We Took To The Waters

After a couple of years of lockdowns and travel restrictions (not really over, to be honest, but feeling safe enough to travel as long as we are masked – hardly anyone else is), and a couple of years before that where we couldn’t really get away for various reasons, we found ourselves with a weekend without commitments and the ability to sneak away, so we committed to going down to Maryland to try our hands at a little bit of flatwater in what would be the earliest paddling we’ve been able to do in several years.

Of course, just because we plan something doesn’t mean it’s going to happen. The little farm AirBnB where we were staying had a dock very close, but the water level there was too low for us to use it and a shore put-in would have been a bit rough. So we drove a couple miles up the road to a put-in at Chesapeake Forest, and took a bone-rattling and mud-splashing drive in to scout the put-in on Friday evening. Tight quarters, limited parking, but it sets you in to a nice narrow stretch of the Little Blackwater. Talked to some folks who had paddled it, got some pointers, and decided we’d come back on Saturday and give it a go from there.

On Saturday morning, we wanted to wait for the sun to warm up before going out, and decided to scout the main Blackwater, from a kayak launch on Route 335. The wind was heavy and it turned out the river was vastly wider at that point than it appeared on the map – big open water, way bigger than we wanted to tackle on the first paddle of the season, so that reinforced our decision to go to the first spot.

After scouting that, we spent some time at the Harriet Tubman Underground Railroad Museum just up the road – it was phenomenal, and moving. Headed back for lunch, got our gear together, and drove up to the forest put-in – but after braving the super rough single-track drive in, we found there simply wasn’t a place to safely park (without fear of sinking into muck), so we pulled back out and considered our next options.

Back to 335 we drove, figuring even if the water was big, we could at least hug the shore and get in some paddling time. But as we drove up, the wind was whipping up white caps, and we just had no interest in that. Another paddler who was on his way out pulled up alongside us, rolled down his window and said, “It’s pretty gnarly out there.” He said he had lost his paddle (probably on an SUP). I said we were gonna pass, not interest in whitecaps, and then he said there was a quieter place called Raccoon Creek about 15 minutes away – just go down the road and make a left, and then another left. We thanked him and thought – what the hell? What if that actually works?

Well, of course, “left and then another left” was never going to be specific enough, but maybe with the miracle of modern navigation we’d be able to turn it into something – we didn’t have a paper map with us that showed the area he was talking about. So I put “Raccoon Creek” into Waze, and was surprised that it turned up a destination. I figured that would get us to some point where maybe we could drive up and down along the creek and find the actual put-in. So fine – off we drove. Soon it took us off a main road and onto a side road, then onto another that honestly looked pretty sketchy – not entirely clear that it was even a town road, but it was paved and it kept going, so we did too. Followed “Liners Road,” wondering if there would even be an outlet – and then: it dumped us exactly at the boat launch. At the corner of Liners and Maple Dam Road (the sign said Robbins Road – which I’m saying so I can remember it), with a sign saying “Fishing Bay Wildlife Management Area,” there it was – a perfect little hand launch.

So, thanks, guy who lost his paddle! Without you, we’d never have heard of Raccoon Creek.

As we were getting the boats down, a car pulled into the parking lot, and an older guy rolled down his window and wanted to talk to us. Can’t say that that didn’t make me nervous – especially when he asked how long we planned on going out. But it turned out he was making sure we knew which way the tide was turning. I had load a tide chart and in fact the old gent, who lived just up the road, didn’t know his tides, but the thought was appreciated. as he said if you went far enough you could get stranded and unable to get back in.

As it turned out, the wind was way stronger than the tide, and the first leg was basically an infinity pool – endless paddling into the wind without much progress. But once we made a turn and the Raccoon started winding, it was a delight. Much better scale than the big 
Blackwater. We couldn’t go too far because of the wind, and didn’t want to overcommit, but it was lovely; can’t wait to try it again.

Pennsylvania lacks much by way of flat paddling – the rivers are low, rocky and mostly one-way (though there are stretches of the Schuylkill we can make round trips in, depending on how the water is flowing), and there are hardly any lakes. So we’ve been looking for other places to go. Although it’s about three hours away, the trip to Blackwater is well worth it.