The Lost Islands Expedition
2005 - Expedition Report
An open water kayak expedition from Fairport to Summer Island, Poverty Island, Gull Island, St. Martin Island and Rock Island.
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"You're all right. If you go out there in those things and call them boats, you're all right."
- Third Generation Owner of the Fairport Fishery, when asked how much we owe him for parking.
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Typical of every Fortune Bay Expeditionary Team Open Water Kayak Expedition is the opening storm that always occurs on the first day before or during the launch. Pictured is the incoming storm that created two water spouts and 70 mph winds. (Although most happened a few miles west of us.) We waited it out. |
Expedition Leader's notes from Day One
We launched just as the water calmed to a surreal deadness. The black stillness you get only after a storm. Within minutes, the previous tail wind turned to a light head wind then began to pick up. We only had 6 miles to travel that day, but six miles on the open water can be a full day of exhausting work, and we were about to prove it.
The wind was really nothing at first, we could clip along at about 3 mph. We took a heading straight to Summer Island while keeping our eye on the more distant Poverty Island. To our right was Little Summer Island. As we were within a mile of Summer Island, the water suddenly turned to knee deep and progress slowed to about 1.5 mph (according to the GPS). Vic and his “lifesaving” inflatable powerboat had to break his pursuit of us and travel a few miles around Summer Island and wait for us on Poverty. He was gone, and that would prove to be a bad thing.
We stopped at Summer Island for a brief break. Then launched straight for the far corner of Poverty Island forever adrift in the churning expanse of open blue. Our route would take us a mile and a half from safe shore, but everyone was doing great. The winds were building to the forecasted 25 knots or 30 mph.
Let’s stop here
and see what these winds mean. According to the Beaufort Scale, We were in
a Beaufort Force 7. Which means (according to the scale) near gale. Wind Speed
25-33 knots. Wave height 13 ½ - 19 feet (open ocean), sea state is
described like this, “Sea heaps up; white foam from breaking waves begins
to be blown in streaks”
At first, it was fun. The kayaks would climb over the little four foot waves
and then the bow would drop with a loud slap on the windward side. According
to the GPS, our progress was still around 1-2 mph. But as the minutes clicked
on, the wind began to roar and a few rouge 5-6 footers heaved and climbed
in front of us.
The happy little celebrations soon stopped and we began constantly checking on each other. We were still together and doing well. At one point, we attempted to raft, but one of the new expeditioners wasn’t paying attention and we broker apart, causing the rest to abandoned any attempt at another rest stop. So we pushed on, because pushing on was our only choice. The waves were building.
We continued to paddle hard into the wind for an hour. Landmarks on the shore of Summer Island grew smaller but passed painfully slow. I noticed a blue object on the shore that seemed to pass very little over the next hour. Our progress slowed to less than a mile per hour and some were showing signs of fatigue.
Muskrat, who was the most experienced paddler, managed to catch my attention and yelled, “How do you think we’re doing?”
“I wish we were on shore, but we’re doing alright”, I replied, knowing full well that if someone lost it, a rescue would be extremely dangerous if not impossible. I ignored her, but I knew full well her thoughts. No need to worry, yet.
Then, as if God decided to remind me of his power, a huge rouge came upon me. I looked almost straight up at the crest of the wave. I watched my hatch cover climb higher and higher. I dug my paddle in with everything I had. Just as I crested the wave, another rogue struck my starboard bow. I whispered to myself, “Where the hell did that come from?!?”. The wave fully engaged my 16 foot kayak, which forces me to venture a guess that I had just climbed a 7-8 footer.
I looked at my GPS and we were 1.36 miles to shore. Our speed was somewhere between .1-.5 mph. Looking back, that could have met forward or backward. Looking around, I saw scattered kayakers with tired strokes, a shore that didn’t come closer, and an angry sea that was acting strange. More rogues hit from different directions. Understand that waves from one direction are easy; you just handle them, routinely. But when they start hitting you (unexpectedly) from different directions, that is just freaky.
As Muskrat and I paddled, Red Squirrel came between us and asked about taking a piss. Pretty strange request, maybe an attempt to get us to shore. I told him just to let it go. He mentioned that Government had a bottle. I interrupted him to say, “No, just let it go, we can clean it up later.”
I looked at my GPS, still 1.36 miles to go, man this sucks.
I notice Costello and Papa were talking. After about 5 minutes, Papa paddled up to me and said, “We’re going to have some dog tagged people today.” That was enough. After 4 hours, some of the crew (and therefore all of the crew) was at their end. Papa and I signaled to shore and everyone turned east and took the waves on the starboard beam. There was a weak protest from Government, but I think he understood the decision was final.
But, it wasn’t over with yet.
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 Underway |
 The Angry Sea |
 End of an exhausting day one with Costello and Red Squirrel |
 The next objective, Poverty Island |
 Day two, underway to Poverty Island |
 The Team in front of the Keepers House (except Pathfinder) |
 The lighthouse tower as seen from the base |
Click here for the Pre Expedition Planning information
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