Team Logs

Gulf of Maine Expedition Cape Cod Journals
May 4 - May 11, 2002

Natalie's notes on Cape Cod
General Cape Cod shoreline
Navigation and the Intertidal zone
Recreational opportunities

Dan's notes on Cape Cod
Sand, Man, and Rock

Sue's notes on Cape Cod
Days 1-4
Day 5

Rich's notes on Cape Cod
Gulf of Maine zoology
Birds

Natalie's notes on Cape Cod

General Cape Cod shoreline

Cape Cod has a diverse system of dunes, beaches, ponds, and marshes. The glaciers finally retreated for the last time 10,000 years ago and left behind over 350 kettle ponds created by melting boulders of ice that filled up the depressions of land caused by the weight of the ice blocks. Longshore currents and storms erode sand from one region and dump it elsewhere on the Cape, leaving behind a constantly changing shoreline. According to Jim O'Connell, Coastal Processes Specialist, of Woods Hole Sea Grant, who joined us for a few hours of paddling along the Plymouth shore, one foot of shoreline is eroded from un-abetted areas each year.

Navigation and the Intertidal zone

May 6th.
At the moment, we are beached! Cape Cod Bay is keeping me highly entertained. The tide drains out to sand flats that extend a mile or so out to sea. For the second day in a row, we are slowed to a stop by the flats and getting comfortable for a several hour wait in the wind. Welcome to the Gulf of Maine, where the ocean and weather rule the humans!

May 9th.
We just crossed Cape Cod Canal today. The Canal itself proved to be relatively anti-climactic in light of multiple warnings about current. We crossed two hours before high tide, about 100 yards from the end of the jetty which juts out to sea. The current there was nil, apart from the 15-knot easterly winds at our backs. This will be one of the rare times we welcome an easterly wind.

This family of home-schooled girls (photo at right) met us at Scusset Beach near the Cape Cod Canal and will be following us on the web to learn about the Gulf of Maine.

We traveled 14 miles today from deep in the marshes of Barnstable Harbor, then along Sandy Neck, a six-mile stretch of sand dunes, one of the rare, and certainly the longest undeveloped shorelines we have seen at the bottom of Cape Cod Bay, beautiful mounds covered with grasses and separated by depressions in the sand.

Flat beaches still extend out to sea but the distances covered here by the flats are nothing compared to the flats at the entrance of Barnstable or even east of there such as Wellfleet B ay Audubon Sanctuary.

The sand flats are a bit complicated from the small boater's navigational perspective but they are ecologically fascinating. The intertidal zone extends horizontally so far that the chance of seeing unique critters is multiplied.

Horseshoe Crabs (Limulus polyphemus), for example, become a community unto themselves in this sandy intertidal zone. Common Slipper Shells (Crepidula fornicata) and barnacles (Balanus sp.) and different species of seaweed somehow manage, in all this sand, to zero in on Horseshoe Crab shells as the only solid substrate for miles around - this is fascinating to me. Northern boreal species that thrive in the rocky intertidal zone get carried by the current when they are still in the larval stages. Those who get flushed into Cape Cod Bay simply adapt to their sandy environment by making do with what is available. The result is that Horseshoe Crabs crisscross the bottom with veritable cities of invertebrates on their backs. Meanwhile, Horseshow Crabs also manage to find food along the bottom which, to the casual observer, may look entirely devoid of life. As Horseshoe Crabs grow, they shed their outer shell, leaving behind brown mounds of life filter feeding from a stationary object on the bottom on the flat. My only question is what happens when the shell decomposes?

Recreational opportunities

Dick Hilmer and Richard Rodman, both from Goose Hummock Outfitters, and other folks on the Cape are kicking off the Cape Cod Water Trail this week. Indeed, we found that the opportunities for sea kayaking abound throughout the Cape region we visited. But I was not surprised to learn that the trail system will highlight day trips as opposed to overnight options. The shoreline from Provincetown to the Canal and beyond up to Plymouth is dominated by private beaches. This is a region where the paddler absolutely must take the first principle of Leave No Trace quite seriously: "Plan Ahead and Prepare." We could simply not have traveled through this region without trespassing, breaking the law, and upsetting landowners with paddlers in general, if we had not had Tom Teller, our Massachusetts-based logistics and support volunteer-extraordinaire, on the task of finding places for us to camp legally.

