Happy New Year

Trip #74/1

3.5 miles

MAP

Water temp: 52 f

Not quite the end of the world as some had predicted, it looks that we had been spared wide spread fallout over the Y2K bug. It's ironic that the major threat to our existence and way of life did not involve nuclear weapons, asteroids, or visitors from outer space, but something as insignificant as a two-digit year code in a computer. What started out as a innocent way to save memory in a computer program contained the potential to bring our world to its knees. Or so we were told. I find enlightening that we can join together as a planet to eliminate a world problem in some way other than war.

My kayak was certified Y2K ready and it was time for me to put it to the test. My mind raced through all the things that could go wrong. Oddly enough, none of them had to do with the millenium date bug. So begins my first kayak trip of the year 2000.

The weather had been great through the weekend, but as luck would have it I couldn't get out. My boss gave me a 'comp day' to help make up for having to work through the Y2K rollover. So I took off this Tuesday despite the call for rain. Rain I didn't mind, but I didn't expect 20 MPH winds. As I sat reading the weather forecast early in the morning, I kept mulling over in my mind - "Should I stay or go?"

I needed to go to West Marine today, so I narrowed down the launch sites to Leesylvania or Mason Neck. Mason Neck would be better protected from these winds out of the south, so off I went.

The holidays have really had me pack on some extra poundage, so I struggled into my dry suit. The wind was blowing hard but the launch site was protected from the waves. After donning my neoprene hood I headed out into the wind and away from shore. After slowly sculling with my paddle and laying on the water to cool off (I had worked up a sweat getting into the dry suit), I headed out to the little point of land opposite Deephole Point.

The water deepens here for the channel, and with no boats out today it was play time. The waves varied from small one footers to waves big enough to have my bow pointed towards the sky as I crossed over them. With the wind blowing back towards Belmont Bay, if I became separated from the kayak it would blow back into the calmer water I had just paddled from.

I would paddle two or three hundred feet out from the point and then turn around and try and surf back to the point. I caught a few really good runs, but there were a lot more poor ones. I started to get the feel for controlling the kayak while surfing. Not real well, but the beginnings of control. By ruddering with my paddle and twisting the blade flat to the surface of the water and leaning on it when I became unstable, I began to work up some confidence.

I also managed my first side-surf. Not far, just several feet. I had been sitting parallel to the waves when a big wave came up and started to break. I leaned into it with my paddle and found myself scooting sideways.

When I got bored I started using a Greenland brace and lying in the water. I wanted to see if I would roll over these waves or they would roll over me. I guess I was a little more buoyant since the water stayed beneath me. Not wanting to venture out in this weather, there wasn't much left to do so I headed back to load up and head for West Marine.

At West, I wanted to see if they had any foot bilge pumps. They didn't, but I got the feel for the size of the Guzzler 400 in the hand pump version they had on display. I decided to get a thru-hull adapter while there.

When I bought the 3/4" dia. thru-hull for the Guillemot, I was disappointed that it was thick walled (constricting the water flow) and long (to go thru a 2-3 inch deck). The 1" dia thru-hull adapters were no different. Maybe 4-5" long and thick, constricting the 1" pipe connection down to about 3/4". I thought this was a bit over kill for something that needed to stick through thin fiberglass. Cost was also $8-$9.

I wondered through the plumbing department and found that piece that fits on the bottom of the sink (the drain). Go look at that round silver piece in the bottom of your bathroom sink and you'll know what I mean. This was white plastic, thin walled, stubby (just long enough on the back side to get the hose and a hose clamp on), neoprene gasket, and only $4. Looks like it might be a better thru-hull for a kayak although it may need to be replaced every few years from UV deterioration.

Pohick Bay

Trip #75/2

5.5 Miles

MAP

Water temp: 50 f

I really like launching from Ft Belvoir. Drive your car right to the water to unload your gear. Paddle around and drive your car back to the beach to load it back up. A cold but windless day. I turned right and started into Accotink Bay, but remembered on my charts this was marked as a restricted area. Before going in too far I paddled to the middle to read the red, black, and white sign. Skeet Range. As wide as this bay is, it is a wonder anyone would ever see the sign. But I choose to play it safe and headed for Pohick Bay instead.

Wide and shallow, by keeping to the right hand side I didn't have too much trouble. But before long I had lost the channel and was looking to get it back as the water was only inches deep. I paddled to the southern side of the bay and again found the channel.

The water was noticeably flowing against me, and I figured it was from the outgoing tide. I paddled up into the creek watching the Osprey and Bald eagles along the northern shore. I even saw a few swans or snow geese from a distance.

As I continued heading west, the current became stronger and I found myself zigzagging around trees. Before long I was having problems making some of the turns and I was afraid if I kept going I might get swept into a strainer. My forward progress was almost nil at this point so I carefully turned around and started zipping along at full speed. A few times I came to a screeching halt in order to scout the strainer and determine the best line through the trees. But in no time I was back in the bay heading back towards the launch site.

I did my best to stay in the channel, but I kept having it disappear. Eventually I gave up and just paddled over the shallow water making my way to the north side.

Back at the launch site I practiced sculling for a few minutes and loaded up the boat.

I was interested in how my current glove setup would work. Two weeks ago I had put on glove liners and rubber paint stripping gloves and pulled my dry suit on over them. They didn't leak a drop and I was happy. Last Tuesday I did the same thing and they leaked a lot into the dry suit. I'm not sure why they leaked, but I was unwilling to compromise the dry suit again. Today I had put the dry suit on first, and then pulled the gloves on over them. It kept the water out of the dry suit, and most of the water out of the gloves. They did get water in though.

After loading up my kayak I waded into the water to see how my hands would feel. Out on the water they felt fine except when paddling into the wind. The water quickly shed from them when lifted out of the water, but the wind chill still caused them to get cold fast in the wind. Now fully submerged in the water, I could feel it trickling into my glove liners. I pumped my fingers into a fist to try and speed up the flushing. My fingers were cold, but still functioning. After a few minutes I drove home.

Nothing so far has felt as good as the completely dry gloves (until they leaked into the dry suit) from a few weeks prior. I think I'm on the verge of buying a pair of dry gloves. They still get cold in the wind, but at any other time they are far superior. Possibly a dry glove with some lightweight pogies for when I face those strong winds.

Cold Water Workshop

Water Temp 42 f

I had heard it all before, but I wanted to learn a few things about gear, specifically cold water protection for my hands. Unfortunately, this remains the mystery to me even after the workshop. Some were there paddling with bare hands and not having any problems, while others, like me, were cold.

The morning started with a cold water lecture by Chuck Sutherland. Chuck mixed the funny with the serious and made for a pleasant and informative talk on the aspects of hypothermia and cold shock. Next came Jenny Plummer and her models showing off the various types of cold water gear. And last, but not least, Brian Blankinship and his discussion of risk management.

After Brian's talk we broke for lunch. Joan, Amigh, and one other lady chatted a bit about various topics and then Joan and I had to go get suited up. We had volunteered to be spotters in the cold water, which knocked $8 off the price of admission. Once dressed in our dry suits we joined about 6 or 7 others in the water to float around like logs in the 43-degree water. The water was a bit warm for this time of the year, but still cold enough that I could tell no one else had solved the hand equation either.

After we had gotten our fill of floating around, Brian opted to demonstrate various rolls in the cold water. He then tried to perform a paddle float reentry 3 times without success. In the short time Brian had been in the water, his hands were unable to unsnap the strap on his paddle float, and he had to use his teeth to undo it. Finally he gave in to an assisted rescue.

The fire department in their zodiac and an ambulance was on hand in case we needed them.

Joan and I went up and got our boats to spot the others as they got in their kayaks. Some tried rolls, others re-entries, but most chose to stay out of the water and on the dock. Team Titanic was there and practiced their paddle float re-entry on their double bag boat. Despite the cold water they had improved a lot since this past summer.

The one person not in a dry suit, was wearing (I think) a wet suit with paddling jacket and pants. When he first went in the water he was breathing hard from the cold shock. After about 10 minutes he went to get in his boat, cold, but still functioning. Near the end Chuck Sutherland spent some time going over Greenland style bracing with me, which was a special treat.

Soon it was over and everyone packed up to head home. Chuck and I had another conversation in the parking lot concerning his invitation for me to write for Atlantic Coastal Kayaker magazine. I'll need to make a trip back to Baltimore to document the launch location and spend a little more time in the port for some background information in the next month or two. This should be fun.

Cold, Cold Hands

Trip # 76/3

10.5 miles

MAP

Water Temp 38f

Finally. After something like 6 weekends I returned to the water. The longest non-paddling stretch in the last year. Which is a good thing since I think my wife was getting tired of me being around every weekend.

Not that there wasn't any decent paddling weather. Maybe it was the winter doldrums keeping me home. Each weekend I would get up early and look for a smidgen of a reason to stay home, which I usually found. In any event, when I told Joan I would meet her at Leesylvania State Park on Sunday, I knew there was no backing out unless I could come up with a real good excuse.

The weather was supposed to be light winds and 40, so I had no excuse. I headed down to the park for our scheduled meeting time of 9:00 am. As I was pulling up to the fee area, Joan was pulling away! This had NEVER happened where Joan beat me to the launch site! I really must be dragging my feet.

At the water I looked out and was terribly disappointed. The week before ice had been everywhere. Today I could see none. So much for listening to the ice this winter. My dry suit was a little tighter. Much more of this winter blubber and I won't need any additional layers underneath. In fact, much more and I'll need a new dry suit!

About 9:45 we were finally ready to go. I took just as long to get ready as Joan. Contrast that to me normally standing around watching her load her boat. Did I really want to go out today? By the time we were on the water I was already tired.

Joan was having problems gripping her paddle with the new gloves she was wearing, so she traded them off for the pogies stored on my rear deck. I've owned 2 pairs of pogies, but I don't think I've ever worn them.

We paddled North into the Occoquan Bay and as we approached a tiny little island lined with concrete block, it appeared to be covered on one side by snow. As we got closer though, the snow turned out to be giant slabs of ice stacked 5 feet high. When the ice broke up and left the bay, some of it was driven up and onto this tiny little island. Huge 1-2 inch thick slabs piled layer after layer to form a giant ice wall on the northwestern side of the island. Cool. I had to get up close and inspect the little icicles dangling from the bottom just above the water.

We paddled on towards Mason Neck State Park. I had always wanted to make this trip but never had managed. As we entered Belmont Bay we could see a few ice floes and next to Mason Neck, a HUGE ice sheet. From the water it looked like there may be no place to land. This could be bad as my hands were getting chilled and I needed to stretch. I could tell I had not paddled in a while too as my muscles were having a mild rebellion.

But as we got closer to shore we found the launch site clear of ice, but I lingered near the ice sheet listening to it crack and buzz. We beached without too much difficulty, but I did have to pull my kayak ashore quite a ways to prevent it from slipping over the shore ice back into the water.

We beelined to the bathrooms and I found that the hand dryers are not the useless contraptions I once thought they were. Nothing like several blasts of warm air across the cold paws to get the spirit back. Before long we were on the water again and my hands were immediately cold. Cold. Painfully cold. I had switched to my Euro paddle before leaving the launch in hopes to reduce the amount of water flushing across my gloved hands. A few minutes later my hands began to warm. Joan also noticed things got warmer.

We poked on out into the bay and I noticed I was a bit tired. Little wind but the Euro paddle was taking a lot more effort than the Greenland, both from its traction through the water and its swing weight. My hands started to chill a bit and I frequently stopped to rest and allow my hands to warm. I gave up on the Euro and switch back to the Greenland. By now it felt like it was made of balsa wood and I didn't need to stop nearly as often as before. Only my hands caused me to pause now and then.

Switching to the Greenland caused an immediate decrease in my hand temperature. Especially my thumbs, which were dripping water on every stroke. I've got to attach some drip strings to this paddle. The trip dragged on and on as all I could think about was my hands.

We finally did make it back. I thought it felt colder at this point than it did when we launched. Not close to the 40 degrees predicted. I made a mental note to add "make sure Joan brings her own pogies" to my gear checklist. We loaded up and I headed off to Burger King for a cup of coffee.

It was a dreary day, and went perfectly with my dreary mood, but I wouldn't have traded it for any other day. The water was mostly quiet and I don't think I saw a single boat on the water, although I was constantly looking for them. The birds were not in numbers as I had expected, probably driven away by the ice. The light sprinkle and fog that rolled through on our return trip fit the scene perfectly. Desolate, quiet - It was a winter trip on the tail of the season. It won't be long before the boats begin to return and the water starts to warm. But today, the water belonged to us.

Tundra Swans

One of the great pleasures of kayaking is getting others involved. Although not exactly new to kayaking, this was Amigh's first trip in *her* boat. In exchange for taking her out with a couple of other CPA members, she agreed to write the trip report. What follows is her story.

Woody

MAP

Tundra Swans

Westmoreland State Park

February 26, 2000

In the dark and the mist and drizzle, I finished loading my car and headed out. I take odd pleasure in early mornings like these, cool and wet. Flying down 95 with the Dave Matthews Band cranked up, I'm jazzed -- nervous anticipation mixed with adrenalin, the ultimate wake-up.

I arrived at the launch just after Woody, and Gail and Bob arrived shortly after I did. Introductions all around, an exchange about the weather, and then everyone set off to suit up, unload their boats and gear. Joan and Mardi arrived soon after, and by 10:00, everyone was ready to go. A quick check assured us the water was fifty degrees, but with the fog, the cold wet air, and the wind kicking up waves and small whitecaps, it appeared much harsher.

Paddling protocol seems to call for the newer, slower, paddler to lead, and set the pace. Not wanting to hold folks back, I started out, heading north. But it took no time to realize that even with grit and determination there would be no way I could keep stride with these bigger boats and better paddlers. It had been months since I'd been on the water, and I had never had the experience of cold weather or waves. Even with the wind at my back it was an effort to keep my small boat on track and to keep up. I think Woody must have sensed all of this asking me if I had seen "anything but water since we launched." I laughed when I thought how I must look to others in my small boat with my poor technique as I sprinted to keep just a hair ahead of the group.

About 2.5 miles up river it was decided to explore Popes Creek, a tidal marsh. We stopped to stretch, snack, and some folks made adjustments to their boats. Back in our boats, we headed into the creek, but with the tide going out the water was shallow and paddling was slow going. But once in the creek, we happened on a spectacular sight-a flock of several hundred whistling swans, a fraction of the Eastern wintering population of more than 80,000 tundra swans.

Whistling swans, or tundra swans, are the largest of the Arctic birds. Preferring the long cold days of the Arctic summer, they nest in areas stretching from Alaska to Newfoundland. But by September, the Arctic days begin to change from cold to colder. The shallower waters preferred by these enormous birds begin to freeze, and the tundra swans begin a migration that will carry them more than four thousand miles and last nearly three months. Juvenile swans accompany their parents for the first year to learn the migration routes from the older birds. After a brief stopover these birds continue southeastward, arriving in early November at the Chesapeake Bay where they will overwinter.

