Still waiting for the New Year's Paddle

Water temp: Solid

I finally rolled out of bed about 9:00. It's been too cold but I've been wanting to get my New Year's trip out of the way. I suspected most everything north of Mason Neck was frozen on the Potomac, so I headed for Leesylvania.

At the entrance the ranger tells me the river is mostly frozen, but I go anyway to take a look for myself. The boat ramps are frozen in solid. I park and walk down to the beach. A good 75 feet of ice out to the first open channel. And channel is a loose term. If the ice were to start breaking up in the blustery wind predicted today, a kayaker could find himself trapped in this ice, or worse. Although the ice along shore is thin, I can see the edges around the channel are over 6 inches thick where the ice has piled up there like a earthen berm.

I decide to head further south to Quantico. The south boat ramp is slick with ice. I suppose it would be possible to launch here, but the 4 foot ice shelf along the shore would make getting in and out a bit tricky. There is only 1 boat trailer in the parking lot.

I decide to head home, but swing by the north Quantico boat ramp to check it out. I've only been to this ramp by water so it takes me a few minutes to find it. This ramp is busy. Trucks and trailers parked all around. Camouflaged boats and people getting in and out of the water. Dogs sniffing at everything.

I could launch here, but with all the hunters out, I think I'll skip paddling today. It's almost noon anyway. But the biggest factor is although the river is open, massive ice floes can be seen going by, and some coming into Quantico creek. The last thing I want to do is get trapped by moving ice. I'll have to wait a week or so for the ice to thin out a bit.

Woody

Sandy Point State Park

5.5 Miles

Heading out into the darkness to get gas, I remember while at the gas station I had left the coffee pot on and my thermos empty. So I detour back to get the coffee and head out on I-66 as the sun rises into the sky. Red sky at morning...

But the weather held for the day. It stayed cloudy and foggy on the water. A light fog with about 4 mile visibility. Dave, Joan and Mardi all showed up at the same time. Early as usual, I had carried the boat and gear to the water and finished off a cup of coffee when they pulled into the parking lot. Joan and Mardi kidded me by asking if I had slept in the park overnight. It felt like I had with only 6 hours of sleep.

After stowing my lunch and coffee in the day hatch, and making one last trip back to the truck to get my neoprene hood to stuff in my PFD, I climbed aboard and headed out to warm up while the others finished getting ready.

The water was ice free except for an occasional piece of slush. Small tributaries and little bays were frozen solid but other than that there was no ice to be concerned with. We started out northeast and circled the Sandy Point light house before turning south and under the Bay Bridge.

It was a pleasant paddle through the light fog. Hundreds of ducks came into view as we paddled along. Occasionally they would take flight and appear as dark thin lines against the thinning fog. Dodging a few chunks of ice and finally stopping near Moss Pond to give my back a break. It'll be back to the doctor soon as it hasn't been getting any better. We decide to have lunch and we bounce around trying to keep our hands and feet warm. Coffee all around seemed to warm our spirits if not our bodies. Before long we are underway again back the way we came.

The tide has changed, but it hasn't gotten strong yet. We paddle out to the lighthouse once more and cut through the currents swirling around the base. Lee paddles out from shore to meet us in his new boat "Lee Bay". Similar to a CLC North Bay, but with noticeably more volume in the bow.

Back at the launch Dave decides to roll in the frigid water. Once and he is feeling ok. A second time and his face is burning from the cold.

Greg and Jack are here too. Rolling and testing out another CLC prototype. I load my kayak and make the long ride home.

Her Roll

Fairlands Aquatic Center

The last weekend I went to the pool to give a hand teaching rolling., I had the pleasure of seeing someone make their first roll. This is always a great feeling that anyone who has learned how can remember. The questioning disbelief as the reality of what happened just a moment before begins to settle in to our consciousness. Did I really just do that? Did my paddle hit bottom? Did you help me roll up?

This pool session I was going back with the same intention to help again. My daughter was with me with her promise to stay out from underfoot.

As people arrived, Dave drove up with a fleet stacked on top of his car. With 4 boats above there appeared to be more mass in boats than in vehicle. One of the boats he carried in from the fleet was a whitewater kayak.

It only took about 30 seconds for Dave to realize Katie was bored having to sit on the side of the pool and offered up the whitewater boat to her. After she made a few laps around the pool I decided to see how close she could come to rolling it.

We started out with her holding onto my hands and hip-flicking back up. The fit was loose for her, and as long as she could keep her knee from slipping, she would come up with little pressure on my hands. After a while I decided we needed to switch to a paddlefloat.

I borrowed a paddlefloat from Joan. Since I had planned on teaching others, I didn't bring any gear at all. Once inflated I handed the paddlefloat to Katie and asked her to roll up with it. Most of the time she could, but a few times I had to rotate the boat over myself. Of course Katie would then tell me she wasn't ready for me to roll her up, but nervous dad would rather play it safe.

Gradually I let out air from the paddlefloat. A little more, and a bit more until it was almost flat. Time to switch to a paddle. Here is where Katie showed her greatest weakness. Trying to scull the blade proved to be difficult for her. Getting the paddle in place while upside down proved impossible.

But after a few attempts I would let her capsize, rotate the paddle into position for her, and then shake the paddle to let her know it was in place. This was her key to press down on the paddle and hip snap up. Surprisingly, she came up! Her first roll. Did I really just do that? Did my paddle hit bottom? Did you help me roll up? I wondered these things silently as she spoke them out loud. A second attempt would leave no doubt. Katie had rolled a kayak.

The great advantage of teaching a child to roll in the pool was that after our two hours were up, we HAD to get out of the pool. Had this been summer on the river I might not have ever gotten home as Katie wanted to roll over and over again.

I'm going to miss paddling with this kid when I go to Japan...

Woody

A Third Maiden Voyage

4 Feb 2001

10.8 miles

MAP

How many boats does it take to have a fleet? Shopping for a folding kayak to take with me to Japan, I find myself with Bill, Phil, and Joan on a Sunday morning at Ft Belvoir.

While everyone got ready I played in the Feathercraft K1 by leaning, doing bow rudders and hanging draws. Lets see if I can do a sculling brace.

I'm upside down as the boat rolls over hard and I'm unable to support myself with the sculling brace. Set up for a pawlatta roll. This should be easy. The strong paddle sweep pulls me to the surface but doesn't rotate the boat. I've pulled myself out in my attempt to roll up.

After bringing the boat back to shore and dumping the water from the sea sock, I get back in and begin to analyze what went wrong. With the sea sock in, I have little (no) grip on the coaming for the hip snap. The sock is so slippery that without anything to grip I simply pulled myself out of the cockpit.

