Blue Ridge Outings

Merchants Millpond State Park Kayak Camp

On October 3 – 5, Friday through Sunday, following leader John Burt, Twin Rivers Paddle Club and New Bern Outdoor Adventure Club members Bob Laney, David Whitlow, Zadock Dismuke and Diana Hastings kayak camped at Merchants Millpond State Park in northeastern NC just south of the Virginia border.  We put into Lassiter Lake at the ramp and dock beside the main parking lot early afternoon and paddled across the lake to our back-country paddle-in group camp site reserved by John’s wife.  On the water we were mostly led by David. 

Partial areas of the lake were totally covered with duckweed.  For some of us, it clung to our paddles after every stroke with a couple pounds of wet plants.  I was using a Greenland paddle, so the long straight blades made swiping off the weeds with my hands a little easier.

Following the marked paddle trail across the lake and through the swamp was not particularly easy.  The buoys marked with colored bands were large, but some of them had fallen over sideways, making them less visible.  Another problem was that they were spaced too far apart, with the view from one buoy to the next one often blocked by trees.  On the trail between buoy 3 and 4 the correct route was a narrow channel without the next buoy in sight. There were several large open areas of water in other directions.  There was nothing intuitive to guide the paddler through the narrow channel. After entering the channel, going halfway through and making a curve,  there in sight was the next buoy.  It is not a good trail marking system.

David and John knew the route by memory.  But I could not navigate the trail without some assistance.  Before the trip, I reviewed many GPS’s and smart phone navigation apps and Internet park maps. The paddle trail did not appear on most sources.  It is shown on only three places: the state park web site map, the smart phone app Natural Atlas and the Garmin Montana 750i.   

Finding the camp site was another challenge.  There is a sign on the bank of the lake identifying the several camp sites, but their view from the lake is blocked by shore line trees.  There is not a ramp or dock.  Again, without some other source of guidance, it would be close to impossible to know where to take out.

Upon landing at the bank below the camp, we beached our boats and made multiple trips carrying our gear about 100  yards on a woods trail to the designated area.  The level, open woods could accommodate dozens of tents, so we spread out. Most of the time, we ate quick, simple meals. Some were sandwiches, some freeze dried meals and some simple cooked food.  

Both nights, John led several campers in gathering a large supply of firewood. Each night we had a nice, big roaring camp fire. The camps had no running water or electricity.  Most campers bring their own water.  I pump filtered some water from the lake, which worked and tasted fine. The campsites shared a roomy, quaint, wooden outhouse with a moss covered wood shake roof. Our campsite had to cross a neat looking wooden foot bridge over a corner of the swamp to get to the outhouse.  

Saturday morning most of the campers hiked several long trails around the park.  Bob stayed in camp and did legal work for law clients, editing documents he had transferred from his office computer to his iPhone [a trick not documented in the Apple brochures].

Saturday afternoon we all paddled around the lake. We saw fairly closely the tops of two big alligators.

We encountered on the lake multiple times members of a large group of students from a local college outdoor club, who were doing the same thing as us.  Despite their lack of experience [two paddlers in one canoe drove straight into a live tree trunk] they were wonderfully disciplined and behaved. They made almost no noise. They set up camp Saturday evening and departed Sunday morning quickly and efficiently.  I suppose they had a good leader.

For dessert Saturday night.  David brought, and Diana and Z carried in their canoe, an iron Dutch oven with a lid, and a bag of charcoal. David mixed up and cooked a scrumptious berry cobbler. It was enjoyed by all.

Sunday morning, we also departed camp quickly and efficiently. Paddling back across the lake on the now familiar trail seemed to go quicker than going out Friday afternoon.  Thanks John.  We are looking forward to the next great adventure. 

Kayak Swim Kit

I had an idea. When I go kayaking, in the unlikely event that I capsize (which  has not happened yet); and in the further unlikely event that I cannot do a self-rescue or tandem-rescue (I have done several of both), then I may have to swim to shore.  I have configured the ropes on both ends of my kayak to loop over my shoulder, so both my hands are free to swim.

The idea is, I have some swim aids that I use at the YMCA pool, which increase my speed, including goggles, webbed gloves and short fins. I will put them in a stuff bag, and when I go paddling, I will stow them in a kayak hatch.

Maybe I am over-thinking this situation.  Who knows?  Maybe someday I will be glad I have them with me.  

During September 16 – 17, 2025, I went on a backpacking trip to Dogwood Camp on the Neusiok Trail in Croatan National Forest.  John Burt’s directions previously given to me for driving, parking, hiking, camping and getting water were perfect.  Everything was exactly where it was supposed to be.  Thanks John!  I parked in a small lot beside NC Hwy 101, across the road from a small wooden foot bridge, one mile south of the intersection with NC Hwy 306.

Dogwood camp is a fairly well maintained Appalachian Trail type shelter. It is only 0.75 miles from the parking lot. The side trail to the camp is marked  with a wood sign.  Unfortunately, based on the graffiti they left behind, a couple of teenage boys madly in love with some teenage girls totally vandalized the place by writing words in white chalk words on every exposed board. Unlike other northern sections of the Neusiok Trail, which had some hills and stream crossings, this section was flat and dry.  Also, this section followed part of the Mountains to Sea Trail, so the trail markers nailed to trees were a silver strip of metal; and an orange disk with a silver arrow.  All the trail sections I have seen so far are well cleared and easy to follow.

