Charles Dickens:  “There are only two styles of portrait painting; the serious and the smirk.”

Ernest Shackleton:  “Difficulties are just things to overcome, after all.”

In the corner of my den, adjacent to my writing station, there sits a barrister bookcase. Inside the top shelf of that bookcase lies a trifling tribute to Charles Dickens. I like Dickens. Although he wrote more than a century and a half ago, I have always felt that he had an uncanny knack of describing people I know. Not his villainous characters. No, thankfully I have managed to avoid them. It’s his comedic characters that I recognize and relate to. Had Dickens lived in present day Malden, I have no doubt that he would have associated with the Malden Yacht Club if only to draw inspiration from the strange assortment of personalities that parade to the mini-park on a regular basis. He might also have used some of our exploits as the basis for one of his books … like the one I am about to tell now. Had Dickens heard this story, his “Tale Of Two Cities” might very well have been the “Sail of Dubieties”.

Most readers possessing a cursory familiarity with Dickens can recite the first dozen words from the “Tale Of Two Cities.“ However, if they recited the next dozen, they might very well find themselves thinking of the Malden Yacht Club. Are you doubtful? Well, let  me refresh your recollection by quoting the opening phrases:

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness …”

I bet you can see what I’m talking about now, but if you still can‘t make the connection, then maybe you will after you hear about a “sail” (as in: a trip in a boat) Splash and I had earlier this week. The “dubieties” part (as in: something about which you are unsure) should be quite evident when I have finished.

The day of our eventful outing was Monday. I had participated in our group paddle the day before, but Splash had felt under the weather early in the morning, and had to skip it. However, he did venture down later in the morning to greet us with coffee and donuts. While the java and pastry restored the paddlers, Splash found his spirits buoyed by the sight of an open river, and for him, his trip to the mini-park was better than a trip to Lourdes. He was cured of his ailments and was ready to kayak. “How about tomorrow,” he suggested. Who was I to say no?

Bullwinkle And Ol’ P Agree That Their Two Favorite Vitamins Are Caffeine And Donuts

The following afternoon we rendezvoused at the park. Unlike Sunday, the tide was coming in, a fact that we could easily discern by viewing small ice floes (also absent on Sunday) being propelled northward. Since I paddle a sit-on-top, and had paddled the day before, my pre-launch routine is pretty basic. Put on the pfd, grab the paddle, and go. This gave me an opportunity to paddle out to the channel and back before Splash launched. It also provided an opportunity for me to note anything worth noting. About the only things I noticed were that there was a very stiff, steady wind from the southeast, and there was a lot of ice in the channel moving our way. So, no, I guess I didn’t honestly note anything worth noting.

In warm weather, we usually paddle against the current first; in cold weather we paddle against the wind. Today we were lucky … we got to do both. There is a small point south of Malden that marks the spot where the direction of the channel angles from due south to southeast, and continues to run in this direction until reaching the lighthouse. At the same place, the shoreline falls slightly away, to the west. The combination of these two factors creates a large triangular area of relatively shallow water, with the base of the triangle running from the west shore to the lighthouse, and the apex being at the point where Splash and I were about to pass. Little did Splash and I realize it, but we were about to enter the Maldonian Triangle!

Even When Ice Free, The Dark Waters Of The Maldonian Triangle Steer Paddlers And Swans Toward The Channel

When the MYC paddles to the lighthouse, we usually paddle right along the edge of the channel. That results in paddling against a stronger current than if we hugged the shore, but hey, it’s the most direct route. Otherwise we would have to follow the other two legs of the triangle, and everyone knows that it’s better to paddle against a strong force that you can’t see than it is to paddle a greater distance that you can see. This is the course we would have chosen but for the fact that Monday was an unusual day. Because of the large volume of ice filling the width of the channel and spilling over its edges, Splash and I were forced into the Maldonian Triangle. That area was clear of any frozen obstructions, and beyond the pack ice, south of the green buoy, we could see open water in the channel. Pressing hard against the wind, we skirted the rapidly moving ice, and slowly made our way toward the lighthouse.

Folks, it would be incorrect to create the impression that we might have been completely oblivious to any potential issues we might later have with the very ice that we were now passing. We understood that the ice was moving into an area where we hoped to go during our return trip, but we had made our own calculations. It was nearly high tide when we launched, which meant that about an hour later the current would reverse itself. Then, the ice would oblige us by retreating, first to more open water, and thence to the eastern shore from whence it came. Yes sir, just like in Calculus class, we made our calculations. And just like in Calculus class, I may have omitted a variable or two.

One variable I never considered was the chance that we would be distracted by a sight we could not have anticipated. No, it was not the Swedish Hot Tub Bikini Team making its long overdue appearance. This was better than that. As we approached the lighthouse I noticed a brown object floating on a slab of ice. It was a fair distance away, but there seemed to be a patch of white on top of the brown. However, when the angle changed,  the object would seem to morph into a stump in the shape of a rough “H”. That was mysterious. Splash had noticed the same object, and although we both thought that it might be an eagle sitting on an ice floe, we weren‘t certain because of the shifting shape. Still, since we were heading more or less in that direction anyway, we decided to paddle as slowly and stealthily as possible in case we were right. After about five minutes, we realized that we were wrong. It was not an eagle on an ice floe … it was two eagles on an ice floe!