An adult tundra swan can grow to more than fifty inches in length and can weigh upwards of twenty-five pounds. With a wingspan that can reach beyond eighty inches, these grand birds are all white save for a black bill and black webbed feet. Shy by nature, tundra swans are not approachable which explains why they took off quickly when they sensed our presence. These birds intuit any intrusion as a threat and an entire flock will take flight in seconds. Few sights have stirred me as the one of hundreds of white swans taking flight, so loud that even from a distance I could feel the deep low commotion of their wings beating against the water.

The outgoing tide was making it increasingly difficult to paddle, so we turned the boats around and headed back out to the river. With no change in the wind and the waves, I continued to struggle upriver. Falling behind, I admired everyone in their boats-Mardi, off by herself, strong, steady, confident; Joan and Woody in their Gulfstreams with their sleek Greenland paddles, gliding over the water with so little effort; Gail and Bob, with the precise rhythm required by a tandem boat. I wondered if I would ever be able to fly over the water like this group.

As we passed some steep cliffs, Woody explained confused waters. I had read about what happens when waves hit a wall or cliff-unable to stop, they crash the wall and become confused. We also talked about the size of the waves, the speed of the wind, and fetch, all things I had read about but now was experiencing for myself. Further up the river a long stretch of beach provided a good place to land and have lunch. Markers told us this was the birthplace of George Washington, and was steeped in history. A patrolling NPS ranger stopped to talk, swapped stories, and answered Mardi's question about something she had just found on the beach. A vertebra, he said, most likely from one of the many whales that once inhabited these waters. I was reminded that while this place was rich in American history, it would always be predated by the ancient natural history of this region that has left behind its own markers of sharks teeth and whalebone.

On the return trip the wind and water had calmed and I was beginning to feel more comfortable with the group and in my own skin. The trip back gave us an opportunity to talk, to share, and for Woody and Joan to lend their assurance that I was doing fine. Again, I had to laugh at myself as Joan reminded me that it wasn't the pace that was important, it was the place, and the company. Well said, I thought. Looking past Joan, I saw what I had missed earlier--the long leaf pines that topped the cliff ridge above the shore. Too concerned with pace and speed and technique, I would always miss the beauty the water has to offer. Overhead, another flock of swans was flying in formation, like prayer flags strung across the sky, and I thought about the distance they had covered to get here, to these waters.

Mason Neck State Park

5 miles

Water Temp: 44 degrees

I always manage to screw something up. Today is no different as I told one person we launch at 9, and another at 8. Luckily Amigh was a little early so we didn't need to wait long. Once on the water we turned right and headed into Kanes creek. I had announced low tide was at 7:00 am so we should not have to worry about getting stuck in the mud.

It sure was shallow though. And the further we worked our way into Kanes the harder it appeared to find the channel. As we worked our way out of the channel it looked to me like the water was still working its way out of the creek. I would later learn I had looked at the current table and not the tide table. 7:00 am was slack for high tide. I'm O for 2.

Once back at Mason Neck park we took a quick break and had lunch. We then loaded back up and headed out to Conrad island for a quick look and a short lesson on channel markers. I had been testing using one pogie on my paddle and found it suitable for most of the time. I would just alternate hands when they got cold and it eliminated a big portion of the claustrophobic feeling one gets with hands in both pogies.

But what to do with the second pogie? Since it was warm, I had been laying on the water now and then to cool off. Each time my water bottle would come loose from the deck bungies and slip into the water. Finally I took the second pogie and attached it to the second deck line in front of my cockpit. This made a perfect pocket for my water bottle and after securing the other end of the bottle under the first deck line I would not have any other problems with it the rest of the day. I am so pleased that a pogie might become a permanent fixture on my deck...

Two cool things happened on the way back from Conrad island: The first, a Bald Eagle treated us to catching lunch right smack in front of us. The second, something whizzed by me in the water that I thought was a fish. It turned out to be a little water bird of some type, which entertained us for several minutes. His little wings seemed to keep him from flying as he scurried out of the path of the kayaks, and he seemed unafraid of us and more interested in fishing under the water.

Back on shore we packed our stuff for home. We had barely covered 5 miles, and had spent 5 hours doing it. A calm and sunny day to remind us spring is not too far away. A sprinkle of boats was on the water today. Too far away to pay much attention, but a reminder of what is to come...

Boulders of the Occoquan

12.5 miles

MAP

Small craft advisory predicted with winds out of the Northwest, so Mason Neck seemed like a good place to go. Light rain all the way to Mason Neck State Park. I had to wait two or three minutes for the park rangers to open the gate since I was early, but in short order I was loaded and on the water.

The wind was gusting and it was a battle from the start. My goal was to visit the Occoquan river before the weather gets much warmer and the boats come out in force. I dig in for the long haul in a steady rhythm knowing my progress would be slow.

Once across the bay I swing into Giles Run - a small tributary populated on one side by some nice houses. After going in as far as I could I turned and headed back towards the wind and up the Occoquan. It was sheer willpower that kept me going as the wind did its best to slow me down. During gusts I would feel my kayak stop dead in the water as I continued to paddle, not willing to give up ground. The further up the river the worst the wind and I found myself zig zaging across the river from one lee to the next to keep making forward progress. The vertical grain in the rock on the cliffs on the right side showed that this area had been subject to violent upheaval sometime in its ancient history.

Paddling against and straight into the wind requires almost no skill. It is probably the most stable configuration for a kayak and other than wiping the water spray out of your face, requires no special talent other than brut strength. The Occoquan dam finally came into view after two and a half hours of constant paddling. Preceding the dam are giant boulders and this is the first time I've actually seen water cascading through them from the dam. This area is off limits so I have no choice but to turn and leave.

I break out lunch and trail my paddle as a rudder as I move along with the wind at my back. I'm moving pretty good and continue to pick up speed the further I move from the dam. There are areas marked with danger signs as huge boulders lay just beneath the surface of the water. Several contain scars of past mishaps.

As I pass the large marina on my right, I've almost given up paddling as I'm moving at a faster rate than when I moving upstream. The waves are starting to pick up. In only 30 minutes I've zipped down the river and again I'm at the mouth of the bay. For the next 30 minutes I get one long surfing lesson. It will take me only an hour to cover the entire trip back from the dam.

From the edge of the bay I see whitecaps. It is obvious the wind has picked up considerably and near the launch I can see a windsurfer. I do my own surfing and enjoy every second of it. One thing I still need to learn is how to control my direction better. There were several times where I am applying a hard stern rudder and still unable to prevent my kayak from turning the opposite direction. The thrill of catching up to the wave trough in front of me and watching my bow begin to sink under until even my front hatch is underwater is absolutely incredible.

Near shore Trevor had been practicing surfing. We beached and went to get our cars as more wind surfers arrived. As I started to carry my kayak up to my truck, Trevor asked if I needed a hand. I instinctively said no, but as soon as I lifted realized I would have no control of this kayak and quickly changed my mind. After setting the kayak on the rack, Trevor had to hold on while I strapped it down as the wind kept lifting it from the cradles. Next was his boat and before long we were both strapped down and ready to go. I wanted to stay longer but I was already running late. It is good thing Trevor had been there as loading my kayak without him would have been tricky.

Marshall Hall

14.2 miles

MAP

Water temp 46f - Air temp ~50f

I was suited up and just about ready to do a little skills practice when Joan arrived. The wind appeared to be only a breeze and out of the east. This was, of course, wrong. The wind was really out of the north but we didn't see it until we paddled out to the Potomac.

Before leaving we had plotted a course from the nearest red buoy to the far side of the river. I had overestimated the current effect and we ended up having to take a little more southerly course than I expected. We weren't off the mark by much though.

On the eastern shore we climbed out at a small (very small) stream and stretched our legs. Heading north we passed Marshall Hall and beached to stretch a half mile upriver. Every time we stopped we both chilled down, especially our hands. When we shoved off again I found I needed to use both pogies to get the warmth back in them. I may have to keep me an oversized pair of mittens in my day hatch for stopping on windy days like today.

Progress was slow at times, but we managed to squeeze out another mile and a half before we decided it was time for lunch. I thought my hands would freeze before we finished and got back in the boats. Now heading south we stopped at Marshall Hall to check out the layout. Chatted a few minutes with a guy in his car as he told us he was interested in trying out kayaking.

Again on the water we cut diagonally across the river to the far shore. Every once in a while a wave would get large enough for me to surf a short distance on, but mostly it was just giving us a fast push back. Once across the river we stopped for Joan to stretch her legs, but I stayed in the boat because I didn't want to chill down again. While here Joan pointed out two Bald Eagles nearby circling over the river.

The last leg is always long for me when I launch from Belvoir. From the mouth of the bay where it opens to the Potomac all the way in to the launch area always seems like 5 miles. Not sure why, but it always does. Finally back at the launch sight Joan practiced sculling and bracing while I braced and rolled. It had been a while since I rolled and I was happy it felt rock solid. I think the sculling brace practice has helped a lot, and the cold water on my face also provided motivation for getting back upright.

I also practiced a wet exit and was happy that too went as it should. After exiting the boat I flipped on my electric pump and the cockpit was dry long before I finished attaching my paddle and float. All this rolling and wet exit practice I still felt warmer than when I stopped for lunch. Enough fun for one day and I packed for home.

The next day I returned to Ft Belvoir, this time just to practice skills. When surfing waves at a high speed I find I can really get my kayak on edge and feel confident with it. But when just paddling, it seems I can't edge nearly as much without causing myself to flip. So today I practiced edging on one side and then the other. Paddling on both sides and paddling on just one. Rolling or bracing every once in a while to cool off or correct a mistake.

Near the end, I switched to my Euro paddle. I don't like this paddle as it takes too big of a bite in the water. But if I ever hope to take any BCU training, I'll need to get used to it.

It behaved as I expected - causing me to apply a lot more pressure to pull it through the water. It also moved the boat like I had never felt using bow and stern rudder. I even tried a few hanging draws - getting up to great speed and performing a draw stroke to scoot me sideways. Cool moves, and things I can't do well with my Greenland.

After about an hour I was spent, so I loaded up for the trip home.

Practice makes Perfect

There is no substitute for practice. On Saturday Joan and I met to just work on skills. Joan started with sculling, and I would start with rolling. I had brought my Guillemot to get wet and the first roll I tried with it I managed to crack my paddle. Not all the way through. As soon as I heard it begin to crack I let up and wet exited.

After a paddlefloat entry with my sturdy Euro paddle, I switch back to my Gulfstream. My Greenland paddle was not completely destroyed, and I used it for most of the day, but with the 2 hairline cracks across the blade it is suspect and will require getting replaced.

We played around a bunch in the water. The Army showed up at one point with one of their boats on the back of a huge truck, which they launched and took for a spin.

I attempted, and completed, my first reentry and roll. I didn't think I could do it, but it went perfect. As I slid into the boat my feet found the foot pegs, I locked in with my knees and up I rolled.

After about 2 hours we decided to switch to assisted rescues. We were both really tired at this point. Probably too tired. I played victim first and with much trouble managed to scramble back in with Joan holding my kayak bow-to-stern. Joan then played victim and I had a hard time holding the boats close together for her to reenter. She was about to give up and use the paddlefloat when I told her to give it one more try. Success at last. It seemed like I wasn't far enough over Joan's boat during the previous attempts. Getting well over her boat allowed me to better steady it and took a lot of strain off my shoulder.

On going back in near shore, I decided one more reenter and roll was in order. When I rolled up I found a Military Police person walking towards us. "I noticed you having trouble. Am I going to have to jump in and save you?"

Joan assured her we were ok and practicing rescues while I cleared the water from my ears. I couldn't help think that if she had jumped in to save me it probably would have been Joan and I saving her!

I was spent so we loaded up and I headed off to Atlantic Kayak to buy a Euro paddle. At some point in the near future I want to take BCU 3 star training. But I need to get used to a Euro paddle before I can undertake such a feat. I ended up with a mid-Swift in a pretty designer pattern of moon and sun.

26 Mar, 2000

The Open Water non-crossing

The plan: Meet at Leesylvania at 8:00, be on the water by 9:00. This would be Amigh's first open water trip. Wind was a bit high, and I hoped it would calm before the afternoon. Amigh already had her car unloaded when I got there, and we talked about boats, wind, and the park. Joan soon showed and we headed for the water.

About a 1/2 mile from shore Joan felt uneasy in her Gulfstream, so we decided to turn back for shore so she could switch boats with Amigh, who was paddling Joan's Breeze. It seemed to take forever to get back against the stiff wind and I began to think about how hard and long a paddle it would be.

After exchanging boats we headed out again. Again about a half mile out I took up a rear position and started thinking how hard it would be to get people back in their boats in this choppy water. I took out my tow belt in the event someone couldn't get in their boat I could tow them and the boat back into the wind shadow of Leesylvania. I was a bit uneasy with the situation and suggested we turn back for Leesylvania and blow off the crossing. Today would be a better day to work on rough water skills.

Everyone agreed and we again took forever making back to shore. Joan switched boats again and we headed around Freestone point to play in the waves. At least when we got tired we would be able to quickly duck behind Freestone without having to put up with the 1/2 mile of pure wind.

Once I was back in the thick of the wind and waves I started rolling and practicing bracing. I performed a "Queen's salute" on my right side and popped right back upright. I decided to try on my left and when it failed I tried to set up to roll. But I couldn't slip under the boat to get on my _on_ side! I was too buoyant because I had forgotten to re-burp my dry suit when we had stopped earlier. I had filled the suit back up with air when we had stopped because it had began to chafe my arm from being vacuum bagged so tightly.

I would have to bail. Grab the sprayskirt loop and POP! As soon as the skirt had come loose the boat was ripped away from my body. I was up wind and I was shocked at how fast it pulled away before I even came to the surface. As I surfaced I caught the paddle out of the corner of my eye flying end over end. It ended up on the far side of my kayak from me, and both were moving away at a high rate of speed.

I started to swim for it, sort of leisurely at first. But when I realized I might not catch my kayak I dug in hard and finally caught it. I was winded but still needed to catch my paddle. Working my way along the downwind side of the boat I grabbed the toggle and started swimming for the paddle. This was much easier than catching the boat as the paddle was not as fast, but still I was hampered by having to drag the boat. When I caught it, I was exhausted. Joan and Amigh were arriving to help by now. And I figured I would perform a reenter and roll, which I had just done earlier in the calm area near the park.

I burped my suit before attempting the reenter, but I still seemed too buoyant. My reenter and roll failed and I again was beside my kayak. This time I was downwind so the boat wasn't getting past me. I later determined that I think the feeling of extra buoyancy was caused by the tow belt, which was pushing up my PFD around my head. With my head almost surrounded by my PFD I had the illusion of a lot more floatation.

I tried a paddlefloat entry several times before I managed to get back in my kayak. By then I was really exhausted and it took me a while to get my wind back. Amigh wanted to give it a go at a paddlefloat reentry in this rough water so I paddled downwind of her to catch her boat if it came loose. She capsized and held onto everything like I *should* have done. The paddlefloat reentry would prove too difficult though and we would have to T-rescue. I grabbed the bow of her boat with my left hand, and after several attempts to get it across my coaming had to give up and switch to my right side. The boat came across with ease this time and it was emptied and set up bow to stern quickly. This time Amigh managed to climb in without too much difficulty and after waiting for her to get squared away we headed for shore for a break.

