Queen's Creek 9-2-14

This may have been our hottest day on the water yet. We knew it was going to be a scorcher. The weatherman had warned us. But this wasn't a wear your Grandma's gardening hat and grab a fan hot. This wasn't a sit in the shade and drink a cool iced tea hot. This was equatorial Africa hot. Cool Hand Luke hot. Body Heat hot (remember the ice cubes?) Fried eggs sizzling on pavement hot. Laurence of Arabia hot. Dante's Inferno hot. Sitting in dead stop traffic in the backseat of your Dad's old Rambler on the Long Island Expressway going nowhere in the middle of summer on a Sunday afternoon with no air conditioning and the radiator about to explode hot. Man, it was hot. But here we were, the Tuesday Group, ready to paddle on-dare I say it-a really hot day. There were a few no show drop-outs. I don't fault them. Lightweghts. The rest of us were ready to tackle the water and the heat. Even Don and his jacked up ankle. What a rugged bunch!

We drove to the put-in at the Point. That's where Cub Creek and Queen's Creek join to head out to the York River. We trundled our watercraft down to the low tide muddy put-in . Wheels seem to be making a comeback. I have wheels too-somewhere-but found a sturdy man to help me with my boat. (Note: There are only sturdy guys and gals in the Tuesday Group. This has nothing to do with machismo (guys)or feminism (gals). It has to do with strength of character and a sense of adventure and no fear of getting dirty. Occasionally a sissy will slip in but they don't last long.)

The launch was a bit shoe-sucking but we managed okay. There wasn't enough water in Cub Creek. This was clearly demonstrated by a heron wading at the entrance. The water was barely up to his birdie ankles. So, we paddled out to the York River where we bobbed for awhile. This was extraordinarily peaceful. The plan was to bob for awhile and then head back up Queen's Creek. (Note: The reason I know this is because this was my paddle and I was the leader.) Apparently, Brian was not wholly aware of this as he was under the entirely mistaken impression that we were going to cross the York. The water was smooth as glass and why not. Later, in his defense, he did claim-unsubstantiated I might add-that he asked everyone (next to him) if they wanted to cross and they said yes. From my position out of earshot and 100 yards away, I soon observed their little rebellious sterns disappearing into the distance. This forced me to blow the whistle. Which I have never had to do before. That brought everyone back--eventually Brian too. (Someday all will come to realize that the Tuesday Group is not a Democracy.)

The paddle up Queen's Creek was a delight with the constant breeze in our faces helping to stave off the blistering searing sweltering oven of a day it was turning out to be. We saw lots of egrets and eagles along the way and many fish jumping out of the water. I guess the water was really hot too.We paddled under the deafening noise of I-64 and the less noisy Jefferson Avenue. At the Rt. 132 underpass we found a measly bit of shade and rafted up to eat our lunches. Being broiled alive makes you really hungry. (Note: Everyone attempted to stay well hydrated on this trip due to the extreme-well, you know. Unfortunately, there really wasn't anywhere to get out to relieve our bladders. For this group that can be a dire situation. I do not know if anyone had an "accident" in their boat and even if I did, I wouldn't print it here.) We continued a little farther up the creek until lack of water or interest or a combination of the two mandated our turn around. We had the breeze at our backs now but the tide was coming in so some additional effort was needed to paddle back to the put-in. We whole-heartedly welcomed the extra effort as some of us still had not succumbed to heat stroke and had enough remaining brain function to believe we were still having a good time.

Arriving back at the put-in we hauled the boats back up the hill-certainly steeper than it had been that morning-and back onto/into our vehicles. Most of us then headed for the Queen Anne Dari-Snak for the sweetest, coldest, most delicious ice cream of all time.

Another great day for the Tuesday Group. 12 miles. 100+ degrees.

Did I mention it was hot as hell?

Phyllis

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