The String Leading to Heaven

June 23-27 2013

I know a guy named Dan Carr who is on the MITA Board of Directors.   He invited me to join him and a friend, Bill Wertz, on a paddle out of Jonesport.   I'd already paddled west/south from Jonesport, as had Dan and Bill, so we decided to head east/north this time.   They were already up in Jonesport doing a MITA cleanup on the 21st/22nd of June.

There was a book event at the Harvard Book Store in the 21st.   I chose that date, as it was the summer solstice.   The next day, geared up, I drove to Jonesport, where I met Dan and Bill.  I think originally we'd planned on camping on one of the islands that night near Great Waas, but I was late getting there, so we decided to grab some food at a restaurant, and hung out at the local campground for a Sunday morning departure.

Now, the trail guides come with a warning sign about the currents in those parts.   Things start to pick up as you move further downeast and approach the Bay of Fundy.    Part of the fun/challenge of that area is figuring the tides. 

We left Jonesport on Sunday AM with the flood tide, crossed over from the mainland into the Rogue Archipelago.   The water was flat as a mirror, and you really couldn't tell that there was any current there.    It was a bit overcast with some drizzles.   

Route from Jonesport out to Machias Bay, Cross Island and return. 

Halifax Island - break time. 

That stretch of coast is truly amazing - you have these distant islands, and your whole sense of size and perspective gets messed up.   Two mile crossings are pretty much the norm.   We worked along the north side of the south islands in the archipelago, stopping at one MITA island for a nice view out to the Brothers, then did a two mile crossing to another, where we camped.   We completed the 12.8 miles by noon and just put up our tents and explored.  

I don't know how many Ram Islands there are along the Maine coast, but I reckon the number is large.  Has anyone counted how many there are?   In any case, true-to-form, there were rams on the island:  a small flock followed us around the island, keeping a wary watch.

We walked over to the south end of the island, over some rocks.   Then, we saw the oddest thing:  there was a string, hooked on a piece of rock, but it had tension on it.   At first, we thought it extended to a nearby hillock, but it was actually leading up into the sky!   We tugged on it, and there was some give or tension to it,   But what on earth could it be?   A weather balloon?   A kite?  I started to pull on it.

I hauled in the string for about 10 minutes, with a big wad accumulating in my lap. Finally we saw a kite emerging from the fog and clouds.   Strange.  How did it get there?   An accident?   On purpose?  I tried to let the kite back out as best I could, but I'd snarled the line, and it ultimately snapped.   Oh well...

A strange string that led up high into the clouds.

Ram Island at low tide, looking north. 

Rams (and other sheep) on Ram Island. 

The next day (Monday), we paddled up into Machias Bay.   The Bay is lined with acqua-culture pens, much of which was vacant.  We crossed over to the east side of the Bay to Hog Island, where there are some native american petroglyphs.   It was fun hunting them down and trying to figure out what they were.  We had some lunch and shoved off.   

Acqua culture pens on the east side of Machias Bay.

American Indian rock carvings on Hog Island.

Cutler Peninsula forms the easter border of Machias Bay.   On the Peninsula is a huge array of antennas.   These create very low frequency radio waves, which can get ducted under the ocean and communicate with submarines over large distances out to sea.   I remember having an electromagnetism problem about calculating the wave lengths needed to communicate with submarines, but this was an interesting visual manifestation of the numbers I crunched in graduate school. 

Very low frequency (VLF) array used to communicate with submarines on Cutler Peninsula.  Dan in foreground. 

We were heading to Cross Island.   In the channel between Cross and Cutler Peninsula, there was a reasonably swift current.   There was a full moon on Sunday, and the age of the tide was such that the biggest tides were on Tuesday.   With the full moon on a perigee, the tides were about 2 feet higher above MHHW (mean highest high water - US chart datum) and 2 feet lower than MLLW (mean lowest low water), but still not astronomically large - still big, and big currents.  We were crossing on the ebb, so we had some pushing against the current to do - not bad, mind you, but pretty noticeable.