We ended the day after the break with a short 4-mile down and back paddle up Neabsco creek, paddling hard against the wind. The return trip was much easier, but the wind seemed to die a little and not give us the planned push for which we were hoping.

Back again for the last time at the beach, I skillfully fell out of my kayak to the thrill of the large crowd that had gathered at the park. A bunch of kids near the water fell to the ground laughing and pointing as I told them I had just showed them how *not* to do it. I laid back in the water and just basked in the humility.

After carrying the boats to the cars, I was happy to park my butt in my truck for the ride home. I think I need a nap...

Skills improvement

April Fool's Day, 2000

I've been thinking of this for a long time. I'm not sure I've captured this in my trip reports, so I think it needs a standalone entry in my journal. Lately I've been playing several roles in regards to kayaking:

Paddling partner, teacher, trip leader, and student. It's difficult at times to tell when one role stops and another begins.

But over the last year or so I've found, at least for me, it is dedicated practice that has improved my confidence and skills. Either with someone else or alone, my skills will improve more over a two-hour practice session than over two months of weekend paddling. There just isn't any comparison.

As the water warms and I don't mind hanging upside down in my kayak as much, I think I will spend as much time as I can in these mini skills workshops. My off side roll, brace, and turns will improve. At some point this season I would like to certify myself as an intermediate paddler. A lofty goal with just over a year's worth of experience, but one in which I will try.

It is a long road between here and there. But I can 'feel' the skills starting to gel with these weekend sessions. It is a touch of confidence I haven't had before. Moreover, I think I will be able to sense when I'm ready for that intermediate step. I know now what it will feel like when I get there. I can taste it.

This comes at a time where in my professional life I'm taking on the biggest project of my 18-year career. It will probably rob me of much needed practice time. But it is most likely my last major project in my military profession, so it is important to me. It also worries me as I'm tasked to do in 3 months what others have failed to do in 4 years, and accomplish in 6 months what has never been done before.

It will be an interesting summer...

Not-All-In

I've always been a believer that if you aren't practicing in water that can knock you over, your not really learning how to brace. Today I would use a method that puts you in that condition on flat water.

Today's goal: Practice my low brace. The wind was high and blowing towards shore but I was also in the somewhat protected area of Ft Belvoir, so the waves were small.

As I unloaded my kayak a man and his dog approached and asked questions related to kayaking ( the man - the dog remained speechless). He asked about rolling and I mentioned that would be in my practice session today. He became interested and decided he wanted to stay and watch. As I dressed in my dry suit a military police car pulled up and soon there were three of us talking about kayaking. I noticed I couldn't find my nose clips and I was a little irked as this would impair my practice session today.

On the water I did the obligatory rolls and braces. I had hoped this would be enough to satisfy the audience on shore and they could be on their way. Not the case today. Already tired of the water up my nose I switched over to self-rescues.

I had attached a strap with quick release buckles to my rear deck. Now I could push my paddle under a bungie and attach the strap to limit my paddle movement while I climbed back in. VAST improvement in helping me get back in the kayak. Without the stretch of the bungie on my near side, the kayak was much more stable as I hoisted myself aboard. This is a success story pending giving it a try in rougher water.

I also tried a few reenter and rolls. Some working well, some failing miserably. Setup and slowing down to take my time was important to doing it correctly.

I decided to practice my low brace using a technique in my BCU handbook. Called the 'not-all-in' exercise, it involves sitting on the rear deck with my feet hanging to the sides and paddling around. This was tipsy and required repeated use of a low brace. The wind kept pushing my bow downwind so I usually paddled backwards to get away from the shore. It was good practice, as it didn't take much to *require* a firm pat on the water with the backside of my Euro paddle to keep me from spilling over. I eventually got fairly comfortable and balanced in this position and had to lean one way or the other to force a brace.

Next I tried putting my feet in the cockpit while sculling for support. This was pretty easy, but once I stopped sculling and tried to go back to using just a low brace, I usually ended up in the water. More opportunity for reenter and roll or paddle float practice.

I'm sure the folks fishing on shore thought I was crazy. I paddled out from shore and after sculling a bit more and trying a couple of bow rudders (which just didn't seem to come together today) I headed in. Without my nose clips I wasn't going to try and work on my offside like I had wanted. I loaded up my kayak and as I took off my dry suit I found my nose clips stuck to the Velcro that fastens around my neck collar. Too late to do any good, I put them away and headed for home.

Paddling with Kids

Last summer I bought my then 8-year-old daughter a Necky Gannet. I didn't care for the thing that much, but she liked it a lot. I had her try several other small yaks that I thought would be much better for her, but she insisted on the Gannet. Those little pleading eyes....well, the rest is history.

The Gannet is fine in perfectly calm water, but even with the skeg, she has a lot of problems in any wind. The combination of her light weight and the boat's high bow (sits way above the waterline) makes it easy to blow around and for her to loose directional control.

The moral to the story above is if you are going to paddle with your young kids, and by this I mean kids actually old enough to command a solo craft, try to match them to the boat. They won't understand why they can't have the yellow one or the blue one, but you'll keep their interest longer and the frustration level much lower the less real work they have to do while paddling.

As far as kids in general go, you have to be a lot more prepared and have tons more patience than paddling with even an early teenager. A tow belt (or a tow system) is a requirement with children. They are much more likely to get sick on the water, or be sick beforehand and not tell you till you're miles from the car.

My daughter has paddled 7 miles without a complaint, and other times complained every inch of a 2 mile paddle. In windy sections be prepared to tow. Children can suddenly just be tired and refuse to paddle any further.

Also towing related: Try things to encourage them not to be towed. They can easily become dependent on using you as their motor. My daughter was becoming more and more prone to ask for a tow until one day I managed to keep her occupied with just looking at all the ducks. At the end of the paddle I made a big deal out of how she went so far without help. Now she rarely asks, and only when she is genuinely tired.

Don't forget to practice rescues. Both my kids (my daughter and 14 year old son) loved climbing in and falling out of the boat. Make it a game and practice often.

A lot of small recreational kayaks don't have bulkheads. Don't forget to add float bags. I took my daughter's kayak out once to see if I could roll it and almost had to leave it on the bottom of the river. Try explaining to an eight year old why daddy just lost her brand new kayak.

Sunscreen, water, sunscreen, water. If you forget either, go back and get it.

Don't be disappointed with the short attention spans. Expect it. Kids get bored quicker if this is an area you have paddled with them before. A highly sheltered area with lots of wildlife is a plus. At the same time, don't start by planning long trips. Begin with short trips and work up to what your child can safely handle.

A good fitting PFD is a must. A child's small body makes the PFD prone to slip right over their head. A crotch strap, provided it doesn't provide an entanglement risk, might be of benefit.

Think about everything that can happen on a long car ride with a child, and think how you would handle that on the water. After towing my daughter once through a long windy stretch I turned around to find her asleep, half hanging off the side!

Don't forget to teach them proper technique. My kids have caught on to when they see me eyeing their technique to focus on how they are paddling. Don't give them too much to digest at once. Feed them one concept and let them master it before giving them another.

Kids will sometimes surprise you how much they've learned. While on vacation at Chincoteague Island I was paddling near shore while my family stood on shore waiting for the ponies to swim across from Assateague. A little girl came up to the shore and started asking me all types of questions about the kayak. After answering a few I pointed to Katie, who was standing next to her, and said "Ask Katie, she has one too." I then just sat there and beamed with pride as Katie answered every one of the little girl's questions without flaw.

Intense Practice

Ft. Belvoir

I had gotten there early, so I had about an hour of on water time before I noticed Joan unloading her stuff. Rolls, bracing (including the not-all-in exercise) was the order of the day. I tried to perform a draw on the move several times with little success. The most notable item of the day was the wind. Long gusts up near 30-35 MPH made it a challenge to paddle against, even in this protected area. Wind was blowing us towards shore. From all this practice today I learned several things:

1) If you burp too much air out of a dry suit it becomes uncomfortable. It's like having your clothes vacuum bagged against your skin. Too much air and you're dangerously buoyant. The right combination for me was to burp as much out as I could, then let in just enough to free up around my shoulders.

2) The strap on my rear deck to aid in my paddlefloat recovery worked well. Joan tried to get me to get one leg up on the paddle, but I found I couldn't reach the cockpit with my other leg when I did. I ended up sitting sideways in the cockpit with feet on one side and head hanging off the other. A back flip helped get me out of that situation (and provided a good example of a yellow rainbow). The key is to find what works for you, and practice it.

3) At the peak of the wind Joan wanted to try a paddlefloat reentry but thought she would get blown ashore before she got in. I hooked up to her boat with a tow belt and attempted to paddle backwards (I sat facing her so I could watch) while she tried to get in. Even paddling backwards hard, I slowly lost ground. Joan's bungies kept her paddlefloat from holding her boat properly when she tried to climb on. Soon we were both too tired and had to let Joan and the boat float ashore. I tried towing her and her boat by her grabbing my stern toggle but made little or no progress.

4) We practiced swimming with the paddle. The easiest we found was to float on our backs and hold the paddle across our chest while we paddled backwards. Worked great, and we even made a little progress against the wind. With the wind we moved quickly through the water.

5) Since a lot of my practice is solo, I often choose to paddle where the wind would blow me ashore in case I couldn't get in. Today I decided to actually practice getting blown into shore. I could hold the stern toggle if my skeg was down and keep the boat in front of me. The bow toggle if the skeg was up, but the bow toggle is higher and the boat easily flipped upside down using this method. Joan suggested holding onto the side of the boat and keep it broached to the wind. This allowed maximum speed across the water (if that is what you want). I also found you need to float your entire body near the surface for maximum speed.

6) After 4 hours of skills practice, I was tired but not overly so. My endurance is improving in these types of conditions.

7) I practiced reenter and roll many times. By far the easiest is to be on the upwind side of the boat. A few extra seconds to turn the boat around is certainly worth the gain in ease for rolling up.

8) Joan poised the question that made us think: How much wind does it take to dump over a porta-john? Not the place you want to be when that threshold is reached, I'm sure.

Moonless Night

4 miles

The last time I was at Belle Haven was the last moonlight paddle I went on. The weather had been yucky on Tuesday, the full moon, and Wednesday was little better. The decision was to go anyway on Thursday, with the chance we might see the moon peek out from behind the clouds.

I had stacked the deck against us. Although I checked the tide table (high tide would be near 10:00 pm) I didn't notice moonrise would not be till 9:50 pm. Too late to be of any visual use.

I was on the water by 7:15 and paddled out just a short way so I could keep an eye out for Amigh and watch the sailboats come in for the day. The wind was really kicking up and I was glad most of our paddling would be in the somewhat protected marsh.

Near 8:00 I could see someone standing up at the Astroturf, but in the dimming light couldn't make out who it was. I could see Steve, the guy who takes care of the sailboats when they come in. He yelled for me to come over and as I got closer I could see Amigh's green kayak on her car.

Her first night time paddle, Amigh's gear was quickly loaded and we paddled off towards Dyke Marsh. Before we got too far and before it turned completely dark I cracked a couple of chemical glow sticks and stuck them under the rear bungies of the kayaks. The last time out at night we had run into a group of kayakers from Atlantic Kayak. Everyone had a white light on their back and was hard to distinguish between them. Our green glow helped Mardi, Joan, and I to easily distinguish between those in the touring group and us.

We paddled out towards the Potomac to head south to the marsh entrance. It was slow going against the strong wind and the waves were up close to a foot high. I thought to myself that it would be an exhilarating return trip.

With darkness brings the illusion of speed. Despite the strong wind it appeared we were moving quickly through the water. But by checking our progress against the shore it was easy to tell this illusion was in fact an illusion.

I wasn't quite sure where the entrance for the marsh was, as it looks so different at high tide. At low tide it is a series of twisting, winding passageways, but at high tide most of it is wide and open. I suggested we head closer towards shore to make it easier to find the entrance, and as we closed in the entrance revealed itself directly ahead.

As we turned into the marsh with the wind to our backs our speed picked up and we were blown along at a good pace. The waves were being blocked, but the wind still had a good amount of spirit left in it. After a bit of coasting we passed a tree full of Blue Herons. They took flight as we passed and this was about the only wildlife we saw on the way into the marsh. I was disappointed that the night had turned out so badly. Not only had I misjudged the moonlight, but the wind and lack of animals seemed to make it less then the ideal night time trip. We had come to the turn around point and my displeasure with myself was growing in that leading someone on their first night time paddle would be a disappointment for them.

I had been told there was a short cut out of the marsh, and the last time here we had failed to find it. So on our outbound trip we started to explore some of the nooks and crannies of the marsh to see if we could find it. We began to raise the alarm of the resident geese population. Usually banded together in twos, they would honk for quite a long time at us, even after we had passed.

At one of the more twisty parts of the marsh I demonstrated to Amigh how even the sparse vegetation can provide a lee in a strong wind. Although your upper body is still taking the force of the wind, your kayak, being much closer to the water can benefit a great deal from this wind shadow by paddling right next to the reeds.

At one area I moved deeper into the reeds to see if I could push my way through to the river, just a short 20 feet away. As I moved in my paddle touched something that moved! I was in mid sentence talking with Amigh and thought I would swallow my words as the sudden movement beneath my blade startled me. After getting my words back I mentioned I thought something had moved under my paddle to Amigh.

A few seconds later Amigh noticed a beaver swimming a zigzag pattern away from us. I was surprised he wasn't slapping his tail and I wondered if he was afraid I might hit him again with my paddle if he did. As we finally got about 50 feet away from him he slapped his tail and was gone.

We continued to poke around but never found the short way out. In the process we did flush a few small ducks from their nighttime roost. Back at the river the wind would again be at out backs. But this time the waves would be coming from behind. A chance to do some surfing. My not-all-in low brace practice had really paid off. As I would broach coming down a wave, I would turn the non-power side of my blade to the water and allow it to skim along. I rarely needed to brace, but the skimming across provided a strong confidence builder that it was there if needed.

Amigh was on a roller coaster ride. Her short wide Gannet was feeling every part of the wave. She once passed me on the same wave I was on and it looked like the bottom of her boat was almost even with my coaming.

Not wanting to scare the first timer too bad, we headed into a more protected area for the rest of the trip back. After leading us into several dead ends and around some large floating trees, I finally got us back to the launch site about 10:00 pm.

The high tide had really come up. Amigh's car was sitting in water. Not real deep, but still a surprise. We loaded up and I headed for home. Two minutes from home, near 11:00 I noticed the moon peek out from behind the clouds for the first time.

Now I know (Mallows Bay Redux)

Mallows Bay

8.2 miles

Water Temp: 60 degrees

1942 Arial Photo

Terraserver Photo

Topo Map

I had been there four times last year and each time was awestruck by the number of ships that were laid to rest in this little bay. About all I knew about the site was there were somewhere over one hundred World War I merchant ships burned to the waterline sometime during the 1920's. On one trip over with Joan, I had said that 'next year' I would like to coordinate a trip to Mallows Bay. This is that trip.

Trip planning started in early March. I was surprised at the interest as fifteen people expressed an interest to go. But as time marched on towards the launch date almost 2 months away, the herd began to thin until on launch day we were left with five kayakers destined for a trip back into history.

