, and Alex and I assisted with multiple projects including collecting samples for an ongoing experimental study of dock shading impacts, analyzing samples to determine the ecological effects of harbor alterations, and completing surveys of Phragmites and other invasive species in the surrounding harbors. While the summer began with Sara patiently instructing and informing us on proper techniques and scientific names, we gained the knowledge and confidence to conduct the surveys independently. Not only have I successfully developed navigation skills necessary to get me to the various locations, but I can also correctly identify Japanese knotweed invasive species while driving!
A significant aspect of my internship was conducting the preliminary research for potential shellfish restoration in the North and South Rivers. Historically blue mussels (Mytilus edulis) had a significant presence in both rivers, but there are currently significantly decreased populations. I conducted field surveys to determine current shellfish populations in the North and South Rivers, held interviews with government officials regarding existing regulations, and discussed the experiences from similar restoration projects in the Bronx River and Martha's Vineyard. The information I gathered will be used in NSRWA's efforts to establish new blue mussel populations in the rivers for water purification and habitat remediation. My research exposed me to the complexity of federal regulations surrounding water resources and the influence of minor changes in ecological factors. It was fascinating to gain an understanding of the necessary steps for such a project, and I look forward to following NSRWA's development of this project in the following years. 
I greatly value the friendships that I made during my internship and owe a great thanks to all those who assisted me throughout my time with NSRWA. Sara H., Alex, Margo, and I had a lot of fun throughout the summer, from playing with squirt guns at the Great River Race to frequent ice cream stops after working in the field. Janet Fairbanks, Joe Stradzes, and Russel Clark deserve additional thanks for providing their time, knowledge, and boats that allowed me to conduct the necessary studies in my research of existing shellfish habitats. I am so grateful for my experience with North and South Rivers Watershed Association and look forward to hearing of the continued successes of the organizations and other interns. It's not a 'goodbye' as I leave for college, it's more of a "I'll see you soon' and I can't wait until the next time I'm on the rivers. 
.PNG)
