October 2009 – Waterlines — A Maine Sea Kayaking Journal

The Great Pumpkin doesn’t sit around idly waiting for Halloween any more. You may have read about the pumpkin boat races in Damariscotta a few weeks back. Apparently these races in which people paddle hollowed-out 600 pound pumpkins or afix outboard motors to them are sprouting up all over. Goffstown New Hampshire, Nekoosa Wisconsin, Sacramento, and Germany are just a few of the other sites of recent pumpkin boat races.

On land, pumpkins are not generally known for their speed. One might guess that the same would be true once they are placed in the water. I checked out several news stories as well as a few Youtube videos of Pumpkin Boat Races. I am happy to report that my research supported my supposition.

The would-be boat designer in me wants to know if a pumpkin can be encouraged to grow into a more hydrodynamic shape. A quick perusal of MentalFloss archives suggests that maybe this is true. The writer there experimented with using various containers as molds for her pumpkins. Hmmm . . . the first kayak of entirely compostable materials may not be far off.

. . . Which got me thinking: if you can paddle a pumpkin, is there any material you cannot make a boat from? Back to Google where I had already found 2.4 million hits for “pumpkin boat.” I tried “cement boat” (2.8 million hits), and “cardboard boat” (151, 000 hits). Other web sites went into the intricacies of cork boats, steel boats, trash boats, and boats made of plastic bottles.

On a somewhat bigger scale, the Plastiki, a 60-foot catamaran built from 20,000 re-claimed plastic bottles, is in its final months of construction out in San Francisco. The Plastiki is set to launch in April for its 12,000 mile journey across the Pacific. The stated goal of the journey: “The Plastiki Expedition is a bold adventure that aims to capture the world’s imagination and draw our attention to the state of our oceans.” In particular, the 6 member crew will study ocean acidification, marine debris, overfishing, and coral bleaching.

Anyone else feel inspired? A pumpkin boat race across Belfast Harbor would be great fun. Keep that in mind as you start to go over seed catalogs a few months from now. That’s one thing about pumpkin boat racing: it teaches you to plan ahead.

Made the trip up to Addison last weekend to close up camp. Boarded up a few windows, secured the tarp that serves as a shed door, unplugged the well pump, drained the pipes and water heater, put antifreeze down the drains, and used a compressor to blow out any remaining water (let’s hope). Propped the fridge door open, pushed the front door shut from the inside (only way to get it securely closed), and made the usual ungraceful exit out the back window.

The annual rite of draining pipes and shutting off the water is for many camp owners fittingly symbolic of the end of summer, requiring resolve, decisiveness, and — often as not — more than a little remorse.

If beings from another planet were to do an anthropological study of New Englanders, they would likely be intrigued by our fixation with water. They would notice that in the summertime, we frequently make long pilgrimages to large bodies of water. Once there, we characteristically shed most of our clothes and recline beside it, swim in it, or go out boating on it. Particularly at dawn and sunset, they would notice groups of us staring out across it, as if in prayer. Near the end of the day great numbers of us gather in eating places that are — you guessed it — beside the water. And then, for good measure, we return to our homes or hotel rooms and douse off with a long shower.

In a land of such water abundance, it is no wonder we take much of our daily water use for granted. According to Drinktap.org the per capita daily use of household water in the US is 69.3 gallons. The biggest chunks of that are for washing clothes and showers.

They say the next world war will be fought over water. That is hard to imagine, living here in the Northeast. It’s easier to imagine when you look at daily per capita water consumption in other countries. In Haiti,for example, that figure is 1.2 gallons.

Ironic water fact of the day: The manufacture of a one liter plastic bottle uses 7 litres of water.

The trip to close up camp wasn’t all penitential. It was also an excuse for a kayak trip around Head Harbor Island. Contrary to the forecasts, our day of paddling started with blue skies and bright sunshine. The weathered black cliffs along the shoreline of Head Harbor Island and the hundreds of seals in Head Harbor, the Cow’s Yard, and Eastern Bay were among the highlights.

Just because the camp is closed up doesn’t mean we won’t go back there again before spring, of course. The camp will be dry, but there’s plenty of water — for paddling at least — off Moosabec Reach.

Water Almanac for October: Through last week, despite the snowy winter and impossibly wet spring and early summer, precipitation for the year stands at 33.3 inches,just 3.6 inches above normal. Penobscot Bay water temperatures are down to 54 degrees after a high of about 67.4 degrees on August 18. Area streamflows are above average for this time of year, with the Ducktrap River running at 22 cubic feet per second.