Sea Kayaking on Lake Erie

 

by Wendy Killoran

Awakening before the sun at 3:55 a.m., I bleary-eyed prepared myself in darkness to start a paddling adventure, an attempt to cross Lake Erie, via Point Pelee, Pelee Island, Middle Island, Kelleys Island (Ohio) and on to Cedar Point and Sandusky, Ohio. I drove quiet roads, normally brimming with traffic, to Komoka to pick up Jim Gear, who would join me on this attempted Great Lakes crossing. In the calmness of this clear night sky, I watched a falling star, wishing for a successful paddle across the eleventh largest lake (measured by surface area) in the world.

The new day was unfolding brilliantly. A deep glow hung over the eastern horizon and sporadic puffs of mist floated like a bridal veil over fields and the winding Thames River, a hint of cool autumn days to come. A glorious flock of sheepish grey clouds slowly paraded across the sky. The magical aura made me believe that the day would be a perfect paddling day.

When we stopped in Leamington to pick up a nautical chart of the proposed route, Lake Erie greet us calmly, with Pelee Island shimmering on the horizon due south. Kayaking is so weather dependent. How lucky we were to have such placid waters on a lake known as the ships’ graveyard. Its shallow waters churn into a choppy, messy turmoil with the blink of an eye.

We entered Point Pelee National Park at 8:00 a.m. and met Dave Wagner, a cheerful and helpful park warden patrolling around on his bicycle. He’d given us permission to park overnight in the park (West Beach) which apparently was not a standard request. The park was ours alone with the exception for a huge group of birders gawking skywards through binoculars and tripod-mounted monoculars in a blob that spanned over the road.

While loading the kayaks waterside at the beach, flies were wickedly attacking our ankles, arms and any other suitable pieces of flesh, leaving a stinging itch as they bit voraciously. By 9:00 a.m. we were fully loaded and paddling straight out to Pelee Island on smooth water. Numerous flies were trapped below deck, imprisoned by the spray skirt. Bite attacks seemed more vicious than ever and it was impossible to slap and react.

Several fishing boats plied the lake east of Pelee Island, also a few motorboats, but the enormous ocean freighters following single file, a route indicated by buoys, was our main concern. It was becoming a hot, sunny August day and I was paddling in a tank top, swatting at lingering flies between paddle strokes who all landed and bit me in precisely the same spot on my right shoulder.

We were paddling on a bearing of 210 degrees, aiming directly for the new lighthouse at Middle Ground about 10 kilometres into our paddle. The lake is fairly shallow here and large boats follow a precise route. We encountered some choppy waves. Fortunately, large freighters didn’t cross our paddling path closely as we paddled this busy stretch of the Great Lakes-St. Lawrence Seaway.

The lighthouse structure was very, very unique. A voluminous, bulbous cylinder towered above the water. Balanced squarely on top, perhaps 15 metres above the water, was a white house, trimmed in frosty green with a lighthouse tower climbing above the northwest corner. We were excited as we’d crossed about two thirds of the passage between Point Pelee and Pelee Island. We figured it would take another 45 minutes of paddling as we were travelling at about six kilometres per hour.

The features on the shore were becoming clearer. Trees took form, cottages appeared and finally, about one kilometre from shore, details on houses appeared. The recently renovated lighthouse ruin at the northern tip towered prominently. Ontario Parks now oversees that site.

We followed the island’s sandy, eastern shore southwards to Middle Point where we landed the kayaks and took a short break. The crossing had taken two and a half hours, although had we headed directly towards the lighthouse ruin, I presume it would have taken two and a quarter hours to complete the crossing. Lake Erie had been in a kind, generous mood to allow us to paddle to Pelee Island. That in itself was a satisfying accomplishment.

Of North America’s five Great Lakes, Lake Erie is the smallest in volume (484 cubic kilometres) but second smallest in surface area (25,700 square kilometres). Lake Erie is surrounded by fertile land and the surrounding watersheds are exposed to the greatest concentration and effects of urbanization and agriculture. The shallow lake averages a depth of about 20 metres, with a maximum of about 65 metres. Thus, the lake warms quickly in the spring and summer but also freezes quickly in winter. Its shallow depth makes it a warm lake and as a result, the most biologically productive of the Great Lakes. In fact, the Erie walleye fishery is considered the best in the world. Most of the lake’s water inflow comes from the Detroit River and its outlets are the Niagara River and Welland Canal. The shallowest area of Lake Erie is near the western extremity, averaging 5 to 10 metres in depth. This would explain the high concentration of shipwrecks found in the western portion of Lake Erie, including the proposed Kelleys Island shipwreck preserve. Lake Erie got its name from the Eries, a tribe of natives who occupied the southern shore. The early French writers always referred to the lake as Lac du Chat, translating to Cat Lake, in reference to the wild cat or panther; the Eries referred to themselves as “The People of the Panther.”