The others are ready and eyeing my antics in the cold water. We head out to the Potomac from Gunston Bay, it is a bit breezy and I notice the boat wants to turn into the wind. It is easy to correct for by leaning and sweep strokes, and I pay it little mind.

Around Hallowing Point the wind is quite strong and the waves much choppier. I take a route next to a sea wall where the waves are confused. If it had been dark I would not of known I was paddling in such confused water. The K1 handled this water perfectly while I noticed my paddling partners had to focus on their paddling in these waters.

With the increased wind on this exposed portion of the river I'm spending a lot of time with sweep strokes. I drop the rudder and the boat immediately changes its personality. Without the need to constantly sweep, and the boats ease of handling the confused waves, I find I'm easily outdistancing my companions.

Out of the confused waves we look for a place to have lunch and find a spot just outside of Mason Neck Wildlife refuge. I mention during lunch I'm impressed enough with the boat to buy it.

For the return trip we paddle further from shore to avoid the confused waves.

After saying our goodbyes I head over to Atlantic Kayak to pay for the kayak. At the same time I order the optional thigh braces and the cart for wheeling the backpack across hard ground.

Once home I try my first disassembly of the boat. One hour flat. And I wonder how long it will take to assemble it.

9 Feb, 2001

Friday after work I took the backpack containing the K1 and set it down on the front walkway. A quick glance at my watch as I unzip the bag and begin to lay out the contents on the front lawn. An hour and a half later the kayak is strapped down to the truck and ready for the morning.

The next Sunday at Ft Belvoir, a familiar crowd. The wind is calmer this weekend and a trip out to the Potomac and North around Whetstone point and into Dogue creek and back. No special rolling attempts today, but Ralph Diaz suggested I also buy the inflatable hip pads for the K1. I place the order on my way home. 7 miles.

After I get home I disassemble the kayak in about 45 minutes.

16 Feb, 2001

I assemble the kayak after work again. It takes me a good solid hour. About 20 minutes I spend trying to get the frame centered in the skin. I never managed to get motivated to take the kayak out this weekend, so on Sunday I break it down again. Down to almost 30 minutes for the take down.

23 Feb, 2001

Again I assemble the kayak after work. Again I spend too much time fighting with the skin. It still takes me an hour. I know I could get it down another 15-20 minutes if I didn't have to fight the skin and frame twisting off center. . I need a better way, and this weekend I post a message to Paddlewise asking for help. The email with suggestions flow in for ideas to try out. Next Friday I will take my time and try to understand the reason why I can't get things lined up.

2 Mar, 2001

Another Friday - another attempt to get the kayak together. I decide to go slow, with the goal to get the boat together correctly, and not try and reduce my time. It is important I understand what I'm doing wrong and how to fix it.

One of the suggestions I received in email was to slide the frame halves loosely into the skin and attach the Velcro keel strips. I then sit in the cockpit and lean back to have an excellent view of the keel and deck bars. I push the frame the rest of the way in with my feet. After pushing in the bow and stern halves in this manner, the frame is lined up perfectly.

Total assembly time is 45 minutes, but a good five minutes of that was caused because I forgot to put the seat sling in until after I had installed all the expansion bars.

3 Mar, 2001

13.8 Miles

MAP

I was meeting Joan at 9:00, and was surprised when Bill, Phil and Mark also showed up. I guess I shouldn't be surprised as the forcast for Sunday was horrible, so it only made sense everyone should try to sneak a paddle in on Saturday.

Mark had his new strip-built boat. A model from Laughing Loon. It's maiden voyage.

Joan and I had planned to paddle to Pomonkey Creek, across the Potomac from Hallowing Point. Bill and crew was planning to paddle south of Hallowing Point so we headed out together. A nice, but a little breezy morning, the K1 let me know early it wanted to turn into the wind. After a few miles of sweep strokes I dropped the rudder.

At Hallowing Point Bill and crew decided to turn around so Joan and I bid farewell as we headed out across the river. We had paddled a bit south of Pomonkey on the western side of the river because the current through here can reach 1.5 knots or more during max flood, which we were close to. Crossing a bit south allowed us to drift back north and into the mouth of the creek after first paddling out to the green channel marker.

Pomonkey is a special creek to me. Usually filled with waterfowl as I have only been over here in the winter. From the mouth of the creek it looks like a small bay. Near the back of the bay is a narrow spot that opens back up into the creek. If you don't go all the way in and look, you would think no creek exists there at all.

Lined with duck blinds, it is clear that the duck hunters know this place well also. But there are no hunters today and each twist and turn takes us in their face as ducks continuously take flight.

The creek turns out to be not as long as I remember. Poking in nooks and crannies to try and find a way deep in, we give up and turn to leave. A short stop for lunch and more conversation and we head back out to the river.

Crossing at slack tide we take a more direct route back to Ft Belvoir. At mid river a lone Bald Eagle flies directly overhead. The water has turned calm and glassy.

From a distance it looks like several jet skis are playing near the launch. But as we get close the jet skis turn into military high performance boats painted camouflage colors. As we land, the boats are loading up onto the back of huge diesel trucks.

We load our boats and finish our conversation as I head off to Atlantic Kayak to pick up my new thigh braces and hip pads. We'll soon know if they make a difference.

Clyde's

I've gotten used to the looks and stares people give as I'm loading my kayak getting ready to get on the water. But with the constant flow of people through Gravely Point, you tend to get an even greater dose. One fellow stopped to chat with me about fishing as I put the final touches to the boat and sat it in the water.

As I pulled out of the little inlet at Gravely point I took a moment to gaze out at some of the great monuments to this nation. The Washington Monument is the first to grab your attention. The Capital building, the Jefferson Memorial, and many others you can see from the water. You can't help but feel steeped in American history as you move through these waters.

Passing under the I-395 bridge and heading towards the Memorial Bridge I see dozens of people on river left laying out in the grass and soaking in the sites. After a rainy morning the sun is starting to appear, and I stop a moment to put sunscreen on the top of my head and face. Passing under the Memorial Bridge I see the Lincoln Memorial and again I'm filled with everything for which this nation stands. A feeling that fuels me and keeps me driving towards my destination.

I choose to take the backside of Roosevelt Island, and after passing under the Theodore Roosevelt Bridge I settle in to a slower pace. There are many geese and ducks out today around the island, and after passing under the footbridge, I set my sights on my ultimate destination.

