Kayaking to Sinkers Creek....

After paddling my family’s kayak the four or five miles to Gum Point and back, I settled on heading the other direction on the Pamlico River that evening and paddling up Sinkers Creek and back.

Sinkers Creek, as I related last week, is actually St. Clair Creek on the maps. But it’s drawled into vernacular as Sinkers over the years, and I think new name adds a little flair. Especially for boaters.

According to Wikipedia.org, St. Clare (yeah, slightly different spelling) of Assisi is the patron saint of needleworkers. Yeah, I prefer Sinkers.

Anyway, the trip downstream to where the creek comes into the river ran pretty well. There is a little channel between two spits of land that larger boats want to stay as the enter the creek, but the kayak only draws a couple of inches of water, so that’s not much of a problem.

But I am always worried that someone piloting a larger boat won’t see me and will plow right over me, which wouldn’t be good.

So I scooted on into the creek and started working along the shore, heading up the flow to where a bridge crosses – maybe a mile upstream.

As you pass through the two marshy spits of land that divide the creek from the river, Sinkers opens out to a body of water large enough for a little water skiing. But as you head upstream you see less and less water and more and more marsh.

Someday I’ll probably run into an alligator but so far I haven’t.

I have run into a very unhappy river otter while exploring the creek with my Dad once upon a time. The critter was maybe 20 feet from our boat, in the water, only its head sticking up, and just chattering away at us with burning vehemence. I don’t speak otter-ese, but he sure didn’t sound friendly.

I wove my way upstream to the bridge, at which point the creek is maybe only 30 feet wide – large enough for a small grass boat ramp, but don’t show up with your yacht. I passed under the bridge (kind of a right of passage that you’ve actually been there for me) and headed back.

I was worried I was running a little late, which is I was worried my Mom was worried I was running a little late, so I tried for a pretty good pace back to the main part of the river….

…where I found the wind had picked up and I was going to have to fight my way into a pretty healthy crop of whitecaps if I wanted to make it back.

So I buckled down and put my back into it (and made sure my camera was in it’s plastic baggie: pictures on the blog, jderrickstar.blogspot.com) and tried to ignore the water coming into the boat as waves splashed into the cockpit.

Things were a little hairy, but it was mostly just a case of keeping my cool, having my weight in the bottom of the boat (kayaks have a reputation as being a little tipsy) and keeping moving.
I made it back in good shape with tired arms.

More recently I’ve been using my legs – cycling around Chapel Hill as a newly minted law student.

But that’s another column.