Clammer at Dawn, Orient Harbor

The image was caught a week ago, on a morning that found us scurrying across to the ferry at Orient Point. For us, this involves first taking the pair of ferries across Shelter Island (where I invariably fight off the urge to linger). Once on the North Fork, we were in a rush because of our reservation, but there was just enough time for pictures.

The view south from this spot is one of open bays and hundreds of preserved acres. To the left is the prominent sliver of Orient Beach State Park–the largest tract of preserved land on the North Fork,  and a place with surprisingly dense stands of prickly pear cactus (perhaps Long Island’s Baja). Further afar are the heights of Ram Island, and the pebbly bluffs of Cedar Point in East Hampton. The  view from this beach, particularly if you include the water, adds up to a lot of open space by anyone’s standards.

I’ve kayaked to these spots on many occasions, trips which I’ve mostly taken alone (not always wise) on my trusty 17′ Capella. The morning I took this picture it was warm enough to slide a boat into the shallows, and the bay was rosy and luminous–as calm as a well-fed infant. I took some pictures, but the kayaking was going to have to wait for another day.

It’s comforting to know there are many similar estuaries up and down the coast– the unpopulated bays at the end of sandy roads, the little-known tidal creeks, and the many salt marshes being nursed back to health by caring people.

Perhaps these are not places that meet the legal definition of wilderness, but pay that no mind. They are places of solitude that own the word “east”.

December Morning – Sag Harbor Bay From North Haven

North Haven, with it’s 360 degrees of shoreline, has endless opportunities for seascapes. On the east side beaches for example, the sun is currently rising perpendicular to the photographer producing beautiful light (especially if the seas are as calm as they were on Sunday morning).

From the north, there are a number of views of Shelter Island. From the southeast corner you’re looking at Jessup’s Neck in Noyack and from the northeast corner you’ve got a view of Southold. At the end of Route 114 you can watch the South Ferry making its endless rounds to Shelter Island.

This picture looks up along the east shore, and in the distance is Mashomack Preserve. The eastern part of North Haven is riddled with boulders and small patches of salt marsh; the other side is populated with high bluffs. Calm seas make either place the perfect locale for seascapes.

The best way to take it all in is with a sea kayak. From Long Beach you can circumnavigate North Haven in two or three hours. If you decide to paddle across to Mashomack you can stretch the trip to five. There’s also Genet Creek which is situated just to the west of the South Ferry launching area. Paddling into Genet will take you surprisingly far into the central part of the peninsula and much of the surrounding land is preserved. You can easily spend an hour or two poking around, slack tide being the optimal time for a visit.

This picture was taken with a normal lens which, in a way, is the least “obvious” of focal lengths. What interested me here was the repetition of shapes – the tongue of salt marsh being repeated by the shape of the largest cloud. Despite the placidity of the water, there is also a nice spiraling movement – clouds, reflections and the rocks in the foreground – something which I was hoping to capture more effectively with this lens.

Southampton Photographs – Meadow Lane Boathouse

A morning kayak trip across Shinnecock Bay yielded several photographs of the historic Meadow Lane boathouse. Although this structure rises from the marshy flats of Eastern Long Island, much about it reminds me of similar abandoned buildings from the high plains – both from an historical context and also because of its sequestered setting. For Southampton, the boathouse is a footnote to a local history which is all but gone. It stands (at least for now) as a monument to former times. Approaching it from the bay by kayak is a good way to get a feel for this place – a building far more connected to the sea than the land.

Other photographs of abandoned structures from the west and elsewhere may be seen by clicking on this link:

http://johntodaro.wordpress.com/category/viewpoints/solitary-structures/

Here’s a link to another photograph from Shinnecock Bay on the same kayak outing:

http://johntodaro.wordpress.com/2010/05/13/southampton-photographs-great-egrets-and-duck-blind-shinnecock-bay/

 

 

 

Kayaking and Photographing Great Peconic Bay

The Sebonac Creek estuary in North Sea is one of the better places in the area to find yourself in a sea kayak. Pleasantly under-developed, you can chart a route in any direction and count on some peace and quiet. To the south is Bullhead Bay – and from there the creek meanders three miles to Scallop Pond. There is also much to see by heading through one of the two inlets into Great Peconic Bay. You can paddle around Cow Neck Point or down along the beach adjoining the National Golf Links. A more adventurous trip is to track across to the North Fork, circumnavigating Robins Island – a paddle that takes most of a day. It’s something I’ve done, but only after some planning with respect to wind and tides. In this picture, the view is from the beach near the Links looking west. Across the bay a distant moraine rises from the Pine Barrens near Riverhead and Flanders.  A couple of years ago I hiked to the top of one of those hills with my brother and we stumbled upon the opposing view. Beyond the forest was a secluded view into Great Peconic Bay where we caught sight of Robins Island and the cliffs in Southampton where I took this picture.