Tom spent many hours on the phone and on the Internet securing permission for camping at places like the Wellfleet Bay Audubon Sanctuary, the Cape Cod Museum of Natural History, private shorefront lands, and public lands which normally forbid camping. We are incredibly grateful to Tom's diligence and to the special exceptions so many landowners have made for us. On several occasions, it was apparent that the only reason we were allowed to camp on location was because of our stated mission of sea kayak stewardship and Gulf of Maine education. "We don't give out permission to just anyone you know!" was a statement I heard a few times. Needless to say, our boom box (human waste pack-out system provided by our sponsor Eco-Safe) was a popular topic! This photo (left) shows one of our Cape Cod campsites where special permission is crucial because public camping is limited.

All this is to say Cape Cod Bay was an education in planning. High winds over shallow waters created choppy waves and conditions for grounding even a shallow draft kayak. That, coupled with limited access points to the water and extensive private shorelands, make for a float-plan that requires preparation. Not insurmountable, and certainly worth the effort, plan ahead and prepare before venturing out to Cape Cod Bay.

Dan's notes on Cape Cod

Sand, Man, and Rock

I have been on Cape Cod many times in the past. It was not until this journey that I fully realized the immensity of the volume of sand that makes up this geologic feature. While low in scale, the shoreline is impressive. Beneath the boats are broad sand flats, some exposed at low tide, along the shore are sand beaches, and rising above them are sand cliffs. Vegetation plays an important role in moderating the erosional forces of the sea.

Superimposed upon this sand landscape, virtually on the rim of the dune cliffs, are the almost ever-present cottages, homes, and mansions seeking the long view across the sea. Herein lies the great dilemma: how does one maintain a permanent structure in an ever-shifting sand environment?

Along with sand and houses, erosion control structures have a high visual presence. The shores of Massachusetts erode up to one foot each year. Attempts at erosion control range from grass and shrub planting to huge granite and concrete walls. For much of the Cape, the only rock one sees is that brought in and plastered against the base of the cliffs.

We had an opportunity to talk with Jim O'Connell, Coastal Processes Specialist with Woods Hole Sea Grant, about the relationship between sand, man, and rock. He pointed out that the sand for the beaches is supplied by the erosion of the cliffs with a natural erosion rate of about 1 foot per year. As the edge becomes hardened to protect homes the beaches down the coast are lost. Beach loss increases cliff loss, leading to more attempts at protection. Major coastal change takes place during major storm events.

We have paddled almost 90 miles of coastline between Provincetown and Saquish Head. On this coast there are only about 12-15 miles of natural undeveloped edge. There are about 3½ miles at the National Seashore near Wellfleet, about 8 miles along Sandy Neck at Barnstable, and some shorter sections in other conservation areas.

Commercial use of the coast is limited to a few marinas. The only industrial uses are the power plants at the Cape Cod Canal and at Rocky Point in Manomet. Once past the canal we spotted the first outfall pipes, probably for storm drainage.

I was impressed by the clarity of the water and the lack of shoreline debris. In many places we could see quite well, 10-15 feet to the bottom. The beaches were exceptionally free of domestic trash and fishing gear and we saw no oil residues.

Sue's notes on Cape Cod

Days 1-4:

If it keeps up like this...I quit! I'm as grouchy as hell, my muscles ache, Dan has "abandoned" me as he deals with his own issues, and the blasted wind just won't quit. I'm walking in six inches of water, helping to move this fully loaded double over a sand bar and I'm pooped. We keep grounding out in our attempt to find the deep water channel in to Barnstable Harbour. The only positive thing I have to say right now is that my shoulder muscles are getting a rest. After three days of bucking a head wind...I've had it.

I replay in my mind what got me to this point: the weeks of hectic activity in preparation for leaving Yarmouth, Nova Scotia; the week in Bar Harbour with Nat and Rich trying to amalgamate two couples' gear, food, and efforts into a smoothly operating team; the pre-launch day on the Cape dealing with all the last minute issues; and finally, the stress of getting ready to launch, under the gaze of the public eye, not really knowing for sure that everything would fit into these small boats.

After the launching ceremony, we had really planned to paddle to our first night's destination, crash, and sort our stuff in a more orderly fashion the next morning. Unfortunately, a visit from a park ranger nixed those plans. He requested that we be off the beach at first light so no locals would find us camping within the National Sea Shore (even though we had a permit). So we were up at 6:00 and on the water before 8, still as disorganized as ever.

