South Jersey Paddling & More

My wife, Nancy, and I headed to southern New Jersey the last week in September for some R&R. She, having grown up in north Jersey, was a beach-brat as a kid. I can count the amount of times I have touched salt water using only single digits. I'm a lousy swimmer and the thought of sitting around on the sand day-after-day or prowling the boardwalk night-after-night really didn't do much for me as a kid nor does it do too much for me now. But now I have a kayak, so I have something to do while Nancy does her things.

We checked into our hotel in Wildwood on a Sunday afternoon. It was three weeks after Labor Day, so it was more like "Mild"wood. A few families were still here for a late season getaway, but mostly it was dead except for the dozen or so buses filled senior citizen tour groups. OK, maybe not dead, but close enough. We arrived just in time for one roller coaster ride before that too closed for the season and managed to get some fries at Curly's before they too closed up shop. Thankfully there were twenty to thirty stores on the Boardwalk still open this late on a Sunday to make my "Wildwood '09" T-shirt buying needs quite uncomplicated!


We were actually staying about 100 feet from Wildwood. Our hotel was in Wildwood Crest which is not the same thing. Judging by the signs on the beach I get the feeling that the town fathers are people who have never had a day of fun in their whole lives.

Thankfully the sign didn't say anything about kayaks. (Although if it did I would have definitely put-in just to get a ticket.)

Monday was a non-kayaking day as well. This was recon day and I also wanted to take in some of the local flavor, so we headed down to Cape May, climbed up the lighthouse, and I got some info about the local kayaking opportunities from the nice ranger-lady at the park. She told me about some places in the estuary where I could see a lot of birds and would have nice easy paddle. Perfect! Just what I wanted. Although the ocean was only a few hundred yards across the street and over the sand, there was a small storm off the coast and the waves were still pretty strong. A leisurely paddle through the estuary looking at herons and egrets what just what I wanted. I also stopped in a bookstore in Cape May hoping to find a local paddling guidebook, but to no avail. All I found was a useful book on Sea Kayaking. I wasn't going to drop $30 on the book, but I did refresh my memory on some techniques while I paged through it.

It's always good to find a winery when scoping out
kayaking locations!

We browsed shop after shop in Cape May, which was surprisingly busy this late in the season. Purchases were made, Lunch was eaten, Skee-Ball was played, and we stopped by the Cape May Winery. I'm not a wine connoisseur by any means. I find most wines a wine-snob would prefer to be too dry for my palate. I'm a cheap, fruity wine kinda guy, and Nancy isn't a big wine drinker either, but the winery had some Concord and Riesling styles we enjoyed and found refreshing. I met one of the owners who happens to be the niece of a man who owns a bakery close to my hometown which is known for its boxed pizza. (That would be Senape's Pitza of Hazleton, PA fame....another story for another day.) On the way back to Wildwood we stopped by a kayak rental place suggested by the ranger-lady and I spoke to the woman there about launching my boat there the next day. She told me they would be closed on Tuesday but I could pay $5 now and sign the required release now and just show up whenever I wanted the next day. Good enough for me.

Tuesday morning came quickly and Nancy dropped me off at the launch while she headed off to a day spa for a manicure and pedicure. She would be back in three hours or so pick me up and we would get some lunch. Fair enough. I quickly unloaded the boat and got my gear together blissfully ready to hit the water. The woman at the launch had given me a map the day before and had drawn out some routes she suggested. I used that as reference material, but was determined to get somewhat lost in the marshes anyway. I marked the launch spot on my GPS just in case I really did get lost, but primarily kept the GPS on only so I could track my route and see how far I paddled.

Clam beds are easy to find in the marsh

I had to paddle over an open expanse of water for a few hundred yards to get to the grassy marshes. This was rather easy because the wind was at my back and I closed the distance from the launch to the first channel in no time. The sun was out, the sky was clear, it was warm for the last week of September as well and once I was in the channels and blocked from the wind by the high grasses I didn't need the windbreaker I was wearing. I also stashed my spray skirt. It proved to be unnecessary and I wanted easier access to my camera (which was stowed in a dry bag.) The water in the channels was a lot shallower than I expected it to be. I checked the depth several times with my paddle and mostly found it to be only two or three feet deep. The mud on the bottom no doubt was probably several feet thick, so dumping my kayak was still something I wanted to avoid. While there was exposed soil in a lot of places where the grasses were, it was mostly soft mud and home to hundreds of clams.

