Three Mile Reach to Chickahominy Riverfront Park, 19 miles
Broke camp in the pitch black this morning. On the water before 5:00 a.m., just in time to catch the outgoing tide. The water was almost glassy everything was so calm. In order to improve my chances of being seen, particularly from vessels approaching from the rear, I turned on my headlamp and pointed it behind me. By watching the lighted buoys and occasionally verifying their positions on the chart, I was able to stay out of the channel. Nautical charts give the characteristics of the lights in a code (“154” Fl R 4s ) which indicates the buoy number (154,not visible at night) but also the color it flashes (R=Red) and the interval of the flash (every 4 seconds). So by watching a light and counting the interval of the flash, you can identify the particular buoy that you are looking at. If you wanted to get very fancy, you could use your compass to shoot a bearing to two buoys within sight and identify your specific location on the chart. For my purposes, I mostly just wanted to be able to note the general direction of the channel and stay out of it.
With only faint ambient light from the moon sneaking through the cloud cover, I could feel the beginnings of what I imagine is motion sickness in the pit of my stomach. I tried to make myself concentrate on any fixed object whose form I could make out, i.e. the tree line on the shore nearby, and that seemed to help the feeling.
As I approached Weyanoke Point, I noticed ship lights ahead of me in the channel to my right side. Two white lights were visible marking the bow and stern of the vessel, which let me know that it was of a significant size. Smaller boats would have only the green and red side marker lights but larger vessels have the white bow and stern lights to allow others to get a feel for their length. Initially it appeared that the ship may be stopped perpendicular to the channel because of the orientation of the bow and stern lights. In retrospect, the captain was maneuvering for the sharp turn around the point.
I turned my headlamp around so that it was pointing in the direction of the ship, but not harming my night vision. Concerned about being seen, I should have hailed the ship by using the Marine VHF radio but it was in my day hatch, not in my PFD pocket where it should have been. It certainly appeared that there was ample distance between me and the ship, so even if I was not spotted I would be well out of the way by the time our paths met.
While watching the ship, I continued paddling and made it around the point and into a cut between the main channel where the ship was and a small island. The captain gave a short blast. At first I thought this was to acknowledge my presence, but later realized it was signaling his start around the point as any vessel moving quickly would have little time to avoid this large ship sitting across the channel. As I looked back toward the ship, it looked as if it was turning not around Weyanoke point but instead around the small island between us, which would have this large vessel essentially chasing me. At this point, my heart started racing. My head was saying that there is no way that big vessel is going to come into this shallow area between shore and island but I started paddling like hell for the island anyway. A minute later it was clear that the ship was indeed passing beyond the point, not the island but it certainly woke me the rest of the way up.
Despite the scare around the point, it was beautiful to paddle from darkness into dawn. As a young boy on car trips, my dad would tell me to listen for the “Crack of Dawn.” As I paddled I remembered those quiet early mornings on the road and watched the sky begin to brighten. The miles clicked off effortlessly as I paddled down Seven Mile Reach.
The chart noted in red a place called “Fort Pocahontas.” Most of the red markings were for marinas, grocery stores or tourist attractions and as I had never heard of Fort Pocahontas I was intrigued. There was a nice sandy beach, a small pier and benches on shore so I decided to pull in and see what was there. As I approached shore there were five dear near the landing that appeared curious about my kayak and then eased back into the woods. As on most of my rest breaks, I needed to relieve myself so I stepped to the edge of the beach area into the woods. Just as I started, there were two loud musket blasts from up the hill. My first thought was “dang, I hope public urination isn’t a shooting offense around here!”
I walked up the trail for several hundred yards but other than a sign with a vague history of Fort Pocahontas, there were no other clues to either the purpose of the Fort or the source of the musket blasts. A little internet research after the trip and it turns out there are ruins of Fort Walker which was originally a Confederate stronghold during the Civil War. The Fort was one of the last impediments to secure Union communication from the mouth of the river up to Grant’s headquarters at City Point in Hopewell. In May 1864 the Fort was taken by a Negro Union infantry regiment, a victory which improved the reputation of Negro units throughout the Union forces. After the battle, the fort was renamed Fort Pocahontas. The site is now privately owned by the descendants of President John Tyler who spent the last 20 years of his life, living at Sherwood Forest Plantation just upriver from the Fort. I’m sure the musket blasts were just some interpreters getting ready for the day’s visitors, but with no clear objective I decided to return to the beach and get back on the water.