I cross this historic piece of the Potomac River after paddling under the Key Bridge. On my bow lies Jack's Boats, a canoe and kayak rental business that has been in operation since 1955. A ramshackle concessionaire, Jack's is the rallying point today for an on-water demonstration protesting the proposal to build a floating barge restaurant on the down stream side of the Key Bridge. The river here is a mere 2/10ths of a mile across. This barge will stick out nearly 100 feet from shore and block the last span of the Key Bridge.

In 1985, just a mere 4 days before turning the land over to the National Park Service, the District of Columbia government under the helm of Marion Barry, granted a lease to Clyde's Restaurant Group. The park service, as part of the agreement with the D.C. government, was bound to honor any pre-existing leases that existed when it took over the land. For many reasons, the restaurant was never built, and the plans changed over the years as to exactly what the restaurant would look like. But in the last few weeks, some of the members of CPA became aware that a permit pending with the Army Corps of Engineers was due to be released soon. These CPA members joined up with several of the rowing clubs to stage a rally to draw media attention to the issue.

There are many issues surrounding the controversy of building a floating restaurant on this portion to the river. Of primary concern to the boathouses is the blocking of the last span of the bridge. Since the early 1900's when several of these boathouses were built, hand powered craft have been using this portion of the river. Single rowing hulls use this last span to pass under the bridge, while larger hulls and motorized traffic share the other 3 spans of the bridge (a fifth span on the opposite side of the river is blocked by the remnants of an aqueduct bridge). The larger hulls have a coxswain to navigate and are better suited to dealing with the motorized traffic in the center portion of the river, but the singles must constantly look behind them and the last bridge span kept them out of harm's way.

Other issues concern building a permanent structure on the river. Concerns about water access, parking, and the hazards created by this portion of the Potomac freezing hard in the winter. Adding ice breaks around the barge will increase the footprint even larger. Yuck & Ick

I think the biggest issue I have with the Clyde's project is simply its encroachment into a historic piece of our nations capital. Yes, I am upset about the blocking of the span and pushing rowing hulls more out into the center of the river, but I'm concerned about building permanent structures out into this narrow section of the river. The reason to build out into the river is a simple one: there simply is no land to build on. In the nation's capital, there simply isn't any additional land to build on. So the next logical choice is to build onto the water.

Once this starts, where will it end? How about a floating theater? How long before someone bankrolls a floating shopping mall? We could probably save a lot of time with environmental impact studies if we just went ahead and paved over the Potomac River as it passes by the District of Columbia. The hard truth is that building into the Potomac River in this area is the same as building a hotel `partially' covering over the Lincoln Memorial. The river is part of a heritage, our history, a monument that wasn't erected after a great deed, but one that was there to help form and shape this country.

After signing a petition at Jack's I paddled back slowly around Roosevelt Island. Once again on the backside I waited for several CPA members to arrive. At almost 4:00 we headed off to participate in the protest. It's difficult for people to get off work and I commend those who managed to make it. A few minutes after 4:00 I counted 50 people on the water. By 5:00 there was over 100. Members of boathouses and rowing clubs as far away as the Anacostia River, as well as many kayakers and canoeists showed up to protest. The rally was full of energy, yet also well behaved. Pic #1 Pic #2

A little after 6:00 the crowd began to thin and I headed back toward Gravely Point. Dave Biss challenged myself and a few others to try and make the trip in 40 minutes. I suggested I run sweep and bring up the rear. I did my best and pulled into Gravely Point at about 50 minutes. It gave me time to think - to think about this majestic river - to think about what drives someone to degrade its natural beauty.

Like all historic confrontations on this river, the tussle with Clyde's has less to do about safety, and access and more about doing the right thing. The memorials throughout Washington D.C. are all testaments to our history and heritage, albeit sometimes misguided, to do the right thing. I find it ironic that just across from the proposed site for this floating barge sits Roosevelt Island. Theodore Roosevelt was a man with vision. He decisions were based on how they affected our future, and those decisions are still with us today. But his greatest legacy was in conservation. Somehow I don't think President Roosevelt would have approved of defacing the Potomac River by building a barge directly across from his monument.

July 4, 2001

Where should I put in? I certainly didn't want to deal with traffic getting to/from Jacks, and I figured Gravely Point would fill up early in the day. I needed to stop by Atlantic Kayak to pick up a few things anyway, so I decided to park there and paddle the six and a half miles up to Jacks.

Finding AK closed, I went ahead and unloaded my kayak on the sidewalk and strapped on my kayak cart. One of the few times I've used it vice just carrying it on my shoulder. I wanted to take all my gear and boat in one trip, so the cart seemed like a good idea.

Crossing the train tracks and zigzagging down the hill to the water, I caught the eyes of many joggers and bikers. I think it is my cute pumpkin colored paddling shorts. Some things are on sale for a reason. I packed the boat, threw the cart in the rear hatch and headed north towards Jacks.

I paid close attention to the shoreline detail. I would be coming back at night and anticipated having to contend with a large number of motorized boats. The take out later tonight would be just past the hot water outtake of the coal-fired power plant. The rushing water dumping into the river could be a hazard if approached too closely - I will need to remember to give it a wide berth when I return.

A little further up river I come to a well-marked channel leading into Washington Sailing Marina. It is a narrow channel, but close to shore. I'll also need to be aware of this area

I approach the landing lights on the south end of Reagan National Airport, which extends out into the water on a pier. Another landmark to guide me home. North of the airport is Gravely Point. I watch carefully for boats leaving the inlet from the boat ramps, and sprint across. Another hazard in the dark.

The boats approaching Washington are staying on the Maryland side of the river. This is good news for me, as I can paddle further from shore and avoid the hydrilla, which forms a line all along the Virginia shore. The boats are all traveling slowly, which means nice swells when they get to me on the Virginia side. Some show signs of just starting to break and I paddle even more out from shore to avoid the rebounding waves.

From Gravelly Point it is a short paddle to the I-395 bridge and the south entrance to the Boundary Channel. Another marina lies behind this narrow entrance, and another mental note is made to watch this area carefully later tonight. But for now I simply sprint across then settle back into a comfortable pace as I watch all the people on shore who have gathered for the 4th of July activities. Grills and lawn chairs, Frisbees and canopy's dot the shore as far as I can see. It's obvious that in some places the zero tolerance rule of the National Park Service for alcohol is being ignored. Staying a safe distance from shore later tonight may also be an issue.

Just as I pass behind Roosevelt Island, I see a kayak being carried across the footbridge to launch, and another being carried back to the parking lot. Crossing across the river at Key bridge I have to stop and let some traffic pass. There are a lot of boats anchoring near three sisters.

