Tag Archives: solo

Quinebaug River Trail – East Brimfield Section (Kayak)

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For the past two years, I’ve wanted to take a kayak or canoe along the Quinebaug River Trail between Lake Siog and the East Brimfield Reservoir. But whenever I’ve had the time, the river’s been too low, whether because of drought (last year) or just general late season low flow.  But this spring has seen enough rain to keep all the nearby rivers fat and happy, which made for a great opportunity.

With a solid half-day available to me this past weekend, I got everything ready the night before, so I could roll out of bed and into the car first thing Saturday morning. We’d had a few hot days in a row but the temps had fallen overnight and it was in the upper 40s as I drove to Holland.  I again cursed the low clearance and bad angles on my otherwise well-loved Mazda 3; many of the roads to parking areas for trailheads or fishing spots make me wish for something with a bit more room for error (we’ll see what my next car is). After I navigated the potholes and ruts and got to the parking area, I found a few cars and trucks already there at 7:10 AM.

I got to work unpacking the car and loading the boat with fishing equipment.  I’m still getting used to my load-out. The kayak can handle a ton of cargo and so I tend to bring a ton of cargo … but sometimes it’s all a bit overwhelming.  Either way, I was on the water by 7:30, after waiting a bit for some kids to finish getting their little flat-bottom boat off the ramp.

I paddled my way past a few other fishermen on the water, one of whom was fly-fishing from a rather small kayak.  I was impressed with his balance and form; it’s hard enough to fly-fish standing on solid ground, but sitting in a shaky kayak is another story entirely.  I was about to ask if he was having any luck when I watched him set his hook and begin fighting a small fish.

Once I cleared everybody I started periodically pausing to cast as I went.  This area is very quiet with no major reads nearby.  Near the Morse Road bridge I hooked into an aggressive pickerel, who shook the lure out of his mouth just as I was pulling its head out of the water.  I love how pickerel attack and fight, but I’ve never been a fan of taking treble hooks out of their jaws.  So having one toss the lure that close almost felt like a win, even if it was a bit disappointing.

I fished for a while on both sides of the bridge and didn’t hook into any more fish, so I kept heading downstream.  I paused for a moment at the first rest area of the trail, just one mile in.  I took off my heavy sweatshirt (the sun was starting to peek out and the paddling was keeping me warm) and considered changing out my terminal tackle, but decided to leave the simple spinner baits on I had been using.  I probably should have taken the time to switch one of my rods to a rubber worm, but my scissors were buried somewhere in the milk crate and I was itching to keep moving. (Lesson learned; attach the scissors to the life jacket — or use a snap swivel).

I continued downriver as the course grew much more meandering. I passed rest stops 2 and 3 (fairly close together at 2.0 and 2.4 miles downstream) without stopping, simply pausing in the boat when I grew tired and letting the current drift me slowly downstream. The peace and quiet was amazing; every once in a while I could hear a distant car but never the constant hum of traffic I hear from on the Quaboag and East Brookfield rivers. The other thing I was blown away by was the smell … so early in the season that dead pond-scum smell hadn’t really started to develop yet. The river smelled fresh and alive, and periodically as the river went past a particularly flowery tree I’d be overwhelmed by totally different spring smells.  This was exactly what I needed; a quiet, peaceful excursion away from civilization where I could really sink my senses into nature for a few hours.

Of course, as I paused and drifted, I came to the realization that the current was helping me quite a bit … which meant it was going to be fighting me quite a bit on the way back.  I looked at the time, made some guesses, and figured if I wanted to be out of the water by noon I had to start focusing more on the paddle and less on the fishing.

I paused frequently to take pictures and occasionally cast my line, but at this point my focus was on keeping moving.  I saw several beavers, many Canada geese, more red-winged blackbirds than I could count, and lots of turtles too.  I heard a wild turkey calling, watched little fish dart away from my kayak into the reeds, and let the rising sun soak me with warmth.

A bit after 9:30, I approached the bridge tunnel that led to the East Brimfield Reservoir.  I paddled under the bridge, fished nearby for a while without any luck, and enjoyed a banana in an attempt to inject some quick energy into my tired arms.  Then, I turned around.  It had taken me around two hours to get here with the current helping me, and I wanted to get back in about the same time, so I knew I had to push a bit.

