I and the Portuguese navigator had a leisurely paddle from Wood's Hole on Saturday. We crossed the gut-often dangerous but today quite placid. We passed Nonamesset and within range of Tarpaulin Cove, with its lighthouse. The shards of a wrecked fiberglass boat were still bleaching in the sun like bones as they had been two years years ago when we saw them on a previous trip. The Forbes family owns the Elizabeth Chain that Naushon is part of—I would think they'd want to remove the boat….anyway. We saw in the distance the faraway point of Gay Head—or for those who prefer the original native word that is less obscene sounding—Aquinnah.

Naushon is largely free of humans—there are a few houses–and has a wild rugged uncultivated landscape with scrubby pines and dense underbrush that calls to mind Scotland—and I have been to Scotland, just for the record. I hear that there are sheep that inhabit the island. I've never seen one. After turning around and riding the tide, we passed under the causeway sluice gate into a channel studded with sailing boats. Most seemed from Padanaram in Dartmouth—so it was all quite upscale.

In the channel under a bridge, I saw two oysters studding a rock—interesting–they resembled the rock they were attached to. Oysters, by the way, are about the most destroyed sea life in the world. We then rounded Uncatena and had a fantastic panoramic view of the mainland.

Perhaps a mile or so to the southwest, we saw Weepecket Island. Two years ago, we were lost, having rounded Naushon accidentally, and perhaps the next island over, Pasque. We needed directions and we paddled from the shore to the island to ask directions to Wood's Hole, the same way some people pull their SUVs into a rest area to ask how to get to the Jersey Turnpike.

The view to the west was gorgeous and even inspiring. The tide carried us the entire way. I like to let Mother Nature do the work. Terry saw us from the Vineyard ferry in our orange inflatable kayak and waved—we didn't see her. We thought she was due on the next ferry, and it's much easier for a single passenger on a ferry to spot an orange 19-foot kayak in the middle of the Wood's Hole channel than for us to have seen her….

After landing, we retired, like all heroes after the battle, to the mead hall. Valhalla is a lovely place.

The controlled burns that BP conducts have burned up sea turtles alive. I have seen sea turtles from my kayak in Hawaii – that was considered a piece of luck. I also once snorkled with a sea turtle in Mexico. He was a grim looking fellow  with narrow eyes, and looked at me with that peculiar turtle disdain look, then swam off.  He ate the feed in the water that people tossed to the fish. He was very fast and quite elegant in  his fortress home. I couldn't keep up with him. I pointed at him so that another swimmer could see him, but he didn't understand the gesture and I alone got to observe the reptile.

I've never seen a whale shark live – and it's looking less likely that will ever happen. Experts don't know how many of the beasts have died – the whale sharks, like whales, to whom they are not related, sink to the bottom when they expire. Oil isn't a cheap resource. It's the priciest one around as it will cost us the planet. Anyone who wants to see the value of a human life versus that of oil should watch the masterpiece The Wages of Fear. But I digress.

Oil is a dead resource, both in terms of its usefulness to the planet and in the sense that it is dead organic matter that we desecrate with burning.It is also dead in that its an asset not worth recovering any longer.

Also, it will kill us as dead as it is.

This was not good. I just kept aiming diagonally for shore and screamed curses because I didn't think I could get the kayak in. I was in sight of houses on the shore and the people there had no idea I was fighting possibly for life. Then, the nipple on the paddle – it inserts into an O and holds the two blades in place when you paddle – slipped and the two parts of the paddle were turning and not remaining firm in the water.  This was making me expend even more strength to keep the blades in place to catch the water. If I let myself go, I would have spent the late afternoon and possibly the night sitting on the St. Lawrence drifting. I hadn't brought enough whiskey or beer for that.

After an hour and a half of paddling almost sideways to the wind, I could see the cross on the church at Grandes Bergeronne and aimed at it. No, I did not have a conversion, but it was a good landmark.  Finally, slowly, I got close enough to land so that it acted as a drag on the wind and sheltered me. I was exhausted as I pulled into the harbor and got out and staggered to the shore. I had never been so frightened on the water in my life. I don't  want to repeat that. It took everything I had to get back. I never thought land looked sweeter in my life. It is a good experience to remember and I don't intend to repeat it. One could argue I picked a bad time to go out. Sure. Is there a good time? Look at Scott at Antarctica. The problem was, I couldn't wait for ideal conditions – I wasn't going to be there for long and I was willing to take my chances. Hell, if I had died, it was doing something I loved to do.

I drove back to Tadoussac….was assured I was going out that night to dinner!

Anyway, it was maybe four years ago I put out from a place called Grandes-Bergeronne, 40 miles east of Tadoussac  and the Saguenay. There is an enclosed harbor there, and I knew that this would be my only – remote thought it was – chance to see a blue whale from a kayak. I had seen a blue the day before from a zodiac and wanted to experience the whale from my boat. The grim-faced harbor master had warned me to be careful.

He'd a good reason. There, the St. Lawrence is 26 or more miles wide – it's perhaps the widest river in the world and has shipping lanes that see a lot of traffic. At 26 miles, you are often quite far from land, or rather the closest land is straight down.  Imagine walking that distance. So do you think 10 miles is near land if you had to walk it? It takes six inches face down of water to drown….The winds were blowing off-shore, which means they're great if you're paddling out, but on the return, worse than facing a bill collector.

The water here is cold in August – like 50 degrees and will kill you very quickly and I wore a wetsuit and gloves in a feeble gesture at self preservation. The water is also deep, and lacquer box dark colored, and eerie, and you can't see down more than a foot or two. You know there are all sorts of whales and other creatures swimming underneath you can't see. I've paddled up there four or five times and sometimes being alone there is unnerving. I've watched whales swim right within a few yards of me – then  dive below my inflatable nine-foot kayak and I can't see them.

In any case, Grandes-Bergeronne offered a chance to see a blue whale. Keep in mind the place creates optical illusions – not as much as the Arctic, but there are tricks to the eye. Things can appear big on the water there and they aren't. Your eyes are compressing things over 26 miles and you don't see everything….and the sounds are deceptive. You hear whales spouting and they could be miles away and you think they are close to your kayak.

So anyway, I saw a whale in the distance through my binoculars and was paddling towards it. I'd been out an hour and a half. I noted that I was moving more quickly than I  wanted from shore,and I was maybe two miles out. The wind was starting to pick up and then it gusted. And gusted some more. I was in an ebb tide and moving very fast out to sea.

However, the bright side is, maybe it will inspire people to take an interest in all that other rich material available.