Southampton Photographs – Great Egrets and Duck Blind, Shinnecock Bay

A worthwhile excursion by sea kayak (assuming the winds are cooperating) takes you from the landing east of the Shinnecock Canal over to the marshy area which backs up to Meadow Lane in Southampton. The bay is shallow, easy to cross and is a place that’s full of expectations for rare birds.

Early on the morning I took this picture, getting over to the beach was no issue. The sky had intriguing color and there was a captivating chill in the air. Once in the marshes, I spent some time floating about in the vicinity of the old boathouse. I was occupied by short paddle strokes and subsequent long glides over mud banks which were pleasantly stuffed with mussels. It’s the quiet in places like this that appeals the most– and I was trying to keep it that way because I had a hunch that something interesting lay ahead.  I’d packed my camera in a dry bag just in case and the bag was stuffed under my spray skirt.

Just west of the boathouse I suddenly came upon two Great Egrets sunning on top of a duck blind. These birds are by no means rare in Southampton, but good photographs of them are– especially if the photographer is nervous about keeping his camera dry and isn’t looking for reasons to capsize his boat. They watched with suspicious eyes.

With a bit of luck, I managed to locate my camera, change a lens, brace myself with a paddle float, and capture an image just as the birds flew off.

Sea Kayaking and Photographing Eastern Long Island

I’ve always lived a couple of miles from the sea, but for most of those years, my gaze was the only part of me that travelled to it. My view visited the water but my feet remained in the sand. Tides and swells were observed with fascination but rarely experienced with the pleasure that one can only feel from a boat.

My earliest years in New York City were a stone’s throw from crowded Brooklyn beaches, but by the time I was five, I’d already been transplanted to the west coast of Florida.  There, my father would drive us in the family station wagon to the Gulf of Mexico where I learned to swim and hunted for Coquina shells.  Years later I spent my teen-aged summers at a place called Crab Meadow- a leeward beach found between tall bluffs in Northport NY where the Connecticut coastline glimmered in the heat and the waters of Long Island Sound provided an excellent place to cool off.

In my twenties I lived for two years on Fire Island employed as a ranger for the National Park Service. In midwinter I’d walk the steep-scarped ocean beach savoring it’s desolation. In spring, I saddled up a government horse named Bandit, and we patrolled together in the shadow of the lighthouse. Nearby, the dunes were crowded with budding beach peas and blooming roses.

In the 1980′s I moved to East Hampton on eastern Long Island where sandy ocean hikes became rocky ocean hikes near Montauk. My wife and I walked these places hundreds of times and later we walked them with my son.

It wasn’t until ten years ago that I finally left the land behind. In the spring of 2000 I purchased a 17 foot sea kayak – a British-made boat named for Capella, the vivid star in the east on winter evenings in this part of the world. My father had just died and I needed a change.

The swells, rips and breakers which I’d been merely looking at for decades were now open for exploration. In the subsequent years, my boat has taken on the distinct look of well-worn fiberglass that has seen serious use.

She has taken me offshore to nearly every place you can get to from where I live, and I’ve often found myself in places that rival anywhere I’ve ever been for solitude. This fast yellow boat also took me to an unending array of new places to photograph.

Among these is the 2000 acre Nature Conservancy Mashomack Preserve on Shelter Island. A paddle over to it from Northwest Harbor is generally conducted with no one but gulls along for company and is within view of several thousand additional acres of preserved land in East Hampton. I’ve made many trips along Mashomack’s ten miles of undeveloped shoreline and also many photographs. It is one of the quietest places I know.

The Algonquin word Mashomack means “where they go by water” a place name (which for obvious reasons) is at the top of my list of favorites.