Knowing there was much more to the history of the bay than I knew, I had asked Amigh if she would check out the book "Ghost Fleet of Mallows Bay" from the library and write a short trip synopsis that I could hand out at the launch site. I was a bit surprised that not only did Amigh agree, she went out and bought the book. But as launch time grew near, Amigh too would have to cancel. Amigh finished the bio and mailed me the book the last week before the trip as a gift.

And what a gift it was. Each evening after work I read through the pages with great interest about the history of this little bay. I was beginning to visualize a trip through time starting on April 2, 1917 and ending 83 years later on April 29th, 2000. As the days to the trip were few, I found myself spending every spare moment trying to get through the book and learn as much as I could before our trip back in time.

"On April 2, 1917, President Woodrow Wilson issued a national call to arms against Imperial Germany. What followed in the United States was a frenzied effort to build hundreds of merchant ships to replace those being destroyed in Germany's campaign of unrestricted submarine warfare. The newly created U.S. Shipping Board Emergency Fleet Corporation embarked on a course that, in the span of a few pivotal years in American history, came to exhibit mankind's genius, ignorance, avarice, drive-and folly-for the largest portion of that fleet came to rest on the muddy floor of Mallows Bay."

I arrived at the Quantico Marine Base about 7:30 and found Craig had beaten me there. Craig is a bag boater and wanted to arrive in plenty of time to set up. I unloaded my truck and waited for the rest to show up for a launch time of about 9:00. Soon Joan, Alice and David were ready to go and I made sure everyone got copies of the trip bio that Amigh had written and copy of the survey maps of the bay.

As the tide was going out in short order we were spat out of Chopawamsic creek and into the Potomac river. To our south about 2.5 miles was Widewater - the anchorage used by the wooden fleet after the war while they awaited destruction. We took up a course heading of 120 degrees with our destination being Sandy Point on the Maryland side of the river. A two-mile open water crossing, the weather could not have been better for the trip across. A slight cool breeze to keep us from overheating, and a beautiful sunny day with no waves.

At Sandy Point we beached near the "Sentinel", the remains of the northernmost ship in the Mallows fleet. Called the Sentinel because it stood guard over the bay, its true name is unknown. This hull was found floating free in the river channel sometime after 1942 and was drawn back to the shore and tied with steel cables to trees to make sure it did not escape again. One hundred feet from the ship were the remains of an old wooden barge and the pilings of the wharf used by Western Marine and Salvage Company in the 1920s.

From Widewater the ships were taken north to Alexandria Virginia where they would have the bulk of their metal salvaged. Metal pipes, steam engines, anything that could be easily turned to metal scrap was removed and then the wood hull was towed back to Widewater to await disposition. It was here that the first experiment in burning the hulls took place as five ships were pulled near shore and burned to the waterline. They were then pulled ashore and the burning process was completed. A tremendous success, or so the salvage company thought.

The local residents and fishermen were up in arms. Widewater had been a favorite hangout for shad and the charcol from the burnt wood were driving the fish away. The metal that fell into the water as the ships burned caused concern for the well being of the fishermen's nets. So the salvage company looked for a more remote area to conduct their shipbreaking operations.

The land around Mallows Bay happened to be for sale, and the sign over of the deed would seal this little bay forever into the history books. At Sandy Point four railroad lines were built which led to the water. The ships would be hauled up on land and further reduced to scrap. It didn't take long for the salvage company to realize this would be a slow and unprofitable method to dispose of the ships so they began hauling them into place and burning them in the bay.

From Sandy Point we headed south for about a half-mile to the northern lip of the bay. I was leading the way so I missed the expression of people as we paddled in among the hulls of a once great fleet of steam ships. We beached once again in this area to climb the cliff and get a better view of the wreckage. Almost as far as you could see was the largest collection of wrecks in all of the United States.

Here Mardi caught up with us from her put in south of Mallows. We were now 6 kayaks testing the waters of the ship graveyard. Heading to the south end of the bay, we paused by the only all metal ship in the bay. The Accomac started life as 'Virginia Lee' for the Virginia Ferry Company in 1928 for service between Cape Charles and Norfolk. . I talked with Bill Dodge a few days before this trip and he informed me that as a child, he may have traveled on this ship. There is no written record on when it was scuttled in the bay, having its stern filled with rocks to hold it down. The first mention of the ship was in 1979 when a Coast Guard ship found a wooden hull floating free in the channel and carried it back and anchored it to 'the iron ship.' Next to the Accomac was that wood hull just breaking the surface of the water.

During WWII the US Government took over the ferry and loaned it to the British to use between Nova Scotia and Great Britain. In 1952, the ship was refitted with diesel engines and a large 'spoon shaped' bow to handle the loading and off loading of cars and passengers, but in 1964, just 36 years and one day earlier from today, she burned and was taken out of commission.

We now headed east to the back end of the bay. This little area was surrounded by a metal and concrete bulkhead and we gathered up once more for me to relate the story of this little piece of the bay.

After the original salvage company finished up operations in the early 1930s, the bay was packed so tightly with burnt hulks you could barely see any water at all. During the depression people would freely gather up scrap iron from the hulks to squeak out a living, as jobs were scarce. Sometimes 15 - 30 people at a time were seen crawling around the wreckage. As the US entered WWII, the price for scrap iron skyrocketed, and the US commissioned another company to salvage what they could from the bay. The company built the steel and concrete enclosure at the back of the bay with the idea that they would float in some hulls, close the metal doors and pump out the water where they would then burn the hulls and collect the precious scrap.

Unfortunately the bottom was thick with silt, and the hulls sank deep into the goo as they tried to pump it dry. But they did manage to salvage some of the heavy steel directly from the wrecks before it was all over.

We paddled from the burning basin a little more south to look over the only known composite ship in the bay. Built with a wood hull this ship contained metal bulkheads. I had pinched a nerve in my back a few days earlier, so I didn't want to test my endurance even though at the time I was feeling fine. So I headed on back with Craig to the north and Sandy Point passing the scores of wood hulls barely poking above water and the large metal rods poking slightly above the timbers. The others continued south to explore some fossilized cliffs.

While we waited for the others to return I explored inland of the Sentinel looking for the trees and cables to which it was bound. It wasn't long before I found a tree heavily knurled about its base and a thick steel cable wrapped around and through the tree. The cable ran off into the ground back towards the wreck.

Before long the others arrived minus Alice. They asked me where Alice was and with shock I replied that she was supposed to be with them. Alice had turned back early so I began to put on my gear to go look and as we were coordinating a vhf channel to use Alice paddled up from around the point. Not knowing exactly where I had stopped she stopped in the bay and waited until she saw the other group go by and then paddled after them.

As the group ate lunch I told them the final bit of history for this piece of land. In 1963 a small reality company that owned the property around Mallows petitioned the Army Corps of Engineers to remove the hulls from the bay. The reason they sited was that the hulls were depressing property values along the shore. The cost to remove the ships was estimated to be about $300,000, and the recently passed clean waterways act provided for such cleanup if the landowner paid half. The reality company agreed but because a survey of the Potomac watershed was underway, the government wanted to complete the survey before they did anything to the bay. In 1970, PEPCO, the Maryland power company, submitted a permit to build a power plant on Sandy Point. The permit showed that PEPCO had owned the land since 1963! The power company had wanted the hulls removed to make room for their coal barges and had used the reality company to mask the true ownership of the land. Once the Maryland and federal governments got word of the PEPCO scam they quickly shut down any hope of the company getting the hulls removed. And so they still remain for us to marvel over on this day.

We loaded up and headed back for the Virginia side of the river. I was inspired by the great history behind the wrecks - a history that I will tell again someday...

Kayak Man

We couldn't get a sitter for my son for the weekend, and a 15 year old on his own for a few days is asking for trouble. This spelled good news for me since it now meant I got to come home each night instead of stay in the woods with my wife's brownie and my daughter's junior Girl Scout troops. I had volunteered to be 'on water' safety person for Saturday while the juniors were taught canoeing. Only six canoes, how hard could it be?

I got there an hour early, about 8:00 and got my kayak ready. I managed to get the 2 lowest canoes off the trailer by myself, but had to wait for help before getting the top four. The canoe instructor and her daughter soon arrived and we managed to get the remaining four canoes off with some difficulty. The canoe instructor slipped and fell off the trailer and was quite fortunate to walk away with only a scraped and bruised leg.

We were ready, or so I thought. Twenty something fourth graders mean sheer chaos and within 5 minutes of them arriving I was wondering what I had gotten talked into. While the instructor gave some semblance of instruction to the chaotic crowd, I suited up - No dry suit finally, the water on this pond was well above 60 degrees, so I was in only my Polartec wet suit. A hot day, the first thing I did on getting in the water was roll for a temperature check. How easy that roll was unencumbered by my dry suit. I found my torso rotation had also returned in full force, and I felt good and confident. I warmed up with some strong leaned sweeps since I figured I would need lots of quick turns to keep up with this crowd.

The girls were soon on the water. They had been given a boundary of a little island near the center of the pond and I spent considerable time trying to teach the girls how to head back to within the given perimeter. Occasionally a canoe got stuck along a far bank and the girls would call for the "kayak man" to come pull them out. This went on for a good half-hour until the whistle was blown indicating it was time to come in and let the second half of the group take a turn.

It was at this point I realized that not a single canoe had any control. Not one of them could get back to shore. I latched onto the furthest one out with my tow belt and towed them to within 10 feet of shore and headed out for the next canoe. When I returned with the second canoe I noticed the first one, without any piloting skills at all, was now back out another 100 feet from shore. Not willing to make that mistake twice, when I unhitched the second canoe I gave them a push towards shore to make sure they made it in. Everyone was calling for the kayak man to come help. I towed four of the six canoes in (one of them twice) before it was said and done with.

I was now warm and took a couple of victory rolls while the second half of the group boarded their canoes. This was the first half-hour of a planned 3 hour shift. I had a feeling I knew why no one else wanted this on water job. Although the kayak made the ideal craft to round up the canoes, something had to change if I was to make it through the morning.

The second wave hit the water much like the first. I was more diligent in keeping them within the boundaries because of the towing factor when their time was over. As the second half hour came to a close and the whistle blew, I could see again there was no hope for several of the canoes to make it back to shore on their own. Out of sheer 'try anything' I had the back paddler on one canoe stop paddling and just had the front girl paddle. I was amazed at the progress now towards shore. I quickly sized up several more canoes and tried to pick the girl that seemed to have the most control, and had the other one stop paddling. No one in the second half of the group needed to be towed in., although a few I had to push their bow back around on track with the front end of my kayak.

This 'shepherding' was GREAT practice for my turning and draw strokes. Little compares in real life training as those quick turns, reverse strokes, and draws needed to avoid collisions or catch up with a wondering canoe piloted by nine year olds.

The first troop was finished and it took a few more victory rolls to cool down. I was one-third the way through and felt like I had just finished a 20-mile day trip. The second troop took to the water without pause. A smaller troop, these girls would spend an entire hour on the water. Much more time to become familiar with the canoe and also more time to test how firm the 'kayak man' was allowing that outside boundary to be. I spent a lot of time making 100 yard dashes to turn one canoe and then the next as they became bored with their confines and tried to explore more of the pond. When the hour was over and the whistle blown I followed them in, only occasionally turning a canoe or paddling beside giving instructions to the front or rear paddler. As the third troop had not shown up yet, I used the moment to refill my completely drained hydropack.

The third group followed much the same way as the second and by the lunch hour I was spent. As I pulled my kayak ashore after the last canoe was beached, the canoe instructor asked if I would mind coming back after lunch to watch the cadets. The cadets, she explained, were older and required much less hand holding, but they were also more likely to intentionally tip the canoe over to see what would happen. "Oh great", I thought.

After lunch I wondered back to the water and practiced some re-enter and rolls while waiting for the last group. The canoe instructor arrived to tell me that because it was so hot, the afternoon physical activities that were planned were cancelled, and that everyone would instead be given another shot at canoeing. As the cadets took the water I found some shade out under some trees on the island and just floated keeping my eye on them as they explored the entire pond. I would need my strength for the barrage that was to follow. The cadet shift passed without incident and I could see many juniors gathering at the shore. There would be no breaks as the six canoes were filled and sent on their own for 20-30 minutes, then sent back and more girls loaded up.

That last group included my daughter, who along with her friend who also had canoe experience gave me the chance to play "splash the canoe" with a tennis ball, after which we would scramble to recover the ball. It would be 4:30 before the last canoe was off the water and I could beach and put my yak away, then pack up the canoe gear and canoes. Six and a half hours I had spent on the water and I felt every minute of it as we loaded the last canoe.

The experience gained was incredible. Nothing in my practice sessions or day trips had given me the opportunity to put all the strokes I had learned to practical use like today. Several times I needed to perform a 'draw on the move' and other advanced strokes to avoid a collision or pull my kayak closer to a canoe. I even learned to lay my kayak nearly on its side while performing a sweep stroke and turn it 180 degrees in two strokes. Not an easy task with a heavy tracker like the Gulfstream.

Before leaving the campground, I made it known that I would be happy to come back to do it again. As my little truck strained from pulling the trailer with the canoes, all I could hear over and over again as I drove towards the exit was "Thanks kayak man!"

Success All Around

Ft. Belvoir

Practice, what else is there? I'm beginning to wonder. I've got five more weekends before I take my BCU training, and like a student cramming for a test the next day, I'm trying to get in as much prep work as possible.

Katie's goal was to get wet. Joan's to try rolling the Looksha to see if it was easier than the Gulfstream. Like always I had many - perfecting skills, helping Katie as she needed, giving Joan a hand when she asked.

We started with Katie. Her goal was to play in the water and get wet. This would be easy as we played around with her dipping herself by hanging on to my bow. We managed to talk her into getting out of the boat to practice self and assisted rescues.

Joan helped me with Eskimo bow rescues, and Katie even got to save me a few times.

The day was warm and so was the water. Katie and I were wearing wetsuits. Joan was wearing shorts. Wet suit weather passed by quickly, as the water has climbed to the upper 60s.

At some point we tried to teach Katie to scull and draw. She started to get a bit frustrated at not being able to get her paddle blade angle correct. I pulled in beside her kayak and grabbed the upper portion of her paddle and had her pull it back and forth as I turned the blade. She quickly got the hang of it but really didn't notice how much we were moving until I had her stop and see how far we had moved from shore, and she had been dragging me along with her!

Next she got frustrated about the boat spinning as she tried a sculling draw on her own. I showed that twisting her torso more towards the stern or more towards the bow could cancel or increase the spin. She was happy again and tiring.

Joan and I tried some assisted rescues with her as victim. After several tries we had to resort to a paddle float reentry. The torque on my bad shoulders is just too much for a between the boats rescue, and the rear deck of the Looksha was too high for Joan on the outside.

In all the practice I found several opportunities to try a reentry and roll. But on falling over on my off side once, I tried to set up and roll up....and made it! My first off side roll! I would try several more times, and only made it up once more. They were ugly - real ugly, with some fierce sculling at the end to get me the rest of the way up, but they worked. Now my body knows they can be done, and lots of practice will eventually get it close to my on side.

Joan had great luck too. The Looksha rolled up several times for her. A few times she barely scraped the bottom with her paddle, and a few times she had to wet exit, but she had quite a few success'. She even took my Gulfstream out and rolled it up a few times.

