Tuckahoe Creek, eastern shore of Maryland
Crouse Mill Rd to Hillsboro (5.2 miles)

OC1 - CWDH, Mobey Wilhelm, Steve Wilhelm, Ela Wilhelm, c2g, Topher,
Mike McCrea. SK1 - Krousmon

Looking over the 2005 trip log I'm surprised to find that we didn't
have a Tuckahoe trip in '05, so the last outing there would have been
the infamous Tree Hugger trip of 2004, featuring a partial Brian
immersion before he even got into his canoe and many deciduous embraces
between the Squatters and the local tree population as we paddled
through the Adkins Arboretum holdings. Accent on "holding".

The creek was significantly more open this trip, in the sense that a
lot of the overhanging sweeper branches showed evidence of having been
trimmed back and those that remained were winter-bare of leaves. With
or without leaves I liked it to old, more passage-obscured way; it felt
more intimate and more challenging. Luckily it's like a bad haircut,
it'll grow back.

Not that there wasn't some challenge involved even now. Although get
out and drag around type strainers were few there were sufficient limbo
logs, speed bump logs and compacted slalom mazes to keep things
interesting.

Passing under, over and around woody peril is definitely a learned
paddling skill; sizing up the situation and deciding if there is enough
room and where and how to squeeze under a log, deciding it's possible
to start paddling hard far enough back to build up some speed and bump
over (I do like plastic boats for swamping), choosing between portaging
around on land (how easy is it to get out of the boat, carry around,
and get back in) or stepping out on the log and hauling the boat over
like some halfassed aquatic Wallenda Brother with the river as safety
net.

Even how fast to head into an obstruction can be a puzzle; slow enough
to be able to stop, backpaddle and turn 180 degrees while sticking the
stern back in some miniscule opening and then paddle out (or,
sometimes, even further into especially dense constructions).

After a long day of this the riskier maneuvers become more attractive.
Hmmm, is that protruding stick flexible enough to pinball off the bow
into a hard right turn towards the opening and still maintain some
speed to cross the eddy on the other side? Let's try. Splash, oops,
guess not.

I love that stuff.

Our float had barely begun when we came to the first of these, a
sizable crossriver log with a bare trickle of water flowing over a
small U-shaped low section. Rather then paddle hard and try to slide
over Steve elected to ease the bow up and step out on the log.

Of course, when Steve disembarked so did his dog passenger Ela. Steve
got both feet atop the log, stood up and immediately plunged off the
downstream side. The chin deep downstream side.

Somethingmumblesomething, he quite nimbly clambered back atop and took
two steps before falling off the other side. Ela, watching this from a
safe patch of dry ground unsurprisingly became disinterested in
reboarding the canoe. Yes, Chocolate labs are smart dogs.

I admit a certain old-swamper satisfaction in following the now
saturated Steve over this obstacle with a hard sprint, lean back, lean
forward and clean slide over. Steve's way was more entertaining
though, even if he didn't want to wear my "spare" set of clothes.

Soon enough we came to the first portage-around riverblocker. Easily
done, although when Steve carried around and called "OK, Ela, we need
to get back in" he received the canine equivalent of "What do you
mean we?"

That first blockage was the only riverwide obstacle necessitating a
true portage, as the remaining 5 miles where passable with some
strategic approach planning.

If planning isn't your style there are alternatives. C2g's
preferred style involves using the paddle as a fulcrum-like battering
ram, resulting in a nicely homemade Nashwaak-style stick having a
future as a rare two-piece take-apart single blade.

C2g did have the added challenge of paddling The Boat Of My Choice.
TBOMC is a new Duckhead tradition in which I generously promise to
provide you with a specific boat off my racks and personally feel I am
fulfilling at least the spirit of that promise by putting you in, oh,
say, a Radisson, or some girly boat like a Ladybug.

It is, at least, a method to assure that all of the boats on my rack
get wet occasionally. Think of it as your contribution of the happiness
of some forlorn and too long unpaddled canoe.

So, c2g, how was that Curtis? Topher proved it was poleable, and you
finally got to answer "No" when, on arriving home, your
daughter's first words were the usual "Did you fall in today
Dad?"

The Wilhelm brothers each demonstrated an un-Germanically lackadaisical
limbo approach on the same low log. Maybe Germans don't limbo. Steve
led off the Wilhelm-way, (say it with a touch German accent "Vilhelm
Vay" and a touch of surly inflection) electing to lay his paddle
across his lap before bending double to squeeze below.

Becoming stuck halfway under by the back of his PFD he asked Topher for
a push through, only to become even more helplessly wedged. When Steve,
now stuffed immobile under the tree, folded like a taco around his
paddle, urgently requested a freeing yank back upstream. Topher took
the time to repeat his favorite Duckkhead motto "We hardly ever leave
a man behind" and paused for a few seconds with feigned deliberation.
Just food for thought Steve.

Brother Tom, showing how genetics affect familial behavior, followed
suit in much the same way, although his obstacle to bending over in the
middle wasn't a paddle in his gut but his gut in his middle. (Happy
Birthday Bro).

Tom did have the added challenge standing tall throughout the day
amidst Mobey the Pole-Biter's antics. The game of "Oh, look, he is
waving a nice big stick for me, I'll bite it each time as it goes
by" explains why Harry Rock doesn't bring his dog.

The exciting game of Pole biting was briefly interrupted by some
Molly-esque tennis ball chasing.

In the Molly version of this game the ball is briefly balanced on the
gunwale and allowed to fall either into the boat or into the water. If
the ball falls into the canoe it is Molly's to retrieve and
rebalance, into the water and the trailing paddler is expected to
become fetcher. Molly WILL train you to fetch the ball no matter how
much you resist.

In Mobey's version of this game he doesn't just allow the ball to
drop off the gunwale, he literally flings the ball off to the side with
a flip of his head, often into some spot perilous for me to retrieve. I
suspect Tom has been training him to do that. Come to think of it
I've also seen Tom rolling around in fresh scat, so perhaps he
trained Mobey to do that too.

Thomas, it does my heart good to see Mobey pup enjoying himself so on a
canoe trip; it bodes well for him as an eager to go canoeing companion.
I especially enjoyed the times he chomped down on an overhanging limb
to suddenly bring the canoe to a stop. Good dog Mobey, good dog.

And where in the day's retelling is Topher. Poling of course. Poling,
poling, poling; it's all poling all the time. "That would make a
nice poling boat", "This is a good poling creek", "Hey little
girl, wanna see my pole". It's like being in the presence of a
newly minted Jesus Freak. Damn you DougD.

And where in the day's retelling is Krousmon? He's there, reminding
me of paddling companions like Brian and Joel. Quietly, competently
there, navigating 17 feet of sea kayak down a small, twisty creek with
ease.

If we didn't wear him out with our blazing Duckhead speed of one mile
per hour, frequent muckle-ups, dissolute behavior and descent into
decadence ("descending into decadence": another Duckhead motto, as
well as the very first descriptor in the official McCrea clan history)
I'm hoping to see more of him.

Our trips aren't always like that Krousmon. Oh heck, who am I
kidding; they pretty much are.

Topher's photos of the day:

http://community.webshots.com/album/547994795TGnquO