The 2006 Pocomoke weekend of rivers trip saw a slimmer turn out than in
years past, with many of the stalwart regulars absent. It must have
been the weather forecast.

Which was plum perfect - no torrential rains, no sweltering heat, no
passing hurricanes - just blue skies, moderate temperatures, low
humidity and light winds. After years of weather-related suffering we
finally got four days of ideal conditions for cypress swamp
explorations.

Thursday 8/10/06

The Thursday arrivals began rolling in before sunset, allowing Kevin
and I to troll for a shuttle bunny willing to accompany us uptide, drop
us off for a night float and drive our van back to the camp. Thanks
Mary.

Shad Landing to Milburn Landing (Night Float)
OC1 - Kevin, Mike

For ease of shuttle I talked Kevin out of his kayak and into the spare
solo canoe I had racked, and the Odyssey 14 met with his approval
("I've gotta get a canoe")

Arriving at Shad Landing we were staging our boats and gear when a
ranger pulled up.

"Going canoeing?" he asked brightly.
"Yup" we respond "Heading down to Milburn"
"Ah, it's getting dark ya know" he cautions
"Yeah, we know", we reply, agreeing to the obvious.
"You won't make it before dark" he says, sounding more worried.
"Yup, that's the point" we tell him.
"Do you have a cell phone or anything" he asks, now plainly
concerned.
"No, but we have lights, whistles, pfd's - everything we need"
"You won't make it before dark" he repeats.

Finally we cut to the chase and tell him that we've probably night
floated this river 50 times over the past 25 years, are experienced and
prepared, know what we're doing and will be fine.

He seemed somewhat reassured and left us to our devices.

Just a quiet, easy float through the inky darkness, with the start of
the outgoing tide, a gentle breeze and the company of a friend of 29
years. As the first trip this bodes well for a sweet weekend.

Friday 8/11/06
Nassawango Creek/Pocomoke River
Red House Rd to Shad landing

OC1 - Les, Mike
K1 - Vitas, Mary, Anne, Sally, Kevin

Even with a smallish group of 7 participants the struggle to break away
from camp was evident, and Les, Kevin and I declared that we were going
on ahead to set the shuttle and possibly put in via Old Furnace Rd a
couple of miles above the laggard group's entry point.

Scouting the creek from Old Furnace this seemed highly inadvisable, as
just the visible portion of the stream was heavily strainered and we
estimated it would likely take us a half hour to paddle the first fifty
feet.

Change of plans, we'll go ahead and set shuttle and meet the laggards
at Red House Road. And a second change of plans - the breeze is out
of the north, so we'll revise our take out from upwind along the
Pocomoke towards Snow Hill to downwind towards Shad. A much longer
shuttle, but we have time and the downwind ease is sure to be
appreciated at the end of the trip.

Well timed again, as we wrapped up the shuttle to find our laggards
just finished offloading their boats.

More delightful weather and more delightful company. Paddle a bit,
muckle up for a bit and ease our way on down to the Nature Conservancy
lunch stop on river right half way to the Pocomoke:

http://www.nature.org/wherewework/no...es/art141.html

Back afloat after a leisurely lunchstop we were soon into the more open
tidal portion of the lower Nassawango. Animal oddity of the day: A
Great Blue Heron crossed from right to left, "Braccck, braccck,
bracck" all the way across and alit on a snag. "Braccck, braccck,
bracck" on the snag, just vocalizing nonstop. Paddling closer he
finally retreated back to the far bank, "Braccck, braccck, bracck"
all the way back, talking the whole time.

I've paddled with people like that. On the whole find the "Braccck,
braccck, bracck" far more pleasant than the yak, yak, yak.

Pushing out onto the open Pocomoke we were pleased to have made the
shuttle change as the northerly breeze helped push us down to Shad
Landing. Actually a bit past the entrance to Shad, as I attempted to
shanghai the rest of the group into a trip up Corkers Creek. Only Vitas
and Sally took the bait, as the rest of our party found the
availability of high ground and rest rooms at the take out
irresistible.

