An unusually high tide, driven by November’s Beaver Supermoon, flooded the parking lot at Howard T. Brown Memorial Park in Norwich the other morning, as friends and I prepared to launch kayaks on the Thames River.

“No need to use the boat ramp,” I said, floating my vessel over a submerged section of pavement.

“Here, let me give you a shove,” Bob Ten Eyck offered, and then slid his kayak into the water. Immediately, a blustery north breeze and powerful ebb began propelling us on a 15-mile, downriver voyage to the mouth of the Thames between Groton and New London. Joining us were Curt Andersen, Robin Francis, Marco Barres, Andy Lynn and Dave Kalafa.

Local paddlers often steer for Fishers Island Sound, the Mystic River, Little Narragansett Bay or Connecticut River – all worthy destinations – but change is good, which is why I suggested the Thames. I revisit this waterway every few years, and never regret it.

“Perfect day!” Marco exclaimed. With wind at our backs, sun in our faces, and water temp still close to 60, we didn’t bother donning drysuits. Marco paddled in a T-shirt.

“Stays warm once you get going,” he said. The Thames can get choppy when wind and waves push in opposite directions.

Most people view the Thames only while driving over the Gold Star and Mohegan-Pequot bridges, or from areas lined with commercial, industrial, military, casino, marine transportation and residential development.

Three rivers – the Shetucket, Yantic and Quinebaug – may flow into one Thames, but it feels like two rivers, with quiet inlets contrasting busy shorelines. Kayaking in the off-season, when most motorized vessels are in dry storage, accentuates the serenity of these pristine stretches.

Our voyage took us past Poquetanuck Cove, a secluded estuary between Preston and Ledyard that the state has designated as a bird sanctuary for wintering waterfowl, including bald eagles. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service lists this cove and its shoreline, where The Nature Conservancy owns 234-acre Desire Parker Preserve, as regionally significant wildlife habitat, home to several endangered plant and animal species.

The tide was too high for us to duck beneath a railroad bridge spanning the cove entrance, so we continued downriver, paralleling 2,000 feet of unspoiled frontage at 55-acre Stoddard Hill State Park Scenic Reserve in Ledyard.

Along the opposite bank in Waterford, we swept past Smith Cove and 40-acre Mamacoke Island, covered with hardwood forest and managed as a natural area by the Connecticut College Arboretum. The National Audubon Society has designated the shoreline between Harrison’s Landing and Smith Cove as an Important Bird Area that draws ospreys, great egrets, snowy egrets, little blue herons, and black-crowned night-herons in summer, along with canvasback ducks, hooded mergansers, and redhead and lesser scaups in winter.

We also passed 18-acre Riverside Park in New London overlooking the west shoreline.

These natural enclaves help buffer heavily developed stretches that dominate the Thames. Within these busy sections, the river’s best-known sights are particularly striking when viewed from a kayak.

The Mohegan Sun Sky Tower, which juts 487 feet above Trading Cove, serves as a highly visible navigational aid – though it would be pretty difficult to veer off course here when steering through a waterway only about 300 yards wide.

The passage is even narrower beneath steel girders of the Mohegan-Pequot Bridge, 75 feet above us, as we rocketed along with a quickening current.

“Don’t even have to paddle!” Bob remarked.

After about five miles of paddling, we passed 256-foot Mount Decatur in Gales Ferry, once the site of a fort built during the War of 1812. A developer has proposed blasting and excavating this promontory for a quarry.

“A terrible idea,” Andy said, shaking his head. Ledyard officials are now considering the application, which neighbors, historians and conservation groups vehemently oppose.

It was time for a short break, so we pulled ashore on a narrow beach just north of Harvard Boat House in Gales Ferry, headquarters for the university’s crew teams that race against Yale in an annual regatta that began in 1852 and stands as the nation’s oldest collegiate athletic competition. Like Yale’s facility a short distance upriver, Harvard’s building was unoccupied this time of year, so we sat on a dock and munched snacks for about 15 minutes before resuming our voyage.

After passing the Coast Guard Academy’s elegant sailing and maritime centers to the west, we crossed the river and kept our distance from warning signs and metal fencing blocking access to the Naval Submarine Base in Groton.

I waited until we reached the USS Nautilus, the world’s first nuclear-powered submarine now berthed south of the base, to take pictures. Although the 320-foot warship has been decommissioned for nearly half a century, it remains a powerful presence next to the Submarine Force Library and Museum, having been designated a National Historic Landmark in 1982.

Rumbling trucks, honking horns and hissing traffic on twin spans of the Gold Star Memorial Bridge 135 feet above us drowned out the splashes of paddles; the cacophony intensified once we approached New London’s City Pier.

Blaaat! A deafening blast from the horn of a ferry about to set out for Long Island sent us scurrying across the channel. We scooted to the New London shore, passing Bank Street restaurant balconies, the sidewalk and fishing piers along Waterfront Park, the entrance to Shaw’s Cove, and Fort Trumbull State Park and Museum, before crossing over to the Groton shore just past the EB shipyard.

I looked over my shoulder to make sure another ferry wasn’t bearing down on us.

“All clear!” I shouted.

After passing EB and Pfizer’s massive complexes, we steered just east of tiny Hobs Island, also known as Hobbs Island, distinguished by its sole structure, a three-story, wooden house on stilts.

Less than a quarter-mile ahead, Eastern Point Beach beckoned. After hours of paddling, it was a welcome sight.

We still had to lug our vessels to the parking lot, where we had staged cars and a kayak trailer, load the boats, and then drive back to Norwich, where other vehicles were staged, and then unload and reload some of the boats to the right cars. All this driving and loading wound up adding a couple hours to a long day.

At this point I began to remember why I only made this excursion every few years.

No matter – it was still fun, we agreed.