At Middle Point we ate some gorp, drank water, stretched legs to prepare for the next segment of our paddle, hugging the island’s shore in a clockwise direction to Dick’s Marina, a small enclave of water tucked into the south shore. Many newer cottages rimmed the eastern shore. Rounding the second point, Mill Point, to paddle westward, sand transformed to flat shelves of light grey limestone. Pelee Island is also known as “The Rock” (Are they kidding? That’s Newfoundland!), as the entire island is an alvar, part of an ancient coral reef when this area was inundated by sea a long time ago. This more rugged southern shore has fewer cottages and appears wilder. By 2:00 p.m. we’d arrived at Dick’s Marina where a Lake Erie water snake swam in wavy motion near the kayaks. We’d seen cormorants by the hundreds fly northwards in a long trail and a cormorant sat on a slab of limestone as we paddled into the marina, which reeked of the smell of stagnant water and dead, rotting fish.

We enquired about places to eat and rented one-speed bikes to search out the Tin Goose, an establishment about three kilometres away. Unfortunately, the restaurant wasn’t open for several more hours so we pedaled across the flat island on an asphalt road to West Dock to the hotel for a well-deserved meal. I was very tired and hungry and devoured my marinated chicken burger.

Biking back to Dick’s Marina, we traded in our bikes for our kayaks once more. Again we followed a bearing of 210 degrees, heading directly to Middle Island, into port beam waves. I was tired and the paddling was fatiguing, as it was about seven kilometres as the crow flies. We passed the tip of Fish Point, covered in gulls, cormorants and a heron. This extended point barely surfaced above Lake Erie.

I could actually see Cedar Point as a faint line on the horizon, a tall tower and an arc resembling a roller coaster ride. Our final destination, at least 25 kilometres away, beckoned. Middle Island appeared as a surreal landscape and a macabre scene from an Alfred Hitchcock novel. Stark, naked trees rimmed its entire north shore, and trees were filled with hundreds of thousands of birds, cormorants, gulls and herons. I’d never seen anything quite like it. Limestone fringed most of the north shore, but the western tip was sandy, so we landed there. As we did so, thousands of birds alighted and filled the sky in erratic motion. The beach reeked of guano and painted most of the ground. The birds were present in such enormous numbers, their guano had killed the trees they roosted in.

By now I was relieved to be done paddling. I walked across the narrow western tip of land to survey southward. Six and a half kilometres farther on lay Kelleys Island, an American destination in Erie county, Ohio. Ohio could have its first shipwreck preserve by the spring of 2002, as a plan to protect more than a dozen sunken ships around Kelleys Island is being proposed. Kelleys Island is on the National Register of Historic Places but offshore wrecks are excluded. Most of the wrecks are 19th century commercial vessels.

Middle Island, about a kilometre in length due to the lengthy sand bar on the western tip resulting from the low water levels in the Great Lakes, was a strong smelling place to stay, but the vast panoramic views were worth enduring the guano aroma. The 49-acre island is actually the southernmost land area in all of Canada, whereas Point Pelee is the southernmost land area in all of mainland Canada. It was purchased at auction in the U.S. in July of 1999 by the Nature Conservancy of Canada, with the collaboration of private donors, corporations and Parks Canada, for $1.3 million. Having successfully reclaimed Middle Island for Canada, the Nature Conservancy of Canada donated it to Point Pelee National Park in the summer of 2001 so that the island’s fragile habitat for significant plant and animal species will be protected, preserving this rare Carolinian ecosystem for future generations to enjoy.

The strong scent of bird excrement told me that there was not only a healthy population of double-crested cormorants, once endangered ironically, but also a healthy food source of smaller fish. While this species increased its numbers, spreading eastwards to the Great Lakes from the 1920s to the 1940s, it suffered a devastating set back from the effects of DDT from the 1950s to 1970s. Increased DDT levels in the cormorants’ bodies caused their eggshells to thin considerably. Cormorants incubate their eggs by wrapping the webs of their feet around the eggs, basically standing on the eggs, and thus crushing the thin-shelled eggs. DDT came into widespread use in the 1940s but most uses were banned in 1974, helping the population to experience an unprecedented resurgence in the 1980s and 1990s. At the same time, fish populations were affected by toxic chemicals as well. Large predatory fish populations declined, and smaller fish, such as rainbow smelt and alewife, became abundant as a result. These fish are the cormorant’s main diet. Currently, cormorants nest only on four islands in Lake Erie. Although food sources are plentiful, very little land is uninhabited, resulting in few nesting sites.