8/11/06
Shad Landing to Milburn Landing (Night Float)
OC1 - Theresa, Paris, Mike
K1- Kevin
OC2 - Jim & Anne

Once again dependant on the kindness of Shuttle Bunny extraordinaire
Mary we again put in at Shad for another night float. The rangers,
seeing that we somehow survived the pervious night's perilous
endeavor, did not repeat their questionnaire of concern.

Again, perfect weather and good company, riding the outgoing tide under
a full moon night sky with the occasional Perseid meteor blazing a
streak of light. It really doesn't get much better.

This night float took on a certain magical quality. A quiet magical
quality, as an unspoken consensus was reached to paddle as silently and
noiselessly as possible, the only sound the dripdripdrip of water from
paddle blades.

Pulling into a patch of lily pads part way down for a midnight muckle I
noticed the outline of a small heron or egret, silhouetted against the
moonlight in a snag almost directly overhead. As five more boats pulled
in below his perch he remained nearly motionless, turning his head
slightly from boat to boat, unconcerned in his misconception that he
was invisible in the dark.

Not wanting to disturb his meditations we floated on, arriving, as
always on night floats, too soon at the Milburn dock. So soon in fact
that Theresa, Paris and I continued on downriver for a leg stretcher at
Squatter Hotsprings before returning to camp.

8/12/06
Pocomoke River - Porter's Crossing to Snow Hill
OC1 - Theresa, Paris, Joe, Jim, Anne
K1- Pam, Vitas, Mary, Ann, Sally
OC2 - Les and Robby

This section is the meat and potatoes of a Pocomoke trip. Kept open by
the Pocomoke River canoe Company

http://www.atbeach.com/amuse/md/canoe/

It promises 5 miles of shady cypress swamp paddling without busting
brush and scrambling over strainers that such endeavors often entail.

Camp laggards again delaying our departure we decided to set shuttle in
shifts, with half the group dropping boats at the put in before heading
downstream to drop off vehicles, followed 20 minutes later by the
remaining paddlers.

This was such an effective plan that it may become standard operating
procedure for such trips. It helped eliminate the chaos and parking
squeeze at the put in, as we passed each other going to and fro on the
road instead of tripping over each other at the tight put in.

And easy it was; few obstacles, more great weather, more fine
companions. Such trips are, of course, enjoyable, but lacking in the
memorability department. This has just been too easy, no epic weather,
no grueling manhauling of boats through the swamp, no impending
darkness halfway through a trip. None of the stuff memories are made
of.

Careful what you wish for.

We concluded our Porter-to-Snow Hill float in the usual fine fashion,
taking out on the floating dock at the Pocomoke River Canoe Company. A
young employee of the outfitter graciously assisted hauling boats out
onto the platform (although I insisted on waving him off, and had a
hard time convincing him that I didn't need help, nearly resorting to
a cranky "Go away you whippersnapper, I can still get out of a boat
on my own dammit").

Another older gentleman from the outfitter (Brad?) informed one of our
companions that "We cleared Whiton-to-Porter of strainers to within a
mile of the put in". He also added that a Scout troop had done
additional clearing, and added "There are only about 5 strainers, and
they're all within the first mile"

That last statement I admittedly found a bit ominous. Quote the 2005
Pocomoke River trip report, from the same place and same dates last
year:

"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."

And, from that same trip report, the strainer count at days end:

"Seven hours later "Fifty three strainers"..."Fifty four
strainers"...seven hours to paddle five miles."

His declaration of "only five" strainers seemed awfully familiar.
But the weather is supposed to be fantastic, we have a smaller group
than the mix 20 boat flotilla of OC1's, OC2's, K1's and even a
couple inflatables that made the strainer run from hell last year. We
only trashed 3 boats and sent one person to the hospital last year, and
everyone here survived that trip relatively unscarred.

