Team Logs

Gulf of Maine Expedition Boston Harbor & the North Shore Journals
May 18, 2002

Dan's notes from Boston Harbor & the North Shore
Boston Harbor Islands
Coastal Waters – Inland Waters

Sue's notes from Boston Harbor & the North Shore
A Modern Day Huck Finn

Dan's notes from Boston Harbor & the North Shore

Boston Harbor Islands

As we paddled into Boston Harbor from Peddock's Island, what suddenly impressed us was the greenery of the islands against the skyline of Boston and the contrast with the developed shorelines along which we had been paddling. What has happened? Right here, in the heart of a large urban area, we find open space.

What has happened is that the once polluted Boston Harbor has been cleaned up and that over 30 islands have been incorporated into a protected area called the Boston Harbor Islands National Park. While the islands belong to a variety of agencies, commissions, and authorities, they have all come together in a partnership with the National Park Service and each other. The partners are working together to conserve the islands and develop new recreational and educational opportunities.

The concept for such a maritime recreational area dates back to proposals made by landscape architects Fredrick Law Olmsted and Charles Elliot in the late 1800s. Over 100 years later their vision is becoming a reality. People have access to the islands by way of ferry, water taxi, and private watercraft, including sea kayaks.

Camping, by free permit, is offered on three of the islands. I find it ironic that, having paddled the coastline from Provincetown to Boston, the only reliable and freely accessible land areas for a water-based recreationist to camp are in the heart of Boston Harbor. Elsewhere along the coast one needs special permission or arrangements with owners, such as we have had, to camp legally.

Coastal Waters – Inland Waters

As we have paddled along the coast there has been a noticeable absence of large tracts of undeveloped land. We know that just back from the coastal edge we are seeing the land is also quite dense urban and suburban development. As a result, much of the water running into the estuarine system, and eventually the Gulf of Maine, is subject to contamination by storm water runoff. Diversity of habitat is also becoming more limited.

The connection between inland attention to watersheds and the coastal regime was brought home to us in the Gloucester, Massachusetts, area. Here we had the opportunity to paddle inland along the Annisquam River, into Little River, to camp on an Essex County Greenbelt Association property. We were visited here by Cindy Mom, Greenbelt’s Assistant Director of Lands, who provided us with a set of maps showing all of the lands under protection in the county. The maps show all protected areas, not just Greenbelt sites. The area of protected inland sites far exceeded the amount of protected coastal land.

These protected inland areas are as essential to the Gulf of Maine ecology as are the immediate edge lands. Protected wetlands, in particular, are essential as filters of runoff as they absorb contaminants and excess nutrients from the uplands. They offer diversified habitat for species that use both the coastal edge and inland sites as part of their life-cycle or daily life patterns. Many fish species, for example, move freely between the ocean and fresh water for breeding or food. Birds, such as the Great Egret, may be found in offshore rookeries but feeding in freshwater marshes.

Awareness of the importance of watershed management, as well as land conservation and preservation, seems well developed in this region. While we are finding pressure to develop land and the limited amounts of wild habitat on the coast, we are also finding people, associations, municipalities, and government agencies working hard to maintain open space and wetlands so essential to the health of the Gulf of Maine itself.

Sue's notes from Boston Harbor & the North Shore

A Modern Day Huck Finn

We first spotted Carl as we were setting off from lunch. We had chosen a small, exposed reef, a half mile out from shore, as our lunch spot. None of us wanted to deal with the scene at Hampton Beach on Memorial Day Weekend.

"Look to your right," yelled Rich. Coming around the tip of the reef I could see a large, blue sail attached to something. We paddled in that direction, to learn that the something was an open, Mad River Canoe. In the stern was a young, blond man, in his early 20's, using a paddle as a rudder. He was travelling about 4 knots and it was all we could do to catch up with him.

Once he spotted us, he slackened the sail so we could approach. We learned he had put in on the Connecticut River near Brattleboro, Vermont. He was sailing towards New Brunswick, Canada, with plans to go up the St. John River. He had dropped out of college, opting for a hands-on education. He planned to be on the water for about six months.

Meeting this young man suddenly put our trip into a new perspective. His sense of adventure was infectious. He was using the oldest and simplest equipment possible . . . an open boat and a sail. Dressed only in a Putney School t-shirt, he seemed relaxed and happy. We could see white buckets full of clams he had dug for dinner. He had a large supply of water and some extra clothes, but that was about it. We learned that he liked the open boat because he could stretch his legs and move about, which let him put in incredibly long days at sea. He used his canoe and sail as a shelter at night, and made camp wherever he could.

We, on the other hand, have a tight schedule to keep, a hatch-full of electronic gear, more tasks than the four of us can accomplish during a day, and more than a little stress about meeting deadlines. The difference in our journeys was highlighted when our cell phone rang while rafted up with Carl's canoe. It was Tom Teller, our land coordinator, advising us about conditions on the beach to which we were heading. The call was jarring. The juxtaposition could not have been more striking.

At this moment, a low-flying plane approaches. It dips its wings, and we know it is Tom McIntyre, our host from the previous evening. For a few minutes, five people who lead very different lives on land are sharing a moment on the Gulf, drawn together by the adventure it offers.

We take pictures of Tom in the air – Tom takes pictures of us from the air. We make a photographic record of a pilot, four kayakers, and a canoeist, each on their own journey, whose paths have crossed at this moment.

We watch as Carl heads further out to sea, wondering whether we have invaded his space. Was the electronic invasion too much for him? The more likely answer is that he is about to approach a lobster boat in hopes of a meal. We also realize he is avoiding a long stretch of rocky, off-shore shoals. He seems well suited for this voyage of his. The next time we see him, he is making his way along Wallace Sands Beach, then out to a point and gone. He is not yet ready to end his day. We land, committed to a date with the Rye, New Hampshire, Seacoast Science Centre.

We are definitely on different journeys, Carl and I – different missions, different equipment. I love what I am doing, and strongly believe in our mission. But the "Huckleberry Finn" of the Gulf of Maine has touched my soul. I envy him the freedom he enjoys as a solo paddler . . . to camp where ever he can find solid ground, to move or stay as the spirit moves, the joy and responsibility to deal with whatever life throws at him, with no deadlines to meet. Not an easy life, but definitely a free one. Perhaps it is appropriate that we first saw Carl in New Hampshire where the State motto is "Live free or die".

Bon Voyage, Carl!