Tag: Thimble Islands

Cruising The Thimble Islands

People are there, living less than a mile from Branford, yet totally isolated. It’s pretty cool. And we were riding by, looking at them as if they were on exhibit at the zoo!

My biggest fear (and Helaine’s too) on my parent’s trip to Connecticut was they’d sit in front of the TV and veg out. They’re active at home in Florida. That’s part of the reason they’re younger than their chronological age. With that in mind we’ve tried to have things for them to do. We’re willing to entertain.

After Helaine and I returned from another jaunt up Sleeping Giant&#185 and I showered, I took my folks to the Town Dock in the Stony Creek section of Branford. In this sedate like harbor lie the Thimble Islands. We were going on a Thimble Island cruise.

A little science first. When the glaciers retreated at the end of the last ice age, much of the debris that had been pushed forward was left in place. That’s how Long Island got there. It’s also how many of the craggy rock faces of Connecticut came to be. Some smaller deposits formed the Thimbles and other islands in Long Island Sound.

We got a good parking spot close to the pier and walked on-board the Sea Mist, a 44-footer that does hourly tours of the nearby islands. A few minutes later, we were underway.

What makes the Thimble Islands so interesting is they are mainly populated–even the ones that are little more than a rock barely jutting out of the water at high tide. Some have a single home. Others have a small cluster of buildngs. There are no year-round residents.

People are there, living less than a mile from Branford, yet totally isolated. It’s pretty cool. And we were riding by, looking at them as if they were on exhibit at the zoo!

The water off Branford tends to be smooth and on this day with little wind it was glass-like. For 45 minutes we threaded our way between the rocks as Justin, at the wheel, told the story of each.

This will not replace Disneyworld. Today it was very nice… very relaxing… very Connecticut. I’m glad I got to share it with my folks.

&#185 – I’m glad to say Woody, who many of you have seen commenting here, has also begun to walk the mountain. It continues to be a rewarding experience for Helaine and me.

Outer Island

Once a year Outer Island, the southernmost of the Thimble Islands, is open to the public. The Thimbles are a chain of small islands and rocks sprinkled just south of Stony Creek in Branford, CT. Outer Island itself is part of the Stewart B. McKinney National Wildlife Refuge.

The morning started gray and very foggy, but this was a rain or shine event! I popped a Bonine for seasickness and headed out with my friend Rick, his wife and daughter and two of their friends.

You get to Outer Island via water taxi. The boat leaves from Branford’s Town Dock and stops at other islands along the way, dropping off and picking up residents and visitors.

Outer Island is about 5 acres of rock laid down as the last ice age retreated. It was originally a private island, owned by a couple. In fact, the main house and a smaller building are still there. It’s now owned by the Fish and Wildlife Service of the Department of the Interior.

I’m sure most people will disagree, but in many ways, I wish it was still private. There is an experience to be had living on that island that will never be felt again.

Please understand, I’m not diminishing the research and scientific work being done there now. And I certainly wouldn’t be able to afford this island life I’m talking about. But someone should have the opportunity to drink in the solitude and beauty that can be found in so few places.

We toured the island, led by two professors from local universities. The island’s location and rocky terrain gives it some unusual characteristics – especially in the tidal pools carved into the rock. And then there are the rock crabs, a recently introduced species that’s muscled out some of the shoreline’s former residents.

Outer Island is the kind of place you don’t get to see too often… though you should if you get the chance.

Oh… one more thing. The Bonine has kept me loopy all day! I drove to dinner with Helaine and Stef, but it quickly became obvious I wasn’t ready to drive. Most of the side effects the package says can happen, have happened. Hopefully, I’ll sober up on Sunday.


The Most Beautiful Weather


The past two days have featured the most beautiful weather you could imagine. Temperatures were in the upper 60s and low 70s, the dew points (hence humidity) were low, the sky azure blue. I had nothing to do and nowhere to go.

I tried to convince Helaine to go to New York City, but with Steffie studying for finals, she wanted to stay nearby. I called a friend, trying to see if he’d take a drive to the shore. Zero.

This afternoon, the sunshine was too much to take. I put the top down on the car and headed toward Branford with the intention of catching the setting Sun over Long Island Sound.

Though I often kvetch about the winter weather, there’s no doubt Connecticut is spectacularly beautiful. I live in an area called Mount Carmel, though I’m only at 280 feet above sea level. Within a mile of our house is Sleeping Giant Mountain.

When the glaciers retreated after the last ice age, they left much of what they were pushing forward in place. That’s how Long Island got to be where it is and how Southern Connecticut has some sharp, though not very tall, ‘mountains.’ Most notable are East Rock, overlooking New Haven Harbor and Sleeping Giant.

In the Sound itself are many pint sized island, often one single rock, left with the glacial retreat. The group off the Branford shoreline is called the Thimble Islands.

Stony Creek, an area in Branford overlooking the Thimbles was my destination. The thought was I’d go there early enough to see the sunset, get some photos and go home.

I hadn’t been to the Branford shoreline for a number of years, and I appreciate it more today. There are some ostentatious homes, though most are not. In fact the best way to characterize the architecture of Stony Creek is, appropriate. This is the right place to have a fence or home draped with floats that usually mark the lobster pots that sit beneath the water’s surface.

Parking was easier than I’d ever seen it at the Town Dock. The view was clear all the way to the horizon. There were few boats moving among the islands – probably due to the later hour.

I’ve only been on a Thimble Island once in my twenty years here. Someone I used to work with used to be married to a someone whose parents owned a small home on Governors Island – right next door to Jane Pauley and Garry Trudeau. I spent an afternoon trying to be nonchalant whenever in their presence.