The next three days were a blur of fighting the wind, being irritated at Dan and feeling very insecure about my role in this venture. At any moment, I expected to hear, "You are the weakest link...goodbye." What can I add to a group which contains two biologists, a landscape architect, and two registered kayak guides?

Dan, my usually attentive and thoughtful husband, is responding to the stress in his usual manner...by speeding up. While he and I have figured out the "gender- pace issue" while alone, this new situation is throwing it right back in our faces. He is also trying to find his niche in this newly formed group. I feel his stress and absorb it, while trying to deal with the physical difference of pace between us. His rushing is driving me crazy. I want to scream "SLOW DOWN!!" but don't feel comfortable enough with this group yet to do so. So I stay silent and my gut churns.

Meanwhile, I'm dealing with a body that should have made it to the gym a few more times before starting this trip. My pects want to curl up for a long nap, and we still have four nautical miles to go.

On top of this, no one else is talking. About gear, yes, about technology, yes, about the route, yes. But about aches and pains? No. About fears or irritations? No. Am I the only one struggling here?

Finally, I can stand it no longer. Last night after dinner I braved the question, "Don't you guys ever get tired?" Oh yes, they all assured me, they had their moments of weariness. But no one else said what I wanted to hear....that I wasn't alone in my angst.

So here I am, pulling this thing I'm supposed to be paddling, dressed like I'm part of a Polar expedition, cursing the wind, and knowing I have four more miles to cover before we can all stop.

Day 5:

Finally, the wind is at our backs. We covered the 14 miles today in less time that we fought our way over eight miles yesterday. As we raft up for a gorp break and enjoy the experience of movement without effort, we finally get around to my kind of topic. "How are we all doing?" asks Natalie?

I suggest we really need a formal debriefing of the last few days because I have a few issues to discuss. We agree to hold the discussion that evening when Tom will be present. Tom will be paddling with us for six weeks later on, so might as well know how the first week really went.

We start off positively, listing all the good things that have happened. For a group that has only spent five days together in the real world, with the rest of the communicating over six months being done via the digital world, we really have accomplished a lot. Decisions have been made, problems have been solved, systems have been adjusted, and gear has been packed.

But now the moment of truth has arrived.… "Where were the problems?" asks Nat. I take a deep breath and plunge in...and let it all out. My insecurities, my aches and pains, and my irritations. In return I finally get to know what they are feeling: the pressures they, too, have been dealing with, and what has been on their minds. The group is finally opening up, sharing, and bonding. It feels good. I think I'll stay.

And I may have just found my niche...the human element of the trip. Let Rich do the birds, Dan the landscape, and Nat the intertidal zone. The fascinating part of this journey, for me, will be the people.

Rich's notes on Cape Cod

Gulf of Maine zoology

The uniqueness of the Gulf of Maine begins at the base of the foodchain. Georges and Browns Banks rise from the depths creating an upwelling of nutrient-rich waters. The numerous river and stream systems pump billions of gallons of freshwater into the Gulf each year. A cool climate moderates water temperature, helping to keep the waters of the near its biologically most productive temperature. All of these factors are thrown into the cauldron that is the Gulf of Maine, whose extreme tidal ranges thoroughly mix the whole. All of this contributes to the ecologic diversity of the Gulf.

On May 5th, as we were paddling through the shallow waters of Wellfleet Bay, the wind abated for a period and the waters calmed, affording us a chance to go slow and look down into the shallow waters. Horseshoe Crabs were the major break in the sandy bottom. Wherever a shell or any other solid debris had settled, microcosms of life revolved: algae - mostly Fucus species (Rock Weed) or Ulva lactuca (Sea Lettuce) - had a place to fasten.

Drifting with the tide and gentle breeze, we slowly floated over the unwinding panorama below. Striped Bass (Roccus saxatilis) were schooling in the shallows, preparatory for spawning in the estuaries.

Fully ten minutes of drifting, looking down, enjoying the shallow landscape, I floated over a turtle. It took several seconds for it to sink in that it was a marine turtle. I paused to look closely, observing as much detail as I could of my first marine reptile. Later, talking to the Program Director of Wellfleet Bay Wildlife Sanctuary, Melissa Lowe, I learned that it was a Diamondback Terrapin, and that Cape Cod is the northernmost extent of this estuarine turtle.

Our first Harbor Seals (Phoca vitulina) were finally sighted on May 9th off Scusset Beach State Park, bobbin in the surf, not far from where we were camped.

Like the rest of the Gulf of Maine, along the Cape Cod shore, most of the zoologic diversity lies beneath the high tide line. Above, birds are one of the most visible features.

