Joe Berkovitz and I shoved off from Yerrell Beach on a dropping tide just as a kayak fisherman was landing on the shoreline after trolling the nearby Faun Bar for striped bass and bluefish. He hadn't caught anything of note but was happy to have spent the morning on the water, he reported. The waters between Deer Island and the outer harbor islands were glassy and calm, the wind minimal, and there was no shipping traffic to speak of in the inbound or outbound Presidents Roads channels. Graves Light stood on the horizon large enough to present its ledges and oil house, likewise the other outer harbor islands in their volcanic rock clusters and that single soaring cliff of glacial till: Little Calf Island, Calf Island, Green Island, and Great Brewster. The Faun Bar revealed some of its stony contours off the Deer Island Water Treatment Plant. The ebbing tide running right to left slid past the large shipping channel bell buoys which, it seems, the Coast Guard have removed the bells from.  The day was warm and humid - glancing to the east and north towards Nahant and the shorelines of the north shore, I noticed that optical illusion so common when the air mass near the mainland is humid and unstable: Fatama Morgana, or the phenomenon of the horizon line reflected upwards to six or seven times its actual height. What would have been a thin line on the horizon was tall, steep, and sheer. Wait five or ten minutes and the illusion subsides before mounting once more.  At Little Calf we landed on the stony shore and walked the guano path to the low summit of the island. The dozens of Cormorant nests were empty and abandoned - neat round piles of twigs and branches and other flotsam. To my relief, none of the blackback seagulls were engaged in cannibalzing their young. It's not an uncommon sight on Milk Island off Rockport during July and August. The adults drown or strangle their young by pushing their heads down, and then eat them. Joe and I sat on the low exposed ledges at the foot of the island and pulled out lunch.  At Green, we landed on the broad and wide slate beach which faces Boston. Joe stuck around for a while, then examined his chart for buoys he could use as ranges against the eggs of the treatment plant. Finally he slipped into his cockpit and headed back to Winthrop. I spent a couple of hours on the island walking its varied trails, skimming the flat stones of the beach across the placid water, and finally dug into another of Ian Kershaw's tomes about Europe from 1914 and 1948, when the world to the east was wracked by political revolution, civil war in Russia, the collapse of numerous democracies, and the rise of totalitarianism in central, eastern and southern Europe. Then the two world wars and the Marshall Plan which the Soviet Union refused to allow into the Eastern bloc. I put the book down just as Mussolini and his mistress were about to be hung dead from the heels near  a gas station in Northern Italy. He was 61.  Green Island has some informal caretakers from the South Shore kayaking group Wild Turkeys who mow the islands grassy interlocking trails. There are two lawn mowers and gas cans stored on the island. The volunteers keep the firepits clear of refuse,and pack out the trash. The island is spotless. There's a folding picnic table stashed under a stand of staghorn sumac and three sections of an upside-down CanDocks serve as benches. It wasn't clear what the meaning of the flying American flags were. When Yvonne, Karen, and I paddled off Manchester Harbor several weeks ago, a flotilla of powerboats alay at anchor in the outer harbor. They were holding a powerboat rally for the presidential candidate who plays golf badly and favors an elaborate combover. Every boat at anchor flew a large US flag.  On my return to Yerrel late in the afternoon, I head the loud groan of a vessel blowing its horn as it cast dock lines from the Black Falcon terminal in South Boston. As I made my way across the outbound shipping channel, the car carrier Harmony Leader, ungainly as a floating shoebox, crossed my bow. Its bulbous bow threw no wake, and as I passed off its stern, the only effects I felt beneath me were those of the loosened water created by by the ship's enormous propellor. The Harmony Leader was following a pilot ship off its port bow.  After I got home, I looked up the Harmony Leader on vessel track. The car carrier was bound for Panama and, as is par for the course, flew a flag of convenience through its registration in the Bahamas. As of this writing the vessel was making its way through the Panama Canal at 1.5 kts, with its next stop Kawasaki, Japan, It's due to make Kawasaki in early October, most likely to load on another 6,500 cars for import to the U.S. Bulbous bows save cargo ship owners up to $3.5 M a year in fuel costs over conventional vessels. Registry in Nassau allows a vessel owner to avoid hiring domestic US crews from the US seaman's union, can be used to make the vessel's true owner, and don't require the owner to make any public financial disclosures. Any income the ship earns is earned tax-free. Same hold true for cruise ships - almost all cruise ship are registered in the Bahamas. Below: Harmony Leader underway with its submerged bulbous bow eliminating its bow wave:  Below: beneath the waterline, a car carrier's hulls is as sleek and streamlined as a racing yacht's:    Below: a bulbous bow bow wave-eliminating underwater shape:  Below: When I tracked the Harmony Leader a few days after I saw it leave Boston for Panama on 9/13 at 5:12 pm, it was west Bermuda and making 16 kts:   Below: of a typical pilot ship. It's a long time since I've been there, but Destino's in Gloucester for several decades had framed newspaper clippings of the story of loss of the Gloucester pilot ship Can-Do (and crew) in Salem Sound during the Blizzard of '78 while en-route to aiding an oil tanker. I was a senior at Gloucester High School at the time and read the stories each day as they were updated in the Gloucester Daily Times: Below: a more detailed view of how little of a ship carrier's bulk lies below the waterline. 

We enjoyed it - but it can get stinky from the boat/generators running, gas spills, and of course the fish. So not everyones cup of tea.  We stayed along side docked boats as we made our way around in order to avoid most boat traffic, but there are several docks where the boats unload that you need to go across their path. We waited of course, giving them ROW, but some slowed and waved for us to cross first. Many of the dock/boat workers said hello - very friendly. Definatley worth a a visit. It's a hgue area.

2020 P&H Volan MV sea kayak in very good condition for sale. This is the original branding name for the Volan 160. It is red over white with gray trim in the 'classic' construction of performance Kevlar/Diolen. It's 16' long by 23" wide and weighs about 57lbs. It includes installed Paddle Britches, a Brunton compass and a keel strip. Located in Potsdam, NY. Asking $3,000.

If I can convince Yvonne to let me handle her 25-year-old NSPN hat for ten minutes, I'll post a photo of the old NSPN logo. 

Hutchinson did come on a number of club trips and taught club lessons here while on a U.S. teaching and book reading junket. I think it was Bob Burnett who initiated Hutchinson's first visits to the U.S. Hutchinson also gave talks and lessons in Connecticut with Connyak, likewise with RICKA. He was quite blunt in his asseesments of the BCU, sea kayaking in general in the U.S., and his bemusement with Greenland paddle users. I really enjoy Hutchinson's wood block prints. He died in 2012. Below: Hutchinson's wood-block print "Eskimo in caribou-skin kayak":