Great Egret wading along the shore

Some of the channels were narrow and the saw grasses and reeds brushed up against me as I paddled by, others were wide and allowed for a lot of leeway as cruised up and down them. Some led to other channels and some were dead-ends that forced me to backtrack. Eventually I made it back to the main channel. While wading birds and waterfowl were frequent sightings in the narrower channels, they were abundant in the main channel. Most of the species were unknown to me and I had to consult a bird guidebook after the trip. Great Egrets seemed to dominate the marshes. Much like their cousins, the Great Blue Herons, they are hard to get close to for great observation. Watching them wade through the water and then take flight as I came too close was still a very neat thing. I would try to steer clear of them much of the time because I get annoyed when someone bothers me while I'm eating, so I figured the egrets rightfully would be annoyed as well. In addition to the egrets and sandpipers I had some ducks fly-by several times, of course never when I had my camera ready, and I could only assume they were Black Ducks. I eventually paddled under the Garden State Parkway and took a look at the GPS to see how far I was away from the launch. I had been out for about two hours and was only a mile from where I started, however after checking the route noticed I had paddled close to three miles. These channels meander quite a bit so I calculated it would take me about an hour to get back to the launch site. I stopped a few times on the way back noting the human-constructed platforms where eagles had built nests and I stopped to view some more egrets. As the channel opened up I became exposed to the breeze blowing in from the ocean, so my paddling was now more laborious than it was on the way out, but I returned to the launch without event and about five minutes later my chauffeur/wife arrived, I loaded the boat, and we headed off to lunch.

The next day we biked around Wildwood in the morning and headed over to Stone Harbor for some shopping in early afternoon. The surf had calmed down from what it had been when we arrived. It was now Wednesday and I was determined to at least get out into the ocean at least once. It was late in the afternoon by the time I got my stuff together. I hadn't planned to stay out very long, but years of survival training had me in a paranoid mindset. I packed two quarts of water, a GPS, a flashlight with a strobe, and a few Clif bars into one dry bag and my cell phone and my MP3 player/FM radio into an other dry bag. I don't know what I was planning to use the MP3 player for. Possibly to have something to listen to while I ate a Clif bar as the Search & Rescue helicopter comes to pick me up after the tide washes me out to sea and if the batteries in the GPS go dead?

I drug my boat and all the gear across the wide spance of beach. Two hundred yards to the surf and I would be there. I put my gear in the kayak, pulled my spray skirt over my waist and secured my paddle leash to the boat. I sat in the kayak and began to fasten the spray skirt as the inbound waves surrounded the hull. I set the paddle across the cockpit and placed my hands on the sand, lifting the boat just a few inches while the surf came in again. Little by little I inched my way into the ocean, lifting and pushing towards the sea and then quickly grabbing the paddle to push out even further. This sequence repeated itself several times until I actually drew enough water to just be able to paddle. Things however don't quite go as I plan.

Most people, even if they aren't good swimmers, would scoff at being intimidated by a three-foot wave. For most adults a wave this size would come up to the hips. That same wave takes on an entire different look when you are sitting on the beach as opposed to wading in the surf. CRASH!

No sooner had I made it into water deep enough to not be stuck in the sand, then was I hit by a wave and quickly swamped by the salty water. Rolling the kayak really wasn't an option since I was only in water a foot deep and before I knew what had happened I was already being pushed onto the beach by the waves. I staggered undaunted out of the water pulling my boat behind me. After a few minutes to take stock of the situation (and allow the water to drain out of the boat) I readied myself for take #2.

With my boat pointed to the sea I entered the cockpit while the hull of the kayak was still safely on the sand. The water lapped at the bow as I secured the spray skirt yet again. Once snug, I slowly pushed my way towards the surf another time. Little by little I inched into the water quickly switching from pushing the kayak with my hands to paddling and then quickly switching back to pushing. This went on for a minute or so until I could get deep enough into the ocean so I could just paddle. Eventually I cleared the first set of breakers, then the trough, and then the second set of breakers. Phew! Fighting the waves was a chore. I seriously doubt that the people I've encountered who go to the beach once a year and tell me, "Oh, we kayak in the ocean all the time" actually do this. Most of them I've met can barely manage a kayak on flat water. My arms were beat and I paddle almost daily. Once I cleared the breakers I was elated and I turned my boat parallel to the coast and headed south.

My respite lasted all but a few minutes. I was able to paddle a few minutes before I started noting the rolling waves were getting larger and I was drifting closer to the shore. First a wave rolled harmlessly under me, then a second one, and then a third. Each time I seemed to rise and fall just a bit further than the last. This was starting to feel like the roller coaster from Sunday! I continued on, dropping and rising just a bit more. Then I peered out to the sea and noticed a very large wave rolling my way. Somehow I knew this sucker was going to get me. I thought it would roll over me, so prepared to get swamped. I positioned myself to roll with the wave and use my momentum to pop back up, but the wave broke right under me and instead of rolling to my right, I was tossed to my left and was no where close to being in a position to roll the kayak. Before I could get myself twisted around under the water, another wave pushed me closer to the beach. Rolling was no longer an option since my face was now in the sand. Time to unceremoniously wet-exit.

By now I was spent. Once again I dragged my butt and boat back to the beach.

Atlantic Ocean:2, Bill:0

Oh well....live and learn. The North Atlantic is no place for a 12.5 foot kayak and the Jersey shore is no place for a mountain boy.