Joan's roll, Katie's sculling draw, and finally getting up on my offside - a productive day. Now I need 5 more just like it...

The Perfect Small Craft Advisory

I'm sure now I'm getting closer. Much closer.

Trevor put on the trip to Assateague, as he did all the prep work. The trip carried my name too, but he deserves all the credit for getting us to the launch site. I drove out with Trevor, and despite me making a few wrong turns we got there about an hour early. Amigh had called us about 20 minutes away and said the National Park Service was not issuing backcountry permits because of a small craft advisory. I called the Coast Guard and asked them how long the SCA was expected to last - 'All weekend,' was the answer. The mood over the group was becoming somber.

We needed a back out plan...

Amigh called the State park and found they had lots of available camp sites, so off we were. We figured we could find out about camping and launching our kayaks once we got there. Once in the ranger station, someone asked about launching from the ocean - there was nothing for kayakers, but were told we could launch on the bay side. As we were starting to realize we were not going to get any ocean paddling in this weekend, I asked if we couldn't launch from the beach because of park policy, or that there just wasn't any launch facilities. The answer caught my attention - "So if we carry the boats to the beach ourselves, we can launch?"

"Oh, Sure"

"Excellent"

After selecting a campsite as near as possible to the beach, we set up camp and carried the boats to the water. This was a chore as walking in soft sand is difficult when not carrying a 50-pound boat and 20 pounds of gear. Working in our favor was a light rain had dampened the sand to make it a bit easier to walk on.

Trevor and I had already decided we needed to go over a few basic rules with the group:

1) Don't get yourself between the boat and shore

2) Don't hold your paddle across your body when crashing through a wave

I was probably one of the more experienced in rough water paddling which makes me feel even more responsible 'for' and 'to' everyone on the water. Once through the first surf zone, I knew there would be little danger. I probably should have communicated that to everyone else, but that would be like downgrading to a slower ride at the amusement park. The adrenaline rush is part of the price of admission. And there would be plenty to go around before it was over.

There were two surf zones. The first, nearly an on shore break, occurred less than 15-20 feet from shore. Not large in height, but enough to easily broach a kayak, and large enough to give someone a good spanking if they got knocked over in it. The second was much further off shore and in deeper water. When we arrived on the beach the second break was just a smattering of foam, with no curl to it. But the tide was going out and the waves rose up larger on the sand bar until as I was launching I began to see a defined curl in the waves as it crossed the offshore obstruction. The plan was I would go first (guinea pig) and act as safety between the two break zones. Trevor would help everyone out, then launch last. Once everyone was through we would repeat the process for the second zone.

After putting on my helmet I boarded for what I expected to be a rough launch. My first attempt through the shoreward surf immediately sent me broaching. I was surprised how automatic and reassuring my high brace was as I was tossed back onto the beach. A last second hip snap and I was back upright waiting for help to get me pointed back into the water. A second time I broached and this time was tilted at a severe angle away from the beach. My brace held until I hit sand with the paddle and then I levered myself up. Both times on my off side.

I was psyched at how well my high brace worked, and commented on it several times later that night. I had worked hard since early January to improve my skills and this was strong proof that hard work was beginning to pay off. Or maybe I was just damn lucky. Luck or not, it felt 'right.'

Third time was a charm as I punched through the breaking wave and paddled out hard. The second wave of the set sent me pointing nearly straight up so that all I saw was overcast sky. By the third wave I knew I was home free. I had already drifted a ways down the beach so I turned to head north. The fog, thicker than I would have liked, did not impair my vision as much as the spray and light rain on my glasses. Every few minutes I would have to wipe them with a finger to try and make out who was coming through the break next. Soon Amigh came punching through to tell me she didn't have any foot pegs to put her feet on. I made the mistake of telling her to just wait till everyone got out through the first break, and then we would go through the second break and raft up to fix the rudder pedals. All the while the second break seemed to be getting larger by the moment.

All the negative things I've heard about sliding rudder pedals had led me to buy Seaward style rudder pedals for my Guillemot. Besides eliminating the spongy feeling while bracing, they also eliminated the possibility of the pegs sliding towards the rear of the boat and preventing you from getting your feet on them. Amigh's predicament made me aware my decision was the correct one, but at the moment it didn't help Amigh at all.

We had to continuously paddle north as the wind was carrying us south at a pretty good clip. I should have rafted up with Amigh and fixed her foot pegs between the breaks. I was unsure if we could get them fixed prior to being carried back into the first break. This would not have been a problem, as we would later find out, because the southerly drift would have kept us between the two zones.

Joan would attempt next, but from my vantage point it was hard to tell what was going on, and I was continuously looking around to make sure we didn't drift too close to either surf zone and paddling north to compensate for the drift. I would later learn that on her second attempt she made it through the surf only to loose her paddle, and exited. She decided enough was enough and parked her boat on the beach. Mardi came through next and didn't appear to have any problems in the Current Designs Breeze. And Trevor came though like a pro in his Chesapeake 17 LT.

I told Trevor I was taking Amigh through the second surf zone to fix her pegs, and Trevor turned towards Mardi. Amigh and I headed for the second break, which started to loom larger as we approached. Amigh was about 20 feet behind me when the wave crashed across my face and chest and I held my paddle high to keep it from catching the solid wall of green water. Once through the line, I turned my head and watched Amigh make it most of the way through, being battered as well. Still not quite all the way through the zone I heard her say Mardi was in the water. I tried to tell Amigh to come the rest of the way out and just wait, but she couldn't hear me over the waves and she began to turn to head towards Mardi when the wave knocked her over.

At what point does one know they are in over their head? When does confidence in your skill, or that of others start to wane? We had just launched and we already had two people in the water. Surely there should be some doubt on my part at this point, no? Despite the conditions I wasn't concerned with anyone getting injured outside the first surf zone. And we just weren't far enough from shore to worry about not getting back (there were no strong rips that we could identify from shore, nor from the water while waiting for everyone to launch). If we couldn't get them back in the boats though, it could be a long carry back to the launch site because of the southern drift, and I already had my fill of portaging.

I was regretting not fixing Amigh's foot pegs and began to wonder if that may have had something to do with her going over. Nah, that was one big ass wave that slammed her. When I had gone through I had raised my paddle overhead to keep it out of the wave and felt green water on my wrists as I crashed through. It would have been impossible for me to stay upright if I had been broached.

I didn't see why Mardi went over but I knew she hadn't made it to the second surf zone yet. Later she would tell me she thought it was a rogue wave, but wasn't sure because she never saw it. Maybe the stable Breeze had met its upper limit on waves it could handle without being tossed over.

I quickly scanned for Mardi and saw Trevor near her in the water. I turned around and just as I was beginning to access Amigh's dilemma a wave crashed over my head from behind. As I got knocked over I quickly felt it release me and instinctively screw rolled back up. Text book roll. I have to admit - this was my first roll under fire and it worked so instinctively that I wondered if I had even done it at all. I could see Amigh had her boat and paddle and was in no immediate danger so I started to set up to rescue her when I got broad sided with another breaker, again to roll right back up.

This was fun, but I need to improve my skills enough where I don't need to focus on the next wave and can concentrate only on the person in the water. I'm at that point on flat to fairly rough water, but it was obvious some ocean paddling will be required to get me to that point in these conditions.

As I went to get bow to stern it looked like we were bow to bow, so I turned to go to the other side. Once there I realized that we were now bow to bow. I had misjudged for some reason. In assisted rescue practice, this is not the first time I've made this mistake. Now I had to go to the other side again, but not before getting slammed over a third time. I rolled back up, but this time had to make a lot of sculling strokes to get up the last little bit. I was about to the point of hooking up my tow belt to Amigh's kayak and towing out of the breaking waves, but I really wanted the practice in these conditions and knew I might not get another chance. We were nearly out of the surf by now anyway. If I got knocked over again, I would tow.

I was finally in position. I thought it pointless to do a T rescue since we were still in or near the surf line. The boat might fill back up with water before Amigh got back in and the spray skirt attached. I had practiced rescues with Amigh before and knew her assisted rescue skills as a victim to be strong. I rafted up and held on and Amigh climbed in. Once she was aboard we had drifted in far enough we were able to pump out a good portion of the water. One wave lifted her stern and crashed the rudder down on my bow, leaving a nice memorial ding in the gel coat.

At some point Amigh noticed she was sitting on her seat back, which had folded down during her reentry. We tried unsuccessfully to get the seat back in place. Blasted hard back seats. Amigh had remained calm through the entire ordeal and had performed every action with minimal instruction. After getting her spray skirt on, her boat still had a little water in it, no foot pegs to brace against, and she was sitting a few inches higher than normal on the seat back. In retrospect I wonder if I could have kept my kayak upright in those conditions, but despite all the disadvantages she stayed above water. I asked her if she would be ok while I went to help Trevor and Mardi.

Mardi was still in the water and I wanted to get her out or find out what the problem was. After getting assurances from Amigh she was ok, I told her to stay put and headed towards Mardi and Trevor. Mardi was sitting in a cockpit full of water when I rafted up. The three of us took turns pumping what seemed like 500 gallons of water out of the boat. Despite the float bags, the large cockpit held a tremendous amount of water. I later learned from Trevor he tried to T rescue the boat, but had too difficult a time bracing and dealing with the Breeze. As we continued to pump the boat I kept asking Trevor and Mardi if Amigh was ok, because my back was to her and I couldn't see her.

With my improved skills, also has come the burden of feeling even more responsible for the group. Normally I wouldn't have left Amigh to deal with the seat and rudder pegs on her own, but at the moment a person still in the water and unable to clear the water from her boat was more important. In retrospect leaving Amigh in that condition may have meant she might end up back in the water. Whether by luck or by skill she made my decision work out.

Once most of the water was out and the spray skirt attached we headed back towards the launch. We had drifted a good quarter of a mile and I could see Joan walking parallel to us on the beach. It was good to know if we had to come through the first surf zone someone was already on shore to give a hand. We paddled north to the launch area and determined I would go in first and help the others with Joan. As I came through the last 20 feet or so I got pounded by a wave and knocked towards shore. Nearly upside down I twisted myself to be on the seaward side of the kayak and wet exited. Joan and I hauled the kayak on shore and I waded into the breakers as Amigh came in.

Just before the breakers I told Amigh to wet exit. She did and we took her kayak up on shore next. Mardi was next and knowing she too had a lot of water still in her boat and adding weight I had her wet exit as well. I'm not certain she was happy with filling her kayak back up with water, but I felt it was safer than risking a 100+ pounds of kayak/water trouncing her in the surf.

Trevor, picked the right spot, and the right moment to come ashore. Almost no ripples under his boat as he gently touched sand. Not only did he make it look easy, a few minutes later he went back out and came back in with no difficulty at all.

I was tired. The portage, the rolls, the assisted rescues and pumping out the red tanker had taken its toll on me. I would have liked to go back out but decided against it since I didn't want to extend beyond my limits for being able to rescue others or myself.

But what a rush it had been. High brace practice, rolling, and assisted rescues in 'combat conditions', yet in the relative safety of being near shore within two break zones. I'm ready to go again. Four foot seas may be small for many sea kayakers, but for this flat water Potomac dweller they were pure fun.

So ended the big adventure, but not the camping trip. After hauling the boats and ourselves back to the cars, we loaded them up for a trip on the bay side of the island. The wind was blowing pretty hard now, but we found a place that wasn't so bad. The waves kicked up on the bay side were of little consequence after what we had been through earlier. Joan was catching cold so she stayed away for this paddle and went for a hot shower instead. After an hour on the water we headed back to camp for dinner and going over the events of the day.

The wind continued through the night. I don't recall ever getting any sleep, but I must have at some point since I didn't feel that bad in the morning. It rained as I tore down my tent and tossed it into my truck. Then it promptly stopped so everyone else could pack up...

Disappointment and Elation

Ft Belvoir

I couldn't get motivated to get out of bed, so it was 8:00 before I got to Belvoir. Once in the water I found nothing working. My bow rudder didn't want to turn. My high brace was failing miserably. And my roll was thoroughly sloppy. By the time Mardi and Joan showed up at 9:00 I was not happy.

Everyone has an off day but I was wondering if I really had the skills to begin with. The last few weeks I hadn't practiced my high braces, and it was showing. My bow rudder wasn't working last week either. Maybe during the BCU training next weekend they can show me what I'm doing wrong. Even my hanging draw, which I've had working really well up till now, failed to move my kayak sideways at all.

Joan and Mardi wanted to work on rolling. I provided a handhold for Mardi as she practiced hip snaps. After a while Joan inflated a paddle float and stuck it on the end of the Greenland paddle. I had Mardi hold onto the float and practice hip snapping some more. She really was putting little pressure on my hands earlier, and I could tell there wasn't much pressure on the float either once we talked her though leaving her head down a few times.

Then she switched to sweeping with her paddle with the float on the end. She complained it was too easy so we started letting air out. And more air out. And more air out. Soon the paddlefloat was nothing more than a limp bag on the end of her paddle, and I knew it was time to work on sweeping without the float.

The blade angle was critical to her failures. As Mardi would get mid way in her sweep she would rotate the blade vertical and the paddle would dive. We must have worked on getting the blade angle correct for over an hour.

Joan's roll was working flawlessly today, but she did notice a big difference in the two paddles she had with her. One allowed her to roll up easily, the other with difficulty, if at all. She probably rolled up 20 times today. A major improvement with her new seat arrangement.

At one point Mardi rolled up and I was pretty sure I didn't need to add any help. But I wasn't quite sure. So she tried again and as the boat started to rotate I took my hands off the boat and Mardi rolled up! I was shocked! Of course Mardi now had to do it another 10 times.

Mardi can hold her breath for quite a while, so when she failed she would just set up and do it again.

So ended the day. Joan's roll worked up a notch more towards being rock solid - Mardi rolled on her first day of instruction - I failed at everything I tried. My day will come...

BCU Weekend

16 June 2000

BCU Canoe Safety Course

Widewater (on the C&O canal)

I'm not certain why I took the BCU canoe safety course. I knew most of everything taught, but since it is a prerequisite for coach 2 enrollment I figured that I might as well take it in case I decide to take that track.

Our instructor, Scott Fairty, was a friendly and extremely talented fellow. I saw him move a kayak like I have *never* seen anyone do before. That alone was worth the price of admission. One maneuver I witnessed was him stick his paddle in the water off to the side, swirl it around like stirring a pot of soup, and spin his kayak 180 degrees in place.

On shore before launching Scott went over the various star, coach and assessor levels in the BCU. After the chalk talk, the morning was spent going over Eskimo rescues, assisted rescues, and bow and stern carries. The stern carry was the only thing new to me, and it was an interesting experience feeling that off balance while carrying someone lying on the stern of my kayak.

Nancy and I volunteered to demonstrate an Eskimo bow rescue, with Nancy as the rescuee. I don't think I was yet awake enough and just sort of leisurely paddled over to her upturned boat. Nancy was obviously out of breath when I finally showed up on the scene, but she popped up without any problem. I need to be much more aggressive in my approach.

