return to section: Part 2: 220 Miles on a Stand-up Paddleboard
By Nicky Stimpson
October 29, 2021
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Sunday, August 29 - Day 3
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| Day 3: 31 miles. The Chesapeake Bay extends to the horizon to the south and west if you're paddling this course. |
When I woke up and looked at myself in the mirror in the tiny head of the sailboat, I looked rough! Bags under my eyes, and a very swollen bottom lip. Self-diagnosing via Google, I thought it might have been a reaction to jellyfish stings. I sent my nurse friend Jess the following message: “Morning! Can a jellyfish sting cause one's bottom lip to swell? ...asking for a friend.”
A flurry of anxious texts were exchanged. Ultimately we decided that the swollen lip was due to the sun, as the gang on the catamaran were seeing similar symptoms. The guys told me to rub some Benadryl cream on it and I calmed down.
Day 3 was a 27-mile paddle from Claiborne Landing to Taylors Island Campground. The day's route would take me past Poplar Island, Tilghman Island, and across the mouth of the Choptank River. We were moving slowly that morning (probably partly due to the swollen lip crisis) and I hastily ate a breakfast of a banana and a Larabar. We joined the other paddlers on the water just off the beach at Claiborne. Since I hadn’t seen the other paddlers since the previous morning it was a boost to be back with the group again.
As we made our way south along Poplar Island Chris joined the group of SUPs on his board and chatted with us as we got lucky again with the breeze behind us. The mouth of the Choptank measures about 7 miles across, and those without safety boats were urged to end the day at Knapps Narrows. Once we reached Knapps Narrows the guys took the boat to a marina for ice and provisions while I continued to the mouth of the Choptank.
I really hit my stride on Day 3. The fact that I was still standing after two hard days of paddling gave me confidence that I could do this. The weather that day went from overcast in the morning to sunny and clear by the afternoon. This made the water in the Choptank a lovely indigo color. On the CLC chase boat the guys worked hard...continuing their attempts at fishing. Whenever we discussed my route they would ask if I wanted the most protected course, or the most direct. Most of the time I preferred the most direct. As a result I paddled about 13 miles in open water as I crossed the Choptank and headed for the northwest shore of Taylors Island.
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| "I really hit my stride on Day 3. The fact that I was still standing after two hard days of paddling gave me confidence that I could do this." |
Around 3:00pm (my earliest day yet!) I arrived at Taylors Island Campground. The finish took me into a little canal with a humble array of docks. Most people at Taylors have their RVs set up for the summer with a great little camp store...and bunnies. Yes, bunnies. From what we could gather, someone's pet rabbit got loose. Now there is a colony (or “fluffle”) of bunnies that roam the campground. They emerge at 6pm to feed on whatever the campers have to offer them. It was hilarious watching these little guys hopping about.
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| "...There is a colony (or “fluffle”) of bunnies that roam the campground." |
After scrubbing off every ounce of sunscreen in a much-needed shower we made dinner aboard the Steiger chase boat. One-pot mac ‘n cheese was on the menu with a starter of charcuterie that Jay tied to a line to entice the crabs in the canal. At length he captured a greedy crab, nibbling sausage as it clawed at a second piece. As darkness fell I set up my string of solar lights over the paddleboards, which created a very festive atmosphere. The guys pitched their tents across the canal at the tent site and I snuggled into the tiny cabin of the Steiger Craft. Day 3 was complete and we felt celebratory.
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| "The guys pitched their tents across the canal at the tent site and I snuggled into the tiny cabin of the Steiger Craft. Day 3 was complete and we felt celebratory." |
Monday, August 30 - Day 4
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| 30 miles threading through wildlife-rich shallows of Hooper's Island. |
I’ll be honest: I started Day 4 feeling a little cocky. So much so that I decided to wear my fancy sun suit supplied by our generous friends at Waterlust. The sun suit is essentially a one-piece bathing suit with long sleeves. After strutting around the campground in my new suit and making sure Staub got ample photos, it was time to start Day 4: 29 miles from Taylors Island to Crocheron Wharf. I was able to cut off the last three miles and finish at the Karen Noonan Environmental Center. Crocheron was selected for its accessibility by car, which required paddlers to go an extra three miles north. Since I had the safety boat I could stop at Karen Noonan and return there the next day.
The morning started with calm water with a light breeze out of the west. I started the day with Regan and Jess. Regan is a good 20 years younger, but I still try to beat her at races. She is the most upbeat person you’ll ever meet so I was glad she was there to start my day. Jess, the nurse, was also there and she was now rocking the swollen lip look too. The team from the River Keepers advised us on the pronunciation of “Crocheron” (CROACH-er-ron) and “Hooper’s Island” (HUPP-ers Island). We'd been butchering it all summer.
After Jess and Regan switched out I was joined by Tilghman, another friend named Jess, Mark, and Regan’s Dad Kevin. That day we were due to paddle down the Honga River. We liked saying “Honga.” Honga this, Honga that. Word got out that Mark was getting sick of hearing the word Honga so I made sure to insert it into every sentence as we paddled together.
We reached the Honga River via Fishing Creek, which is at the southern tip of Taylors Island. Once I made it through the cut I took my first big break of the day. Chris was zooming around on his jet ski and we offered him a PB&J. It was really hard to not feel like little kids on a daytrip as we ate our PB&Js in the middle of nowhere.
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| "We reached the Honga River via Fishing Creek, which is at the southern tip of Taylors Island." |
After lunch I paddled solo down the Honga. Chris waxed poetically about the beauty of the Honga and how much he enjoyed paddling it the year before. (By now I did not want to hear the word “Honga” EVER again.) The side chop increased and it felt as if I was paddling on an incline. Not a perspective I had encountered before. The side chop was draining, and with 10 miles to go I was feeling sorry for myself. That’s when Staub decided to paddle with me on the other board. I was grateful to boss him around for 3 miles during his “lesson” and it definitely lightened the mood. Staub is awesome like that.
