15.7 miles to the Holyoke Rows community rowing facility https://www.holyokerows.org/
Those miles include the truck portage around the Holyoke Dam

I started the morning with a great conversation with Tarin about rocks. She teaches geology at a local college and I loved learning more about the local geology. Over a wonderful breakfast Tad told me about his job as an engineer in the manufacturing world. It was all so interesting. I was glad to learn more about these generous people.

They drove me back to the marina and helped me get Jenny to the water. The poor girl was swarming with small ants. Tarin and I did our best to get rid of as many as we could. I hoped the ones we did not get wouldn’t be crawling on my legs or biting me as I was paddling.

The motor boats were out again in full force. Even though it is a law that they do so, none of them slowed down as they passed by my kayak. I knew the situation was hopeless when one boat with the word “sheriff” on its side went whizzing by without slowing down. I just kept trying to enjoy the bouncing up and down rather than feeling angry or resentful.

I called Holyoke Gas and Electric to let them know what time I expected to be at Brunelles Marina from where they start the portage. By shortening my paddling stroke and shifting my body a bit I was able to paddle without too much pain. But when I arrived at the marina and saw the portage sign up the ramp by the road I was dismayed. I still did not feel I had it in me to lift Jenny onto her wheels. I was thrilled when just moments after I arrived I saw the truck from the power company pull in and back right down to where I was on the river. A beefy young man hefted Jenny onto the truck and I climbed into my “chariot” for the ride around the dam. He told me that one reason the portage was as long as it was, was because private property along the river prevented access in places.

I had lunch at the put in before setting off, wondering what I would find ahead. For much of the river in Massachusetts and Connecticut I was relying on paper maps I had gotten from the Connecticut River Conservancy https://www.ctriver.org/shop/ . The maps are produced by KM Digital Productions and make a point of saying they are “not to be used for navigational purposes.” Much of the information in them is geared towards motor boats and I tried to keep that in mind when notes for this next section read, “warning…the river drops 12 feet in 1.5 miles. The river is extremely shallow and rocky. Do not go into this area. Rocks, pipes, log cribs and steel debris are strewn in the river bottom.” The app I was using on my phone from the CT River Paddler’s Trail https://www.connecticutriverpaddlerstrail.org/crpt7/node/7842 said nothing about any of this.

I heard the moving water before I saw it. With the river running as shallow as it was I figured I would be okay. While I might be more prone to hitting something, I doubted it would be running with too much power behind it. As I bumped along in the rapids I kept reminding myself that I knew what I was doing and would be fine. Each time I made a move with Jenny that got me past some tricky rocks I felt a sense of accomplishment. When I got hung up on rocks I tried to take it in stride, even though the work it took to get my boat free was taking a toll on my hurt side muscle. I breathed a sigh of relief when I made it past the last of the rapids without any mishaps. I was grateful that Jenny had come into my life. She really was the perfect boat for a trip like this. She did not ride too low in the water, maneuvered as well as any heavily laden recreational boat could, and was tough enough to take some beating on the rocks.

I was grateful for the distraction from my pain that the river provided in the stretch below the rapids. I saw a bald eagle catch a fish and bring it to its nest. Then it dropped one fish on shore next to a juvenile eagle. The young one picked it up and tried to fly off. After dropping it twice the young eagle stayed grounded with the fish and began to tear into it.

Sooner than I expected I pulled into Holyoke Rows and met Stephanie Moore, the director and founder of Holyoke Rows. When I arrived Stephanie had a no wake motor pulled apart and was trying to get it working. She eventually succeeded.

Their mission at Holyoke Rows is to make “passive river recreation accessible to the entire community by eliminating the physical, financial and social barriers to participating in our programs.” This non-profit community organization has grown tremendously since its founding in 2000. Holyoke Rows is committed to strengthening the community and works to make their boathouse “a welcoming and safe place to experience personal growth and fulfillment, and to enjoy the Connecticut River.” It has programs for all ages and body abilities. Up until now I had only seen two people of color on the entire river. It was wonderful to see that Stephanie was making real inroads into changing this.

I welcomed Stephanie’s help in getting Jenny up the hill to the boathouse where I was invited to take a shower and use the facilities. I set my tent up on the lawn and was thrilled when an ice cream truck pulled into the parking lot nearby. I restrained myself and only purchased two ice cream bars. I wanted one of almost everything.

I spent a pleasant evening with Lou Max and Ralph. Max first came to Holyoke rows through the boys and girls club and now has a job there. I could see why Stephanie loved her job. These young men were such a pleasure and took me under their wing, feeding me dinner and making sure I had everything I needed. I was reminded that life is hard in a lot of places for a lot of people and I vowed to keep my struggles in perspective.

As I moved south I was again encountering mosquitoes. There had been enough up north that I thought about putting bug repellant on my butt before using an outhouse. But then they mostly disappeared. Now there were enough to be a nuisance in my tent. They would get in whenever I unzipped the door. As I fell asleep they would buzz around my head. At first I swatted at them but it was pretty hopeless. I finally decide to let them bite me knowing that once they drew all the blood they wanted they would leave me alone for the rest of the night. It worked and I ended up with fewer bites than I would have expected. My hurting side made it more difficult for me to sleep than the mosquitoes, but eventually I dozed off, grateful for the great company I had had and for another safe day on the river.