At Jacks I see David Moore, and hop out and we chat for a while. At times there would be a line of patrons in line to get boats, and other times no one at all. I bought a couple of Jacks T-shirts and David went off in search

of food while I ate a late lunch. After David came back and ate, we put in on the water to practice rolling, and I worked on my high brace. I tried a static brace and for the first time ever, it worked. I suspect the extra weight in my stern from the kayak cart and the large amount of frozen water I had in my day hatch played a big part, but I was none the less excited about it.

A cloud burst blew through and we took shelter with a bunch of other kayakers under the bridge. A few powerboats did too, which was a bit unnerving as one boat was drinking beer, and another one kept dragging anchor causing them to constantly need to reposition.

After the squall blew through, we landed and David got the paperwork ready for the night's event. People began to show up one by one and by the time we got back on the water we had 13.

We crossed the river and paddled down the backside of Roosevelt Island. Once between Roosevelt and the Memorial Bridge, David and I discussed which bridge to take shelter under during the next bout of rain. We wouldn't have to wait long as lightning flashed out to our west. It was some distance off as we already had the group moving towards Memorial Bridge before we heard the thunder.

We holed up under the second span of the bridge, rationalizing we would be protected from thrown objects and bottle rockets from shore by the solid pillar between the first and second span. Here we waited out the wind and rain. First from the west, then it turned and came out of the east, and finally once again out of the west. Kayakers and canoeists would face one way, then another, then back the original direction in holding station under the bridge. Talk centered around "Do you think they will still have the fireworks?"

A few moments before the show was to start, we had not heard thunder in a while, and the rain slackened to a drizzle. I paddled out from under the bridge to a place about mid way between the island and the bridge. Right on time the fireworks started. In front of me were boats sounding their horns, and behind me the crowd singing out oohs and aahs in response to the spectacular light show. The rain stopped as if scared away by the first boom of the rockets exploding in the sky. Hundreds of fireworks exploded in the air between the Lincoln Memorial and Washington Monument.

After the show I had to head back south to my put in. David rounded up the group to head back to Jacks, and I said goodbye and headed off. I was well lit - a Krill 180 on my stern, another one on my forward deck. On my back and riding high and bright was a Princeton Sport Flare with its 3 LED bulb. On my hat was my LED headlamp. A final check to make sure all the lights were on and I was off to experience the boat traffic.

As I made my way under Memorial Bridge, bottle rockets began streaking from shore at water level. Most wouldn't make it far, so I turned and headed a bit further from shore. Fortunately I was never a target.

My second challenge was to get by the Boundary Channel entrance. Boats were already stacked in line heading in, but were moving so slow it was easy to cross behind the stern of 2 boats, being mindful of their prop wash.

Gravely Point was next on my list of potential hazards. People along shore had already dissipated quite a bit and I headed closer to shore. If traffic were heavy I would stick to the edge of the creek and cross near the boat ramps. I could see further in that several boats were stacked up to use the ramps, but nothing approaching the entrance so I sprinted across to the airport.

There were massive amounts of slow moving boats on the Maryland side of the river. This created some large wakes on my side. Heading a bit further from shore to avoid the hydrilla and rebounding waves I watched airplanes land and take off in the night sky. In the distance a fireboat is coming my way and I make sure he can see my light before he gets too close. He is scanning the shore with his searchlight and momentarily illuminates me before continuing on.

At the south end of the airport I follow the landing lights out to the end and checking to make sure there are no boats coming up the channel entering the marina, I cross in a flash. I paddle between the channel and shore and after a few minutes a sailboat appears heading in to the marina.

On down the shore and the power plant grows nearer. I'm almost to the takeout. I paddle out a bit to avoid the outtake but the blast of water still grabs my bow and starts to push it out into the river. I drop my skeg to compensate and I cut directly across the flow of water. The warm water feels odd on my hands, and the inside of my kayak begins to get warm, but in a few moments I'm through the mini sauna and heading in to shore.

My night of celebration at an end, I pull out my cart and haul my kayak up the hill to my truck. A few minutes later I'm on the road home, knowing I've avoided the massive amounts of traffic and delays in DC.

My last 4th of July in northern Virginia for a few years - maybe my last ever in this area. A combination of companionship and solitude, celebration and reflection. It was fun and will be remembered the rest of my life.

Woody

Across the Bay

Not wanting to deal with the morning rush hour, I slept in. I was taking a gamble that the afternoon rush hour would be opposite the way I was going. In any event, I was at Sandy Point and on the water about 11:15. It's 80 miles from doorstep to parking lot, so I don't get out here often.

My previous 3 attempts to cross the bay resulted in me turning back. But today I have another year and a half of experience - my skills much greater than my last attempt, where a mile from shore I realized I was in over my head and turned back.

But those skills would not be needed today, or would they? The wind was slight and out of the northeast. A large ship was passing by as I unloaded my gear from my truck, and I made special note as to where it was passing. It passed within the well-marked and narrow channel markers.

I quickly stored my gear and parked my truck, and after slathering on a bunch of sunscreen I headed out to the Sandy Point lighthouse. Another large ship was heading down the bay, and I paddled out towards the green marker buoy as the ship went by hugging the green side of the channel. The channel runs north from here towards Baltimore, and I checked and rechecked several times to make sure there were no more large ships coming my way before sprinting across the channel.

With this short sprint I was off on a journey that I have wanted to make ever since I started kayaking. Originally attempted in my first season, it would be my third season that my goal would be finally realized.

I had come close in the past. Twice I had made it halfway across. As recently as the Bay swim I had paddled out to the 2-mile mark from the Maryland side to meet the swimmers coming across. I knew I could do it - but I didn't know when I would get the opportunity.

After crossing the channel I stopped by the red buoy to see if I could identify where the large boats were traveling. Is there another channel? There were no markers, and after a few minutes of study I knew they were not using the channel at all. I would have to keep an eye out at all times.

The crossing over was uneventful, and after getting through the wide main thoroughfare, I enjoyed the push of the large wakes from these big boats. I was between 2 and 2.5 miles north of the bay bridge and didn't need to stop for any boats at all on my way across.

Near the Maryland shore I didn't see much of a place to land, so I stayed in the kayak and just looked at the farmhouse and silo outside the barn. I thought long and hard about paddling up around Love Point and into the Chester river, but I knew the afternoon boat traffic would be increasing on such a beautiful Friday.

After eating a sandwich and consuming a lot of water, I felt like I could paddle all the way up to Baltimore, which I could see on the horizon. Out in the river two tugs pushing barges made their way up outside of the channel. I turned back towards Virginia.