Remarkably, everyone is ready to give it a go again. An open, recently
cleared Whiton-to-Porter under perfect weather is too good to pass.
That's the morrow's plan.

There did occur one minor miscue when running the backshuttle. After
dropping Paris off to retrieve her upstream car Theresa and I followed
her out from Whiton Crossing. Paris turned left onto Rte 354, heading
back to camp and I went suddenly right, struck by an irresistible urge
to check out the parking and river conditions at Whiton for
tomorrow's trip.

Well, ok, that sudden, unsignalled right was also a Squatter test. As
we headed north (away from camp) I remarked innocently to Theresa
"Where is she going?" and was treated a 10 mile discourse from an
older (much, much older) sister fretting about sense of direction of a
younger (much, much younger) sibling.

I finally fessed up our actual destination after we got to the Whiton
bridge. Ample parking and the river looks fine and open.

Back at camp however Paris has not yet arrived, despite now having a 30
minute head start.

Paris eventually arrived, having driven south nearly to the main road,
then, convinced that this must be the wrong way, back north nearly to
the sign that reads "Welcome to Delaware", then back south again to
camp. A scenic tour of the farm fields and chicken houses of the
Delmarva.

Dang, where is Squatter Laura when we need her to navigate?

Back acamp, lost younger (much, much younger) sibling safe and sound,
we settled in for a long night of eating and drinking. Chef Vic is
scheduled to work his Milburn magic. Every year Vic's feed-the-people
campsite extravaganza grows more extensive, from the range of cookery
items he hauls down (multiple deep fryers, stoves, griddles) to the
menu itself.

Three picnic tables lined end to end, covered in brown paper. Have a
seat and the Paddling Gourmet will keep the space in front of you
filled and refilled (and refilled, and refilled) with perfect steamed
crabs, fried soft crabs, roadside stand tomatoes and corn on the cob,
fresh cut too-hot-to-touch French fries, bread and beer.

Nobody gets up hungry at Vic's. It was well worth forgoing the
pleasure of another night paddle to get stuffed, especially since the
proceeds benefit St. Kevin's for Little Girls. (St. Kevin the
Unfortunate, the patron saint of the unwashed).

Stuffed, sleepy and early to bed; tomorrow is a big day, the upper
Pocomoke under ideal conditions.

8/13/06
Pocomoke River - Whiton Crossing to Porters Crossing.

OC1: Theresa, Paris, Joe, Jim, Anne, Mike
K1: Vitas, Mary, Sally, Pam, Kevin

A manageable paddling contingent of 11 boats, all paddlers that were
here last year. A noon start, mild weather and a reportedly open river.
This should be cake and I'm already looking forward to one last night
float to cap off the trip.

But, just in case, I give a little spiel about how we are going to
handle the 5 strainers: "When you get to a strainer follow the
leader, stop on the other side and wait for the next boat to clear and
when they are through keep going while they take your place"

Off we go. And here's the first strainer. Already? Hmmmm.

One boat over, two, three...ah, well, it's too much fun watching
folks handle this first log. We'll just watch this one time.

Ooops, a too-high speedbump log. Boats get stuck part way over and we
manhaul them across with paddlers intact.

Next strainer. Not all that much further down, but it's trickier and
holds promise of a wet exit or inadvertent dismount. No one wants to
miss that, so we all wait and watch.

Another too high speedbump log and we note that perhaps the water is
low as we struggle to pull boats and paddler over.

Next strainer. Oooooh, it's a big one. Get someone on the other side
and have them help drag the boats across.

Next strainer. A double, with 30 feet of water between and no low solid
ground to get out; time to just walk the boats down river between the
strainers. Watch out, it gets deep herGLUBB. Maybe swim the boats a
little.

Vitas, who has somehow managed to smash 17 feet of sea plastic sea
kayak through everything so far declares the to actually be strainer
#1, reasoning that if he didn't need to get out it isn't really a
true obstacle.