The rest of the morning’s paddle down to the Chickahominy River went pretty well, but I could tell that fatigue was setting in after fewer hours each day. There were more gulls flying over the water than I had seen on previous days. Real evidence that I was trimming the miles between me and the ocean. The river opens up even more past the Chickahominy and I could sense the river changing again. Beyond this point the river is as much an inland bay as it is a flowing river. I snapped a couple pictures of a shipwreck off Dancing Point. It looks like it was a big sand pit operation at some point (perhaps even currently) and I imagined the ship was one that was hauling sand and ran aground.
Paddling past Sandy Point and Dancing Point, I followed the shoreline into the mouth of the Chickahominy. There is a beautiful property on the last major point before the Chickahominy joins – very oriental in design with a series of linked but independent buildings with light green roofs and interesting gardens. It was very different from most of the homes along the river, but to my eye one of the most beautiful of the James River “Plantations.” I became a little confused when I could not see the Route 5 bridge when I thought that I should be able to. Soon realized that I still had one more point of land to round before I should have a view of the bridge. With the tide still going out and therefore against me as I paddled up the Chickahominy, I had to push hard to make it past the bridge. I was really looking forward to a warm shower and a designated campground, but became concerned when I saw the new bridge being built right where the campground was marked on the chart. Since I had not confirmed site availability or even the campground’s existence, I became concerned that my plan for an afternoon of rest might be spoiled. After paddling past the bridge, I could still see the rental boats and ramp which seemed to indicate that the camp was still operational. About 10 a.m., I checked in and requested a spot I could paddle up to, which was available. In fact, there were almost no other camp sites occupied in the section I was in. My spot had an upper section near the camp road and also a beach area right on the river.
As I set up camp the sun was shining and this was my chance to dry out, rest and make a temporary repair to the split seam in the boat. I was hoping to do a load of laundry but air drying my gear and a hot shower for me were a good substitute. Six days into the trip and I still felt pretty good. After developing some pretty bad blisters on a three day test paddle, my hands were much better than expected with only one small blister and no joint pain. My feet had developed some sores on the tops of my toes after all the time in neoprene booties with wet wool socks. My camp shoes were soaked because of the leak into the day hatch, so no real relief from the wetness. I put some antibiotic gel on the toes and let them air dry thoroughly. My lower back and butt were starting to protest after more than an hour or two in the cockpit, probably understandable. The only muscles that really felt tight were my traps, the upper shoulder muscles near the neck.
I spent the day being lazy – walked to the camp store and bought junk food for lunch, dried out my gear, duct taped the crack at the seat/hull joint, just laid on the picnic table staring up at the sunny sky.
My repair kit included two part epoxy, but I decided to stick with duct tape to make permanent repairs easier after the trip. The rest felt wonderful and I knew that I would need it as Thursday was sure to be a long day: paddle to Jamestown in the morning, paddle around with Tom, Bryan, et al then be headed eastbound again before the high tide at 2:30pm. Charts showed approximately 22 nautical miles (25 statute miles: 1 NM = 1.15 SM) to the Ragged Island Wildlife Management Area where I planned to camp Thursday evening. My thoughts as I laid down Wednesday was that I would likely need to find an alternate camp, perhaps at Fort Boykin Park. Through the first six days I had paddled 117 miles and had another 65 to go. I had averaged 19.1 miles per day up to this point and needed to average almost 22 miles for days 7 to 9 in order to finish on Saturday. My thought of finishing early Saturday seemed to be fading. Regardless, being able to lay in my tent with the rain flap up so that I could see out and feeling well rested and dry after my afternoon on shore, I was feeling good and ready to bring the trip home. I was really looking forward to seeing friends and paddling around one of my favorite areas the next morning.
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