Crossing the thoroughfare now was more of a challenge. Traffic was starting to pick up on the water, and out on the bridge it appeared like traffic was starting to slow down. I stopped several times to let boats pass, and at least two of them seemed surprised to see me *after* they passed. One sail boat captain under power after seeing me pass behind his stern, stood up to give the water ahead of him a good look.

Across the channel a final time, and back towards the lighthouse. I became peeved when a couple in a Seadoo started buzzing near shore. I felt a little better when a park ranger on shore drove up and using her binoculars wrote down the registration numbers while I loaded my kayak on the truck.

This was my 130th trip in a kayak. Exactly 1205 miles by the time I touched sand. A distance as the crow flies from Washington D.C. to Dallas Texas. Nearly halfway across the country. I landed with little notice to everyone out sunning themselves. No one but me knew what I had done, or how long I had tried to get here. This was one of my final two kayaking goals before I leave for Japan. I made a final loop out of the parking lot as I drove away. A final look. Time draws so short.

Tangier Island

Monday Aug 13, 2001

MAP

I wasn't going back in time - but I would discover it would be a place like none other I had visited before.

I had been searching for a place to have my last adventure before moving to Japan in November. I considered exploring the Maine Island trail, but several preparation camping trips had taught me I didn't want to move camp every day. It would be nice to just go someplace and day trip from there, moving camp as little as possible.

A trip in July to Janes Island in lower Maryland on the Chesapeake Bay had planted a seed in my mind that it might be possible to camp there and have several excellent day trip opportunities. Before long this seed grew into a somewhat ambitious goal to kayak out 16 miles into the heart of the bay to a small island in Virginia.

Tangier Island rests in Virginia just below the Maryland border in the middle of the Chesapeake Bay. A mere 11 miles from the eastern shore, and 14 miles from the western shore would make this an easy one way day trip - if the weather is calm.

In preparation for the trip I gathered local area information from folks on the Chesapeake Paddlers Association list server (a local sea kayaking club), assembled a few charts, and developed and distributed a float plan. Finally I made reservations at Janes Island State Park and at a Bed and Breakfast on Tangier. I was ready to go.

The Sunday night before I left I was filled with anticipation of the trip. Not an expedition by any means, but it was exciting to get a break from work. On Monday I headed out expecting to be caught in the usual morning Washington DC rush hour, but found the traffic light. Those who spend countless hours stuck in big city traffic jams can appreciate how relieved I was not to get stuck in the stop-and-go commuter hell that normally marks a weekday morning. As I crossed the Choptank a bit later, the first whiff of salt air filled my nose. It helped ease me into vacation mode and forget about work and those things left behind.

I arrived at Janes Island State Park around 11:00 am. This would be home base for the next week and after pitching my tent I decided to walk about the campground. The park was lightly occupied this early in the week, but even on weekends in the past I have not seen the park full. The campers who were there were mainly retired RV'ers. Couples in the twilight of their lives spending time on the road seeing the country in their retirement. At almost 40, there was no one my age or younger in the park today. I was the kid on the block.

After my walkabout I went into Crisfield, the nearest town to Janes Island, for lunch. Crisfield is a waterman's town. Its income depends primarily on the men who work the crab and fishing boats. There is a little bit of a touristy atmosphere, but the folks I met were all friendly. It was apparent most lived hard lives and depended on the daily catch for their livelihood.

Back in camp I decided to pre-pack my kayak so I wouldn't have to do it in the morning. After attaching the wheels and stuffing in everything but my tent I went out to watch the water from the dock. A lone workboat was heading through the channel and several campers were trying to catch a few blue crabs for dinner. I stayed until almost dark reading a book and putting my mind into `vacation mode'. Back at camp I fixed dinner and as I finished putting everything away I sensed a change. I wasn't sure what it was at first, but then I noticed it had suddenly gotten quiet. Then off in the distance I heard a new sound - Rain!

In my tent that night I was kept up till past midnight. The rain was pounding my tent and about 11:30pm I felt the first few drops make its way through the tent fly and drip on my face. The rain was coming down in buckets and I could feel water rushing under the tent floor when I patted it with my hand. I rearranged the fly a bit so the water would run down one of the tent poles and finally managed to get some sleep when the rain finally let up.

Tuesday Aug 14, 2001

6:00 am came early, but because of my pre-packing the night before, I was on the water by 6:30 am after stowing my tent in the kayak, eating a quick breakfast, and locking up my truck to stand watch over my campsite. It was near high tide, but I would have a little struggle working my way against the current in the little channel between Janes Island and the mainland. This was planned so that the bulk of my trip would be with an ebbing current.

The forecast was for southerly winds switching later to the west, but I found there to be no wind except for an occasional puff out of the north. The lightning and thunder were gone from the night before but the occasional boom of a jet fighter in the distance caused me to look around several times.

I stayed to the left shoreline as I passed by the town of Crisfield. By crossing the channel here I knew the boats would be moving slow through the town docks. There was plenty of light but there was reduced visibility with a lot of humidity still in the air. Playing it safe by crossing the channel in town rather than farther out where the boats would be at top speed would add a mile onto my trip as I worked my way around the shore to my first waypoint - Great Point.

Once at Great Point I placed the compass on 230 degrees and headed for Great Fox Island. There were a lot of work boats out coaming the waters for crabs and fish. I really didn't need the compass for this portion of the trip since I was traveling down the outskirts of Cedar Island. This long marshy island provided a safe bail out in the event I were to get caught up in weather and had to bail out.

Crossing a small open water patch to Clump Island and then I could see the hunting lodge that was the landmark to tell me I had reached Great Fox Island. The lodge is a long two story building and can be seen from a long distance away. On reaching the tip of Great Fox, I turned my kayak to point towards 245 degrees. My destination was invisible; hidden in the misty haze of the horizon.

Tangier is a fairly large island at about 9 miles when navigating around the outer edges. It would be hard to miss, but I was glad to have my GPS with waypoints plugged in just in case. It would turn out not to be needed as my piloting skills seemed to be working exceptionally well this day. About 2 miles out from Great Fox I picked up the green bell buoy that was my next waypoint. The water turned from an emerald green to a much darker color as I crossed the channel, then lightened again as I approached the buoy.

