Pocomoke River State Park, Milburn Landing area
Eastern Shore of Maryland
Thursday, August 11 - Sunday, August 14, 2005

Having forgone a summer vacation this year in favor of renovating the
house the annual Duckhead trip to the Pocomoke River was our first
break from work and home construction. Boats racked and car packed I
headed down on Thursday to beat the Bay Bridge traffic jams.

Headed down with my timesaving EZPass automatic toll device.
Approaching the Bay Bridge I slid into the far left lane and, grinning
triumphantly at the poor suckers waiting in line to hand over their
cash, made it to within 3 cars of the toll when the bridge authorities
shut down the EZPass booth to open an addition lane on the bridge.

And there I sat for 30 minutes, sweltering in the heat, while the cash
paying suckers to my right, smirking in satisfaction, paid their $5 and
drove on. Yeah, I love technology.

Thursday 8/11/05
Pocomoke River, Snow Hill to Milburn (Night Float) 7.6 miles
OC1 - David Hone, Kevin Finch, Mike McCrea

A select group of early arrivals elected to try a night float. Dusk saw
the tidal action on the Pocomoke nearing high tide, so the decision was
made to put in upriver and float down with the start of the falling
tide.

Having ridden a swiftly falling tide downriver from Shad Landing some
years before and beaten our shuttle drivers back to camp in the
process, we elected this year to put in further upriver at Snow Hill.

Just how much further upriver was not fully appreciated. I seem to have
trouble calculating distances and reading the maps for that particular
section of the tidal Pocomoke. But no matter, downriver is downriver,
and we have all night.

Downriver is downriver - but in a slack tide, on a pitch black night,
on a section of river with many islands, tributaries, coves, guts and
dead ends it can be a challenge to determine exactly where the river
runs. Good thing we have all night.

Fortunately I was in the presence of a magnificent night navigator, and
after a few bewildered wandering canoeist circles amidst the lilypad
edges, we arrived at the Milburn dock safe and sound. Well, safe
anyway.

Friday 8/12/05
Pocomoke River, Porters Crossing to Snow Hill, 5.1 miles
OC1 - Steffi Mueller, Digger Mueller, Joe Steiner, David Hone, Mike
McCrea
OC2 - Les Leedy/Robi Leedy,
K1 - Vitas Eidukevicius, Mary Eidukevicius, Sally Baker, Pam Gunter,
Kevin Finch

This section of the upper Pocomoke is the most reliable paddler's
haven for cypress swamp cruising on the non-tidal portions of the
Pocomoke. The Pocomoke River Canoe Company helps keep this section open
and generously allows paddlers to use their canoe dock as a take out
point. If you take advantage of this generosity please visit the
paddleshop and drop a little cash.

The paddle from Porters Crossing to Snow Hill was open and easy as
promised and the shade provided by the canopy of cypress and hardwood
much appreciated on a blazingly hot and sunny day.

A lunch stop respite at the traditional highground break area half way
down saw the only swim of the trip as Robi and Les explored the
difficulties of reboarding a canoe via a steep, muddy bank. The
Pocomoke is surprisingly deep, even near the banks.

Joe, having learned this lesson on past trips, elected to do his
impersonation of Chef from Apocalypse Now ("Never get out of the
boat...never get out of the boat"). What frightens Joe isn't the
possibility of encountering a tiger in the jungle, but of encountering
a photographer in mid-capsize.

Each swamp trip teaches Joe a new lesson though. Today's lesson -
when flailing wildly at a kamikaze deerfly do not swat your glasses off
your nose. Remember, the Pocomoke is dark and deep.

Taking out at the Pocomoke River Canoe Company I asked one of the
outfitter staff about the conditions along the section of river
upstream from our put in. The Whiton Crossing to Porters Crossing
section is even prettier; smaller, faster, twistier and more intimate,
but all too often an absolute strainer-fest. He informed me that there
were five portages or carry-overs. Quite manageable, and we have a plan
for Saturday's trip.