There Are Advantages To Only Paddling During Warm Weather, But Seeing Eagles On Ice Isn’t One Of Them

We have seen many eagles before, but they’re usually flying overhead, or perched in trees along the shore. It’s not very often that you get to paddle parallel to them, so we decided to do just that. While we stared intently at this awesome spectacle, the eagles would only favor us with an occasional glance. Eventually, they became bored with us, and flew to another piece of ice farther north. That was our cue to continue on to the lighthouse. We didn’t linger there long, only long enough to point out the majestic birds to a couple who had just arrived after hiking the nature trail to the lighthouse. Fortunately for them, they were equipped with binoculars, and after some intent searching, were able to verify our tale. It made my day to hear one exclaim “There they are! I see them!” as we headed back. What a rare day! Not only were two eagles spotted, but a Malden Yacht Club tale was proven to be true. This day would undoubtedly prove to be one of our finer moments … or would it?

Had we returned north expeditiously, things probably would have been fine. But then again, we would have missed another opportunity to view the eagles. As luck would have it, the ice upon which the eagles sat was floating on a course that might have intersected ours, had there not been so much other ice in the way. As it was, we were getting closer and closer to them as we moved north. Splash had his camera ready, so we let ourselves drift in hopes that we would come close enough to get a good shot, although not so close as to disturb the birds. Once he accomplished that objective, we decided that we had better head north before it was too late.

A New, Illustrated Definition Of “Very Cool!”

Remember those variables I omitted from my calculations? One was the chance that we would  encounter floating eagles. That omission should be excused. However, another omission was failing to consider the effect of a strong wind from the southeast on north bound ice floes. That omission is less excusable. As we approached the top of the Maldonian Triangle, Splash and I realized that the ice floes might get there first, and block us from reaching the mini-park. That just wouldn’t do! In a dozen years, I had never had to bail out early, and I wasn’t going to start now.

What Now … Left Or Right? When In Doubt, Get Closer To Shore

We had barely passed the MTA (Maldonian Triangle Apex  … hey, not every name can be clever) when we found ourselves in a small cove chocked full of large slabs of ice. It was like finding yourself in hardening cement. Open water lay about ten feet in front of us, and we hastened to force our way through the frozen slabs. By now, more and more ice was pushing against the ice already in the cove, eliminating all but slivers of water between the slabs, and the ice that couldn’t find its way into the cove was filling in any available open space on the front side. Oh, crap! We were Shackleton-ed! Well, almost anyway.

Paddling Through An Ice Maze Can Be An Amazingly Frustrating Process  … And Noisy, Too

Our first thought was to backtrack and try to find open water to the channel. That seemed like a good idea except for two things: We had to turn around a 14’ and a 17’ kayak in a space where there wasn’t 14 inches of open water; add to that the fact that ice had also been filling in behind us. Another alternative would have been to sit where we were for a half hour or so, until the current started flowing south. Then, after the ice floes moved to more open water, we could paddle out of our predicament. But that would require patience. So we made that option Plan B. Slowly, very slowly, we used all the tricks we knew to turn around, and make our way back past the MTA. Whether it was getting the bow of the kayak between two pieces of ice and using the kayak as a wedge, or grabbing a protrusion with our hands and pulling the ice past us, or sliding the kayak over the top of smaller slabs, we spent the next fifteen minutes moving less than fifty feet.

When You Can’t Describe The Terrain, It’s Best To Throw In A Map

Eventually, we made it back into the Maldonian Triangle, but we were not out of the ice yet. As a matter of fact, we were in more ice than we had seen in the cove we had just vacated. On the other hand, we were within ten feet of land. If we were smart, we would admit defeat, make our way to shore, and then hike back to the mini-park to pick up our vehicles. It was time to be smart. I had just abandoned an illusory course to ice-free water  when Splash forced his way past my stern, and his wake created a small space of sparkling, open water behind him. Luckily, my kayak was sufficiently free to allow me to turn perpendicular to Splash, and head north across his westbound path. This took me to within four feet of shore; better yet, it placed me over a rocky bottom that I could clearly see. Thank goodness for dry suits! I hopped off my sit-on-top and scrambled up the bank to solid land. Imagine my surprise when I saw Dave, a local kayaker, walking toward us with a fifty foot rope looped over his shoulder.

Dave lives alongside the Maldonian Triangle and has seen many days when this area fills with ice. He and his wife, Martha, another avid kayaker, had heard Splash and I talking, and after assessing our situation, figured we might appreciate a hand. We did. Splash made it to shore shortly after I did, and with the extra help available, we quickly hauled the kayaks to the road. From there, Martha graciously drove us to the mini-park and spared us the indignity of strolling through Malden in our dry suits. Residents would have wondered if it was the Maldonian Mardi Gras Parade arriving a day early. Thank you, Martha and Dave.

When all of our equipment had been safely loaded on our vehicles, we returned to the mini-park to dissect our adventure during the traditional post-paddle fluid replenishment session. While we were re-living recent events, new MYC member Aden joined us, along with a prospective paddler with limited experience in a kayak. He had been looking in awe at the ice flows, now rapidly moving south, and he openly wondered about the force they might exert. As we stared at the river, a large chunk of ice slammed into the red buoy marking the east side of the channel, then easily rode over the buoy, forcing it completely under water. When the slab had passed, the buoy popped to the surface like a wet jack-in-the-box. We all looked at each other and grinned. It looks like we have more factors to consider the next time we make our ice paddle calculations.

Back At The Park, The Victorious Ice Began Its Triumphal Withdrawal From The Field Of Battle … But We Will Be Back! 

(When It Gets A Bit Warmer)

Oh, And One Or More More Things

The alternate title for this piece was “Eagles, Dodos and Ice Floes”, but I didn’t think that would work. What do you think?