Apr 15 - Back Bay expedition, continued**

Saturday, April 15, 1972 - Page 106
LOCATION: Newport Beach, California

[This text is continued from page 105. April 15's entry will appear on the April 16 page]
5:00 PM
It is still Apr. 14 -- this is a continuation. The time is 5:09, and the location is estimated to be at ♇ [Pluto astronomical symbol: P-over-L in a circle at upper right] on the map. I may be further than that, I'm not sure. I won't be able to get home before dark -- the sun will be going down in an hour or so. I got into Upper Newport Bay as usual -- the tide was quite low, but not as low as last time. The mullets gave a more spectacular show than usual, leaping from the water 2 and 3 at a time. There was one boat with a skier attached to it, and one gal driving a speed boat. This caused pretty high waves -- not just wakes, but waves -- and that, plus a fairly strong wind made it a little complicated while maneuvering among the fish. Anyway, I didn't spend too much time with them -- I went on to the inlet I had explored last Sunday, but this time, when it split, I took the right stream which was thicker and deeper. Here there was a strong current against me and it was slow going. I upset literally thousands of birds who simultaneously clouded the skies. Miraculously, however, I was untouched by their bombing raids.

This photo is mentioned on the previous page, April 14

When I began getting too tired to paddle, I switched to the faster method of getting out of the kayak and wading through the water, pulling the boat along. The water was very shallow, not more than 6 inches deep. The bottom of the "river" was fine sand on top of soft mud. I followed the river for miles, and the depth of the water changed from 6 inches to an occasionally 2 to 3 feet, and sometimes it was barely an inch deep. The current seemed very strong, and the wind was against me -- it was hard to keep the boat pointed straight. The mud underfoot changed often too -- usually it was like soft clay, sometimes it was sandy, now and then there was quicksand almost 2 feet deep -- if I didn't have the kayak to lean on, I may have found out it was deeper. At one point there was a change in the under water topography, so that there was a miniature waterfall, preceded by a very deep area of water (3 feet approx). I passed the loud little waterfall, and eventually came up to another vague fork, where the streams split. By this time my left foot was bleeding from one or two cuts (there were some sharp shells under water). I, characteristically, took a wrong turn. I entered what turned out to be a smaller, shallower area. (To be continued on page 35)

[Although the text takes us back to February 4, page 35, I will include it here to conclude this lengthy entry]

Friday, Apr. 14, 5:32 PM
This entry is from the Future, page 106. Continued: -- I followed the wrong river, hoping it would lead to the wider, freer flowing stream. (That "wider, freer flowing stream," I think, was the "2,000 meter rowing course" mentioned on the map on page 100. The course has long been out of use). The current, by this time, had changed, and water moving in the opposite direction, moving with, instead of against me. So I didn't have to push the kayak -- it just "swam" beside me like I was walking a pet dolphin. The river bottom got muckier and more polluted -- flies were getting common, and tall thick grass lay on the banks in occasional patches. Here the water was warmer than the air, which was about 65°. Finally, the river joined the rowing course through a narrow grass covered channel. I carried the boat over it, and began wading through the course, the bottom of which was clean, soft sand. Sometimes I sank knee deep in the silt. This went on for at least another half mile, and I began wondering if Alligators live in salt water. The banks began taking on the appearance of swamplands, tall grass and bushes covered the shore. This contrasted with the barren mud of most of Upper Newport Bay I was familiar with. I seemed to remember that there were alligators in these waters, but that must have been a year or so ago. The water was dead now -- too polluted for fish, frogs or alligators. But there was wildlife at water's edge. The ever present long-beaked birds were still around, but now there was other life: rabbits, squirrels, pigeons and horses. The horses were on the land, not far away, being ridden by girls. There also was a group of kids and an adult wandering through the grass and bushes, but the place still seemed desolate. After all, I was the only thing moving through the river. The water got deeper more often, and the mud went down further -- sometimes I was waste deep in water, thigh deep in quicksand. The landscape kept changing -- I'll have to bring my camera here sometime.

Already I was miles farther than I'd ever been in the Bay. At one area the water was only an inch deep and I had to drag the boat over it -- at other spots there were little waterfalls and water so deep I had to float, holding the boat to stay up. I passed under a bridge that I don't see on the map. Beyond that was deep quicksand that made it necessary for me to get back in the boat and continue paddling. The banks were covered with beauteous plants with tiny yellow balls on them. After a little bit further through this idyllic scene, I came to another bridge, one I remember having driven over often, and right now (five minutes to six) I'm underneath that bridge. It's the end of the line -- I'm floating in water which has come from ten pipes, four or five feet in diameter, embedded in hard rock (The bottom of the river is granite, I think). The sun is beginning to set, and my hand is unsteady from the cold. The water, streaming from 7 or 8 of the pipes, is noisy as it splashes down, foaming under the bridge. Above me there is the sound of cars speeding along the bridge. It is 6:00 now, and I'm going to try to get back to Eye Sore Park. Boy, it's getting cold! -- I just tasted the water coming from the pipe nearest me -- it's fresh! Wonder where it's from. I'll have to wait to find out -- gotta get home as soon as I can.

12:09:06 AM
The sky turned from blue to gold, then to twilight, dusk, and dark. The moon was just a finger-nail clipping (day after new moon). The tide was unusually high, like a bath tub filled to the brim. Saw the lights of three boats. Finally got home at 7:30, put the boat on the dock and walked to the Grand Shoebox with just the paddle. Mom was vacuuming the rug, and the TV was on to Hollywood Squares. She had called Chunk, then Dad, then the Harbor Patrol (that may have been one of the boats I saw). Watched H.S. [Hollywood Squares], then Sanford & Son, then a movie, "Hour of the Gun." Chunk came over at 10:30 to look at the films of King's [River races] while Mom was out buying some food. Watched the films till 11:30, then he left. I've gotta get up at 6:00 tomorrow to go with him to Kern. 'Tis now 12:19:00 A.M. Fini.

[From Bayshore Park to the far end of Upper Newport Bay is about 3.5 miles as the crow flies. I had gone on a round trip of more than 7 miles that day.]