As a rescuer on one of the Eskimo rescues, Frank reached up and grabbed my bow and flipped me over. I certainly wasn't prepared for that sudden flip, but I managed to roll back up. The high bow on the Gulfstream makes it fairly easy to flip upside down. For the rest of the practice I went in sculling as the person pulled up on my bow.

Eskimo rescues with the paddle went pretty easily except once I went in at too much of an angle and the person grabbed my bow instead of my paddle.

Assisted rescues went pretty well also. I think everyone did those pretty well except for remembering to stay in contact with one of the boats. The all in rescue was fun and I want to practice that a few more times.

Assisted rescues were done with the rescuee coming in from over the outside. (*this subject will come up again a little later) I asked about 'between' the boats and Scott indicated he didn't think much of it, especially in rough conditions.

During lunch we talked about towing in both the V and double I configuration and explored the pluses and minus of each of each one. The double I being Scott's preferred method, as the V was easy to get the lines fouled and difficult to coordinate turns.

After lunch we practiced towing and a few other things, then went into the assessment. Nancy and I had little problem because of our past practice with these rescues. Nancy and I were also paired for the assessment and she certainly made me look good. As I did an assisted rescue with Nancy as victim, we were taking our time and as Nancy was putting her spray skirt on I remembered (and noticed) Scott was timing us. Time? One minute flat - the 'expected' time. Now realizing we were being timed when Nancy rescued me she had me back in my kayak with spray skirt attached in 40 seconds. Scott had told us earlier that the record was 28 seconds. When him and I demonstrated the rescue he had me back in my kayak with spray skirt on in 34 seconds. This is a quick rescue.

After the assessment Scott kindly offered to go over several strokes with us. Bow rudders and hanging draws were not too difficult, but my high brace wasn't at all working.

18 June 2000

Widewater

BCU 3 Star training

I arrived early to get a parking spot closer to the put in. But despite this I ended up schlepping 2 other boats to the water from the upper parking lot.

It was a full morning as Todd Leigh introduced us to forward paddling. I have crummy forward paddling skills but Todd's excellent description and demonstration had me in perfect form in just a few minutes.

Reverse paddling over a figure of 8 course: I need to slow down. I swung wide around the ends because of speed and the concentration of paddlers was a little thick for efficient maneuvering.

Low brace turn: No problems here. Easy to do if you sweep on the opposite side first.

Bow Rudder: I could do this pretty easily, but I also seemed to bleed off speed quickly. I think I could have passed assessment on this, but a little practice may also help me keep from bleeding speed so quickly.

Sculling draw, draw on the move, and hanging draw: All went well as I have practiced this many times in the last 6 months.

Sculling for support: I probably pushed myself further than in practice, but both high and low sculling worked pretty well. I think I could have passed assessment on these.

High Brace: Ugh. Maybe ok on the right side before I got tired. A lot of improvement needed on the left side. On the move was a total disaster. I could not have passed the 3 star assessment because of the high brace requirements.

Eskimo rescues: Just practiced the heck out of them 2 days before. Piece of cake.

Towing: Todd preferred the V. I agreed with Scott and preferred the double I. Scott also showed a better way to clip in the support and rescuee kayaks to keep them from wanting to split apart.

Deep Water Rescue: Here was my biggest rift with the material being taught. Todd taught the 'between the boat' rescue as the BCU gospel. He said it was faster (we didn't time it). Scott taught that the rescuee could come up to the rescuer's cockpit and help get the boat up and over the coaming - Todd taught the rescuee should be on the rescuer's bow.

The between the boat rescue puts a LOT of strain on my shoulders. Readers of my trip reports know I've often complained about shoulder pain. Todd did show me what I was doing wrong as the rescuer and causing the strain, but as the rescuee I really hurt my shoulder pretty bad. Once getting through this rescue I pretty much backed off of the other skills taught (such as high braces) that involved potential strain on the shoulder. I didn't deem this method any faster and also question its applicability in pitching seas. The over the side method keeps your body low, while the between the boats method has you looking at sky and then sitting upright on your rear deck, and I think it would be more disorienting than the over the side.

I was pretty bummed after injuring my shoulder (It is a 20 year old injury that keeps coming back) as I know this will take weeks to heal and prevent me from practicing the high brace. It will most likely prevent me from ever being able to do a high brace on my left side correctly and prevent me from passing a 3 star assessment. I know it is poor technique that is reinjuring the shoulder, but there is just no way to improve the technique without practicing (which will involve poor technique until it is perfected). Damned if I do and damned if I don't. I'm not that far from getting a high brace working on my right side.

So that was my BCU training over the last few days. The 3 star training was excellent despite some obvious conflicts with what was taught in the canoe safety class. Several people expressed an interest to take their assessment in the fall. I believe the high brace will prevent me from ever taking it.

Where art thou, shoulder pain?

Patuxent River

MAP

17.1 Miles

I must confess I was more than a little worried about my left shoulder. I had injured it quite painfully two weekends before practicing a between the boat rescue. I had tweaked it several times in the past practicing this rescue but this time the pain was great enough it shot down my elbow and into my hand. So after seeing the doctor and getting the obligatory anti-inflammatory medication, I was worried that this injury may not heal so quickly.

On Friday I still had not made up my mind where to paddle when I got an invite from Robb about paddling down the Patuxent. He had an adventurous 18 mile journey planned over some possible snags - not quite the shoulder babying trip I had in mind. Still the Patuxent sounded inviting and I decided to solo paddle north from the Rt 4 bridge.

I expected a short paddle as I really didn't think my shoulder had healed much. So around 8:30 on a beautiful Saturday morning I put in and started my journey. With a bit of luck I might even see Robb and Laura.

It had been ages - about 2 months - since I had undertaken a trip of any distance. Since January I had pretty much spent my days on the water practicing skills in the area around Ft Belvoir. With barely 100 miles under my belt for the year, my lack of distance would probably hold me back at least as much as my shoulder. But two weekends ago at the BCU training, I had found my forward stroke. The instructor explained it, I did it, and the instructor said it was good. It was finally ingrained in my mind how it should be done.

It was difficult at first. The shoulder blade popped and snapped on every stroke. I could feel the pinched nerve start to throb as I paddled and I decided I would treat it like my right shoulder a year ago.

When I first started paddling last year my right shoulder would pop and snap for the first hour quite painfully. After the first hour it would go numb and I would continue on without problem. Over time the popping stopped and the numbness didn't return. Was I about to go through the same ordeal with my left shoulder?

About a half mile up from the launch was a group of folks camping. It seems that last year about this time I ran across another group in this same place. I wonder if it could be the same group?

The tide was high and the tan line dried on the low hanging branches told me it was close to high water. The current was swift and against me, so I stayed close to the bank to take advantage of the slower current. Further up I passed an area where there was some strange screaming sounds coming from a tree. I backed up and saw some sort of animal climb down and disappear, but the screaming and growling in the tree continued. It sounded like a fight for life and I held station scanning the trees looking for the source. After a minute or two the screaming stopped and a young raccoon climbed down from the tree. The source of the screaming? I don't know, but silence had returned so I pressed on.

The water gradually gathered speed as it turned from tidal to runoff from rains earlier in the week. There were a few deadfalls I had to carefully go around - trees that I seem to remember from my last trip. I made it north of the Queen Anne footbridge and the fallen trees became thicker and the current stronger. Just south of 214 I came across a tree I just couldn't get by, so I turned for the return trip.

Turning was no easy matter as I was deep in some brush trying to turn the kayak in swift water. But with a little twisting and leaning I was soon taking advantage of the southerly push. Surprisingly my shoulder did not hurt, but I knew the real test would be tomorrow when I got out of bed.

The return trip was uneventful and quick for the majority of the way back. When the water turned tidal again it slowed as it was near low tide and beginning to come back in. I paddled strongly the last mile stopping only long enough to exchange hellos with a kayaking couple.

It had been a long time since I paddled solo. So long I had almost forgotten how much I loved it. The quiet solitude of my own thoughts gave me time to look inward. A celebration of sorts. The 17 miles went by all too quickly. But for the trip home I sat in stop and go traffic on the beltway as I remembered this was a holiday weekend.

Eat My Dust

Bull Run

MAP

8.8 Miles

I wake up and wow - I'm not sore from the previous day. I think I will like this new forward stroke. It's early and I head for Bull Run Marina. This is my first launch from there this year. Open only on Friday and the weekends during spring/summer, Bull Run is a peaceful place to launch as only 10 HP motors and less are allowed on the reservoir. The Marina only rents electric motors and the morning would pass without me running across a single boat under gasoline power.

I headed north west passing several young adults running their trolling motors at full blast trying to out run me. But their futile attempt was only amusing to me as I stretched out the tightness in my back muscles from yesterday's trip. Before long all the john boats were behind me, and the creek was mine. Strangely I saw no ducks or geese which normally inhabit this area.

As the creek closed in and the sides rose up and filled in with tall trees, I couldn't help thinking I was starting to step back in time. The smell of green was in the air and I took it all in as the miles rushed by. When I got to where the firing range is, it was silent for a change. Never had I gotten this far up the creek without the roar of gunfire destroying the silence.

Rather than turn around as I normally do, I continued on, heading further in than I had ever been. Another mile or so and I rounded a corner as the sun peaked through some trees and illuminated the heavy moist air. I could easily have been back in God's primordial kitchen as giant pterodactyl birds (Blue Herons) glided through the tree tops. It was awesome - that feeling you get that you know you can't explain - you can only experience it first hand.

After heading through 3 small trifles I finally came to one that looked like it might eat fiberglass so I turned for the return trip. I found myself paddling slowly or at times backwards as my mind wondered thinking of family and friends, life, and recent milestones at work. It was pure inner reflection at its finest, and I didn't want it to end. But end it did as soon as I came upon one of the trolling motors still trying to catch up to me. I sprinted off leaving him in my wake.

Mt Vernon

11.5 miles

I'm so horrible with names. Sometimes I even forget my own - and I don't even want to discuss the time I drew a blank trying to remember my wife's name on our honeymoon.

So with this in mind I'll tell you about the trip from Ft Belvoir to Little Hunting Creek and back. There were 10 kayakers in 9 kayaks as we started off that morning around 8:30. Phil Smith was designated leader after getting a round of razzing for being so fast. I decided to try and keep up with Phil and see just how well my forward stroke was working.

From the launch to around Whitestone Point and further up to the entrance to Dogue Creek, we led by a large margin. I was working, but seemingly no more than usual. A few times we stopped for the others to catch up. Once across the mouth for Dogue creek we headed up by Mt Vernon and stopped at the home of one of the couple's parents house. Since it was still early, we didn't get out and continued on to Little Hunting Creek, admiring all the big houses along the way. After floating around in the mouth of Little Hunting we headed back for Mt Vernon and had lunch by the pool of the house we stopped at earlier.

After lunch Phil and I struck out again. I don't know if Phil was slacking off or if I was really feeling my oats, but I led the group by a HUGE margin. Normally I'm a middle to the rear of the pack paddler with a definite tendency to be in the rear on the second half. About a mile from the launch I waited for everyone to catch up, and decided to paddle in the rear with Bill and have a chat.

After getting used to the sprint I found it hard to paddle slow. Even taking slow strokes I found them so efficient they would push me quickly ahead of the back of the group and I would have to stop. I finally resorted to bending my arms and using my old stroke to paddle slow. This worked fine.

Back at the launch myself and one other practiced our rolls a bit and I watch some folks near shore, not part of our group, teach their kid how to wet exit. Probably the first time I've seen someone independent of the group I was in teach such a task.

In the last 3 days I've put on 1/3 again as many miles as I've done all year. My 90th trip in a kayak - I'm looking forward to find something special for my 100th...

Woody

Rescues

I needed to paddle and just relax today. Weird stuff needed to be shed, so Woody's invitation to help him with a skills session at Ft. Belvoir for beginner paddles was just what I needed. He had roped Amigh, with whom we have paddled with fairly regularly, into helping out too. It wasn't all beginners but a nice range who showed up.

One of the women, Barb, whom I had not met before, took the BCU safety class with Woody last month. There was a couple, Jennifer and Derick (am not 100% sure that is his name. I hope he doesn't mind being Derick if it is wrong.) Jennifer had some experience but Derick was new. A Pier 7 paddler, Pam Avery, came, a GT paddler, Victoria, came and she had only bought her boat 3 weeks ago. A fellow I've paddled with a few times, Trevor, brought his wife, another unsure of names here, Ilene, to try out the CLC he just finished making for her. This was only their second time out in it. He took some time at the end to work on his roll in the new, smaller boat.

We did the usual wet exits, paddlefloat reentrys, assisted rescues, strokes, and discussed lots of different ways of doing things. Everyone seemed to get comfortable quickly. It did look a bit like a Current Designs show because we had 2 Slipstreams, a Solstice, and 2 Gulfstreams, along with a Sea Breeze and a Wilderness Systems boats thrown in. Later Trevor and his wife came back from their paddle and threw a couple of CLCs into the fleet.

While we were practicing paddlefloat rescues we watched a familiar looking boat paddle our way with yellow paddle blades flashing. It turned out to be a man in a yellow Gulfstream with a Greenland paddle parked on his rear deck. We didn't know him but his boat fit right in with the other two yellow Gulfies for the brief time he chatted with us before he went on out of the cove.

Derrick did his first wet exits and ended the day with great rescues. Victoria, the GT paddler, never did get to practice her paddlefloat rescue because the deck line on the back deck broke. Woody showed her how to do an assisted rescue. She was quite pleased with being able to do it. It is so much better for the failures to happen in a practice session than when it really counts.

I was a bit taken aback when she was paddling and I asked her if she was using the pegs. She said, no. When I asked her why not she said, "I forgot." She must have some good balance to forget the pegs. I wish had such good balance. I suggested she might get less tired if she used them.

We demoed the bow rescue and the paddle across the hull rescues but no one wanted to try those. We encouraged them all to get comfortable in their boats upside down. I was amused at the skeptical looks we got.

Victoria had to leave early but others paddled off to the creek where Pam and Barb saw a beaver. Woody and I stayed in our little bay. I wanted to work on my roll and he was going to help spot me on a new one.

I was practicing as Trevor was trying to roll, so I wasn't watching him closely. I noticed that he ended up swimming every time so I asked him to let me see what he was doing. I gave him a few tips and he made the next attempt! The grin on his face was so kool. The pleasure he expressed was contagious. That grin must be why Greg is so willing to help anyone who asks. I know that I was pleased that I was able to help him.

Trevor makes the next try but blew the third attempt BUT recovered and made it up! That made me a tad jealous. It took me weeks to be able to recover. Of course, it took me weeks to even manage to roll my own boat. I could roll other boats but not my new one. Just more weirdness of my life.

I wanted to try going over to my right (off side) and going under the boat and somehow coming up on my left (on side). I kind of chickened out because I was having a bit of a bad day rolling. I only came out of the boat twice in maybe 15 attempts but it was a close thing several times. The good thing was that I twice blew it and recovered to make it back up. I had to scull up two or three other times. After a fashion, that is a success because it was only this past Wed. at Pier 7 that I managed my first successful recovery. But my shoulder was beginning to hurt so I figured that a new roll wasn't in the cards that day. I hate ending the session on a bad note.

