The fifth morning threatened rain again. I packed up a wet tent, glad to be wearing a drysuit that was impervious to the weather.  (I wore a drysuit for paddling during the whole trip, as a measure of safety while kayaking in cold water. I brought a whole bag of other gear, but I needn't have bothered.)

My plan was to paddle to Parker Island for lunch, check out the campsite there, then keep going through Little Letite Passage and around McMaster Island (sometimes called Macs Island on charts) to the campsite there. The blue route shows that things didn't quite go as planned.



I assumed that the strongest current was at the mouth of the harbor where much water had to come and go, and that I'd have easy paddling back among all these clustered islands. Bay of Fundy, I have kayaked your worst waters and I call your bluff!

Ha. Bay of Fundy was holding a royal flush, the flush of the water hurrying toward Passamaquoddy Bay. And all of it headed in the direction of the two ferries that run from the mainland to Deer Island. It was like trying to cross a rushing river in a sea kayak while rhinos charged. I struggled from island to island. I worked my way to the ferry landing and waited there until a ferry departed, giving me lots of time to get past (this was a little silly, but I needed the break anyway).





Here is the approach to Little Letite Passage. This is one of the locations that Bruce had warned me about. He said at peak it would run about 5 knots, but that if I hit it at slack I'd have no problem. Of course, I'd arrived at peak. It was cranking. I pulled over to the side to consider, and to warm up with a snack. There was a fierce north wind blowing out through the passage from Passamoquoddy, spitting a cold rain in my face.

I listened to the sound of the water blasting through the passage, unable to see what it did after it got through. I considered the days I've spent sea kayaking at Cohasset rip and Little Harbor and Woods Hole. This looked pretty puny in comparison. I decided to just go.

It was a non-event. I pulled into an eddy next to Pendleton and looked across to McMaster and the bay. There was an angry line of wind-chop whitecaps all across the bay entrance. Ugly. Cold north wind. Rain. I could not think of a single good reason to keep going that way. I turned around to go back.

Hmm.... might have to wait a few hours for the tide to turn....

Just then I watched as a seal worked his way past me and up through the rapids against the current. He got out. I consulted with Dora. I'd done many an attain on a whitewater river. Did Dora want to try it here?

She did! We blasted out of the eddy and into the current, pulled hard for a few minutes, and we were out.



Internet access! for the seals?

Again the porpoise taunted me. Again, no photo:



I paddled over to Letite Passage, no slacker itself in the current game, and dropped through there to have a look at the McMaster Island site. I could not for the life of me find a camping spot in the cove that Bruce had pointed out on the chart. By that time the tide was turning, the current already ripping and snapping in the outgoing direction, and I decided to go with it back to Parker Island.



Parker's beach was huge. This image is still a few hours before full ebb. You can see Dora way up top there, looking tiny in comparison.



Beginning a hike around Parkers. There is a small freshwater stream here along the path, the only one I found on any of the islands.



Here is my cooking setup on the beach. It's pretty minimal: stove, pot with lid, fuel, bandana potholder, matches.



Here's the stove itself, which I made out of catfood tins and aluminum foil and some wire mesh. I used this setup on my Mingan trip, and was happy with it again on this trip. I'm not much of a camp cook, not like Mark who creates amazing meals. All I need is to boil and simmer water. This little stove, which fits inside the pot for storage, fits the bill admirably.

Tonight's meal - Trader Joe's Mediterranean Pasta Salad with Feta, plus some added dehydrated veggies - was outstanding.



I considered my options from here. I'd explored most everything that I'd wanted to see. I could go all the way back to the mouth of the harbor the next day and hope for a whale encounter - but the tides were not favorable for such a trip, and I'd be back to Casco Island to camp. Or I could deedle along heading back to Northwest Harbor and call it a trip, getting home Saturday night and having time to dry gear and wash clothes and reconnect with Mark on Sunday before charging back to work on Monday.

I decided to call it a trip.


 

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