A brisk tailwind that pushed our kayaks toward the eastern tip of Fishers Island last Sunday would have been a lot more beneficial if it weren’t for the near-full moon flood tide surging against us.

“I can’t wait until we have the current with us on the other side of the island,” I said to Phil Warner, paddling in the bow of my tandem kayak.

“Should be a lot easier,” Phil agreed, as we passed a tilted buoy.

Robin Francis and Declan Nowak were nearby in another two-person boat, while Nick Schade paddled solo in a sleek, mahogany sea kayak that he designed and built. I sometimes feel a little shabby paddling next to one of Nick’s elegant crafts, like a guy who shows up at a black-tie dinner wearing jeans and a T-shirt.

The five of us had launched from Esker Point in Noank, on a favorite but challenging voyage that friends and I have been making at least once a year for decades – an 18-mile circumnavigation of Fishers Island, located in New York waters off the southeastern Connecticut coast.

What makes this expedition so daunting is not so much the distance, but the necessity to time the tides accurately while navigating through two potentially turbulent stretches. Both Wicopesset Passage, at the eastern end of the island, and The Race, to the west, can kick up chaotic seas when tides and winds collide.

What’s more, weather conditions are notoriously unpredictable in Fishers Island Sound on the north side of the island, and the open waters of the Atlantic Ocean along the south coast.

By tackling Wicopesset on a clockwise course at peak flood tide, we would get that over with first, and then ease through the more worrisome Race close to slack tide.

No sooner had we passed Ram Island in Mystic that Robin and Declan took off like a shot, using Sunday’s paddle as a hard training workout. They are competing this July in the Blackburn Challenge, a 20-plus mile open-water race around Cape Ann in Gloucester, Mass. I’ve raced Blackburn in the past, but will be in Maine that weekend, so Phil and I proceeded at a more reasonable pace. Nick paddled with us every so often, and occasionally took off to join Robin and Declan. All of us kept in visual contact, and each boat carried a marine radio.

Phil and I dug in while punching through several knots of tidal current at Wicopesset, but the seas were mercifully calm in the lee of East Point, where the Beautyrest mansion towered above us.

“That wasn’t too bad,” I said. Phil probably was disappointed – he loves nothing more than bouncing around in crashing waves.

We next passed the exclusive Fishers Island Club, which brought back memories of a kayak trip Phil and I embarked upon a few years ago. After encountering rough seas, we landed on the country club beach, lugged our kayaks between tables where diners were enjoying Sunday brunch, scurried across a golf course, and eventually relaunched on calmer Fishers Island Sound. Instead of a circumnavigation, we then completed what Nick calls a Fishers Island circumcision.

No such shortcut last Sunday. I had looked forward to being propelled along the south shore by the end of a flood tide, but a relentless breeze had other ideas.

“Blankety-blank wind!” I groaned.

For the next six miles, it all but negated the current, all the way to The Race.

Although the tide had subsided considerably, occasional gusts sent plumes of spray over shoals. I steered well away from these shallow sections, following a route midway between Race Rock Light and Race Point.

Once we reached the sound, rolling seas and a following wind pushed us between North and South Dumplings. Then, an ebb tide and tailwind swept us back to Noank, where Robin, Declan and Nick were waiting at a town boat launch.

“Took you long enough,” Nick said, glancing at his watch.

“We stopped and had a few beers,” I replied.

Actually, Phil and I briefly ducked into a tiny cove on Fishers, wolfed down energy bars and chugged from water bottles, without getting out of the boat, or even landing. In the end, it took us four hours to complete the trip, 15 minutes behind Robin and Declan.

By comparison, it took Ferdinand Magellan’s expedition three years to sail around the planet, and guess what: He didn’t go the whole way. Philippine natives killed the Portuguese explorer halfway through the voyage. Only 18 members of the mission’s 260 original crewmen survived to complete the first global circumnavigation in 1522.

So, I’m happy that Robin, Declan, Nick, Phil and I made it safely back to Noank. I'll take a successful Fishers Island circumnavigation over an ill-fated global expedition any time.