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| "The side chop was draining, and with 10 miles to go I was feeling sorry for myself." |
Once Staub was back on board the chase boat, the “sweep” of the group, Bryan Gomes, approached in his kayak. Bryan paddled along with Chris during last year’s Bay Paddle and was this year's “sweep,” meaning he brought up the rear of the group to make sure no one was left behind. Being a competitive racer I was not terribly excited to be caught by the “sweep” but it was nice to have some company. To keep me chugging along during the last few miles the guys fired up the portable speaker. I wasn’t sure if Bryan, a nature guide, would appreciate our blasting tunes from the boat. I knew everything was good when he started rapping along with the Beastie Boys. It was even funnier when he began to insert his own lyrics.
For the last mile it was Jay’s turn to join me on the other paddleboard. While I really appreciated the comradery, I left him to explore the grassy waters and wildlife of the Honga. I powered out the last few yards of my journey to say good riddance to the Honga.
It had been a loooong day and it was time to figure out how to get from Karen Noonan to our accommodations at the Roaring Point Campground. We motored about 7 miles (IMG_59) to the mouth of the Nanticoke River where we docked the boat at the campsite’s pier. We were all tired and grumpy. This resulted in a confrontation with Jay over the use of butter versus olive oil for making our quesadillas. Jay wanted to buy some butter at the camp store to help crisp up the tortillas. The 200-yard “trek” (IMG_60, 61) to the store felt insurmountable; we should just use the olive oil on board. I am happy to report that I was wrong and butter is definitely preferred when making quesadillas.
Once we started to make dinner, had a drink, and Staub spilled chopped roasted red peppers all over the deck of the chase boat, the mood lifted and we had a lovely dinner under a pink sky. That night I watched a distant thunderstorm from the shores of the Nanticoke as I fell asleep in my tent.
Tuesday, August 31 - Day 5
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| Day 5: 31 miles, past Smith Island (of the famous Smith Island Cakes) and Tangier Island. |
We ate breakfast on the dock after a good night’s sleep and motored back to the Karen Noonan Environmental Center. All talk was of Hurricane Ida, whose remains were charging up from the southwest. It was time to make a decision on our plans for the next couple of days.
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| "All talk was of Hurricane Ida, whose remains were charging up from the southwest. It was time to make a decision on our plans for the next couple of days." |
Once I was dropped back into the bay, Jay and Staub devised contingency plans as they poured over weather forecasts and maps. Because of the westerly winds that day I paddled along the eastern shores of Bloodsworth and Smith Islands to avoid side chop. The water was perfectly flat and the color changed to a transparent sea green. As I passed Smith Island I could see little cownose rays swimming just below my board. Crabs would also dart away from me as I came near. We were now far enough south that pelicans started to fly overhead and the resident jellyfish began to look more like the oceanic variety.
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| "The water was perfectly flat and the color changed to a transparent sea green. As I passed Smith Island I could see little cownose rays swimming just below my board." |
I took a break after 17 miles and chatted with my crew about my options in light of the pending storm. The crew suggested that I paddle another 10 miles to Tangier Island. Thus, when I resumed, I would paddle about 34 miles from Tangier to Cape Charles. "Sure! Let's go to Tangier!" I said.
Exploring Tangier from the water was my favorite part of the trip. Tangier Island is a special place we’ve all heard about, so seeing it first hand was special. As I grew closer to the island I told the guys that I wanted to land on the beach so I could say I landed “on Tangier.” After exploring the beach we loaded my board onto the chase boat and motored through Tangier’s North Channel and then down West Ridge Creek. I climbed onto the roof of the boat along with Jay while Staub yelled up to him, “Make sure you get pictures!”
It was incredible to see the working crab houses in such a remote place. The “deadrises,” as the indigenous wooden fishing boats are known, almost always had a woman’s first and middle name: Tina Paige, Elizabeth Kelly, and so on. Visiting Tangier Island was a trip back to a simpler time.
Instead of rushing back to Crisfield the guys took some time to fish on the flat waters of the Bay while I sat back in a folding chair and cracked open a can of rosé. It was the perfect way to end the day.
It was dark when we landed the boat at Somers Cove Marina in Crisfield. A man and a woman greeted us on the dock and helped tie up the boat. The man asked where we were staying and we explained that we had some rooms in the hotel. He pointed out that the hotel was a long walk, so he said, “Why don’t you take the golf cart?” Jay and I looked at each other and shrugged, “Okay!” His name was Malcolm and he was the security guard at the marina.
We made it to Fisherman’s Grille just before the kitchen closed. As we walked in we saw the Live Water/Valhalla Team seated at a large table. They invited us to join them. Their team leader was fellow Annapolis paddler Mary Howser. Over dinner I told Mary my plan for getting back on the water after the hurricane’s remnants had passed. On Thursday the winds were predicted out of the northwest, a perfect angle to paddle from Tangier down and across to Cape Charles. With the winds at our backs we would be doing a “downwinder,” getting pushed by the wind and catching waves here and there. Mary has a lot of experience with paddling downwinders and asked if she could paddle with me. As an SUP racer I hold Mary in very high esteem, so I was tickled when she asked me if she could come along.
After dinner we fired up the golf cart and backed it out of its parking spot. Malcolm pulled up in another cart and said, “Follow me!” We zoomed around the parking lot like little kids and checked into the Somers Cove Motel.