Hmmmm, if that's number one this could be interesting.

And interesting it was. There was every manner and variety of possibly
woody obstacle in every possible challenging configuration.

Big logs in deepwater, posing the how to get out dilemma. No solid
ground to exit and deepwater on the upside, or the downsides or
sometimes all around the sides. Pull up parallel to a big log, scramble
out slick balanced on top while hauling the boat across and then get
back in, all the while teetering like some halfassed Paddling Waledna.

The getting back in part being the tricky bit.

Tangles of branches and poison ivy. Limbo logs so low they required
nearly lying in the bottom of the canoe. Speedbump logs in places where
the only choice was paddle as hard as you could, lean back at the last
second, lean forward and hope you successfully slid over. Hmmm,
didn't make it...what now? Uh, little help here.

Speed bump/limbo combo; need to go fast enough to hop the log, but not
so fast as to be decapitated.

A lunch break on a piece of rare solid ground and we were back at it
again, all of us I think hoping and figuring that we must be getting
close that that famed "clear" section of river.

Back at it and immediately around a corner to face the vision of a half
dozen strainers, each spaced 20 yards apart. A football field's
length of pure swamp mucking mudhell. Plus an end zone.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more. Or close up the
wall with our Duckhead dead.

Perhaps not surprisingly no one followed me into the breach, the 10
boats behind me preferring to tackle a swamp portage. Been there, done
that, and learned to never loose sight of the river in a swamp. Right
about where the voyageurs began dragging their boats south the river
made a sudden right angle turn west.

Jim's first hand description serves better than anything I could
imagine:

"On Sunday I paddled it down the Pocomoke from Whiton bridge to
Porter's Crossing, a stretch that the Pocomoke River Canoe Company
outfitter at Snow Hill assured us had "only five strainers" left on it
since his crew had almost cleared it with chainsaws. A mere five miles
of river should have been do-able in four hours with a lunch stop. That
turned out to be somewhat optimistic. We put our boats in the water at
Whiton Bridge about noon. By the time we got to the stretch of river
that he had cleared it was seven o'clock, and we were losing the
daylight. By that time I had personally sawed out at least a dozen
obstructions with a little 14-inch pruning saw. We had portaged our
boats about a quarter-mile through poison ivy around a series of
massive deadfalls and helped pull boats over four dozen more. We all
kept our sense of humor, but we were very, very glad to get to the
Porter's Crossing bridge. It was ten after eight when the first boat
scraped onto the landing. We had barely enough light left to load the
boats onto the vehicles, and it was full dark before the car shuttle
was under way."

With the sun nearing the horizon I decided to make a break for Porters
Crossing. The van is there, stocked with food and water and multiple
flashlights. I shall return, corncob pipe and all.

But not until just before dark. Once out from under the tree canopy
there seemed sufficient light to wait an hour or so, have something to
eat and drink and bandage a few cuts and scrapes. Then, as dusk
descended, strap a D-cell Maglite to my bow, fill my pockets with spare
flashlights and my boat with food and drink and head back upriver.

I hadn't gone ¼ mile when the first of the lost brigade appeared.
Thank goodness, because I really wasn't looking forward to going back
over those damn strainers heading upstream, especially knowing that
I'd have to cross them a third time going back downstream.

And I was determined to finish the trip going back downstream. Damned
if I was going to be part of another tale of bivouacking in the swamp
above Porters Crossing.

Oh yeah, it has happened more than once:

http://www.bluemountainoutfitters.ne...es/kris_02.htm

and

http://tinyurl.com/esy3l

So, five strainers, eh?

Ok, I'll grant that the water was very, very low; so a lot of the
stuff that hung us up would have been passable at higher flows. And
some of the strainers had been cut out but subsequently floated free
during higher water, traveling downstream to form new strainers.