People loaded up and went to spend the rest of their Saturday. Woody and I had our boats loaded when this guy with a powerboat on a trailer pulls up to the shore to put in. I was unhappy because there has already been rather bad erosion of the beach area this summer. But this guy didn't look like he had any intention of using one of the concrete boat ramps provided for his use.

So, Mom is in the boat, the guy is in the truck, the kid, 7-8 years old girl, is beside the boat trailer as it is being backed into the water. I had my back to them but I heard the little girl callout, Woody jumped and hollered at the guy not to move the tuck. I look around and can only croak and hold my hand out for him not to move an inch. The child had apparently lost her footing in the water and fallen against or maybe under the wheel of the boat trailer. If that guy had moved an inch he would have rolled over her legs! Woody got her out of the water and the guy, rather shaken, takes her to find out if she is hurt or just scared. She was fine but it took quite a while for the adrenaline to calm down in the adults.

Woody is building a lot of good karma for himself these days.

Joan Spinner

Contrasting perfection and reality

Ft Belvoir

In the early morning quiet, the loudest noise being my tailgate dropping open as I unload my gear, it is hard to imagine anything more perfect. The water is calm - too early for all but the bass boats to be awake. The geese are walking around in the grass looking for something to eat and mama duck herds her young ones along. Not far away early morning fishermen talk about nothing more important than the one that just got away.

I often paddle alone - even when people are around. My silence isn't based on having nothing to say, but on my mind too busy soaking in everything around me. I sit and smile. "Are you laughing at me?" It takes a moment to realize someone is talking to me. "No. I'm just content." From where I sit - this moment - this small piece of earth - is perfect. The water is just right, the wind slight, cooling and not strong. The sun isn't too bright and the temperature - ideal. I'm swimming again in the perfection.

Then a sudden jolt back to reality as someone takes too long to wet exit. The water is shallow and I bail out to run and help. In the two seconds it takes to get there every thing is fine. What's the fuss about? My heart starts to slow back down five minutes later.

It takes longer to work my mind back into the state where the world seems perfect again. A little practice - my first c-to-c roll on my offside. My only one. But I'll chip away at it a little at a time. By next season it will be there. Give a little instruction on draw and sculling draw strokes. Stern rudder between two tennis balls and kayak games that only boys and men can understand. A test of the plan and the counter plan followed by surrender.

A large crowd gathers on shore. People congregate together under a tree and begin to sing in Spanish. A baptism in the river. The Army Captain holds off the landing craft approaching shore until the ceremony is finished and people begin to depart. It's time for me to go as well. Back in the truck and on the road, I brush the perfection away so that the reality comes back into focus.

Assateague Island, Maryland

Trip #100

23-24 Sept 2000

Assateague Island, Maryland

Weather was on and off raining on Saturday. David was running late so Amigh and I set up tents and headed out to the ocean to play. Waves were dumping hard on the steep shore, and breaking pretty good 150 feet offshore across a sandbar. We had to carry the boats North up the beach to find a place where the outer wave set seemed a little more tame.

Amigh launched first and I kept yelling for her to paddle hard. She broached but held a good high brace all the way back to shore. She was mad she didn't get through the waves and after mumbling under her breath a few minutes she was ready to go again. I gave her a push and she got slammed real hard in the face/chest as she disappeared in a wave but she made it through. She hung out between the zones while I went to launch. She kept drifting to the north (wind was out of the south - the remnants of a tropical storm).

I tried to launch several times but kept getting the nose of my kayak pushed around before I could get all of my kayak in the water. Finally some guy took pity on me and came and gave me a good push off and I made it into the water and through the first surf line.

I caught up with Amigh and we tried to go through the second set of breakers together. Amigh punched right through but I kept getting slammed and surfed backwards. Amigh was through as I was surfed backwards 3 times, and actually knocked over once, but I rolled up. I was beginning to think I wouldn't make it through when I finally punched my way beyond the breakers.

We started heading north, but we were making little progress. There was no way we would make this a 4 hour trip, as was my goal. Waves were 7ft, or at least that was the forecast, and they looked that big to me. I also couldn't tell where our camp site was, as all those dune cut through's looked the same. At some point I noticed my mesh deck bag was gone. I had stored Amigh's and my water bladders in it so now we had no water (Amigh had no way to fasten it to her deck). I called off the attempt at an actual journey.

Now the secondary surf line was dumping waves. We were both a bit leary to go back through, so we went through backwards(!), and actually it was a piece of cake! I think the waves were busy laughing at us too much to rise up high and pound us. I turned around and surfed in forwards to the beach for the near shore surf zone. Amigh chose to surf that zone backwards also.

When we got to shore we realized we were 1/2 mile down the beach from the launch, so we crossed a dune cut-through and walked to the campsite and got my truck to haul the kayaks back. David was there setting up his tent. After we brought the kayaks back we all headed off to paddle the bay. It was a nice paddle down the middle of the bay with a short distance on the Assateague side. David got a few pictures of us near a pony. David paddled Amigh's boat the entire time and seemed to like it. David and I rolled a few times to cool off, and Amigh dipped off from my bow. It looked like it could begin to rain hard so we headed back. I think this was about 4 miles.

We got back to camp and set up a screened canopy I brought on the trip. We didn't need the screen but the canopy top was enough to keep the light rain off the picnic table so we could cook. Of course there was beer, wine, and scotch afterwards and during dinner. We all turned in pretty early.

Next morning I got up early and got all the stuff out for breakfast. After Amigh got up I started cooking and about the time everything was ready David got up. After breakfast we carried the boats to the water (Mine and David's - Amigh decided not to go, but instead helped push us off).

The on shore waves were pretty tame compared with the day before, but the offshore surf line was HUGE. I launched and waited between the zones a while waiting for David to catch up. David launched and at some point got dumped. He floated back to shore and tried again. I think he may have dumped several times, and each time floated back to shore to relaunch.

We attempted to punch through the second surf line together. I made it and turned around to find David had dumped. I then noticed he had his boat, and two pieces of his wooden paddle in his hands. The paddle broke across the blade, and not on the shaft where you would expect it. The bottom 1/3 of a blade had snapped clean off. David wanted me to stow his broken paddle so he could get his other paddle off his rear deck. I encouraged him to swim it back to shore but decided maybe this would be a good time to try an assisted rescue. I started to turn my kayak to get into position when the biggest, wave I've seen in real life came rising up out of the depths. I had just enough time to tell David "Oh sh**" just before the wave broke on top of us.

My kayak surfed well on the wave considering it (and me) was upside down. After a long few seconds the wave didn't release me so I decided to wet exit and calmly made note to hold the paddle and the boat as I popped the skirt. For some reason I've noticed that salt water in the surf doesn't seem to invade my sinus' as badly as freshwater does.

I stood up on the sandbar in shoulder deep water. The next 2-3 waves carried the boat and myself closer to shore and David was now quite a bit away. I was now in waist deep water and still on the sandbar that was causing the second surf zone. Eventually I saw David made it in as I was carried by another wave off the sand bar towards the beach and deep water. Once in deep water again the waves were tamer, but I didn't want to swim my kayak to shore, so I reentered and rolled up. I flipped on my electric pump and fastened my sprayskirt while bracing for stability. After less than a minute the water was out of the boat and stability returned. I reached through the sprayskirt and turned off the pump.

A little side note: I know not many people really practice low/high braces, rolling, paddling in a flooded cockpit - but if you plan on playing in the surf some day, invest some time in it. It really pays off. Several times I found myself parallel to a breaking wave and a high brace is all that kept me upright.

At one point I noticed everyone looking out into the water north of me, but I couldn't tell what they were looking at. David was on shore, so he was safe, but I didn't see the SOTs that had launched earlier. I saw Amigh walking across the beach with half of David's carbon fiber Werner and then I spotted his other half floating in the waves. Retrieving it was easy - deciding how to stow it after I got it was another story. But I jury rigged something up on my front deck and it held well enough to get back to where everyone was on shore. I mentioned to David he had left half of a $400 paddle out in the water :)

David put his Werner together and left his wooden paddle on shore and we launched again. David really wanted to make it through the second surf zone. I showed him the rip through the sandbar, but there were so many haystacks as the incoming waves crashed into the outgoing water that it wasn't any easier to attempt to go through there. Plus, if David dumped I knew I would have to go outside the surf zone to pick him up.

I surfed some waves back in towards the beach a few times and kept going back out. These were some nice long surf runs on the face of non-breaking waves. I would peel off the wave before entering the surf line on the beach. Fast rides! David had bow pointed into the waves and kept looking for a way through, or was trying to get comfortable in the waves, I'm not sure which. I told him we should head south as we had drifted a good distance north and I didn't want to carry the kayaks all the way back. I showed David that a low brace is reassuring when taking the spilling waves on beam.

Once we got near the launch site I told David I was getting tired and we should go in. We both surfed in to the beach with no problems. David noticed the shaft of his Werner was cracked. $600 in paddles in one surf lesson!

We loaded up the boats and headed home. I had a good time. My confidence in wave and surf is growing and I found myself not needing to focus as much attention to the waves as the last trip to the beach.

Woody

Changes

Late September - mid October 2000

I've needed to do this for 10 years - I've just never had the courage. And even now I wonder where I will find the inner strength to get me through it.

I'm torn about writing this piece.

Over the last 2 years, kayaking has been my escape from my personal life. It allowed me to cope - no avoid - for a short period, what I have been running from. But it is all caught up with me now. There is no more running as I now must stand and face what I've been running from.

An insignificant question in my mind - "Will I kayak again?"

A Saturday trip with my paddling partner to Friendship Landing. I arrived early as usual and was ready to go before anyone else arrived. As the group of 4 and myself launched I couldn't help but feel alone with myself. Joan mentioned several times how beautiful everything was. I couldn't see it. The essence of the earth I carry with me is missing today. My mind was elsewhere trying to form the words for what I would say later when I returned home.

"If you and I were to split up, would you let me keep the kids?"

Another argument ensues like so many before it.

"You're not listening to what I'm saying. It's over." The words echo off the walls as I finally see in her eyes she understands.

A Thursday night in Georgetown trying to take my mind off the present. But tonight it isn't working. As everyone is putting on the water I'm packing to go back to the house I call home. I tell everyone I'm not feeling well - a truth.

I was counting on my friend the kayak to carry me through this time. Eighteen years of marriage don't go away quietly. My friend the kayak has abandoned me. Or could it be I no longer need the crutch I so tightly held over the last 2 years? For now I can't bring myself to go out again.

Maybe it is time to move on. To place 'kayaking' in the box that held my old life. Or maybe I should wait - wait for my friend to come back.

Another weekend comes and goes. The kayak on my truck will not get wet as I contemplate putting the boat away for a while. I can't shake the queasiness in my gut that causes me to push away from my friends and this diversion that has carried me for so long. The boat is unloaded and put away. Maybe forever?

Another week drags by. Time to tell the kids. Only those who have been through it can understand this pain - and those who haven't should do whatever it takes to never find out. I offer to take them camping the next day to help take their minds off of things and let them know the world hasn't ended. My son declines, but my daughter - the one I've most devastated with the news - accepts.

We start out early the next morning for Assateague. We'll paddle the bay so she can see the ponies. We chat on the drive and I know she'll be ok. She's already starting to accept this is for the better.

We get to the campground and find it almost full. Large bicycle race today. Not many spots to choose from, and out of habit I pick one close to the beach from the camp site. After Katie spent some time watching a pony wandering through the campsites, we decide to head for the bay to paddle. Her enthusiasm has me wanting to paddle again. But before we go she drags me down to the beach.

When we crossed the dune I can't believe what I see. The forecast was for 2 ft seas, but there isn't a swell - nary a ripple. The water is flat and smooth and even on shore the 'surf' is only about 4 inches high. I didn't know the water could get this calm. Coincidence - or conscience happenstance?

We rush to dress in our wetsuits and I carry the 2 boats to the water while Katie carries all the gear. We launch without any more effort than launching on a windless lake. It is incredible this feeling. Being with my daughter on her first ocean paddle, something I thought would be years before I would see, if at all. We paddled south a ways off shore. There are a few places near the sand bar where 'soup' would foam up every now and then, but beyond the sand bar the water was as calm as any water I've ever seen. A slight breeze kept us cool. We paddled for almost an hour south, and feeling the wind starting to stiffen a little I made Katie turn around.

We took our time heading back, letting the little wind do most of the work. We talked back and forth about the sea, the people on shore, and nature. We talked about things that only young girls can dream up.

We had to choose our landing spot carefully. The tide had gone out a bit and there was 'soup' more regularly across the sand bar. As we crossed the sand bar a small wave sent us scurrying forward. Katie capsized more from panic than being pushed over by the water. Hero dad with a quick rescue and she was back in the Guillemot in less than a minute. She paddled hard the rest of the way to shore and I had to really paddle to get in first to help her out. She landed as I watched - she wanted to do it on her own, and once her bow touched sand I pulled her boat the rest of the way out of the water.

That night after dinner, we sat and talked as she wrote stories of her day and we watched the moon rise over the sand dunes:

"I'm kayaking. The sun's blazing, seagulls crying, waves crashing against the shoreline. The waves are two feet high. People are shouting on shore. I'm on the lookout for people of the sea. What do I see?

A beautiful object. The colors of the sky and the earth. With the grace and beauty of a ballerina. Long stinging and deadly tentacles swaying with the ocean current. Slicing through the water like a knife through butter, The waves slowly die out."

"I'm sitting down right now watching the moon go up and the stars come out. The waves are crashing a lullaby against the Assateague shore. The moon floats behind the clouds. The seagulls cries are no more heard. The smell of outdoors is taking over our campsite. The moon is losing its rich orange color. It's become white now. I can hear the waves...and now I can't."

In the morning we watched the sun rise over the water before packing. On the ride home I started thinking about my friend the kayak coming back to me again. How silly it was of me to think of this inanimate object as my friend. It was nothing more than a vessel carrying me on my journeys. It wasn't my kayak that had abandoned me - it was myself. The skills and injuries, the sights and sounds, the thrills and adventures - or the lack of - were all me. The kayak merely encased my body... it is my mind that allows me to go beyond it. I am who I am with or without my kayak. It was me that had for a short time gone missing. And it was the thoughts and prayers of my friends who knew what I was going through this weekend, and my children, which brought me back.

So this isn't an end, but a new beginning for me. Not in kayaking, but in life itself. I strike out not knowing what tomorrow holds, but with hope that it is better than my past. Kayaking will probably always be part of what I do as long as I'm able. But even if it isn't I'm still who I am - and I'm comfortable with that.

The Ride Home

Waking early because I forgot to set my clock back, I headed out to Sandy Point. Rough water practice is my goal. With a small craft advisory in effect for the second day in a row, I was hoping for some large waves to play in. The forecast was for 3 foot waves, 25 knot winds out of the northwest, and lots of sunshine.

As I pack to go I throw a pogie in my bag in case the wind is cold and I stuff a neoprene hood in my paddling jacket in case I end up in the water. Neither would turn out to be needed although the wind blew hard, my hands never felt cold, and the water didn't feel cold yet either.

At the park I'm disappointed to see waves barely reaching 6 inches. I parked at the sailboard launch area and sat. Should I pull the boat off the truck or just go back home? I sat in the truck for an hour trying to make up my mind. With a few whitecaps starting to appear out on the water I decided to paddle out and take a first hand look.

