Winter
Kayaking on Dividing Creek
Sunday, January 14,
2007
Winter Kayaking on Dividing Creek
Worcester and Somerset Counties in
Maryland
Dan and I decided to sack working
around the house for the day and
instead headed out to explore some
of Maryland’s inviting flatwater.
Even in the winter there are endless
opportunities for kayak trips on the
Lower Eastern Shore. Our
destination, Dividing Creek was only
about fifteen miles from our home.
I’d been itching to experience
paddling on Dividing Creek which
runs through the Pocomoke swamp
dividing Worcester from Somerset
County, but our friend, Bob Huey who
lives near the creek said that in
the summer snakes hang from the
trees that drape over the waterway
and are known to drop into passing
boats. I figured winter was a good
time for this trip because the
snakes are mostly asleep in January.
Dividing
Creek empties into the Pocomoke
River just a few miles NE of
Pocomoke City. It runs all the way
to the Wicomico River near Allen in
Somerset County and most of the way
is navigable by kayak. Its water is
murky like the Pocomoke, still and
flat and remarkably deep as it
twists endlessly through the
Pocomoke swamp. In the Pocomoke
River basin which includes Dividing
Creek, there are 172 species of
birds, 27 species of mammals, 14
species of amphibians and 29 species
of reptiles (lots of snakes). This
place is teeming with life and
mostly uninterrupted by human
intervention save for a few houses
in spots.
My husband and I have kayaks to
match our personalities.
His is a Wilderness kayak – green,
of course as everything my husband
has including his car, his truck and
90% of his clothing is green. Dan’s
kayak is just under 50 lbs with no
frills. I have a
mango colored Heritage Featherlite
kayak with padded seat, storage
in front and back and a removable
drainage plug. Because of their open
pilot area and storage capacity,
these kayaks are ideal for all day
trips and light enough to easily put
on top of the car.
We launched at the Winter Quarters
public dock in Pocomoke, so named
because it was once the winter camp
for the Indians that lived in the
area. You launch here into the
Pocomoke River, which in itself is a
worthy kayak trip. Pocomoke is an
Algonquin word meaning dark or black
water. This relatively narrow river
which
 stretches
some 73 miles is the deepest river
in Maryland for its width and is
bordered by swampland and forest
rich with cypress and pine trees.
The seepage from the trees makes the
water dark or black- thus the name
Pocomoke.
After going about one mile down
river (south from the dock),
Dividing Creek subtly opens to the
left where the paddler can enter an
enchanting terrene, immediately
different from the River’s expansive
domain. The bald cypress tower
overhead while other trees lean in
over the waterway sometimes meeting
in middle creating a tunnel-like
vista. The water was completely flat
day we went, though the high banks
and thick wooded surroundings would
weaken any wind that might cause a
ripple most days.
The wildlife, flora and fauna are
noticeably less in the winter, but
the nakedness of the forest allows
the paddler to see what is typically
hidden in spring and summer. There
are no snakes dangling from above
and no mosquitoes, flies, gnats or
other insects. The grey / brown of
the nude forest and the coffee
colored water allows the vibrant red
of winterberry and green of the
loblolly pine to make their own
show. The birds are more visible and
even the new tufts of grass
sprouting up due to a recent warm
spell seem more green than usual. I
have read that in the summer months,
the water lilies abound here. We did
notice some lily roots floating near
the banks. I picked one up and it
probably weighed three or four
pounds.
A buzzard came remarkably close to
us, and shortly after his abrupt
departure I smelled death –
obviously a carcass nearby that was
dinner for the buzzard until we
interrupted.
The cypress knees that poke above
the waterline hugging the tree
trunks start to take on strange
characteristics after a awhile. I
passed by a pair of knees nearly
three feet tall that looked like a
couple of old druids speaking to the
masses in front of them (other
knees) –or perhaps they were
speaking to me … telling the story
of Dividing Creek, who has passed
through here, who has died here, who
has lived here, what’s up ahead.
Just after we passed the druid knees
I felt a cold spot… that is, a place
where the temperature suddenly
dropped... then back to normal
temperature again. Dan didn’t feel
it. I thought maybe I imagined it or
exaggerated the coldness in my mind,
but strangely, I felt the same cold
spot on the return trip just near
the cypress knees that looked like
druids.
 The
afternoon sun was bright creating
some phenomenal reflections on the
flat, dark water. There were times
when you could stare at the
waterline unable to tell the
difference from what was real and
what was reflection. The only
difference between subject and
reflection was the depth and
vividness of color was stronger in
the reflected image.
 When
it was time eat, Dan backed his
kayak into a small gut and lodged
his paddle between some roots to
keep still. I followed suit and we
feasted on Subway value meals and
bottled water. While stopped we
noticed more details of the jewels
in the surrounding swamp.
On the return trip going with the
current we paddled only to steer the
kayaks letting the current take us
back to the Pocomoke. Dan said,
“This is what I call kayaking!”
I put my feet up on the top of the
kayak and
glided all the way down the creek
in less than 20 minutes using my
paddle only to guide.
Once we came into the Pocomoke River
I thought about the comfort I felt
in this place. I have traveled to 49
states and about a dozen countries,
and will never tire of the thrill of
visiting new places. But today was
not a visit – it was a new look at
my home. The sameness of the
landscape and wildlife that are
typically Maryland, especially the
Eastern Shore was constant. But like
a lover, Maryland continues to
reveal hidden truths the deeper you
explore, and the intimacy and bond
grows richer and deeper. Maryland
never disappoints. She is constantly
renewing herself and always
welcoming.
While paddling in and thinking of
home and welcoming I was surprised
to hear someone from the dock call
out, “Hi Dan.” It was our friend,
Bob Huey with his wife Cathy. They
live on the road that leads to the
dock and had gone for a walk, seen
our car and decided to wait awhile
to see if we came in. They helped us
pull up our gear and load it into
the cars and invited back to their
house for drinks.
What a welcome home.
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