Travel: Essex Bay - A Northeast Massachusetts Gem (but where's the parking?)

If you're lucky like me, you live near natural resources that offer sublime experiences without the hassle of a long drive to get there. Essex Bay, situated just north of Cape Ann and Massachusetts' north shore is just such a place. It lays at the mouth of the Essex River, and is protected from open ocean by Crane Beach (a gem of its own). Bordered by the towns of Essex, Ipswich to the north, and Gloucester to the south, Essex Bay is a paradise for boaters, fishermen, and of course, kayakers. (Google map of Essex Bay )

Choate Island with Essex Bay beyond

Some of the features of kayaking on Essex Bay are myriad marsh river waterways, sandbars that appear at lower tides and offer your own temporary private beach under a vast blue sky (just watch your boat, so it doesn't float away from you on a quickly rising tide), and Choate Island (also known as Hog Island) - a filming location for the movie version of The Crucible . Boat traffic can be busy in and out of the main Essex River channel, but there's plenty of space for shallow draft boats like kayaks to explore at their leisure. Striped bass run when the season's right, so you can cast your line from your kayak, or from the shallows to test your luck (with a salt water license in hand, of course 😏). Afterwards, you can feast on the local fried clams or a bucket of "steamers" at any one of several clam shacks in the area.

For those who don't own a kayak, or are just beginning to explore the sport, Essex River Basin Adventures offers tours and training. In fact, one of the first times I paddled a kayak was on one of their tours. That was about 15 years ago, so it looks like the early impression was a good one. The first kayak I purchased was one of their post-season used models - and they even delivered it. I would highly recommend them to anyone who's interested in the occasional kayak adventure, or investigating the sport to see if they like it - and you can do that surrounded by truly beautiful scenery. However (and they'll probably tell you this), there are times of year when you will need to be prepared for the murderous "green head" flies. If you've never had a chunk of flesh bitten off you by one of these evil, and seemingly impervious to blows, vampires, you will be shocked by how much worse it is than a mosquito bite or other fly bite. If you have been bitten by one, then you know exactly what I'm talking about. Wear proper clothing and use DEET.     

The one thing that Essex Bay lacks, in my opinion, is easy access to the water. I know, the locals would say that's what the public boat launch is for. The problem with the boat launch (located right off Rt. 133 in Essex), is that the river is narrow at the start, and stays that way for a little while until it opens onto the broader bay. Boat traffic can be heavy during the summer on that river - to and from the boat launch. Even assuming that all motor boats follow the no-wake rules, you will spend significant time dealing with wake waves in a narrow channel. This raises the danger level for paddlers - who could find themselves exposed to boating accidents like this one. Plus, it will add 20 minutes (40 minutes including the return) to your paddling time out to the bay. I have tried to work around this by finding other launch locations - not all "officially sanctioned" locations I should add. I am hesitant to push my luck, though, as the last thing I want is to return to an empty spot where my towed-away truck used to be (see my post Which Kayak Should I Buy? for additional considerations).

Conomo Point is a popular launch area for kayaks - if they are being dropped off. Parking near the water is non-existent. There used to be 3-5 parallel spots available on the return side of Conomo Point Road, across from Beach Circle that those "in the know" could use. For the past couple years, however, "resident sticker only" no-parking signs have restricted parking to the arrival side, about 1/3 of a mile from any access to the water. This requires wheels (like these) to get your kayak to the nearest beach launch, and don't get there too late, or the parked cars will be backed up for quite a ways. It makes getting your kayak into the bay that much harder - and to my mind, seems most unwelcoming. I, for one, don't understand why the town of Essex wouldn't encourage easy access for kayakers to Essex Bay, who might, you know, end up spending some money while they're in town. I'm even reminded (by contrast) of a restaurant in Portsmouth, New Hampshire (on Sagamore Creek) that lets kayakers pull right up on their beach and grab a bite during the trip (I'll have more on that in a future post). 

Despite the challenge of getting access to the water, Essex Bay is worth the effort (see my post Paddle Trip: Choate Island and Crane Beach). Once I'm on the water there, I'm in another world that is less than an hour from my house. The sun, the salt air, the tall white dunes on the bay side of Crane Beach, the view of the colonial farmstead on Choate Island - this is a quintessential New England experience, and shouldn't be missed. If you only do it once - do it anyway. You'll thank me.