Birds

The Expedition got off to an auspicious start, On May 2nd, Bob DeForrest (our Education & Outreach Coordinator), Natalie Springuel, and I carpooled from our Bar Harbor, Maine, base to South Yarmouth, Massachusetts, where we would spend the next 36 hours making final preparations for the journey. Shortly into our drive south, as we were driving along the Union River in Ellsworth, Maine, two birds flying downstream caught my eye. Large, with prominent head forward and long tail aft, the all-white body with black wingtips left little doubt to their identification as Northern Gannets (Morus bassanus). What these pelagic birds were doing inland, who can say, however, I, for one, took them as omens portending interesting adventures to come.

Upon our arrival in Provincetown, Massachusetts, Laughing Gulls (Larus atricilla), black-headed in their breeding plumage, were common. This ubiquitous coastal bird was a good ambassador to our first day of paddling and has been a regular friend every day since.

A few Common Loons (Gavia immer) have been present every day since the beginning of our Expedition. This anadromous bird breeds on the freshwater lakes of the Northern Hemisphere and winters on our coastal waters. It is a dual-resident bird which ties the Gulf of Maine to the inland terrestrial environment.

Two of the Common Loons northern relatives, the Red-throated Loon (Gavia stellata) were observed on May 10th as we paddled toward Manomet Beach.

Double-crested Cormorants (Phalacrocorax auritus) have been observed every day, either sitting in small groups on glacial erratics or decrepit pilings, remnants from the days when Cape Cod towns were centers of fishing commerce rather than summer retreats. Occasionally we see flocks of Cormorants flying in an ill-formed "V".

Brant (Branta bernicla) have also been observed each day. It would seem they have not left yet for their Arctic breeding grounds.

Common Eider (Somateria mollissima) have become regular occurrences during the past several days of paddling. Whether it is because we have finally left the sandy shores of the Cape and are seeing more geologic diversity (a euphemism for rocky sections of coast) or we have come upon a migration wave, it is always a pleasure to see these cold-water birds.

Scoters are an irregular occurrence. The first few days of paddling, I never saw scoters close enough to positively identify them through the waterproof but salt-encrusted Bushnell 10x25s I keep around my neck as a navigation aid. Finally, on May 10th, a flock of Black Scoter (Melanitta nigra) flew directly overhead, easily identifiable. May 11th brought our first identifiable Surf Scoter (Melanitta perspicillata). This friendly bird was suddenly within ten feet of my sea kayak as we rounded Manomet Point. Its colorful beak obvious as it stayed with us for several minutes.

Three Osprey (Pandion haliaetus) were observed flying together above the seaside salt-water wetland at Cape Cod Museum of Natural History.

At the 1,000-acre Wellfleet Bay Wildlife Sanctuary - one of the best "managed" preserves I have seen anywhere - Northern Bobwhite (Colinus virginianus) was one of the first birds I saw away from the shore while a Great Crested Flycatcher (Myiarchus crinitus) called in the pines above.

Shorebirds are everywhere, and for me, the most difficult family of birds to identify. Everywhere there is a sandy beach, "peeps" and other shorebirds are in evidence, usually countable in single integers, but occasionally I have seen groups of several hundred, most of which I did not identify.

The Federally-protected Piping Plover (Charadrius melodus) is best evidenced by the abundant nesting areas roped off for their sanctuary. At Wellfleet Bay Wildlife Sanctuary, four flew over us.

Killdeer (Charadrius vociferus) lives up to its Latin species name, calling, "Kill dee dee dee." Although none have been seen, I heard several on Great Island on the west side of Wellfleet Harbor.

Greater Yellowlegs (Tringa melanoleuca) is one of those shorebirds I find easy to identify, both by its unique yellow legs and call, similar to the Willet (Cataptophorus semipalmatus). The Greater Yellowlegs has been the most frequently identified shorebird, being seen or heard at nearly every beach.

The Willet is best identified by its call, a high-pitched pill-will-willet, or by the latitudinal white band spanning the length of its wings. Willets are a bird of salt-water wetlands and were seen at Wellfleet Bay Wildlife Sanctuary and Cape Cod Museum of Natural History.

A flock several hundred strong of Semipalmated Sandpipers (Calidris pusilla) kept us company on the lee of the jetty outside of Sesuit Harbor while we huddled out of the wind for some gorp.