The current was rough at first; whether it was just the depth of the water, the peculiarity of the wind, or just my own weak muscles, I felt a little doubt about how this morning was going to turn out.  But I pressed on and things got a bit easier.  I paused much less frequently, as every rest meant the kayak would start to get turned around by the current (not that the current was particularly strong, but it was certainly noticeable). Forward I paddled, until I made my way back to the third rest stop, where I dragged the kayak out of the water and took a breather, eating a protein bar and measuring my progress while throwing out a few half-hearted casts with the fishing rod.  Ten minutes later, I was heading back upstream.

I started to encounter many more paddlers who had started the day later than I had. There were probably twenty different people on kayaks and canoes between the rest stop and the ramp, most in groups, laughing and enjoying the beautiful day.  I waved and greeted them all, happily tired and feeling accomplished.

I made it back just before noon, and was back on the road, headed home and back to civilization.  I’d definitely be up for taking this trip again, though if I was going to do it round trip I’d try and reserve a bit more time for it.

There’s something calming and almost meditative about solo paddling for a few hours, with nobody to talk to, nobody to listen to, and no routine except what you set as you measure how fast you feel you need to go. It appeals to me in the same way that hiking does, with the added benefit of being able to change up the activity with fishing.  I’m already trying to figure out my next chance to get on the water.

Midstate Trail – Spencer (Solo)

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On the first Sunday of the New Year, Evie and Jess made a last-minute decision to cheer on a friend at a gymnastics event in Western MA, and I made a last-minute decision to revisit the Sibley Farm / Burncoat Pond property with the intent of walking a portion of the Midstate Trail.  I’d hiked here with Jess twice before (1, 2) and both times we had mostly ignored the Midstate Trail.  Looking at the map, I realized I probably had enough time to hike the trail from the parking area up to Route 9 and back.

First off, let me again say how much I love this property.  Miles of trails on different terrain, fairly close to home and major roads, yet quiet once you’re out there, with wildlife and ponds to admire.  Take a look at the awesome map they have at the trailhead.

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My route this day would follow the bottom trail until it reached the White Oak Trail, which I would take up to the Midstate, which I would follow up to Route 9.  On my trip back, I would stay on the Midstate back to the parking area.

Our first real snow of the season was still fresh on the ground, and was coated in a bit of ice.  I was glad for my walking stick (and in fact wished I had two at times), and I often had to tread carefully to avoid falling.

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At first, the trails showed recent activity; boot treads and dog footprints mostly.  But the woods were quiet; I only met a couple other people despite a parking lot full of cars (again, the benefit of a large property with many trails).  In the pictures below you can see the “tags” they use for trail markers on this property, which nicely stand out in ways painted blazes sometimes don’t.

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I finally found my way onto the Midstate trail, and headed North.  It was only a bit more than a mile to the road but it was not easy going due to the snow and ice.  My legs were already feeling the pressure.

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The trail overlaps with the trails on this property at a few points, but still maintains its yellow triangle blazes.  Finding the trail was never difficult. Below you can see two yellow blazes and a blue one, for the same trail.  By this point, as you can see, the signs of human traffic had lessened significantly.

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Part of what I like so much about this property is Burncoat Pond, and the beaver ponds and marsh areas that surround it.  There are numerous viewing points out to the water.  It was nice to see the water starting to freeze as the property transitioned to winter.

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As the trail winds through the wetlands, there are a few areas where you have to travel on bridges to keep out of the muck (or the ice, in this case).  These were in excellent shape, having only recently been replaced (according to the fine folks on the Midstate Trail Facebook Group).

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Again, human traffic on the trail was significantly less in this area as compared to closer to the trailhead.

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However, animal footprints were becoming more common.  I saw several sets of deer and turkey tracks as well as the usual squirrel tracks. Below you can see some prints as well as what may be like prints from someone wearing crampons (or snowshoes?).

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For a while the trail here passes by some private property with many No Trespassing signs on it.  It includes a massive field with No Hunting signs posted periodically — I saw many deer trails headed into this field as well as the property owner’s tree stand in one corner.  I imagine this family has a full freezer every year.

I was quickly approaching Route 9, though.  The trail here overlaps with Polar Springs Rd, and there is some roadside parking for those who want to hit the trail starting here.  There was a bench here and an old mostly ruined structure.