For a bonus tip - avoid the long lines at the touristy clam shacks and sidle up to the bar at the Choate Bridge Pub  in Ipswich. You can hang out with the locals, and order up fried clams that are as good as anything you'll get at the more well known joints. Wash them down with a pitcher of Ipswich Ale - brewed a couple blocks away (fresh is best 😋), and you will have fully experienced the delights of this stretch of the Massachusetts coast, and one of the oldest populated places in the country. You'll be salty, sun bleached, and well fed & watered - all in all, happy as a clam 😊.


- TB on the Water   



     

                 

       

Story: An Unexpected (and hair raising) Adventure

I used to travel daily for work around the northeastern counties of Massachusetts, namely Essex and Suffolk counties. This is basically the seaboard and adjacent towns that run northeast of Boston to the New Hampshire border. One of these communities located directly on the water is the picturesque, and still working, port of Gloucester (see my post Location: The Mouth of the Danvers River & Nearby Islands). Gloucester harbor resides near the tip of Cape Ann - not as far east as Rockport, but close. The harbor and nearby waters open to the south of Cape Ann, while the Annisquam River connects both the southern and northern coasts of Cape Ann (the much smaller and rockier contrast to the well known Cape Cod, which juts into the ocean from southeast of Boston).   . 

I am always on the lookout for a paddle adventure when I am near the ocean, and one workday two summers back, I happened upon the public boat launch near Gloucester High School, which affords parking and a launch point into the Annisquam. The idea occurred to me to launch from this point, paddle south under the Blynman Canal drawbridge (which I have heard is the second busiest drawbridge on the entire eastern seaboard), and head west along the coast past Magnolia (a section of Gloucester). There are several islands located near the rocky Magnolia coast (the front yards of mansions and large shingle style homes) that are accessible for a lunch and beer break (thankfully, many craft beers are now available in cans 😈). 

A few days later, I proposed my idea to my frequent paddling buddy, Tim. Tim and I got into paddling touring length kayaks many years ago, and Tim has been a good natured participant in many of my planned excursions. Some trips have lived up to my expectations, and some have been a hard slog, with many a lesson learned. This particular excursion started as the former, but ended as the latter - by far.

The day was a sunny, hot, mid-summer beauty that brings New Englanders to the shore in droves. We got an early enough start to avoid significant boat traffic under the drawbridge (more on that later), and made our way into the outer harbor past Stage Fort Park. The wind was blowing lightly from the southeast, and the chop it caused was small enough that paddling progress was not affected significantly. Everything appeared to be set up for a mildly challenging and enjoyable afternoon on the water.

Once we turned the corner past a rocky outcrop at the western edge of the greater harbor, I noticed the chop and swell took on a more "open ocean" feel. Waves were crashing onto the rock formations and cliffs to our starboard (right) side, so we stayed far enough away to avoid getting caught in anything dangerous. The conditions at this point were just about perfect. There is a feeling of freedom paddling a kayak in open water conditions that fosters a spirit of adventure a bit more emphatic than the feel of paddling a flat backwater. 

The increased swell and chop, as well as an increased wind speed, slowed our progress. So, we adjusted our plans, and shortened our destination to Kettle Island, just south of Magnolia Harbor  GOOGLE MAP of MAGNOLIA COAST  . We beached the boats on the sandbar between Kettle Island and the smaller rock to the north, and settled in for a rest, some lunch, and a tasty beer. We had the place to ourselves, with the exception of two other kayakers and an abundance of squawking seagulls. After we had a sandwich, we made the mistake of attempting to explore the island, and stumbled into the midst of a seagull rookery. Alarmed and swooping gulls harassed us until we made our way back to the beach, where we could find some peace.

After maybe an hour, we decided to head back east along the coast - realizing we would be headed more directly into the wind, which would impede our progress and increase the time needed to get back. I noticed some small waves breaking onto the sandbar, and suggested we play in the waves for a few minutes as we launched. We pretty quickly realized the swell had grown in the hour we were beached, and the waves crashing onto Magnolia proper were 3-5 feet. Playing in the swell was quickly adjusted to dealing with the conditions to avoid capsize or getting pulled onto the rocks. I realized the conditions on the way back would be far more difficult than on the way out: the swell was coming from the southeast, but crossing currents were causing waves from the northeast as well. In order to keep our bows pointed toward the swell (the safest alignment to avoid capsize), we would be travelling farther out to sea - which was not what we wanted. We were forced to adopt a pattern of paddling southeast into the swell for a bit, then readjusting to a northeast direction - which had us "surfing" the swell at a 45 degree angle. This was not ideal, but was the only way we could somewhat safely progress in an easterly direction back toward Gloucester and the safety of the harbor. 