Four species of gull are abundant along the Cape Cod shore: Laughing, Ring-billed (Larus delawarensis), Herring (L. argentatus), and Great Black-backed (L. marinus). A lone Bonaparte's Gull (L. philadelphia) flew past us at Bound Brook Island, Cape Cod National Seashore.

Common Terns (Sterna hirundo) have became a regular occurrence since our stay at Cape Cod Museum of Natural History. Least Tern (Sterna antillarum) were abundant on the Cape Cod Bay side of Sandy Neck, north of Barnstable Harbor. These little terns are so much fun to watch with their bat-like flight.

A Great Horned Owl (Bubo virginianus) toned in at dusk with its bass hoots while we ate dinner at Wellfleet Bay Wildlife Sanctuary.

A lone Chimney Swift (Chaetura pelagica), known by some as a "cigar with wings" flew past us while we were rafted up in the relative shelter of the minicove at Manomet Point. Its Latin species name leads me to wonder if there is a use for pelagic other than deep sea.

Two Belted Kingfishers were heard (Ceryle alcyon), one at Wellfleet Bay Wildlife Sanctuary and one at the sandy bluffs of Manomet Beach.

While sitting two miles from shore on the sand flats outside Rock Harbor, waiting for the tide to return and float us off, a small group of Tree Swallows (Tachycineta bicolor) swarmed in. Barn Swallows (Hirundo rustica) were abundant in Barnstable Harbor.

American Crow (Corvus brachyrhynchos) was relatively common on most beaches, especially at low tide, with a few Fish Crow (Corvus ossifragus) occasionally discernable with its more nasal cah.

Black-capped Chickadee (Poecile atricapillus), Tufted Titmouse (Baeolophus bicolor), and White-breasted Nuthatch (Sitta carolinensis) have all been common in the shoreside brush and forests along our journey, as would be expected. Brown Creeper (Certhia americana) has even made the occasional appearance.

American Robin (Turdus migratorius) is the only thrush we have seen or heard, and that has been abundant once you get away from the shore, as has European Starling (Sternus vulgaris).

All of the mimics are regular characters along the coast, however, Northern Mockingbird (Mimus polyglottos) is the most abundant by far. One was heard at Manomet Beach imitating the ringer of a cell phone. A pair of Gray Catbirds answered spishing at Manomet Point (Dumatella carolinensis). The only Brown Thrasher (Toxostoma rufum) was at Provincetown when we launched.

Of the vireos and warblers, only Red-eyed Vireo (Vireo olivaceus), Yellow Warbler (Dendroica petechia), and Common Yellowthroat (Geothlypis trichas) have been observed, and those only in the wooded areas slightly removed from the shore, such as that at Manomet Point.

The seaside sparrows have been Savannah (Passerculus sandwichensis), Grasshopper (Ammodramus savannarum), and Seaside (A. maritimus). The sweet melodies of the Song Sparrow (Melospiza melodia) have greeted most of our shore-side activities. The Old Man Canada, Canada, Canada of the White-throated Sparrow (Zonotrichia albicollis) is present inland just a little bit wherever there are decent size wooded areas.

Red-winged Blackbirds (Agelaius phoeniceus) has been present in each of the tidal wetlands we have visited, such as Wellfleet Bay Wildlife Sanctuary and Cape Cod Museum of Natural History.

Slightly more abundant than the Red-wings has been Common Grackle (Quiscalus quiscula), seen both in the seaside woodlands and pecking among the tidal wrack on the beaches. Note how this iridescent blackbird flies with its tail vertical like a rudder, giving it great maneuverability.

Orchard Orioles (Icterus spurius) were regular sightings at our layover in Barnstable Harbor. Their high, thin, whistled note, different than the Baltimore Oriole (Icterus galbula), is what first drew my attention to them. A few Baltimore Orioles have been seen as well.

House Finch (Carpodacus mexicanus) were first seen at Scusset Beach, where they were nesting in the buildings housing public facilities.

American Goldfinch (Carduelis tristis) have been heard sporadically. When Natalie, Tom Teller, and I visited Manomet Conservation Science Center, I pointed one out, explaining how it says perchickory on the upswing of its flight pattern. Natalie, in her ineffable manner, said, "It is kind of like a person saying 'OOF' when climbing a hill."

Evening Grosbeaks (Coccothraustes vespertinus) were only heard in South Yarmouth, Massachusetts, on May 3rd, the day before we began the Expedition.

And, of course, being near urban areas, it is nearly impossible to NOT see House Sparrow (Passer domesticus).