22.1 miles to Hurd State Park

It poured all night long. It was the kind of rain that gets into everything. My tent was doing a good job keeping most of the water out, but some dampness was seeping through. A few corners of my tent had let water in along the seams and some of my stuff was wetter than it had been on this whole trip.

I began packing up long before the sun rose. I wanted an early start as I hoped to catch the outgoing tide. Even in the pre-dawn hours I did not need to use my flashlight to see. It was horrifying for me to see that the sky never really got dark. There was so much light pollution in the area that dark night never really came. Sadly I had been noticing this for the past few nights. The loss of the ability to see stars in the night sky really saddens me. I encourage everyone to do their part to combat this by eliminating all-night lights on their homes. Motion detector ones are a better choice.

I mopped off my tent and wet gear, including one paper map which ended up sitting in a puddle. It was now in pieces but I was determined to save it. When I went to plug the battery pack into my phone I got a message saying “Moisture has been detected in the charging port.” “No kidding,” I thought. “Where is there NOT moisture this morning!”

Last night I had picked up a gallon of water that had been left for me by a river angel. After Tom and Vivian put the message out that I could use some help along the journey, I received a notice from someone who had been contacted by Tom’s daughter! Marylin had been in touch with me via email and offered to leave water along the way. I found a gallon jug with my name on it where she told me she had left it in the cove. I expected to pick up two more gallons later in the day. This would be more than enough to get me to Long Island Sound and the end of my journey.

There did not seem to be much current helping me paddle downriver. There was however a strong headwind pushing me upriver. I spent the morning pushing against that wind, feeling tiny and insignificant as the river and motor boats both grew in size. I thought of the tiny bugs making trails on the surface of the water and how insignificant I would feel if I were one of them. Yet I got pleasure out of the beautiful spirals and swirls they made as they raced around on top of the water. The day before I had been mesmerized by the way individual drops of rain had hit the water, causing drops from the river to bounce back up into the air. It had been magical to be surrounded by all of these bouncing drops of water and I thought of the importance of each one adding to the whole of the river. I tried to remember that if I could just keep being kind in the world it did not matter if I felt small and insignificant. I had to remember that I had friends to whom I mattered.

I pulled out at Rocky Hill Ferry Launch to pick up my next water cache which was waiting for me under a dock. I sent out thoughts of gratitude to all of the people who had offered to help me. I had had to turn down some of them because I had enough, but that did not make their offers any less important to me.

I met a man at the dock who was involved with the Connecticut River Paddlers Trail. I enjoyed chatting with him about the trip and ways to improve it for future paddlers. He told me the boats would continue to get larger. He also warned me that I could be in for some waves and wakes up to five feet high near the lighthouse. He assured me that I “did not have to go all the way to the light to be considered a source to sea paddler.” He then set off in his canoe to pull invasive weeds along the bank while I set off in my quest to reach Long Island Sound.

The river was really wide here and I tried to imagine being in five foot waves. At times I had a hard time deciding which way to go in this really wide river. I felt especially vulnerable as I neared Gildersleeve Island and found myself breathing a sigh of relief when I got south of it a ways. I had no particular reason to feel unnerved in that area, though I later learned that just a few days prior there had been a serious boating accident there in which one person was killed and seven others were injured. Knowing this now makes me glad I wore my bright orange bike vest over my life jacket while paddling the river. I don’t know what caused this particular accident, but I saw way too many boat drivers waving beer cans. I cringed at the number of kids on tubes being pulled at high speeds behind these boats. Sometimes I saw three or four people jammed onto one jet ski that was meant for two people at most.

There are a number of paddle-in camping spots provided by the Connecticut State Park system. Reservations are required and I tried numerous times to make them. I even had my friend Karen Deets try from home. She spent hours trying to make the reservations but often hit a wall. She had made some for me for the following night, but had been unable to book anything for the site at Hurd State Park even though it was listed as empty and available. I was surrounded by river banks full of thick vegetation that would have been difficult to walk through or camp in, especially since much of it included poison ivy. I decided I would see what the situation was at the Hurd State Park campsite and hope for the best.

I was surprised to paddle the 22 miles before three PM, especially since I had taken a few long breaks. I wondered if there had been some unseen effects of the outgoing tide helping me along, or if I was just getting faster and stronger in my paddling. My upper arms and ab muscles were certainly bigger than they had been before I started this journey.

I thought about paddling another nine miles to the next campsite but then decided against it. I was getting close to my end goal and was in no real hurry to finish. The incoming tide could make those miles harder and I was ready for a break. I could use the afternoon sun to dry out my damp gear.

I pulled Jenny onto the jetty that lined the river. There was no sign of anyone else camping at this camping spot. There was plenty of room for numerous tents so I felt comfortable calling it home for the night. I decided to pull Jenny even further up onto the land even though it meant hauling her across some rocks, through a muddy dip and then up a small embankment. I wanted to protect her from the crashing waves the wakes from large boats made when they smashed into the shore.

I unloaded my gear, spreading much of it out to dry in the sun. I again made a double dinner for myself, grateful for the people who had made this possible by feeding me along the way. I was able to eat more than I was able to carry in my boat, and like backpacking, had reached the point of near constant hunger. I was sitting on the ground eating my meal when an animal stuck its nose on my shoulder and nearly caused me to drop my dinner on the ground. I was relieved to see it was just a friendly dog walking through the area with a friendly man. We chatted for a while before he walked off and I headed to bed. I wanted to get an early start when the tide would be in my favor.