Shelter Island Paddler Club

CIRCUMNAVIGATION OF SHELTER ISLAND – WEDNESDAY, JULY 21, 2004

9:15 a.m. An hour after low tide, I launch my Old Town Otter from Crescent Beach.
My kayak is only about 9-1/2 feet long and is mostly used in inlets and creeks, but I
thought it wold be a good challenge to go around the island in it. The
circumnavigation has been done in a variety of boats by a few different people over
the years - rowing shells, sea kayaks, canoes, row boats, etc. But I chose a short
kayak.

Striped bass break the surface just north of the beach near the bluff. The day’s first
jellyfish begin to arrive in droves. The bay is flat as glass. Very few boats. A man
and child mill around outside a house at the base of White’s Hill.

I shouldn’t be doing this, but I go on anyway. The discomfort soon dissipates as it’s
too early for physical activity on this hot summer vacation day.

9:30 a.m. I approach the North Ferry slips and wait for two boats to leave and
another to dock so I can make my way through. Four boats running. I paddle
through as another boat is halfway across coming from Greenport. I do a sache of
sorts through the rudder wash of the Islander and continue headed for Brownlie’s
in Dering Harbor.

9:40 a.m. I can see Hay Beach Point, but it looks pretty far away, like I’ll never get
there. I snap a picture of Dering Harbor, the Yacht Club and the many boats that
litter the harbor creating a setting for an East End seascape painting, with my throw-
away camera. I can hardly put my paddle in the water without hitting a jellyfish.
Some are breaking the surface just bobbing along, others are floating a foot or two
below, sideways, letting the soft current take them to their destination. These are
some of the largest jellyfish I’ve seen in years. Sizes ranging from softball size to
basketball size with tentacles stretching the length of my paddle in some cases.

9:45 a.m. I pass Brownlie’s and Walker’s and pass up good photo ops at each,
hoping to save pictures for later in the day. Hay Beach Point is still way off in the
distance. I know through my plotted course that it should take about six hours to go
the estimated 16.5 miles around the island. So to feel the slightest
discouragement less than an hour into the trip is disheartening.

10:18 a.m. Finally! I make it around Hay Beach Point and see something other than
the same horizon I had looked at for over an hour. Checkpoint one reached. I pick
up the pace knowing I’ve gotten over one of six one-hour hurdles.

10:30 a.m. I can’t believe how many cormorants are on the rocks and in the water.
They’re bathing, drying wings, diving for fish. One swims about 20 feet away as if
escorting me for a few minutes. I snap a picture of Bug Light, which is almost
behind me and to my port side by now.

10:40 a.m. I pass through the rocks and glide by Menhaden Lane and the first
causeway to Little Ram, peering at my next checkpoint in the distance, the north
face of Big Ram. That seems far off, but not as bad as Hay Beach Point did.

11:20 a.m. I make it to Big Ram still going against the tide a bit until I round the
bend toward Reel Point. I watch a woman on the beach pack up her things from a
morning relaxation and head up the long flight of stairs all the way up a bluff to her
house overlooking Gardiner’s Bay. I am also curious about the big black dog that I
think is looking at me from the beach. It is actually a wooden cut-out made to look
like a dog lying down. Neat. Next target – Cedar Point across from the outside of
Mashomack.

11:30 a.m. I breeze past Reel Point and start to feel the current take me toward
Mashomack. I'm making up time, not that I’m trying to break any records. A few
boats entering and exiting Coecles Harbor slowly pass by the buoy, one captain
waves in acknowledgement.

11:50 a.m. I pass through cormorant-laden rocks off the Gardiner's Bay side of
Mashomack and snap a picture as they fly off. I’m able to get close with the kayak.
I'm about 500 yards off shore paddling the length of a long beach toward
Mashomack Point.

12:15 p.m. Halfway! I snap a shot of Cedar Point lighthouse in East Hampton and
continue paddling. A few minutes later I reach Mashomack Point and round the
bend. After three hours of extremely calm water, I notice a shift in choppiness and
current. Two people dig for clams near the point’s creek entrance.

12:25 p.m. I call out to an osprey I see on a nest pole and he flies off. I turn off the
radio to enjoy the serenity and beauty Mashomack has to offer. Nothing beats the
salty-marsh smell of the nature preserve. I can’t even see South Ferry at this point
in time. Mashomack is longer than I expected and I worry that I’ve misjudged my
timing of arrival at the green buoy near South Ferry Channel.

12:55 p.m. Passing Major’s Harbor and heading right through the middle of the bay
I spot a crane working on a dock in North Haven and finally see South Ferry. I should
be paddling through South Ferry channel in about 15 or 20 minutes.

1:10 p.m. I wait at the green buoy for a minute while a sailboat leaves the channel,
and then around to face the wake created by a 30-foot Whaler approaching the
channel. Turning around again I watch as three ferries shuttle passengers back
and forth and a captain takes another empty ferry for a spin toward North Haven and
the old Garr Estate. I wait as one ferry leaves for North Haven, one sits in the S.I.
slip and another is still in the N.H. slip. I decide to make my move. I am thrown
about like a pair of socks in a washing machine as the current whips me through. I
can’t even think about taking a picture of the ferry until it gets calm again.

1:30 p.m. I take a picture of the old stone pier with the old Garr Estate manor house
in the background. I take another picture of Wade’s Beach. I paddle for Shell Beach
with a little chop in the water. I paddle past the broken down bulkheads off the
south side of Shell Beach one by one. As I round the outer section near Peconic
Avenue I photograph an osprey nesting on top of a red-roofed gazebo at the end of
a dock. He stays and doesn't fly off.

2:00 p.m. Rounding the outer edge of Silver Beach it seems like forever until I’ll get
to Crab Creek. It’s choppy, my arms are starting to sizzle and I’m drinking more and
more water.

2:10 p.m. I pass the entrance to Crab Creek some beachgoers are sitting by the
inlet and head around the point toward Bootlegger’s Alley. I’m tired. Only an hour
left.

2:20 p.m. Just as high tide approaches, I take a picture of the Greenlawns and
continue past a few docks lining the beach. Many more fishing boats on the west
side of the island. I can see Port of Egypt in Southold by now.

2:50 p.m. I see Kissing Rock, take a picture looking up the road from the rock and
begin to feel a sense of accomplishment. I know when I round Jennings Point and
pass the gazebo it’s going to feel so good. Just for good measure I approach the
gazebo and take a picture right before I’m nearly swamped by the wake from a
cigarette boat.

2:55 p.m. I can now see the Pridwin, Perlman’s and Crescent Beach. What a sight!
I can coast home now. I cup my hand with sea water and let it pour over my head,
neck and back. I pass some sunfish sailboats during their sailing class at Camp
Quinipet, one crew waves hello. Now that I know I’m almost done my arms feel
even more tired, but not so much that I can’t finish. I can now start to recognize the
vehicles and umbrellas at Crescent Beach.

3:10 p.m. Cruising into the beach, I raise my paddle in exhaustion. Five hours and
55 minutes later the journey is complete.