A backyard of delights on, by, or in the water
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 A raft full of whitewater enthusiasts blast through a "hole" on the Millers River. (Globe photo / Mark Wilson)  More on New England Paddling at L.L. Bean Kite surfing in New England White water surprises
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Canoeing |
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Two years ago, on a backpacking trip in the Mojave Desert, I found myself experiencing far more difficulty than I had expected. I had trained rigorously for this 36-mile, three-day outing across sands that had been barely touched by civilization. Yet, with each step I felt as if I were trudging in wet cement, and our final destination on the horizon seemed so far it might as well have been in another galaxy.
Other hikers, from the Southwest and Middle America, seemed relatively refreshed. Then it dawned on me: I was craving water.
Not water for my parched mouth; I was getting plenty of that through my CamelBak plastic pouch. No, I mean water for viewing. We Bostonians take for granted those ubiquitous bodies of blue we pass every day: Jamaica Pond, Brookline Reservoir, the Charles River, Boston Harbor, and, of course, the Atlantic Ocean. Take those away and we're like my 6-year-old without SpongeBob SquarePants. We contemplate throwing a tantrum.
No need to be downcast this spring and summer. Because of excessive snowfall this winter, New Englanders are blessed with more water in our backyard than we've had in years.
"Compared to last spring, where we encountered drought conditions, this May proves to be one of our best yet," says Bruce Lessels, co-owner of Zoar Outdoor, a rafting outfitter in Charlemont.
Many of the white-water rivers, such as the Deerfield that Zoar Outdoor runs, gain their momentum from dam releases at power plants. The more water these plants have in their reservoirs from snow and rain, the more water you have for surging over rapids. On the Penobscot River in Maine, expect shrieks on those adrenaline-pumping drops like Cribworks to be more piercing than ever. The Penobscot run, on the outskirts of Baxter State Park, is an exhilarating blur of zipping over steep falls as your raft bends, twists, and turns backward with every successive drop. Serenity seeps in during the afternoon hours with views of mighty Mount Katahdin in the distance.
Maine's rivers, even without white water, have attained near-celebrity status from paddlers nationwide. Mention the Allagash and St. John rivers to canoeists, and their eyes suddenly become moist and dreamy as they inevitably respond, "Yeah, I'd like to go there someday." Perhaps it's the way the blue streaks of water slip off the map of America's Northern fringes, remote and isolated, hundreds of miles from the nearest metropolis. The 92-mile Allagash Wilderness Waterway lures 10,000-plus paddlers to its shores every summer for a chance to snake through the coniferous forest, dodging submerged boulders.
"This year, come late August, the river won't be as dry and bony as usual," says Alexandra Conover, co-owner of North Woods Ways, which guides canoe trips on many of Maine's classic rivers.
Then there is Maine's 2,500-mile stretch of rugged coast, tailor-made for sailing. No other sport gives you the freedom to anchor in a pristine cove, hike on an untrammeled island, and sleep with seals by your window. Even if you lack the experience to charter a sailboat, try the next best thing: a windjammer. These two- and three-masted schooners from yesteryear offer trips to the Penobscot Bay islands and Frenchman Bay, fringing the shores of Acadia National Park on Mount Desert Island. One of the finest ways to see the park's Cadillac Mountain in the summer is from the Atlantic, far from the congested roadways.
If you want to learn how to sail, try Rhode Island's renowned cruising ground, Narragansett Bay. The prevailing wind here is the "smoky sou'wester," the same breeze that drew the America's Cup to Newport for more than 50 years until the Australians took it away in 1983. Almost without exception, calm sunny mornings are followed by windy afternoons with the onshore breeze arriving between noon and 1 p.m.
Sea kayakers also have the unique opportunity to see pristine landscape at a relaxed pace far from the masses, one reason it is the second-fastest-growing sport in America behind snowboarding. From Portsmouth Harbor in New Hampshire, you can go on a guided tour of the Isle of Shoals, nine islands that were once home to writers, poets, painters, and pirates. In Connecticut, the picturesque harbor of Stony Creek is the gateway to a group of 32 inhabited islands known as the Thimble Islands. An apt name, as some of these islands are just large enough to hold one house, as if the islands were nothing more than houseboats at their moorings.
Closer to home, novices can try the sport on the North Shore alongside Parker River National Wildlife Refuge. You will share the day with herons, egrets, and black-bellied plovers, earning the pleasure of indulging on lobster and steamers at Woodman's of Essex afterward.
Canoeists, too, need not travel to Maine for a quiet morning of paddling. Snaking through the largest wildlife sanctuary in the Massachusetts Audubon Society, the Ipswich River is a birder's delight. Foote Brothers Canoe Rentals will drive you to the Salem Road put-in to begin a 7-mile paddle back to the rental outpost. The Ipswich is one of those narrow, serpentine rivers that was seemingly designed for canoes. Snowy egrets usually stand tall in the marsh as the iridescent blue-green heads of the common grackle are seen searching for food on the banks.
Likewise, anglers don't have to venture far from home to hook striped bass, found all along the New England coast. Stripers have voracious appetites, grow to more than 50 pounds, and fight like champions. Starting in mid-May, they arrive along the Long Island Sound from their winter home near Chesapeake Bay. These early arrivals are a bit on the small side, weighing about five pounds. The bigger stripers prefer 54-degree water and arrive in force by late June, looking to fill their bellies with schools of herring, sand eels, cinder worms, and, yes, artificial flies. Favorite surfcasting locales in the Bay State include the rocks overlooking Plymouth Harbor, Coast Guard Beach on the Cape, the rip off Wasque Point on the Vineyard, and Sankaty Head in Nantucket.
Lastly, water seekers shouldn't forget the largest US fresh-water lake after the Great Lakes. Lake Champlain, 120 miles long and 12 miles wide, has been a thoroughfare from the St. Lawrence Seaway to Champlain Canal and the Hudson River for hundreds of years. Battles were fought on the lake during the French and Indian War, Revolutionary War, and War of 1812 over control of this navigational stronghold. In the mid- to late 19th century, commercial vessels replaced gunboats. Many of these military and merchant ships never made it out of the water, sinking to the deep, dark bottom from the power of the cannonball or temperamental weather.
These vessels' misfortunes are the scuba diver's fortune. Indeed, the cool waters of the lake contain one of the finest collections of wooden shipwrecks in North America. Two hundred wrecks have been discovered, and that number could rise dramatically in the next decade when a complete inventory will be made. So far, the list includes the 54-foot Revolutionary War boat Philadelphia, pulled from the waters in 1935 to sit in the Smithsonian Institution. The Waterfront Diving Center in Burlington, Vt., takes certified divers out to see several of the wrecks, like the General Butler, an 88-foot commercial vessel that sank on Dec. 9, 1876.
As for Mojave, I have been back to see it again -- from 35,000 feet, as I happily gazed out of an airplane window on my way to Los Angeles -- and the water.
Newton-based writer Steve Jermanok is the author of "New England Seacoast Adventures" and "Frommer's Great Outdoor Guide to Vermont & New Hampshire."
