Meryl Grandy

A blog reader was kind enough to send us the following note ~

I found a book at my local library that I wanted to share: "Down Denmark Strait" by E. Newbold Smith, 1980. The author takes his Swan through the '76 Newport-Bermuda race and then north through Newfoundland to Iceland, Sweden, Spitsbergen, Greenland, Gulf of St Lawrence, and New York. The book includes a layout and profile of REINDEER, with S&S approval noted. It is a quick read and is entertaining from a pre-GPS sailor's point of view with several Cold War references.

ISBN 0-316-79958-0

Quickly looking on the Internet the book seems to be fairly readily available on the used book market. Thank you for sending this.

The wild rice was laying down, a fuzzy matt of tan fibers and stalks.  The river was getting wider, the winter edges pushing back to the edge of the cattails as the summer growth of rice disappeared.


The big river was running 2 to 1, my shorthand for twice as long against the current as with the current to cover a distance.  But, with such a fine sunny day, a spectacular late autumn day for sure, I went farther up the river than necessary, rounding all of Wilcox Island before entering the Mattebasset on the way downstream.



The trees and brush have long since dropped their leaves, exposing the surface of the wetland and most of what is there, and what has been left there.  It's a time of dormancy, but I always find it a time of hope.  The trees are just waiting for the right time to regrow their leaves, they are just adding one more ring to their measure of time. 

There are just a few big birds, a couple great blue herons, a few hawks, two swans.  Mostly, it is smaller songbirds, and woodpeckers - lots of woodpeckers, primarily the downy, but I also spot one of the larger hairy woodpeckers. 



The near lack of breeze creates clear reflections of the silver grey trees on the water and sometimes I just navigate by watching the reflections instead of the actual river's edge.  It's all the same except upside down. 

I turn at the tavern put-in, where the tavern no longer stands.  I have no reason to push farther up the river, and I have good reason to take my time and explore unvisited inlets on the way out. 



I turn up a backwater that has a thin sheet of ice, using the bow of my canoe to create a small vee.  The view of frozen water and the sound of frozen water cracking will never cease to hold me.