At one point, I looked to my left and saw Tim get a little too straight in front of a swell wave. Some of them were now big enough to break a bit at the top. Tim slid down the face of the wave into the trough, and his bow plunged into the water. He was in danger of "pearling" (driving the front of the boat under water, which slows the bow speed relative to the stern speed, and can cause the kayak to capsize). Tim maintained his balance, used his paddle to brace, and pulled his bow clear, but it was a narrow escape. I eyed the waves crashing onto the rocks warily, and realized if Tim had a wet exit (he was in a hulled boat), getting back into his kayak would be extremely challenging in this swell, and swimming to shore would be treacherous. I had visions of a water laden kayak crashing onto the rocks - heavy and out of control. Although I was on my Heritage Sea Dart sit-on-top, even I was concerned about getting knocked off it. Climbing back on would be easier than re-entering a hulled boat, but in these conditions, it still wouldn't be a piece of cake.

We paddled like this for a long time - occasionally having to rapidly adjust to a random wave hitting from the northeast instead of the southeasterly swell direction. This kept things interesting to say the least. I kept an eye out for any small cove or calmer spot to give us a reprieve from the conditions, but there were none. It's amazing how good a paddle workout you get when the effort is seasoned with a pinch of panic.  

Finally, I noticed a very small calm area in what was barely a cove. I think it may be called "Old House Cove", but I'm not sure. Anyway, the conditions continued as we entered the harbor, and a few minutes rest in the relatively calmer waters in this cove were a blessing. As we proceeded into the harbor, our direction adjusted more to the north. This put us almost perpendicular to the swell, riding straight down wave faces - which could increase the chance of pearling. Fortunately, the swell abated somewhat as we paddled farther into the harbor and back across Stage Fort Park to the beach. We avoided rock outcrops in the water and navigated safely to the beach, where we hauled out for some much needed rest and relief. I didn't time it (I was a bit too busy keeping my shit together 😁), but my guess is we were paddling for an hour in those conditions. It felt great to put my two feet on the sand again.

Once I had gathered my wits and shaken loose my stiff arms and back, I took a look at the entrance to the canal under the drawbridge - where we had emerged from the Annisquam River. Returning boats were lined up to pass on the east side under the bridge, and many outbound boats were still entering the harbor via the west side. I walked over to the stone wall at the edge of the canal and peered over it to see an outbound current that was significantly stronger than what we had experience on the way out. When we left the Annisquam and paddled under the bridge, the tide had just turned and was inbound. Against the outbound river current, it was largely neutralized, and only posed a minor effort to overcome. Now, the tide was outbound, and, magnified by the outbound river flow, had increased to a speed that required powered boats to re-enter against the flow at near to full throttle. Add to that the relatively narrow width of the canal, which pinches the current and speeds it further, and there was absolutely no way we would be able to paddle back through VIDEO of an ATTEMPTED PADDLE. I realized immediately this route had not been well considered. I had to come up with another plan to get the kayaks back to my truck, which was parked upriver at the public launch near the High School. Well, if I couldn't get the kayaks to the truck, then I would have to bring the truck to the kayaks.

View of the Annisquam River & the ocean beyond

I determined a path I could walk, and crossed two lanes of traffic, now backed up for the regularly raised drawbridge. I found a path down to the east bank of the river, and walked the 1/4 mile to the parking lot at the public launch. Tim stayed with the kayaks to keep an eye on them, and hopefully to direct me to a rare parking spot along the causeway next to the beach. Due to the traffic, I had to drive a large, looping route to get back to the beach from the west. Fortunately, a spot miraculously appeared, and we didn't have to carry the boats too far to get them loaded. 

All in all, what had promised to be a casual day on the water turned out to be a difficult, and sometimes frightening excursion. We were both glad nothing serious happened, but spent a little time talking about what could have happened. Some valuable lessons were learned - not the least of which is that, although I have been paddling for many years, I can always improve my trip planning and my safety gear. Oh, and nothing drives a workout better than a little fear 😅.     

- TB on the Water