The landing on cross is on a gravel beach. This was a 14 mile day, mostly spent in exploring Machias Bay.  The tent sites on cross are near a house that was originally used by the Coast Guard, about a quarter of a mile from the landing. The house and surroundings were bought up by Outward Bound, who ran a dory school there for a number of years, mostly in the 1990's, but the use petered out, and it was abandoned roughly around 2005.

Old Coast Guard house on Cutler Island, also used by Outward Bound.

Despite it being abandoned, the house was holding up well.  We wandered around, seeing all sorts of artifacts from the Outward Bound days.   In one room, there was a rather elaborate setup of candles and old coffee cans that illuminated what was obviously a main bedroom.   In another room was some paper on the wall that listed the wild animal sightings on  Cross.    You could tell from the number of sightings per year that the number of human inhabitants dwindled into the 2000's, finally petering out with the last hominids departing around 2005 or so.  

On the dining room table, there was a sign-in log for visitors.  In addition to that, there were a large number of photographs that clearly dated from the outward bound era.   Many of these were taken on site, but a number were taken out on sailboats and motorboats.    

Some of the photos left in the house from the Outward Bound era. 

One aspect of the Outward Bound program was a kind of vision quest, where the campers were put in an isolated spot and expected to hang out there, undisturbed, for three days.    

Among the photographs was a postcard, dated from 1993, written to one Dakota Mulheren.   For some reason, the scientist in me (or detective) read the postcard and wondered what the 'story' was behind it. The postmark was from Rumson New Jersey, and was clearly written from Dakota's mother.   On the card, the mother wrote about plans for Dakota's upcoming freshman year at a boarding school, a selection of three books that she'd purchased for English 1, and the courses she was pursuing.   At the end of the card was the sentence,  "Nora's testimony at the trial went well, I think.   Love, Mom."  

I wondered to myself - 'who is Dakota Mulheren'?   What became of her?   Did the Outward Bound experience have any effect on her life?

OK, well, this might be scary, but it indicates how much you can find out about someone over the internet.   Here's the back-story.    It turns out that Dakota was a daughter of a John Mulheren.  This name may not ring any bells, but he was a protege of Ivan Boesky's (aka Ivan the Terrible).   John was a managing director at Merrill Lynch at age 25, and then became CEO of Bear Wagner Specialists.  He was implicated in a number of insider trading scandals dating from the late 1980's, and also suffered from bipolar disorder.   

According to John's New York Time obituary, he was arrested on weapons charges and threatening Ivan Boesky's life in 1988.   The charges were dropped. His defense was that he failed to take his lithium.   John died of a heart attack in 2003.   Bruce Springsteen played at his funeral.   

He was quite a philanthropist, and it seemed that he suffered mightily from his condition.   His wife, Nancy, later founded Shore House, which is dedicated to helping people with mental illness.   

What about Dakota?   I suppose her mom, Nancy, was trying to help out Dakota by putting some distance between her and the tumult of John's life by sending her to Outward Bound and the boarding school.   Nora is Dakota's sister.   I don't know what the trial was about, but perhaps it arose out of some manifestation of John's struggles.   

Dakota married a guy named Donnie Woodham who runs Rumson Wine and Spirits.   Evidently they have a son, and they appear to be living a good life.   It doesn't seem that she's the Outward Bound type, but everyone's got to find their own comfort zone.   

So, that's the story behind the postcard. 

Dakota Woodham (nee' Mulheren) at a charity gig with husband Donnie. 

Now, our timing on Cross Island wasn't perfect, as we seemed to have hit a mosquito hatch.  We had dinner and made our way down to the shoreline to escape the bugs.   The sunset over Machias Bay was spectacular.  

 

Sunset over Machias Bay from Cross Island.

On Tuesday, we wanted to wait on the tide so that we could paddle from Cross back toward Ram around slack water.   This meant we had to wait until mid-morning.    We hiked over some trails to the south side of Cross.   The interior is a fairy-land of green, covered in moss.   I assume that the wet air and fog bathes Cross, dropping a lot of moisture.   As it was, it looked like a rain-forest.  

