Cape Cod Ice-Out!

April-May 2006

This is an article from WaveLength Magazine, available in print in North America and globally on the web.
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by Brian Nystrom

Buzzards Bay was frozen solid most of the winter.Linda Shelburne photo.

Perhaps February 29th is an unlucky day to go paddling?

On a glorious, clear, crisp, mid-winter New England morning, five of us met in Pocasset, Massachusetts to take advantage of the beautiful weather and get our boats wet. The winter of 2004 had been an unusually cold one and there was thick sea ice along the New England coastline in places where it hadn’t been seen in recent memory.

“In the 25 years I’ve lived on the Cape, I’ve never seen a winter with this much ice,” Linda commented. Most of the harbors in Cape Cod Bay were choked with ice and Buzzards Bay was frozen solid most of the winter. Icebreakers were plying Boston Harbor and Buzzards Bay. The ferries to Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket were shut down, waiting for icebreakers to arrive.

We arrived at the put-in only to discover that the harbor was a solid sheet of sea ice. Oops! On to plan B. We scurried south, to Megansett Harbor, which was more exposed and, we hoped, free of ice. Although nearby Squeteague Harbor was frozen solid, and sheet ice lay outside the breakwater at Megansett Harbor, the boat ramp and inner harbor were wide open and had little ice on the water. Success!

After the obligatory dressing and packing struggle, we wedged into our boats and paddled off to the southwest into an incoming tide, a steady 6-knot breeze and light chop. It felt good to be on the water and working my paddling muscles again after a temporary layover due to the harsh weather. We barely noticed the piles of ice slabs perched high and dry on shore as we bobbed along in one to two foot chop, and enjoyed a leisurely cruise out and around Nyes Neck to the south end of Old Silver Beach. We hauled out to bask on the beach and munch on snacks, then slid back into the water to let the surf push us up into Herring Brook, where we warmed on the flat water before pointing our bows homeward. We’d probably been on the water all of three hours. Soon we rounded Nyes Neck once more and, riding the tailwind, surfed back towards the put-in.

Brian struggling in the ice.Eric Johnson photo.

Something didn’t look right when we approached the harbor. All we could see was ice, from one side to the other. The buoys and day marker that had been encircled by open water when we left were now locked in ice. The channel that had been open when we launched was gone. What happened? Had we missed the harbor entrance? Was it farther down shore? Nope, the cars were there on shore, right where we had left them. After puzzling over the situation, we figured it out. The rising tide had floated most of the ice that had rested on shore at low tide. Then the onshore wind packed the ice into the inlet, blocking our return route while we were gone. Hmmm. Not good.

While the others searched for passage into the harbor, I suffered a brain cramp that led me to believe it possible to follow leads through the icepack and work our way back to the put-in. I found what looked like a soft spot at the edge of the pack and stuck my bow in. It was pretty easy going at first: the waves pushed my boat inward at the edge of the pack and gave me a boost for the first ten yards. That’s the point where I had my “This was a really dumb idea” moment. The steady wind had packed the ice so tightly that there was no way we were going to work our way through it the 100-plus yards to the breakwater. Fortunately, no one else had been brain-dead enough to follow me.

I learned several lessons that day. I learned that long, skinny boats don’t turn well in packed sea ice. The chunks of ice were six feet wide and up to a foot thick, and paddling between them was difficult to impossible. The only way to maneuver was over the ice.

I learned that pack ice is not kind to cedar paddles. After shredding the edges of the blades of my Greenland paddle, it became obvious that it was useless anyway. It was far more effective to pull myself along with my hands, grabbing the rough edges of the ice chunks. Good gloves saved my fingers.

I learned that despite horrific screeching from my hull, ice scraping against a kayak doesn’t do much damage. Apparently, gelcoat is harder than ice.

I learned that waves are not fun when you’re stuck in pack ice. Fortunately, the waves were small enough to provide only a warning. Had they been larger, it could have gotten ugly. Slabs of heaving ice weighing hundreds of pounds could easily squash a kayak like a grape! Needless to say, capsizing in such conditions could be deadly.

And I learned that the ice determines your direction, not you. The way the ice closed in behind me made backing out impossible, turning difficult at best. The only way out was to carve a broad arc, moving forward, until the boat reached the edge of the ice again.

After twenty minutes of struggling and copious expletives, I managed to extricate myself and we headed south along the shore, in search of another place to haul out. We found open shoreline, sheltered by a breakwater, in Rands Harbor approximately half a mile down the shore. It was private property, but we were feeling desperate. Walking up the driveway, I could see the owner working in his garage. More importantly, there was a kayak in it! Upon hearing the details of our plight, he kindly agreed to allow us to haul out and leave our boats on a corner of his lawn. He also informed us that what had happened with the ice in the harbor was a common occurrence, proving the value of local knowledge. Once we’d finished lugging our boats up the steep embankment and onto the lawn, we set off on a mile-long hike to the boat ramp to retrieve our cars. Given the expressions of passing motorists, we must have been quite a sight trudging along in our dry suits.

After packing up and thanking the landowner, we headed off for a post-paddle pig-out at the Chapoquoit Grill, arguably the best pizza joint on the Cape. (Did I mention that we really only paddle in order to eat afterward?) After an hour or so of gorging on gourmet pizza and swapping kayaking lies, we parted ways.

All in all, it was a fun, eventful, educational day.

CONCLUSIONS

If we’d had local knowledge, we would have known that ice-outs occur, and could have avoided the problem.

For that matter, had we simply been more observant, we might have seen the potential for a problem developing: a rising tide, lots of ice on shore and wind blowing toward the harbor.

It seems prudent to paddle on a falling tide in water that has ice in it and especially when there is ice on the shore. With the water level falling, the ice will remain on shore and pose no danger to navigation.

Keep a close eye on the wind direction if there’s a significant amount of ice in the water. Had the wind blown only 30 degrees more northerly, the ice would have blown past the harbor entrance and left the inlet open.