[Journal entry for Oct 18, 2014; Batsto River, Wharton State Forest, New Jersey] My friend Lee Reiser and I paddled the Batsto River in the New Jersey Pine Barrens. We drove two cars and dropped one off at the southern end of Batsto Lake, off of Route 542 near the Batsto Village historic restoration. We then drove the other, with our boats, to Quaker Bridge, about four and a half miles upstream as the crow flies, but perhaps twice that distance once the meandering of the river is taken into account. We launched our kayaks at about 9:30AM from beneath the bridge. I paddled an Old Town Otter - a short boat capable of making the tight turns we expected to encounter is the narrow channel and Lee, a whitewater boat of similar length.

We first paddled upstream, against the current, which though brisk was manageable. We passed a derelict aluminum boat, half sunken in the shallows. The day was sunny and the river was very beautiful. Although the fall foliage in this part of New Jersey is not as far along as in southern New York, many of the maples have turned, as have most of the bushes and vines. The river banks sported considerable fall color, reds, oranges and yellows.

The banks of the river are vegetated first with a narrow strip grasses and sedge and behind them bushes, including Elderberry and Winterberry Holly with brightly colored berries, as well as fern. Behind the bushes and in the wetter regions, lowland trees, such as American White Cedar and Red Maples, are common. Pitch Pine and oak grow on the higher, sandy banks.

Lee and I had paddled the river in the spring, when much of the lowlands were flooded. The river looks completely different now, and except for the couple of high banks with pull-outs worn sandy-yellow by people stopping for lunch, we could recognize no landmarks.

Lee remembered that he had left his sun glasses on a fence post by the bridge, after we had gone a half mile or so. I sprinted back and retrieved them. We then continued upstream for another half hour. The vigorous exercise warmed us up, for the morning air was chilly. We then turned about and headed downstream towards Batsto Lake. We paddled occasionally but mostly just steered and let the current sweep us along. We had to pay attention to our route, for the river is full of obstacles, including submerged logs and sand banks and overhanging trees. Fortunately, a crew had come through with saws and cut paths though the worst snags.

We stopped for lunch at a high sandy bank on river-right. We found a sunlit spot near the edge of a glade of Pitch Pines where we could relax. I set up my Primus stove and heated, first, water for hot chocolate and then the canned Del Monte Beef Stew and homemade mash potatoes that we had brought. A man and woman in a canoe pulled up and had their lunch, as well.

We then continued our paddle, meeting up the couple with the canoe, who were harvesting cranberries. They showed me how to spot the berries, which grow sparsely beneath taller grasses along the river bank. They had collected a small plastic bag’s worth - enough for a bowl of Thanksgiving relish, I suppose.

We then encountered a group who had rented their kayaks from Adams Canoe Rental. One flipped his boat; Lee helped him empty it and get back in. The river now was gradually widening and the strips of grass and sedge along its banks were widening too. We passed the beaver lodge that we had noticed on our spring trip and were soon in Batsto Lake. However, the lake was radically narrower than in the spring. Wide margins of marsh grass, submerged then, now limited our padding to a relatively narrow central path. We passed numerous sawn-off stumps, relics from the time before the dam at the lake’s southern end impounded its waters. We also spotted a few Eastern Mud Turtles. Several of these three to four inch turtles had managed to climb a foot or more to the top of a stump – how, I don’t know, for they did not appear particularly dexterous. Today was not a good day for birds. I spotted a couple of Turkey Vultures in sky above us, and a few small birds, but no waterfowl. We did spot several nests built in the bushes along the river bank.

When we reached the launch we were dismayed to discover that my car, which I had parked in one corner of the lot, had been surrounded by many others and now was trapped. That the parking lot was not even close to being full only added insult. We waited about almost an hour for the group that had parked us in to return, but eventually wound up maneuvering my car on a path through the woods to circle round the obstacles. I was sorry to have to damage several bushes in order to free it.

After packing up our gear, Lee and I paid a quick visit to the historic reservation. We were too late to take a formal tour, but wandered about looking at the old buildings, including the grist mill, saw mill and forge. A blacksmith was holding an ironworking class for a couple of students at the forge. We chatted with him for a few minutes before walking down to the lakeshore to view the saw mill and dam. We then drove back to Quaker Bridge to pick up the other car.

About five hours on the water, and an hour at the Village.