As I got closer to the buoy I realized I had made a tactical mistake. My original plan had called for a short stop at Great Fox Island for a stretch. I had been feeling so good and making good time that I decided to continue on to Tangier. Now I was paying for it as my butt and lower back began to ache. I hung out near the buoy for a few minutes trying to stretch as best I could and as I did I noticed a work boat getting closer and closer. I kept telling myself he would see me and turn, but he kept getting closer by the moment. I reached forward with my paddle and with a few powerful paddle strokes put the buoy between me and the oncoming crab boat. As soon as I started to sprint out of the way, the boat veered and turned away. I wasn't sure if he ever saw me, or if this was the line he was taking to lay his next group of crab pots since he immediately slowed and started tossing them over the side.

I made a final course adjustment to take me in to Tangier harbor. Nearing the outer marker I began to hear the foghorn. I stayed well to the southeast of the channel until getting within the protected confines of Tangier. The island is in three main parts, with a `T' shaped channel in the center dividing the island pieces. I had to work myself back into the channel as the water was getting shallow in other spots. At low tide most of this harbor would be mud except for the channel.

I needed a place to get out, and my aching back wanted it to happen as quickly as possible. But searching as far as I could see showed few options for pulling the boat out. The docks were high - too high for me to climb out on. I paddled to the left and asked a woman standing on a dock is she knew where I could take out. She suggested it might be possible at the marina and pointed off in its direction. I thanked her and started looking for a marina. It ALL looked like a big marina to me! But eventually I found a dock with the word marina on it and found a muddy shore just behind a portion of the dock. I nosed my kayak into the soft bank and stepped into shin deep mud and pulled my kayak up onto the grass.

Once on shore I fought off the urge to want to walk around and stretch my legs and just laid back on the grass to stretch out my body as much as possible. Gathering my aches and pains together, I rose and started putting my kayak cart back together and placing the boat on top. The Paddleboy heavy lifter had taken up a lot of valuable space in the rear hatch. I had to place my clothes dry bag between my legs for the trip over, but in hindsight should have strapped the bag on the rear deck as there was not enough wind to make additional items on deck an issue.

I pulled the kayak up near the dock and immediately engaged an older man in conversation. After answering his curious questions about where I had come from, I asked for directions on how to get to Shirley's Bay View Inn. He immediately motioned me to follow him onto the dock and pointed to a red roofed house with two red brick chimneys. The old gent then told me to leave my kayak where it was and which roads to take to get across the bridge to the B&B. I loaded up some gear into a mesh bag and struck off across the island towards the red roofed house. I was quite a sight as I walked still dripping water with odd things slung over a shoulder and looking pretty much like I had washed ashore from a shipwreck.

When I got to the B&B someone on the front porch told me to enter through the side of the house, and I tossed the heavy gear to the ground and fished out my wallet. Shirley Pruitt was the first person I would meet in the house, and she checked me in and began to run through the details of check out time, where to eat, etc when I had to excuse myself as I was starting to drip water on the hardwood floor. I told her I would return in a bit after I retrieved the rest of my gear and settled in.

It had been such a short walk, I declined Shirley's offer to have her husband take me to get the rest of my gear. It was only noon, and I had plenty of time to kill so after emptying my mesh bag in my room I headed back to the boat. This time I decided to just wheel the boat, as it was only a five-minute walk to the house on a flat road.

The roads were more like wide sidewalks; most not wide enough for two golf carts to pass without one moving to the edge of the road. About the size of a single lane road and in pretty good condition. As I pushed the kayak through the middle of town, I could feel everyone stop and look as the Gulfstream and I made our way back to the B&B. I parked the boat across the street from the B&B and carried in the rest of my gear, hanging out my wet things across the chairs on the porch outside my room.

After a quick shower and change of clothes I decided to go in search of lunch. First I stopped back to chat with Shirley and find where I could use a phone. The phone line for guest use was out of order, but the Pruitt's were kind enough to let me use their phone to call a friend who was holding my float plan and expecting an "I arrived safely" call. I finished my call quickly and chatted for a few minutes with the rest of the Pruitt family. I immediately felt right at home as their warm hospitality immediately put me at ease and helped suppress the introvert part of my persona.

Back near the docks I stopped in the first restaurant I came upon. Fisherman's Corner fixed me up an excellent cheeseburger to replace some of the calories I used up on the trip over. While there I learned one of the specials of the day were fried scallops, my all time favorite seafood. I had already decided where I would have dinner that evening, and inquired as to closing time before I left.

I explored a few shops and made my way back to the marina to tell the nice gentleman who had let me keep my kayak at the marina that I had taken over to the B&B. I found him sitting where I had originally left my kayak dipping flat sticks into a can of white paint. The sticks were used to make it easy to identify the owner when they were wedged into a float marking a crab pot.

Grocery store - I had a headache so I stopped by the grocery store on the way back to the B&B to pick up something for my head. This was worth a stop as there were lots of items on the shelves - It reminded me of what would have been called a "dry goods store" many years ago.

I walked back to the B&B to finish putting away my gear. I opened my clothes dry bag to find water had leached around the roll top into the first layer of clothes. The roll top had sat on the bottom of the boat for the crossing over - in the bilge water. I hung up the damp clothes and met up with Mr. Pruitt. We talked a bit about the kayak and he told me that the creek (West Ridge Creek) in front of the B&B went all the way out to the harbor and also out to the southeast side of the island. If I had known this sooner, I could have paddled all the way up to within 30 feet of the B&B.

I could see all 4 bridges that crossed the creek on the island. The bridges on the North and South ends of the creek were higher than the two center bridges. The northern center bridge was called the `school' bridge. The southern center bridge was for Wallace road, so I called it Wallace Bridge although I don't know if it really had a name. I learned that Mr. Pruitt's grandfather had helped build it many years ago. I discussed my plans to paddle around the island in the morning, and Mr. Pruitt said I could put in right on the creek.

Wednesday Aug 15, 2001

In the morning I had breakfast with several other folks in Mrs. Pruitt's dining room. Eggs, bacon, sausage, fried bread and orange juice and coffee provided just the right fuel to get me motivated for my trip around the island. The evening before I had moved my kayak within the white picket fence of the Pruitt B&B. Rather than deal with the cart this morning I picked up the kayak and placed it over my shoulder for the 30 foot walk to the creek.

It was high tide, so it was easy to step from the grass right into my cockpit. At low tide this would be a little muddy. Swinging the boat north I headed for the school bridge, but as I got closer, I realized my kayak would not fit under it. My bow was a good inch too high to go under, and the deck only got taller as it approached the cockpit. I turned south for the Wallace bridge. My kayak could fit, but not with me sitting in it. I debated taking out and dragging the boat around the bridge. Instead I looked under the bridge and saw a railing I could hang on to while leaning over near the water. I sat down my paddle to test the clearance, leaned the boat over to 90 degrees, and went hand over hand across the beam under the bridge. I had made it through easily, but had left my paddle on the other side, so I crossed under a second time to retrieve my paddle and then back through a third time to start my morning exploration.