There is a concern about the effects cormorants have on the environment where they nest. These large birds, weighing on average 1.9 kilograms strip leaves from trees, break branches from the weight of their nests but most evidently, kill their nest tree from the extensive volume of excrement that rains down, killing ground vegetation and ultimately the nesting tree. On Middle Island, where rare Carolinian plant species reside, this is a concern as the large numbers of nesting birds have seriously impacted the island vegetation. I’d never seen such stark scenery in all my life as a result of bird excrement.

The sun was setting as a flaming orange orb on the far horizon, and the s-curved sand spit seemed to travel out to intersect it. Birds flew everywhere I looked. Numerous blue herons circled the island as dusk settled around Middle Island, some croaking a deep prehistoric sound. Pale, muted lavender and rose rimmed the eastern horizon and a sailboat, blue and white striped sail, sailed silently into the sunset. Just as darkness crept upon us, a flock of Canada geese honked noisily, flying barely above the blackened lake, splashing to a halting stop. By now, a three quarter moon had risen in the eastern sky above the gnarled, naked trees rimming the island, shimmering in silver sparkles as a trail of light travelled across the eastern portion of Lake Erie.

I was confident that tomorrow would be a repeat of the spectacular paddling weather I’d encountered on my first day, but gusting winds blew throughout the night. Awakening before sunrise, I knew it would be a risky decision to venture farther southward, so we decided to return in the lee of Middle Island to Pelee Island where we’d return to the mainland by ferry boat. I was amazed that the flocks of birds that had sat on the territory we’d claimed prior to our arrival never reclaimed their spots. Not a spatter of bird dung dropped upon my tent fly. I’d half expected to encounter splatter art upon awakening. Obviously camping during nesting season would be inappropriate on Middle Island, upsetting large numbers of birds.

We packed our kayaks, which were facing northwards at the edge of the water as a fiery red ball emerged from the eastern horizon, framed by silhouetted, barren trees. The sun had barely commenced its climb to its zenith in the sky and we were already paddling our fully loaded but responsive craft. A handful of dried apricots would sustain us until we arrived at Pelee Island.

The paddling started easily enough in the lee of Middle Island, a place I was glad to have visited but regretted not exploring more extensively, as unique finds apparently await, including a rusty vehicle with skis attached, used to smuggle liquor over the frozen lake during the Prohibition era.

The waves were from my stern, a tail wind, first assisting me northwards, but soon challenging my paddling skills. The waves seemed to come from around both the eastern and western tips of Middle Island and collide in a confusion of erratic, smacking waves mid-crossing to Pelee Island. There were times when Jim’s hat would only be visible as he’d plunge into a five foot trough. Four kilometres into the crossing, we passed Fish Point, and the erratic confusion of the waves subsided somewhat. Often the bows of our kayaks were submerged by waves. Although I didn’t feel nervous as the water and air temperatures were warm, I was glad we both paddled without capsize or mishap. I felt the power of the lake but at the same time, felt confident.

Most of the western shore of Pelee Island is protected from wave erosion by large blocks of limestone dumped along the shore where the westerly winds prevail. Approaching the West Dock ferry terminal, we found a small stretch of sand in the lee of a concrete breakwater, and beached our kayaks at the base of the limestone boulders. We had paddled about an hour and a half and had covered about ten kilometres in the tricky tail winds. According to wave physics, wave crests travel faster than wave troughs, and as a result, in tail winds kayaks have a tendency to broach sideways in an erratic zig-zag course. The only respite from the building wind had been in the direct lee of Middle Island.

Once safely ashore on rural Pelee Island, which has a population of 275, we eagerly pulled out the food bag to enjoy breakfast. Clambering over the two-metre high wall of dumped limestone rocks, I got my camping mug filled with coffee from the Pelee Island Hotel and Pub. We planned our day leisurely and unpacked our kayaks for the ferryboat return to Kingsville, Ontario. As the ferry didn’t depart until late afternoon and we’d arrived by 9:00 a.m., we explored the island’s north shore on a bicycle built for two, but that’s another story.