Friday 8/12/05
Pocomoke River, Pocomoke City to Milburn (Night Float), 4.8
OC1 - Theresa Alexander, Patty Hale, Kevin Finch, Anna Weichold, Mike
McCrea
OC2 - Russ Mason/Robin Mason, Frank Weichold/Tony Weichold/Lena
Weichold
K1 - Vitas Eidukevicius, Sally Baker, Candi Crichton, KC Crichton

Friday's night float saw a larger contingent of Duckheads, and an
easier piece of the Pocomoke to cover, as we decided to take advantage
of a slight upriver breeze and a slack tide and float from Pocomoke
City back to our campsites at Milburn.

Taking names and assigning numbers at the launch brought us to the cusp
of Duckhead # 600. With four new participants in attendance Russ was #
596, Robin #597, KC #598 and Candi #599. One more new paddler and the
Duckheads would reach another century mark.

And, partway to the take out a ghostly Sawyer Champion loomed ahead out
of the inky darkness. Frank Weichold, paddling downriver to meet us
halfway. Frank Weichold with a cousin visiting from Germany as his
bowman. Congratulations Tony on becoming the 600th participant in a
Duckhead trip. For his timely appearance Tony was awarded the last of
the Duckhead hats and one of the few remaining Duckhead huggies.

Falling into Squatter-style paddling cadence - which is to say no
cadence, and very little paddling - beside Patty, Theresa and Kevin
(Kevin is an honorary Squatter and has the tee shirt to prove it) we
soon fell well behind the main body of paddlers as the Squatters
assumed their traditional position as sweep boaters.

A half-mile or so before our take out a boat ramp appeared, allowing
the Squatters to assume their other traditional position as, well,
Squatters. Kevin may have the tee shirt, but he's still a stander. I
hope.

Saturday 8/13/05
Pocomoke River, Whiton Crossing to Porters Crossing, 5 miles
OC1 - Pat Kingman, Annie Hepner, Joe Steiner, Anna Weichold, Brian
Sill, Theresa Alexander, Patty Hale, Mike McCrea
OC2 - Russ Mason/RobinMason, Jim Hepner/Chris Hepner, Les Leedy/Robi
Leedy, Frank Weichold/Tony Weichold/Lena Weichold
K1 - Bill Bruchey, Darletta Bruchey, Pam Gunter, Vitas Eidukevicius,
Mary Eidukevicius, Sally Baker, KC Crichton, Candi Crichton,

I should have realized that the previous three trips were all too easy,
too organized, too free of chaos to constitute a Duckhead weekend.
Today would present the yin to accompany the yang of the weekend's
earlier trips

Beginning with the now traditional difficulties of gathering 20 boats,
25 paddlers and a dozen vehicles from campsites scattered throughout
the Park. Running only an hour late for our declared start time we
began to get the convoy organized only to discover Kevin on his hand
and knees in the forest. Kevin, or any other Duckhead for that matter,
on their hand and knees isn't a usual sight at Milburn, but it more
customarily seen late at night.

Kevin is searching for his car keys. Always the sympathetic trip leader
I give him a map to the put in, tell him it will take us at least an
hour to set the shuttle and say I hope we see him there.

An hour later, shuttle set, I realize at the put in that we have
Russ' canoe, and Russ' daughter, but not Russ. He was planning to
ride along with Kevin. Eventually this dilemma is resolved when Vic
delivers Russ to the put in. Sorry Kevin, but we're leaving without
you.

A quick count of boats (just so we'll know at trips end that we've
finished with the same number we started with) and we're off paddling
into the dense upper Pocomoke swamp.

Off and paddling for a clear and open 50 yards, before we come to the
first strainer. "That's one" I happily tell the group, "Only
four more to go".

Another 50 yards. Another strainer. "That's two". And soon
"Three". "Four". "Five". "Six"

Wait, weren't there supposed to be only five.

"Seven". "Eight". "Nine"...."Nineteen". "Twenty".
"Twenty five".

