Steve Fagin: Snaking up a shallow stream in Stonington

Aug. 24—"Paddle left ... now right ... left again ..."

From my position in the stern of a canoe, I called out instructions to Andy Lynn, paddling in the bow, as we twisted our way up narrow, serpentine Donahue Brook in Stonington the other day.

Andy's son, Charlie, and my son, Tom, were canoeing only a few yards ahead of us, but they might as well have been a thousand miles away, because we couldn't see around a bend or over tall reeds that lined the brook.

Our goal: See how far upstream we could paddle from its mouth at Wequetequock Cove, just west of Barn Island. A map showed Donahue Brook weaving north through marshes for more than two miles, almost to Pequot Trail, but I suspected we likely would have to turn around long before reaching its source.

No matter — it would be a fun adventure, exploring a secluded stream that, in all likelihood, few people have paddled.

I had kayaked partway up Donahue Brook for the first time a week earlier with half a dozen others, all members of the Tuesday Night Paddlers, an informal kayaking group. Because gusty winds were blasting through Little Narragansett Bay when we launched from Barn Island that late afternoon, our group then decided to head inland into protected Wequetequock Cove.

We kayakers had paddled up the cove a mile north to Route 1, where the cove tightens to a narrow stream, then squeezed beneath a footbridge and through a tunnel under Greenhaven Road, eventually reaching tiny Wequetequock Pond. It was too shallow to go any farther, so we turned around and re-entered the cove.

Then, instead of returning to the boat launch at Barn Island, the group spontaneously decided to steer west toward Saltwater Farm Vineyard and paddle up what turned out to be Donahue Brook. None of us had been there.

Because most of us on that earlier excursion were paddling sea kayaks that measured up to 18 feet long, we didn't get very far up the narrow, winding brook. It dawned on me that we would have been better off paddling shorter, more maneuverable canoes.

A few days later, Andy, Charlie, Tom and I launched 15-foot canoes from Barn Island, rounded Randall Point and then steered north into Wequetequock Cove, just as we had on the earlier kayak trip. This time, though, we skipped paddling through the tunnel leading to Wequetequock Pond, and headed directly toward Donahue Brook.

We first passed Elihu Island, where Peter Benchley wrote "Jaws" in 1974, and then ducked under a railroad bridge before entering the mouth of the brook at a bridge over Route 1.

The tide was going out, so the current initially was against us, but we would enjoy a tidal push on the way back. But as low tide approached, the brook would become shallower and more difficult to navigate — can't have it both ways.

"This is like paddling on the Amazon," I called out. When canoeing on a wide river or lake, paddlers switch back and forth to left and right (port and starboard) sides of the boat every few minutes; here, with so many twists and turns, we were switching every other stroke.

"Back up, back up," I called ahead to Andy on more than one occasion, when we bogged down on muddy sandbars.

Once enclosed by reeds, the sounds of Route 1 traffic diminished, replaced by the cries of gulls, cheeps of ospreys and sharp calls of redwing blackbirds. Every so often we also flushed egrets and great blue herons that were stalking the banks.

In about half a mile, we reached a tight bend and Tom, who had been on the previous kayak excursion, observed, "Here's where we turned around earlier."

He and Charlie paddled ahead, while Andy and I paused briefly to take pictures.

Not long after we resumed paddling, our canoe got stuck in a tight turn. We backed up and tried moving forward again, but jammed in the same spot. After a third try, I realized we couldn't move forward.

I blew my whistle and called ahead to Tom and Charlie.

"Hey, guys, I think we've reached the end of the line!" I shouted.

"Yeah, we can't go any farther, either," Tom replied. Turns out they were only a few yards away.

We paddled backward for about 50 yards before coming to a sliver of an inlet that allowed us to back in for a Y-turn, and then managed to paddle forward through the sinuous brook and work our way back to the cove.

We could have shortened the distance to and from Donahue Brook by launching from a public cartop boat access off Elm Street, Route 1A, near the entrance to Saltwater Farm Vineyard, but opted for the longer route, measuring about five miles round-trip, by leaving from Barn Island.

Near the mouth of Donahue Brook, we also passed a sign noting the marsh was owned by the Avalonia Land Conservancy. Frederick C. Paffard, the estate of Helen A. Paffard, and the Stone Acres Trust donated what is now the 9.2-acre Paffard Marsh Preserve to the land conservancy in 1969.

The property falls within a state natural diversity database area that notes it also is home to ibis and salt mash sharp-tipped sparrows. The marsh also is near Paffard Woods, a 62-acre parcel the family donated to Avalonia in 2003. This preserve, off North Main Street, contains 2.5 miles of hiking trails.

Andy, Charlie, Tom and I may not have managed to reach the northern end of Donahue Brook, but we did get to explore some new territory — always a worthy endeavor. Maybe next time we'll set out at high tide in much shorter, more maneuverable whitewater kayaks.