The house I visited was small and sweet. The center of the island was like the spine of a large flat rock. Though there was fresh water and a telephone (in those pre-cell days) at the house, there was no outside source of electricity. When it got dark outside, it got dark inside.

As the Sun began to set, I began to realize it would be setting behind a small hill – not over the water. I got in my car and began to drive.

Because Branford’s shoreline is irregular, it was impossible to know if or when I’d find a spot with a view. And, even if there was a spot, it might not have parking or be open to strangers at all.

I headed down one road with houses on one side and a salt marsh on the other. It was obvious from the beginning there would be no sunset from here, but the view across the marsh toward an inlet from the Sound and a large marina was impressive. So was a closer scene of two ducks in a small salt pond at the edge of the marsh.

After a few minutes I moved on. Using the deep, late day shadows as my guide, I headed to a residential area. Four houses faced a small inlet. Though the sign said “No Parking,” I pulled to the curb and shut my engine. In the twenty minutes I stayed, there were no other cars.

There still wasn’t a clear shot to the Sun setting over the water, but there was a nice notch in a hill where the Sun would dip. In the foreground a sailboat was moored in the channel.

I took as many shots as I could, bracketing the exposures. I’m going to have to rethink this type of shot because I’m still not sure I got the best balance between the red sky and the sailboat… or if this type of shot is even possible in the digital world. When I allowed enough light for the boat, the sky lost its color. And, when I let the red sky dominate, the boat couldn’t be seen. Even with Photoshop this picture isn’t nearly as nice as what I saw with the naked eye.

After nearly 7,000 photos there is still plenty I don’t know about my camera – stuff I want to learn. There was probably some technique I could have use to improve my chances of a good shot. But what?

The Sun was down as I left Branford, but that made my two last shots even nicer. Branford’s Green has a few churches, including one built in 1640. It is starkly lit at night and stood out well.

A few blocks down the road is the town’s library. From the outside it is an imposing building with a domed roof and stately columns. Inside (of course it wasn’t open on a Sunday night at 8:30 PM), it seems like the kind of place Conan Doyle would put Sherlock Holmes. The floor plan is probably considered impractical today, with its alcoves and curved walls, but it is fun to be in.


All the pictures from this entry are available in a larger format in my photo gallery, or by clicking on any individual photo

My Day of Kayaking

As anticipated, 8:30 AM came very quickly. Hey, to me that’s the middle of the night. A little procrastination with the bedroom TV, and then I was in the shower getting ready. I was actually running on time!

The plan was to meet at my friend Kevin’s house, in Cheshire at 10:00 AM. Kevin had invited me, his boss Scott and his daughter, plus a friend, Jeff.

It was beautiful. A little on the humid side, but with a pure blue sky. I had the top down and the radio up. As I turned from N. Brooksvale to Mountain Rd, a bicyclist came the other way. He was dressed in a loud, skin tight biking suit. But, he had the best advice of the day, “Cops ahead.”

The speed limit on Mountain is 25 mph – an unattainable goal, even if you know there are police lurking. I did about 30. As I passed the patrol car, the policeman turned his head and looked at me. No one does 30 without being tipped off! I’m sure he knew.

Kevin has a small trailer. He lashed the kayaks to it, and we were off. We went up I-84 to Waterbury and then north on Route 8 into the Southern Litchfield Hills. It didn’t take long to get to the White Memorial Foundation – hundreds of acres of nature preserve.

If the White Memorial Foundation sounds familiar, it should. It’s where Connecticut’s Governor Rowland has a small cottage, which had a hot tub, which is all swirled within the specter of corruption charges.

Scott checked the water temperature as we brought the boats down to the Bantam River. His thermometer read 70&#176, though we would later all agree it was probably in the 60’s farther from shore.

If I had been in a kayak before, it was a long time ago. I rocked a little from side to side as I set out. Last night, at the station, our director Tracey had admonished me to push, not pull when paddling. Otherwise, she said, I’d get very sore.

Easier said than done, but I tried.

The Bantam River is small and gently flowing in this part of Litchfield County. We headed to the right, against the minuscule current. A light breeze was at our back.

You actually wouldn’t know there was a current on this river except for the beaver dams. I had heard and read about beaver dams for years, but had never really experienced them. From bank to bank, a pile of twigs, branches and mud choked the flow. We found weak spots and paddled over… though I got caught a little more than once.

The kayak handled really easily and it didn’t take me long to get into the rhythm. Inertia is an important part of kayaking. When you stop paddling, the kayak continues… in my case it often kept going until it hit another kayak!

The White Memorial Foundation land is a protected habitat for all sorts of wildlife. We saw birds, including a few hawks and beautiful red winged blackbirds. A duck, probably protecting a nearby nest, let me get pretty close without flinching. I turned back, not wanting to upset him. There were turtles too, including one who seemed to be stretching out as if he were sunning himself on a Caribbean vacation.

After a mile or so (Kevin had a GPS receiver capable of plotting our course) we came to some beaver dams too high to paddle over. So, we just turned around and went back down river.

The river wasn’t crowded, but it wasn’t empty either. A while later we ran into an older husband and wife, and their dog Coco. The dog was sitting comfortably in a wicker basket lashed to the front of one of their kayaks. Coco started kayaking at 3 months and wouldn’t even think of staying on shore now.

My five hours of sleep and the gentle rocking of the kayak was starting to catch up with me. I asked if it would be OK for us to end it here – and we did.

I hadn’t flipped the kayak. I hadn’t really gotten sick. I hadn’t put anyone else in mortal danger by doing something stupid. The trip was a success.

I’m hoping to go with Kevin again. Next time, with a little Dramamine, I’d like to try the Thimble Islands, off the Branford coast, in Long Island Sound.