But I know the folks at the Pocomoke River Canoe Company read these
trip reports, and I had mentioned to them how much we enjoyed last
years epic trip, and how we probably wouldn't have done it without
their "five strainer" encouragement.

I think maybe they just know what makes for a memorable Duckhead Trip.
Thanks Brad, we wouldn't have done it without that "5 strainer"
report.

2005 trip:
http://www.paddling.net/places/showReport.html?1189

2004 trip:
http://www.paddling.net/places/showReport.html?912

2003 trip:
http://www.paddling.net/places/showReport.html?707

I hereby propose that next year we tackle something really difficult;
the Nassawango below Old Furnace, Dividing Creek from the Fleming Rd
bridge or the Pocomoke above Whiton. Purnell to Whiton anyone?

I'll be all healed up by then.

Vitas' Photos:
http://wobey.net/paddle/PokomokeAgus...ngo/index.html

Mike's Photos:
http://community.webshots.com/album/553241829lgVZhT

wrote:
Another fun to read trip report!

Hey Mike, "a half hour to paddle the first fifty
feet" isn't what I would call a "paddle" any more.

What is that sea kayaker in this picture doing with the rainbow coloured
umbrella? Sailing?
http://wobey.net/paddle/PokomokeAgus.../IMGP1190.html

Oh, and what's with the spam in all those pictures?

BTW: What's this contrast in expression, with both ladies smiling, and
then that less than happy look next to them? :-)
http://community.webshots.com/photo/...94614283nHZKJq


The description of the boof and decapitation combo reminds me of a trip
a while ago on a tiny strainer infested Czech stream:
http://kayaker/luznice1.jpg

Trying to boof this, Martin flipped backwards and drifted under the
strainer upside down, going for a swim:
http://kayaker.nl/m-swim.jpg



--
Wilko van den Bergh wilkoa t)dse(d o tnl
Eindhoven The Netherlands Europe
---Look at the possibilities, don't worry about the limitations.---
http://kayaker.nl/

Wilko wrote:

Oh, and what's with the spam in all those pictures?

About the Spam can -

I've begun selecting some small iconic item to accompany us on the
year's trips, to be photographed with the year's paddling partners
in every venue and situation. At year's end the photos of the iconic
item are assembled into a giant photo collage for the Duckhead award
ceremony.

This year that item is a can of Spam.

Last year a Budweiser can accompany me on 50+ trips and was
photographed with something like 170 different paddlers. Bud was also
posed for a number of bizarre, outlandish or twisted photo
opportunities. Like so:

http://community.webshots.com/photo/...43393545BoqYmu

The unintended consequence of carrying the icon on every trip is that I
am almost guaranteed to take a few photographs (previously I would haul
a 35mm Nikon on every trip and often not take it out of the case).

wrote:

http://community.webshots.com/photo/...43393545BoqYmu

That's really a case of morbid humour! :-D

The unintended consequence of carrying the icon on every trip is that I
am almost guaranteed to take a few photographs (previously I would haul
a 35mm Nikon on every trip and often not take it out of the case).

Yeah, that sounds very familiar! I have managed to get past that stage
only because I started wearing my (waterproof 35mm) Pentax WR105 on the
outside of my PFD.


--
Wilko van den Bergh wilkoa t)dse(d o tnl
Eindhoven The Netherlands Europe
---Look at the possibilities, don't worry about the limitations.---
http://kayaker.nl/

wrote in news:1156503612.201707.265390
@m79g2000cwm.googlegroups.com:


Wilko wrote:

Oh, and what's with the spam in all those pictures?

About the Spam can -

I've begun selecting some small iconic item to accompany us on the
year's trips, to be photographed with the year's paddling partners
in every venue and situation. At year's end the photos of the iconic
item are assembled into a giant photo collage for the Duckhead award
ceremony.

This year that item is a can of Spam.