My pack weighed 40 pounds, which is about 15 – 20 pounds heavier than many ultralight backpackers brag about on Facebook.  My heavy pack is due to mostly to my advanced age, after several surgeries, so I carry a CPAP machine, which runs on a heavy battery; hearing aids, cell phone and GPS which need another heavy battery to recharge overnight; a chair for my weak lower back muscles; the best (and heaviest) water filter on the market; a substantial first aid kit and repair kit; and a Springfield Armory 10 mm 1911 pistol.

Two of the three persons I met were hikers, a formerly British father and son, who are now members of the Carteret Wildlife Club, that were doing trail maintenance.  They were friendly, and helpful to me.  They answered many of my questions with information about the Neusiok Trail, three shelters and water sources.   

The other person I met hiking was a middle aged Latina lady. Often when I am on an outdoor trip, other hikers, campers and paddlers I meet stop to ask me questions.  Apparently, my appearance inspires their confidence that I know what to do.  I call the activity being Ranger Bob.  This lady did not have any information about the trail and was just walking randomly down the path about a half mile from the parking lot. I showed her my map, got her oriented on the trail and suggested where she could hike. 

A surprising feature was a wooden footbridge over a marshy section. Over the years, I have traversed many of them.  But this one was totally wet and in full shade.  It had some kind of algae growing on it that was as slick as real winter ice. Even using my two hiking staffs and walking with slow, short, baby steps, I still slipped off a couple times.

Several months ago, when I camped at the Rattlesnake shelter on the Neusiok Trail, I reported water was a severe problem. A US Forest Ranger told me that the water there was potable, so I did not bring any  It was so muddy as to clog my pump and be unfilterable; plus, it was tidal influenced, brackish and tasted terribly of salt.  So, this trip, I was also did not bring water and was apprehensive of what condition I would encounter.  About 30 yards downhill from camp was a spring of fresh water, like John said.  It was covered with all kinds of tree leaves, sticks and pine needles, but it was perfectly clear and tasty. It filtered well and I got 4 liters in a few minutes, which was enough for my overnight trip. Both John and the CWC hikers let me know that if the spring water was not sufficient, I could stay on the main trail a couple hundred yards past the shelter turn off, to where a bridge crosses the West Prong of Morton’s Mill Pond Creek with fresh water. 

Many years ago, I invented a portable wood stove that is better than most on the market.  The salient features are, first, a screen raised off the bottom to hold up the wood fuel, where holes let in air to rise through the fire box and fan the flame hotter. Second, the stove chimney is bigger than my cook pot, so the flames and heat hit the pot bottom, then rise around the sides to convey more heat to the pot. I brought it on this trip.  Also, I skipped my usual freeze dried meal packets and brought only fresh food. For supper, I had fried country ham, pinto beans with onions, cornbread and a fresh sliced pear with Gatorade. For breakfast, I had bacon, scrambled eggs with cheese, grits and a tangerine with hot coffee.  I loved all the smells of wood smoke and cooked food, many flavors and the warm ambience. I am sure there were no bears in the area, or they would surely whiff my food scents and come lumbering into my camp.  

While in camp, I enjoyed some Kentucky bourbon and a Puerto Rican cigar. 

Along the trail, I saw signs of the end of summer.  Mixed with bushes of evergreen leaves were dead ferns with brown leaves.

Busy squirrels, late summer flowers and old, old gravesites at Oakdale Cemetery, Wilmington, NC, September 2025. 

Last week I posted on this Internet site a report of my paddle to Masonboro Island.  A couple days after the trip, I had an insight of what had transpired which has become a watershed experience for me that greatly improved my kayaking situation.

For the first 50 years of my outdoor athletic career, I led small groups of friends and went on solo trips all over the Blue Ridge, Black and Smokey Mountains. Mostly we were backpacking, but we also did camping, hiking, canoeing, canoe camping, cross country skiing, snow camping, and even a couple kayak camping trips in the coastal estuary near Swansboro, NC.  I often went to places which were new to me, to scope out routes for future trips.  I was always well prepared and traveled carefully.  My friends joked that if they were planning a trip, they would invite me, because I would bring the necessary equipment, like the first aid kit, fire starter and spare paddle.

During those times it was never my concern that I would get lost or injured.  I always had a map and compass, and I knew what I was doing.  If someone got lost or injured, then I was often the one to find or treat them.  I did not ever need to be found or treated myself.

When I moved to the coast and lived in New Bern for a few years, and then moved to Wilmington and have lived here for a few years, I took up kayaking as my main sport.  For some reason that I do not know why, I became overly cautious.  When kayaking, I always went with a group – never solo.  I usually followed an experienced paddler as a guide.  I had a good GPS, and several smart phone mapping and navigating apps, but I feared getting lost.  I was constantly concerned about capsizing and not being able to do a self-rescue. 

After this Masonboro trip last week, I amazed myself  by realizing that during the entire paddle, I had not once been concerned about being solo.  I did not think about not having a guide.  I traveled to several places new to me, using my GPS, and I was always well aware of where I had been, where I am, and where I am going. The potential of capsizing and needing a self-rescue never entered my mind.  This personal growth was not something that I was planning or working on specifically.  It just kind of happened naturally.

I still prefer to paddle with partners, and I will welcome a guide. But the new found freedom I feel from not being tied to always searching for partners and guides is refreshing.  The ability to navigate to new places with just my GPS is encouraging.  Of course, I will not go crazy. When I have the opportunity to do a longer, more exposed paddle, like from Beaufort to Shackleford Banks, or from Harkers Island to Cape Lookout, I will only go with experienced partners and guides.