Seven hours later - "Fifty three"..."Fifty four"...seven
hours to paddle five miles. Now this is more like it, this is a
Duckhead trip!

They are a hearty bunch those Duckheads. Frank somehow navigating his
18 feet of Sawyer Champion down a tight, strainer-filled swamp creek.
Bill and Darletta, paddling inflatable kayaks, no doubt wishing they
had brought a patch kit. Pat in her antique whitewater boat, no doubt
thinking this is a whole 'nother kind of wildwater.

Jim and Chris, probing ahead with the Sven saw, clearing a path through
the smaller stuff. KC going for a cooling swim during a lunch break and
impaling his hand on a sharp stick but soldiering on. No one losing
heart, despite struggling for 7 hours to beat our way through 5 miles
of swamp.

The last time I was that relieved to see a take out come into view was,
hmmm, well, whadda ya know, on this very same stretch of river 15 years
ago. I think that serves as proof positive that Duckheads enjoy a
challenge. Or have a barley-concealed streak of masochism.

KC made a trip to the emergency room to get the remaining bit of tree
removed from his hand, a procedure that was concluded by a nurse using
an entire roll of gauze to bandage his hand, so that the stick-stuck
middle finger protruded permanently upright, like a plump white
zucchini in one fingered salute. The remainder of our crew returned to
camp to find several delights in wait.

Chef Vic had forgone the day's epic trip and scoured the eastern
shore for hard crabs, soft crabs, corn, melons, mussels and more. Vic
was in toque-wearer heaven, with pots and pans and steamers and deep
fryers all hissing, bubbling and steaming around him. Simply put, damn
that boy can camp cook. (Of course it helps when you load the back of a
full-sized pickup truck with all manner of cookery devices. No many
people bring deep fryers on a camping trip).

Our other delight was a quest appearance by Bruce. A little backstory
on Bruce - several years ago we first encountered Bruce as we were
paddling the Porters Crossing to Snow Hill section of the Pocomoke.
Bruce was paddling upstream in a loaded Allagash, going solo commando
camping in the cypress swamp. The next year we ran into Bruce again,
this time as a fellow camper at Milburn Landing. The next year Bruce
was the State Park Camp Host at Milburn (boy did we get away with
murder THAT year).

This year Bruce is living locally and has come over for a visit, bring
a selection of fine Martin guitars and his lady friend Birdy with her
array of drums. There will now be a lengthy musical interlude as Bruce
and Birdy provide fine acoustical entertainment while we all pig out on
fresh seafood. Yeah, this too is a Duckhead trip.

A spell of dock sitting and meteor shower viewing wrapped up the
evening's festivities, and we all stumbled back to our tents (some
stumbling more than others)

Sunday 8/13/05
Nassawango Creek, Red House Rd to Snow Hill, 5.4 miles

OC1 - Joe Steiner, Dave Hone, Tiff Hone, Steffi Mueller, Digger
Mueller, Theresa Alexander, Patty Hale, Mike McCrea
OC2 - Russ Mason/RobinMason, Jim Hepner/Chris Hepner, Les Leedy/Robi
Leedy
K1 - Vitas Eidukevicius, Mary Eidukevicius, Sally Baker, Pam Gunter,
Annie Hepner, Vic Chenowith

I had been postponing a trip down Nassawango Creek. Although it is one
of the prettiest runs in the area the bug population in the swamp had
been especially fierce when we first arrived, but that plague seemed to
have abated some, so we decided to give it a shot.

Miracle of miracle, Nassawango was about as bug-free as a cypress swamp
can be expected to be in mid-August. Slowly meandering down the creek
we paused in a cove to muckle-up and tested the water depth. This is
always an amazing experiment along the Pocomoke or its tributaries.
Five feet from shore, on a narrow tidal creek, we dipped a 9' paddle
its full length before touching bottom.

A lunch and swim stop at a Nature Conservancy area at our midpoint
allowed everyone to rehydrate and reapply sunscreen before we paddled
forth into the open and shadeless lower Nassawango.