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I walked out to Polar Springs Rd and out to Route 9, before turning around.

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The trip back was mostly the same as the trip out, though my legs were much more tired.  I hadn’t been on a serious hike in months and I was feeling it.

There were a couple different spots to see as I took a slightly different path back than I had out.

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At the end, I had done four miles in two hours, and my legs were complaining loudly.  But it was a great hike and covered a piece of trail I’ve always wanted to explore.

Some day I want to cover the entire Midstate Trail.  Perhaps some more point explorations of it are in order.

(Solo) Canoeing, East Brookfield River (again!) – Brookfield, East Brookfield

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This “Saturdate”, my wife and I hit up a local asparagus festival (no pictures, sorry) and power-washed the house (no pictures, you’re welcome).  We hoped to get some time outdoors as a family on Sunday, however.

My daughter likes to think she wants to go canoeing with us. She oohs and aahs over pictures my wife and I have taken, and says it sounds like fun, plus there can be fishing involved!

But every time we try to press the issue, there’s a good excuse. Wary of bringing a squirming six year-old who would rather not be there aboard a canoe, we have yet to make a firm stand.

So it was that this Sunday morning, as the sun warmed the morning air, I left alone for some peace and quiet on the river, though the night before the plan had been for all three of us to explore the river together.  Alas, maybe next time.

016As before, I put in at the sandy shore of Quaboag Pond, and paddled along the shoreline towards the bridge. There was a bit of a breeze and the water was lower than last time, but I managed to navigate around the shallowest area and go under the bridge.

017Around and under the bridge (but not pictured here) is a fair amount of litter from irresponsible fishermen.  It frustrates and annoys me to see those who supposedly are enjoying nature’s bounty treat it so poorly.  When I see an entire case’s worth of beer cans scattered around the rocks and dead fish left decaying on the sand, I want to apologize for those of us who don’t understand how lucky we are to have this here.

018With the bridge behind me, I began paddling upriver towards East Brookfield and Spencer.  I didn’t know how far I was going to go, but my plan was to paddle until I was tired of it, and make a relaxing return trip home. The spring colors were very much in view (see above, with bonus beaver den) all around.  Birds sang out in all directions, mallards flew overhead, red-winged blackbirds darted from shore to shore, and a few great blue herons kept flying upriver just ahead of me.  Turtles quietly slipped from rocks and branches into the water as I approached. It was incredibly peaceful; I didn’t even assemble my fishing rod the entire trip upriver.

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The river twists often, providing an ever-changing view. In some areas the water is faster and shallower, in some it is deep and quiet. At a few spots it was possible to pull off into a side pool and relax, but in general I had to be vigilant about keeping the canoe pointed upstream.

028As you see above, pausing to take a picture usually meant the canoe would begin to twist and I’d be soon facing back the way I had come.  Here I’m capturing photos as the boat goes from pointing upstream to pointing at the shoreline, on its way to a 180-degree turn.  This helped me get much more comfortable with controlling the boat, though.

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Many of the pictures look similar but I covered about a mile of river here from the bridge, upstream.  It occurs to me that the times I felt most confident stopping to photograph were near bends like this.

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It was hard to capture images of wildlife with the phone camera. I passed many birds, as I said; here I managed to get a small snapshot of a blackbird near a beaver den. But there were many more images I didn’t have time to capture.

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Shortly after the beaver den, the water began to get shallower, and by necessity faster-moving. I snapped these shots mainly to show the depth of the water (or lack thereof); the entire river has parts like this but there is usually a deeper channel.  At this point, I had trouble finding such a channel, and the entire time searching for one was complicated by the current.  After fighting a few moments, I gave up,and decided to begin heading back.

On the trip back, I resolved to take it slow.  I let the current drift me all over the river, and I fished periodically (catching a midsized pickerel and a modest perch for my trouble).  I took fewer pictures (and the ones I did take seemed plagued by focus issues, so none made this post).

While my trip upriver had been silent and solitary, on the return I passed several kayakers.  I also encountered either an otter (we’ve seen otters here before) or a beaver; some swimming mammal with a mouth full of vegetation was startled by a kayaker and dove underwater not more than 20 feet from me.  I wish I had been just a bit closer to be sure what I was seeing.

