December 26, 2000

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