On down to the confluence with the Pocomoke, where a delightful
tailwind aided our passage up to Snow Hill. Les and Robi unfurled a
golf umbrella and were soon out of sight, the others paddled to keep
up, and I was left bringing up the rear with David, Susan and - of
course - the Squatters. Not as fast as they look indeed.

Taking out again at the Pocomoke River Canoe Company dock the outfitter
staff declared when asked about the Whiton stretch that "No one here
would tell you Whiton-to-Porter was do-able; we tell people its
impassible" I dunno, the guys I asked on Friday was wearing a PRCC
shirt and loading canoes on one of your trailers, but maybe he was just
a helpful stranger with a twisted sense of humor. Anyway, we're
Duckheads - nothing is impassible!

Boats racked and back shuttle run we were returning to camp when Pam
and Joe see the police pull Jim over behind them. Kindly companions
that they are they circle the block and pull in behind to await the
outcome.

The officer approaches their truck and asks Pam for her license and
registration (remember, Joe's glasses are at the bottom of the
Pocomoke, so Pam is driving). "Oh, we just circled around to check on
our friend up there" Pam tells him. "That was mighty nice of you"
the cop tells her "We got you for speeding too".

The cop walks back to his car and runs her license and registration.
Walks back and says, "So M'am, when did your stolen license tag
reappear?"

Pam explains that Joe, needing a couple of screws for the Airstream
trailer, decided that the best place to get them was the front bumper
of the truck. And then misplaced the front license tag. And then, after
calling it in as lost or stolen, found the tag a few months later in
the back of a closet and reattached it (Pam wonders where he got those
screws).

The cop, perhaps having a Duckhead experience for the first time, walks
away shaking his head. He talks to his partner and again walks back to
Pam.

"M'am, are you aware that there is a warrant out for your
arrest?"

Allowing Pam a quite memorable few seconds to freak out and develop a
vivid mental image of the County jail, he smiles and says "Ah, just
kidding". A cop with a Duckhead sense of humor.

The cop then asks if both Pam and Joe have their licenses. Yes. Good,
because your friend up there is driving on a suspended license, and one
of you is going to have to drive his vehicle. Now granted, Jim honestly
didn't know his license had been suspended, but if it had been me
Diane would have been looking up Snow Hill Bail Bonds in the phone
book.

Back at camp, our numbers greatly reduced by Sunday evening departures,
the contingent that was staying over until Monday gathered around
Squatter Central, making it all the easier for Theresa and Patty to ply
us with drink. Well sure, if you insist...

Once again a meteor shower dock night was undertaken and once again we
all stumbled back to our tents. Or almost all; it was decided that the
safest course of action with David's inert form was to douse it with
bug spray and leave it where it fell.

Monday morning I awoke at 6:30, intending to drive out for breakfast at
Don's in Pocomoke City. I must have planned for a quick and easy
departure, because I awoke in my tent fully clothed with my shoes still
on. By 7:00 I had a plate of eggs, hash brown and pancakes in front of
me. Good plan.

En route back to camp I scouted out a put in at the head of Dividing
Creek; it looks like a long hard day of paddling down a teensy cypress
swamp run replete with numerous strainers. Next year!

Back acamp we debated squeezing in one last run, but the heat, bugs,
and paddling both day and night had worn us all down, and so the annual
Duckhead gathering on the Pocomoke came to an end. We will, of course,
do it all again next year.

You may have noticed that my constant companion Tom, ole
canoeswithduckheads himself, was conspicuously absent from these pages.
Tom, who has not missed a Milburn trip in nigh on 20 years. Tom, the
swamp rat portage king mud dog par excellence.

It pains me to tell you, but Tom has traded his canoes for a radio
controlled sailboat and now spends his free time on the banks of the
community pond dressed in a shabby trench coat, naked from the waist
down, muttering to himself and manipulating a small toggle switch.

But he still falls in occasionally.

Steffi's photos:

http://community.webshots.com/album/426852732WRYdQt