The creek twisted and wound through the island and under the southern most bridge (I called this bridge the Factory Bridge). This bridge I could easily take sitting upright. Past the bridge I turned right and explored the marsh a bit before returning back and to the left to exit into Cod Harbor.

Cod Harbor makes up the `hook' on the southern end of Tangier Island. Although shallow, a few workboats were out this morning checking crab pots. As I made my way near the tip of the island, I saw nearly 30 brown pelicans standing on the beach. They didn't seem to mind my presence, but I kept my distance. The wind was blowing this day and waves were breaking near the beach. Out on the point there was a long sand bar just below the surface. The waves rose and broke for a long distance out from visible land. I took a moment to clip my tow belt from me to the kayak. Although I could easily walk to shore from here, my kayak might not see land for 50 miles if we became separated. I paddled out to where I believed it safe enough to cross the sand bar and avoid the biggest breaking waves, then rounded back behind the protected waters of the island.

This area protected from the north wind, had snow white sandy beaches. I beached to take a look around and found a large salt water pond which had been hidden from my low view in the kayak. After exploring a bit I returned to the boat and launched in dead calm water.

As I began to make may way up towards the straight, western side of the island, the waves increased to 1-1.5 feet. I fought the wind and waves the 1.5 miles to western entrance to the Tangier Harbor, passing the airport and what smelled like a garbage incinerator.

The small harbor has three entrances. One from the west, an entrance from the northeast, and an entrance from the southeast. It is these three entrances that divide Tangier into its three main island components. The southern third is the populated portion of the island. The eastern third looked uninhabited, as well as the northern third except for a few mobile homes on the northern tip.

I followed power lines up to the northern tip of the island. The handful of mobile homes looked uninhabited, but the power lines seemed to indicate that it had been used within the recent past. This area looked like it might make a good place for overnight camping.

The rebounding waves off the northern point made for a rough ride until I crossed the point and turned southeast. I followed this side of the island back to the main channel that I had entered the day before.

Arriving back at the harbor, I turned west at the fuel dock and started looking for the northern entrance to the creek. I had hoped the tide had dropped enough to make passage under the school bridge possible, but even if it hadn't, it was only a few hundred feet carry to the B&B from the school bridge.

I passed the marina and worked my way out to the western end of the island. No luck in finding the creek. I turned back east to look again and this time found it hidden behind some docks. It wasn't hard to find, and I'm not sure why I missed it the first time.

I headed into the creek staying close to the sides that had old pilings at the edge of the water. The channel worked its way close to the pilings as if zig zagged through the island. I crossed under the north bridge (I never attached a name to this bridge, but it was the busiest of the 4 bridges on the island) and I passed a boy checking crab pots from a dory. Within minutes I came to the school bridge. The water level had gone down, but not enough to simply just paddle under. I laid the kayak over on edge again and crossed under this bridge as I had done the Wallace Bridge at the beginning of the trip, making sure this time to take my paddle with me.

Shirley's B&B was easy to spot from the creek. First time travelers will know it by a miniature lighthouse right on the edge of the creek in front of the house. My adventure around the island had taken me about nine miles. I carried the boat back across the street and placed it inside the picket fence.

I went back to my room still reeling from everything I had seen on the morning trip. I spent some time writing in my journal and reading, still trying to digest everything that I saw. In the Tangier harbor I had seen many stand-alone docks. From a distance they all looked connected and lined next to the channel. On closer inspection each dock stood unconnected to anything else. Each could only be reached by boat and each contained a small shed and a long trough with water running through it. Many were occupied with people, mostly women, waiting for the workboats to come in or taking care of chores.

There were several signs in the harbor, which asked visitors to support their way of life by not supporting the Chesapeake Bay Foundation. The signs appeared weathered, indicating this was not a new battle between the workmen and the Foundation. This island was caught between a way of life and declining bay seafood populations, which puts them at odds with environmental groups striving to restore the bay.

As I wrote in my journal the power went off in the room at least a half dozen times. It would start with the lights dimming, followed by a few seconds of being bright, and finally darkness. After the first time I opened the blinds to have light to write by, but as the evening wore on I wondered if the restaurants would have power for dinner. The hungrier I became, it seemed the more frequent and longer lasting the outages. I began thinking about the emergency food and stove I had brought for the crossing as a possible last resort.

My luck was holding though and I enjoyed a large seafood dinner at Fisherman's Corner that night. I managed to eat dinner and walk the perimeter main roads around the island and still get back to the B&B within an hour.

Church plays a big part in this island's existence. As I finished up my walk around the island I heard the church bell calling people to worship, and met Mrs. Pruitt as she climbed into her golf cart with bible in hand.

Cemetery plots seemed to be at a premium on the island, as small parcels of land filled with headstones spilled over into adjoining yards. On Tuesday I had seen a woman meticulously cutting the grass around some headstones with a weed trimmer. I passed that area three times during that afternoon, and each time she stopped, smiled and gave me a nod.

Back in my room I readied my gear for the morning, packing away what I could and staging the stuff that I couldn't. I was a bit sad to be leaving this place so soon as it had done wonders for setting my soul at ease. It was also sad to see Tangier as it really is - A slowly dying island whose children are going off to college and not returning. The population on Tangier is growing older, and those that stay find life gets a bit harder each year. Tourism has breathed a resuscitating breath into the island, but only for a small percentage of the island's inhabitants. The harshness of island living was etched into these people's bodies and blurred by their smiles and friendly attitudes.

Thursday Aug 16, 2001

6:00 a.m. and I'm wide-awake. I spray myself lightly with bug spray and head outside to load the kayak around 7:00. Mr. Pruitt is out and we talk about my journey home today. It is high tide and I know I can't clear the School Bridge so I will put in on the north side. Before I go back to my room for another load of gear I ask Mr. Pruitt how business has been. "Much better this year since putting up a web site on the internet", I'm told. I confess this is how I learned of the B&B and then excuse myself to gather more gear.

8:00 a.m. and I enter the dining room for breakfast. Staying for breakfast will put me against the tide on the last leg of the trip, but such good food and company is too hard to resist. Several folks are leaving today - A reporter from the Washington Post, a couple who arrived the same day as I. Another older couple just arrived the day before, and a father and daughter from Baltimore is staying a few more days. After eating I say goodbye to my fellow breakfast partners, thank the Pruitt's for their hospitality, and answer a few last questions about my journey back to Janes Island.