Interior of Cross Island. 

The southern coast of Cross Island is a spectacular set of cliffs dropping a hundred feet into the water.   I would consider this the beginning of the Bold Coast - the coast of Maine from Machiasport to Lubec, where there are strong tidal currents, steep cliffs and few places to land. 

A view of the south coast of Cross Island.


Launching from Cross Island.   Bill and Dan in the photo. 

After our hike on Cross, we loaded up.  The plan was to make an outer crossing of Machias Bay, going from Cross Island to Ram.  We used the Libby Islands as an intermediate point.   We were trying to time it so that we missed the bulk of the ebb tide.   As we approached Libby, however, the wind picked up - gusts maybe to 20 kts - not horrible, but we'd been paddling about 6-7 NM by that time, so we decided to take a break in the lee of Big Libby.   When we came out around the north side of Big Libby, the wind had subsided a bit, but we were now in the thick of the ebb against the wind.   

Now, this was an interesting lesson for me.   Dan has a lot of experience from white water paddling, and I later got a great bit of advice from him.   As it was the waves and wind against the current was sloppy for me - the waves seemed to be hitting at random angles, and I was frustrated that I was executing more steering strokes than forward strokes - just kind of slopping around.   It was a roller coaster for sure, but I wanted to be more in control.    We got back to Ram, after that 2 mile crossing from the LIbbys. 

There was a huge thunderstorm that passed to our north and hit Calais, but missed us.   The array of lights on the VLF towers on Cutler blinked on and off - a strange grid in the distance. 

On Wednesday, we started back, but in the morning, we were dealing with a flood tide. the wind had shifted around to the NE, so again it was wind against tide.   The crossing over to the Rogue archipelago was relatively uneventful, but when we hit the archipelago, each island intensified the wind-against-current effect.   First there was Halifax.   In the crossings, I felt the same sloppiness where I had to execute too many steering strokes for my taste.   Then, Dan taught me a great trick, which I suppose many of you already know.  I was previously trying to do a point-to-point paddle, but was getting sloppy quartering seas.  If you just surf the waves, you can effectively set up a ferry angle.    When you do this, you're using gravity to fight the current.   Well, I was off to the friggin races with this one - I was surfing, and basically had to execute far fewer steering strokes, just the occasional stern rudder with some edging to stay on the wave.   I was having a blast.   I wish I'd known about this earlier, but I'm sure going to remember this in the future.     That was great!

We had a snack and then did a last crossing to the mainland and into Jonesport.   

We decided to shower up at an inn in Lubec, Cohills.   The guy behind the desk was named Glenn Charles, and had paddled the coast from Florida all the way up to Lubec and then just stopped in Lubec - go figure.   Anyway, he had some interesting stories about that paddle and the danger zones.  I suspected that the Outer Banks of North Carolina and the Cape Cod Canal would be two very hairy places to cross, and Glenn confirmed that to me.   Here's his website:

Glenn Charles's website

Thursday was mainly sightseeing, but also kind of a recon.   The tides on the Bold Coast from Machias/Cutler up to Lubec are monsterous, and there are mostly huge cliffs.    The tide race off Quoddy Head light was quite something.    We then drove around Cobbscook Bay to the reversing falls there, and caught them at max flood.   Geeze, what a sight - biggest reversing falls I've ever seen with huge boils, a large central whirlpool and a lot of huge waves.

Tide race off of Quoddy Head  

Wild orchids at Quoddy Head. 

Dan had paddled from Cutler around Quoddy and into Cobbscook a couple of years ago.   He said he was doing 9 knots with the tide at one point.   He also played a bit in the Cobbscook Falls - but they looked pretty awe inspiring.  I don't think I'd go near them in a boat until I do a bunch more white water work.   

Cobscook Reversing Falls

So, this was the true downeast experience.   Big tides, big currents, big coastline, few people.