The closer I got to the pond, the more I realized my little solitary jaunt was coming to an end.  It was sad but satisfying; my arms were tired and I wasn’t looking forward to lifting that canoe back onto the truck.  But I made my way back under the bridge and fought the stronger breeze on the pond to reach the shoreline again.  There, 5 more people were launching kayaks – seems I started my trip just in time.

I’m not sure I’ll continue to write about canoe trips on this river, unless I encounter something new (or take Evie); but I did want to write this post to save these pictures and the sense of peaceful solitude that came from a few hours of escape.  Canoeing is like hiking; I feel weak and strong and the same time, establish a sense of distance and perspective, feel proud and sad all at once. But most of all, when I’m out there, whether I’m powering my journey by foot or by paddles, I feel more like who I know I want to be.  It’s that feeling that gets me through the next few days of business meetings and software design reviews. Because I know that something amazing is waiting for me, beyond the fluorescent lights and glowing computer monitors, if only I carve out a few hours and the physical exertion to experience it.

 

Solo Canoeing, Hamilton Rod and Gun Club – Sturbridge

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This past weekend, I took ownership of a genuine “beater” pick-up truck.  This truck is old enough to drive, and it looks it.  But it can do one thing our family SUV can’t — handle a canoe atop it.

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The white sections are metal trim my father-in-law and I fastened to the body to make it pass inspection.  The truck used to be his, and when he took it off the road I gave it a new home.  I don’t know how long it will last, but a summer of canoe trips will be worth the cost of insuring it.

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For my first trip alone with the canoe I chose a body of water I’d already paddled around (albeit with my father-in-law), the third pond (“Fish Pond”) at Hamilton Rod and Gun Club, where I’ve been a member for a few years.  I chose this for a few reasons — water is fairly shallow, has almost no current, and is unlikely to have any other boaters on it, being a pond on closed club grounds, which only allows canoes and kayaks.

The pond is fairly quiet, though I could at times hear road traffic and lawn work being done. The club also has several firing ranges on it, so the occasional echo of shooters’ target practice rang through as well.  Still, overall, it’s a quiet and peaceful experience to paddle around this pond.

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Of course, paddling isn’t enough to hold my attention; I had to bring a rod and net with me.  I caught a couple respectable perch and a large pickerel — all returned to the pond to be caught again another day!044

After about an hour and a half on the water, I made for the shoreline and the truck.048I managed to stay dry, catch fish, and successfully transport the canoe to and from the pond without any help.  I’d say it was a successful first paddling expedition.  I’m already planning the next one….

 

(Solo) Opacum Woods – Sturbridge

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Spring fever is in full swing, and when I found myself with a free afternoon I knew I had to spend some of it in the woods.  I debated my options for a while but ended up returning to Opacum Woods, a site I’d been to a few times before (last time, with Jess, was in the fall).

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This time, in early Spring, the woods were much different.  The trees (other than the evergreens) were largely bare, and the high water from the spring melt totally transformed the landscape.

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At one point, the trail was swamped.  I took this first bridge…

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But shortly thereafter I found myself unable to continue without being in water up my shins.

017 Turning back from the swamped section, I took another trail which stayed on higher ground.  There was the constant sound of water as numerous small streams had swelled and were constantly being fed by short-lived rivulets across and near the trails.

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This boulder always tempts me to climb it.  Not today, though.

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On the other hand, this tiny cave always freaks me out. I feel like the girl from The Ring is going to come crawling out of it.

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Portions of the trail here are on old roads, making for a relatively easy hike along stretches of it.  It’s not all so smooth, though; there are some fairly steep sections as well.  I was tired by the end, which I think had more to do with my “Winter body” than the terrain.

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One thing on plentiful display in Opacum Woods are dead trees being consumed by the wild — woodpeckers, beavers, and wood-boring insects all slowly turn these old dead giants into sawdust.

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After looping around the entire property I took a few more snapshots of the tree-lined paths and headed back up the path I had come down.

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Did I mention it was a bit wet?

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Overall, this was a pleasant afternoon out of the house.  My legs were tired at the end, reminding me that I didn’t do this much over the winter.  I also seem to have bumped up against some kind of poison ivy or similar — as I write this days later I’m still itchy in a few spots.  Such is the price of the outdoors!