On the paddling trip that pretty much got me thinking about buying my first
kayak everyone on the trip got a rubber duck. That duck has made a few
other trips as well. Consider one for next year...it would seem appropriate
for the group you paddle with.


Last year a Budweiser can accompany me on 50+ trips and was
photographed with something like 170 different paddlers. Bud was also
posed for a number of bizarre, outlandish or twisted photo
opportunities. Like so:

http://community.webshots.com/photo/...43393545BoqYmu


That's the ugliest dog I've every seen.

wrote:
Last year a Budweiser can accompany me on 50+ trips and was
photographed with something like 170 different paddlers. Bud was also
posed for a number of bizarre, outlandish or twisted photo
opportunities. Like so:

http://community.webshots.com/photo/...43393545BoqYmu

At least you didn't drink the swill. I'd worry about you if I thought
you were drinking Bud, Mike.

Steve
--
Steve Cramer
Athens, GA

Steve Cramer wrote:

At least you didn't drink the swill. I'd worry about you if I thought
you were drinking Bud, Mike.

Steve

My abhorrence of all things Anheuser-Busch is a standing joke among the
folks I paddle with, and I think Budweiser in particular is one of the
foulest beers in the world.

That being known I am of course teasingly offer Bud's on a regular
basis:

http://community.webshots.com/photo/...43393545eFkpNL

I didn't say I was too proud to drink one, especially if it was ice
cold and it had been a long day on the river. Given the right
circumstances it's almost like drinking a beer.

For me, there's nothing like a good beer. And for me, Bud is nothing
like a good beer. I will turn one down in favor of water. Diet Coke even.

Steve

wrote:
Steve Cramer wrote:

At least you didn't drink the swill. I'd worry about you if I thought
you were drinking Bud, Mike.

Steve

My abhorrence of all things Anheuser-Busch is a standing joke among the
folks I paddle with, and I think Budweiser in particular is one of the
foulest beers in the world.

That being known I am of course teasingly offer Bud's on a regular
basis:

http://community.webshots.com/photo/...43393545eFkpNL

I didn't say I was too proud to drink one, especially if it was ice
cold and it had been a long day on the river. Given the right
circumstances it's almost like drinking a beer.



--
Steve Cramer
Athens, GA

Steve,

Here is Bud's backstory. I still have Bud and plan to slip him back
into the same friend's cooler from whence he came 2 years ago.

Paddles With My Bud

Unpacking gear from Raystown last October I discovered that my
seldom-seen paddling pal Doug Doremus had gifted me with a Budweiser
hidden away in one of my boots.

What a guy. What a gift. What, a beer?

Yes, what a beer; a beer made with rice, the beer that launched a
thousand terrible headaches, a beer that makes you want to kiss the
cat's ass to get the taste out of your mouth after just one sip.

What was I to do with such a treasure? Perhaps keep it with me always.
Or at least for the next year.

And so, like the traveling garden gnomes of a bygone era, Bud began his
yearlong odyssey. Between October 2004 and October 2005 Bud traveled
far and wide on paddling trips. From Florida to Pennsylvania, Bud has
made his way through a 12-month journey on thirty-two paddling trips in
five States with 121 companions.

Bud had many adventures, from being stuffed up a dead pony's ass to
nestling between a tattooed floozy's tits ("Truth" and
"Honesty"), bobbing amidst floating horse****, cozying up with a
dead raccoon, riding Greek tortoises, participating in several boat
reviews, a magazine photo shoot, racing in the Wye Island Regatta and
attended a Hollingsworth family reunion. Bud concluded his grand
adventure nuzzled between the welcoming thighs of a sweet young
paddling babe. (Note: there are photographs of Bud in all of these
situations and positions)

In short, Bud had a far better paddling year than Doug.

It has been a fun and adventurous year for Bud, but he is ready to go
home at last, to take his rightful place amongst the other ****ty
domestic beers in Doug's refrigerator.

Godspeed Bud, and don't forget - you are freshness dated.