Mr. Pruitt comes out to move the golf cart as I leave to make it easier to get out of the yard. The kayak wheels easily down the few hundred feet to School Bridge. I pack the wheels in the kayak, toss my clothes bag into the cockpit (rolled edge side up this time) and hop in for the journey to Janes. In no time I've cleared the creek. Fifteen minutes into the journey I've cleared the island, and by 20 minutes I was clear of the last channel marker and foghorn.

My compass pointed towards Great Fox island, I embark towards a destination I cannot see. A mile later I see a shadowy image of the hunting lodge, but I can't tell from this distance if that is really it or a workboat. I decided to trust my compass until I was certain and ignored the apparition on the horizon for now. Another half hour would pass and I could then tell it was the hunting lodge.

With more daylight this morning than on Tuesday, I stayed further from shore when I reached Great Fox. I didn't want to make the same mistake of not stopping this time, and decided that spot would be near the southern end of Cedar Island. My water bottle on deck was running low by this point and I refilled the bottle on shore and pulled out a big bag of GORP for lunch. The biting flies were horrendous so I opted to get back in the boat and drift as I ate lunch.

Drifting north with the current I began to creep up on a large round object just under the surface of the water. As I got closer it poked its head up and I could see it was a large sea turtle. It looked at me for a few moments but as I drifted closer it finally ducked under and disappeared.

The wind was still and the water mirror like. The paddle from Tangier had been monotonous until I got close to land. The only breeze was generated by my moving forward, so I was consuming lots of water to replace what I was sweating out by the buckets.

As I rounded Great Point, a workboat shut off his engine and hollered over to me asking me where I had come from. "Tangier - this morning" I replied. "I'm from there originally!" came his response. We talked for a few minutes before I headed out to cross the channel. Cutting across to Janes Island from here will save me the extra mile I took on the way out. The extra daylight and lower traffic makes it a safe crossing.

Heading into the channel that runs between Crisfield and Janes Island, I see the current has changed. I'll need to stay close to shore to avoid the worst of it. The final 4 miles feels comfortable, as though I'm almost home. Approaching the Janes Island dock I see Mark and Karl are on the dock waiting for me.

I edge up to the dock saying hello and receiving congratulations from Mark and Karl. Josh, Karl's son is also there and after a brief introduction I toss my clothes bag up on the dock to prevent me from tripping over as I get out of the boat. Paddling up to the boat ramp I get out and get help hauling the boat out. Its heavy - at least after those 16 miles it seems that way.

After unloading the boat and setting up camp we head into Crisfield for a fine seafood dinner. In the morning we'll paddle Janes, but tonight we bulk up on fried food.

At 6:00 a.m. the winds are already up. I pack the boat and head down to the water about 7:15, and Mark, Karl, and Josh show up shortly afterward. We discuss the impacts of the high winds and decide for a protected paddle through the island, with a peek out into the sound for the more adventuresome of us.

Out on the sound side of the island, Karl experiences his first unintentional capsize. We were sitting broadside to the waves having a discussion. I was sitting downwind and about 2 wavelengths from Karl. The wave rose up and started tumbling down its face without warning. Karl set up for a roll and managed to come up by pushing off the bottom.

Josh and Mark went off to explore the island on foot and Karl and I played in the waves. Karl took his first surfing lesson and wet exited when he broached and was knocked over. A quick T rescue and he was back in his boat in under a minute. Several more rides, and he's surfing like a pro. We both spend some time practicing our rolls in the waves and I work on my high brace on the move. We tire before long and head off to explore the rest of the red trail when Mark and Josh return.

To Be Finished.

Changing Gears

I dropped the backpack on the ground about 50 feet from the water at Leesylvania. Forty minutes later the K1 would be assembled. Not a single mistake - not a single glitch. It went together like I had done it a thousand of times before.

The reality is I've only assembled it about a dozen times. I've always made a mistake or two, and never done it in under 45 minutes. It had been early spring since I had been in her. The frame easily centered in the skin - I didn't forget to put the foot pegs on or fasten the Velcro along the keel. I didn't forget to rotate the pop rivets away from the skin. It felt like the K1 was trying to be my friend after a rocky start months ago.

I wasn't going far. I only wanted to try to get past this nagging feeling I had about not being able to roll the K1. This is a boat I always felt like I sat too high in - that it tipped over much easier than I thought a bag boat should - and was impossible to roll. The last pair of thigh braces I had in her I bent - evidence that it was going to take more than hip snap to get her upright. Today I left the replaced thigh braces out. I didn't want to bend another pair.

I extended my paddle out to one side and sculled my body down to the water. I could tell the K1 wanted to roll upside down. She was trying her best to push my body below the surface and rotate inverted - but I wouldn't let her. I fought back with a strong scull and finally hip snapped back upright when I felt her getting the upper hand.

But I knew I wouldn't be able to roll her.

The center of gravity felt too high. The boat leaned and submerged the sponsons to easily. I beached and took the seat bottom and placed it under the sling so that I would sit lower.

In the water again the boat felt much more stable. I couldn't lean back, but I couldn't do that before with the seat higher. Bracing worked better. I sculled myself back down to the water - she was responding better. Still it took a bit of effort to keep her from pushing me under. I took a deep breath and stopped resisting.

The K1 immediately toppled over on top of me. I thought about the things I had read about rolling this boat. Let her settle. Let my body float back near the surface. Start her rotating BEFORE the sweep. I was up! My paddle finished deep and even once the boat passed 90 degrees I felt it still took a lot of effort to push it the rest of the way over. It wasn't pretty, but it worked.

I shortened my grip on the paddle and tried a normal screw roll. Much more effort - but she still allowed me to come up. It was all I had to finish the roll. I tried an offside extended paddle roll, but the K1 had to show me she was still boss - for now. A few more on-side rolls and I was drained - and happy.

I put the K1 assembled on my truck and took the Gulfstream to the beach. She rolled left, and right , down and up. She allowed me to high brace and low brace - I think she was showing off for the K1. I sat my paddle beside me flat in the water and rolled upside down. Pushing down on the paddle shaft and hip snapping I rolled back up - twice - another first. Both boats were obviously showing off. One boat on its last few days before I go to Japan - the other about to get more intimate with me for a few years.

They rode side by side on the trip home. One of the few times this will happen. My long time friend the Gulfstream will be in storage in a few months, and the K1 on its way to Japan. It will be two years before they see each other again. So for today - I'll just let them sit quietly together on my truck.

Woody