After storing my gear below deck I launch and paddled out with little effort beyond the rock jetties. I paddled out into open water and directly into the wind. The waves never got large - maybe a foot to a foot and a half at their peak. Worse, they were gentle rollers what had a lot of width, making them too shallow of an angle to even surf. They had some wind blown chop mixed in with them, but no longer a challenge. The recent 3 trips to Assateague had greatly increased my rough water paddling skills to far beyond what blew by me today.

Note to self: NW winds at Sandy Point don't give much opportunity to build large waves. Need N or NE winds to make it worth the trip.

After trying to surf a few waves and finding not enough height to make it even mildly interesting, I knew that to paddle today would just be an exercise in pushing through the wind. I quickly covered the 1/2 mile I had paddled into the bay back to the launch site. In a few more minutes I had the boat reloaded on the truck and was heading home.

Its interesting how I turned back last season from Sandy Point because conditions were too rough for my skill level, and today, my solitary trip to the park this season, I find myself leaving because the conditions are too tame. The water, while not as big as some of the conditions I've encountered at Sandy Point, a season ago would have been pushing my upper limits. Today these conditions push my limits for getting out of bed at 6 am.

The trip home had highlights. The wooded land between Annapolis and DC were full of color and I wished I had paddled closer home to see the colors from the water.

Some things I know
Some things I guess

Today I guessed wrong.

The Crossing

15.3 miles

MAP

Up early, but problems getting my GPS to accept a route from Street Atlas, I don't get to Westmoreland State Park until 9:30. A pleasent ride through Virginia seeing the leaves in full color. I unstrap the kayak and walk down to the bathrooms only to find them locked up for the winter. My only choice is to tie the kayak back down and backtrack to the campground. By the time I'm on the water it is 10:15.

I have an ambitious mission today. A little over seven and a half miles away, on a course of 80 degrees, is St Clements Island. The thick haze prevents me from seeing my destination, so I'll get to use my compass. The river is only 5 miles wide here, and only 3 miles wide near St Clements, but the angle that I need to paddle to get there will make it seem like a much further crossing than it really is.

The wind is out of the West, with the prediction that it will turn northwest by late morning - early afternoon. I'll need to hustle to make sure I'm back before dark and I'm thankful for the tailwind to start off my journey. The swirls flowing by the first line of crab pots tells me I'm riding with the tide as well. With any luck maybe I can catch it going the other way for the return trip.

There are no boats on the south half of the river, but I can hear and see them scurrying about on the other side. I'll have to deal with them soon enough, but for now I'm focusing on holding my direction of travel on course. I trimmed the bow too heavy and now I have to pay for it by the skeg not being able to fully compensate. A lot of sweep strokes on my left will leave my left arm needing a rest by the time I hit the island. I force myself to stop every half-hour to drink water, even if I don't want it. It is a hot paddle, but an occasional soaking of my hat in the cool Potomac waters is usually all it takes to cool me down.

From a distance I can finally see the large stone cross on the island. The sunlight reflecting off the white stone now gives me a solid marker to paddle towards. As I approach the island, a sailboat under power approaches from the port side. It stays at the same angle for a long period of time and I see he is following the channel. Once we get fairly close to each other I stop to let him pass, and I cross the channel behind him with no other traffic with which to contend. The crab pots on this side of the channel now show the current going in the opposite direction. A small sand beach near the stone cross is where I land on the island. It is now 12:15 - 2 hours to make the crossing. If I leave by 1:00, I should be back by 3:00 - 2 hours before dark.

I take my lunch with me as I walk around the island reading the historical markers. The island used to cater to serving beer and food to the steamboat tourists chugging down the Potomac from DC. The leaves on the scrubby plants haven't yet changed colors. Back in my kayak I take a time hack: 1:00 on the dot.

I have a head wind, but not a strong one. The cool breeze is welcome in my face. I won't need to stop to cool down or dip my hat but I still stop ever half-hour to drink water. The current should help me make good time on the way back.

About an hour into the return trip my left bicep has started to cramp up. I've been trying to make sure I use my back to paddle, but between having not made a long trip in a while, and paddling hard to beat the sun, I suspect I was bending my arms more than I should. I was coming up on a 30-minute water break - should I stop, and risk the cramp settling in, or paddle through it? I stop and drink and the cramp is about the same when I start back. It eventually subsides and I paddle on.

Somewhere near the middle of the river, the water lost its dull color and started to get shiny. The small waves went away and the water became calm. I realized at some point that *I* was the loudest thing on the water. No boats, no wind. I stopped paddling just to listen to the silence.

Then it happened. Loons - I didn't know that is what they were by just looking - but their calls were unmistakable. One is calling on my left, another on my right. From where I sat they were black specks on the water, but in the silence they were loud. I sat for a few minutes just enjoying the moment.

The wind began to blow again, this time out of the north west, so I paddled on. I can see the cold front moving across from the west - southwest. The solid gray clouds remind me winter will soon be here. But on the leading edge of the front there is a band of brown clouds. At first I thought it might be the way the light is reflecting off them, but later surmised this was picked up when the front moved across the large forest fires to the west.

My progress seemed slow, and as I approach the next set of crab pots I see the current is now against me! On one side of the channel the current was flowing upriver, while on this side it is flowing down river. It isn't a big surprise, but the first time I've experienced this.

The last 45 minutes of the trip my arm begins to hurt again. I know this time it won't go away and I slack up on my speed. I won't make it back till 3:30 and will need to apply a deep heating ointment liberally when I get home.

This is the largest crossing I've undertaken to date. Somewhere between 3-5 miles across and much less boat traffic than I've ever experienced out at Annapolis. The long fetch of open water could make this more hazardous if the wind were to catch you out there, especially when the prevailing winds are out of the northeast. When the wind shifted it didn't take long for the waves to start building and begin to get organized although the wind wasn't blowing hard.

I land and pack up for the 2 1/2 hour journey home.

Where Eagles Soar

12 Miles

Patuxent River at the Benedict Bridge

I've never paddled this part of the Patuxent, so I left early for what I expected to be a 1:45-2:00 hour drive. An hour and a half later I was sitting at the base of the bridge. 8:10 am and launch time isn't till 9:00.

I decided to wait in the truck. It is cold this morning. Somewhere in the 20's. I pushed the seat back and recline just looking up at the sky. A pair of Bald Eagles catch my attention through the windshield. Bald Eagles are monogamous and mate for life, only selecting another mate if its faithful companion should die. "What do they know that I don't?" As my thought pattern begins to spiral inward Mark's truck diverts my attention.

We unload in the bitter cold and suit up in our dry suits. Before long Joan and Mardi are here also getting ready. Joan entertains us by putting her foot through the sleeve of her dry suit before we finish up getting ready and head out. North we decide.

The wind is out of the north and may get stronger a little later, so we choose to take the hard paddle first and hope we can coast back with the wind. We cross a bay - almost more a bend in the river - and on the north end is hundreds and hundreds of waterfowl. Sitting in the lee of the shore, the geese are the first to spook. The noise is almost deafening as they circle around and head for the power plant across the river a half mile away. The group of nearly 200 get to the power plant and circle before heading back towards us. As we sit and watch the geese continue to gain altitude and turn north to parts unknown. I sit and watch until they appear like the sky has thin black cracks in its skin and my attention turns now towards the various ducks starting to take flight. Over our heads and away we turn towards Gods Grace Point.

Turning the corner the wind is again in our face. A cold wind and I'm looking forward to a rest break. After rounding the point and heading north a bit further we beach for lunch. My Gore-Tex dry suit always cools down when I stop. Over it I have on a paddling jacket to help cut the wind, and at lunch I put a heavy fleece shirt over everything. My hands are freezing, and I know I didn't wear enough socks. Mental note to self to wear several layers of wool socks next time.

While standing around Mark and I decide to stand on some dead grass. This transmits less cold into our feet. I'm eager to get back in and start paddling again. As we push off in moments I'm again fine.

One gloved hand in a pogie, another gloved hand with none. This combination works well with me as I hate to have my hands both tied up inside pogies, so I paddle a while with one hand protected then slide it over for the other hand when it gets cold. It has nothing to do with me being unable to find the other pogie the night before.

Into Hunting Creek we head. Out of the wind in a slow, leisurely paddle. A wide and pretty creek without too much housing. Watching the clock and watching the sky, about 2 1/2 miles into the creek we grudgingly turn around.

Back on February 26, on a trip to Westmoreland State Park we had noticed 2 kayakers practicing Eskimo rescues on our way back to the launch site. In conversation between Mark and Joan it is discovered Mark was one of those kayakers! What a small world this is indeed.

After leaving the creek we have the wind to our backs. Small waves carry us along. Joan notices icicles hanging off Mardi's hatch cover. A quick stop for me to stretch my back, we are on our way again.

I had been leaning over to submerge my hatch covers as much as possible this trip. Last weekend I had pulled the hatch rims off the kayak to re-caulk between the rim and the fiberglass. I had run a hose over the hatches and was shocked at how the water had poured in without restriction. My caulk job would prove well done as not a single drop will be found at the end of the day. A major improvement from recent trips.

Back at the launch I notice my feet are cold as I get out of the boat. Heavy and feeling like lead the first thing I do is start my truck to warm it. Walking around as I carry my gear and kayak back to the truck helps a lot. Stripping off my clothes I'm eager to leave and get in my warm truck.

Riding home I get caught in traffic leaving the Redskins game. My hour and a half trip turns into a 3 hour stop and go commute.

Too much time to think my thoughts drift back to eagles.

The End (of Year Two)

11.5 miles

65 degree air temp - 60 degree water temp

The forecast for steady winds at 25 knots convinced me to opt out of a planned trip to one of Jacksonville's beaches. In Florida visiting for the holidays, I had thrown the kayak on top of the van and let it make the ride down to Florida with me with no damage other than a torn rim cover. I've been struggling to find a good rim cover for my kayak for a while, ever since I lost my Rapidstyle cover on the interstate last year.

The Voyager cover I bought to replace it lasted a good 3 months before it delaminated and turned into a fine mesh screen. Replaced by a Harmony cover, I thought this might be a good replacement as it seemed made out of heavier material. But the heavy material soon started to crack and the trip to Florida shredded the rear portion of the cover. To make the ride back to Virginia I picked up another Voyager - this one appears made of a different style of material so maybe I will get lucky.

Rather than go to the beach, I picked a small creek my best friend and I fished when we were 15-17 years old. Pottsburg creek feeds into Arlington River and eventually into the St Johns River.

I left my brother's house early, but when I got to the launch realized I had forgotten my cell phone. I can do with out it, but when I realized I had also forgotten to fill my water bladders I got back in the van and went back for the cell phone and water.

Finally on the water about 9:00 am, the creek at the ramp looked much like I remember. A dark black water and surrounded mostly by Cyprus trees near the boat ramp. The main change seemed to be the addition of Manatee awareness signs. Having fished here about 20+ years ago, I don't recall ever having seen a Manatee. But I do remember a few encounters with alligators in these waters. Twenty years ago fishermen would often throw leftover bait to the gators at the end of their fishing day. This made the gators a nuisance, as they would often swim in close to a boat hoping for a handout. To two teenage boys in a johnboat, this was an unnerving experience to have a gator swim up within inches of the gunwale. There were several times where we would have to give a gator a nice rap on the head with a paddle to drive him away and remind him to stay away from humans.

As I headed N/NE into a blowing wind, I used the wind shadows created by trees as much as I could. One thing I believe I have learned well in the last 2 years is how to read the land and take any advantage it might offer in blocking wind or sun.

Some people are surprised to learn that even a lee shore can provide some relief from the wind. Not as much as a windward shore, but if it is the only choice, it can provide some relief.

There is often confusion of which shore is the lee shore. It is easy to assume if the wind is out of the North, and there are trees along the North shore providing a place near shore where the wind is not blowing, that this is the lee shore. Not so. A lee is a direction, not a protected area from the wind. Sitting in the middle of the river, the windward shore is the shore up wind from your location, and the lee shore is the shore downwind of your location. Usually, the lee shore is windier than the windward shore.

Still with me? But a lee shore *can* provide some relief from the wind. As the wind rushes across the water towards shore, tall trees, high cliffs or even houses built near shore, these objects can help hold the wind back, causing it to rise up over these tall items and create an area that is less windy near the lee shore. However, you also have to be careful as the shallow water in near shore can also cause any waves to grow larger. I've often found myself working a fine balance between the larger waves and the decreased wind.

Paddling from the Pottsburg into the Arlington River, little has changed. A few more houses, some newer houses where others used to be, but all in all, little change considering this is now 20+ years later. A few river otters swam out to check me out, and the water is full of brown pelicans and blue heron. Plenty of birds but not a single boat. I wouldn't see a boat under power until I reached the mouth of the St Johns River.

Under three small bridges: Atlantic Blvd, Cesery Blvd, and University Blvd. All of them buzzing with traffic. Beyond the bridges the mouth of the river opening up into the mighty St Johns. To my left, and downwind is the Hart bridge, and to my right is the Mathews bridge. As a kid they were always toll bridges but the tolls were removed a few years after I joined the Military and left home. Jacksonville has seven bridges across the St Johns river. I turned north towards the Mathews and into the wind.

Here in the open the wind pushed against me hard as I paddled towards the bridge about _ of a mile away. Taking the outside track around snake island on purpose to feel the full effect of the wind to help me determine how far up the St Johns I wanted to paddle. Snapping a few pictures once I got to the bridge, finally using up the roll of film I started back in the summer on my first trip to Assateague. At the bridge I decided to turn around. The waves were not big but the wind was relentless and tiring. The trip back to the boat ramp went quickly as I took advantage of the wind pushing me along the entire way back.

At the boat ramp, 3 boat trailers were now in the parking lot. They must have gone up the creek to fish. I loaded the kayak and headed back to my brothers, ending my final trip of my second year.

When asked about something I've learned in kayaking, especially those early days when I went around in circles, I'm often reminded of Chief Master Sergeant Buzzio. Chief Buzzio was my Chief of Maintenance back at my first duty assignment in 1982. What I remember about the Chief is that he always visited each work center every Friday. Not to see how clean the place was or if our hair was cut properly (although he made plenty of other trips out to see us for that), but to just chat. The Chief loved to tell stories, and his stories were often focused on something he learned the hard way early in his career. He would tell detailed tales about how to troubleshoot equipment, or simple stories about how best to shine your shoes, or maybe even how to deal with that `wet behind the ears' butter bar lieutenant.

I learned a lot from Chief Buzzio in those 2 years I was stationed in Georgia. A few years later I called back to that unit to chat with old friends and found that the Chief had passed away from cancer. Somehow I can't seem to remember much about the Chief yelling at me to go get a hair cut, but I remember him taking the time to come out every Friday to share his experiences with us. The Chief remembered well that no mater what your level of experience, everyone at some point is a beginner. Sixteen years later I still carry with me that philosophy - and I like to think the Chief would be proud to know he made such a profound impact on a young Airman.

As I close out my second year of learning to kayak, know that the stories you read from me are due in large part to his taking the time to tell me his stories. And as we get ready to ring in the New Year, join me for a moment and remember that the small things we do, can endure long after we are gone.

Woody