New Year - 2002

Another New Year, and the beginning of my fourth season. And like the previous three, this tradition of mine of going for a New Year's paddle is different than each of the previous years.

It is unusually calm this morning and quickly throwing my gear in the car and lashing down the K1 has me excited that I will keep the tradition alive. As I back out of the driveway I check my scouting notes for directions. I can't read Kanji, so my directions are by traffic lights. "Go to the first light, turn Left. Go down 2 lights and turn left again. Go to first light and turn left, then follow the blue signs to the auto camper park."

This is how my first kayaking trip in Misawa Japan begins. As I get closer to Lake Ogawara I am more and more confident I will finally be back in my kayak after several months of anticipation. But as I pull in and can see the water, I see ice. Lots of ice.

I'm crushed. I had noted to myself just a few days before how the water had been totally ice free. But now the ice appears to extend a good 150 feet from shore.

There doesn't appear to be a parking lot. If there is, it is buried under the snow. So I park along the road, next to a "no parking" sign.

Beneath the sign is an arrow pointing to both sides of the road, and below that, if I interpreted the sign correctly, is "July 18 - Aug 31, 9:00 am - 6:00 pm"

My assumption, right or wrong, is that it is ok to park there. I get out and make my way across the snow to the beach. The first three feet is a thick pack ice, and I slowly make my way out onto it to survey the thinner ice beyond. I made up my mind that the trip would not happen, and picked up a small chunk of ice and tossed it out onto the ice. It landed with a splash, and I realized the snow was masking what I was seeing and that the ice was thin. I could make it out!

After unloading the boat off the car and stowing the gear, I pulled the kayak across the snow down to the beach and on to the ice shelf. I stepped into water about shin deep and could hear the thin ice cracking all around.

Pulling the kayak off the shelf increased the amount of cracking around me in the water, and I straddled the kayak and got in.

The sprayskirt went on quickly, and I turned to head out towards open water. It had began to snow as I packed the kayak and now it was getting heavy enough I could not see the far shore about a mile away. I paddled gently through the slush and skim ice until I reached the outer edges, where I could see a pod of birds several hundred yards further off shore. I swung towards them to get a closer look, but they soon took flight. They don't know me well enough yet to trust me.

I turned north. I won't go far. Maybe a mile or two. With the snow coming down harder, and there being a little doubt about if I'm legally parked or not, I stay close to shore. At least as close as the ice will let me. I paddle along the edges of some large floes, the edges being kept a broken mosaic by the small wavelets. Twenty feet into the ice the water is completely flat.

Along the shore there are houses. Some small, some large, some that look more like a shed. None of them real close together. The swans, honk loudly at me before taking flight. They too didn't wait for me to get close.

To the west is the windward shore, and now with the snow slowing, appears about half of a mile away. I'll paddle a little further, but when the far shore disappears from view, I know the snow is getting heavy so I reluctantly lean hard to turn the boat around. A quarter way across my deck now the snow is gone where the water washed it away during my turn. It feels good to control the boat this way.

Heading south, I notice a few cars go by with faces plastered against the side windows. I'm sure I'm a sight in my bright yellow boat with my dry suit poking through the middle. I'm back to the launch too soon. But the ice has all moved except for the ice shelf on the shore. I park against the shelf and climb out and onto the ice, grabbing the painter as I go. I toss the painter across my shoulder and haul the kayak out first onto the ice, and then onto the snow. It slides easily up the beach back to the car.

And so ends the story of my first paddle of 2002. The beginning of my fourth season. The beginning of two years in Japan. The first trip report of many. But the ice has me convinced it may be spring before I paddle again on this lake.

Omedeto! Happy New Years!

Woody

Fishing Village

8:00 and I'm still in bed. My muscles are sore for some unknown reason. I don't want to go kayaking this morning. But I drag myself out of bed and put on my polartek wetsuit and then pull on the dry suit over it.

Outside I lash the boat to the car and carry out my gear. In the park the Japanese Military is here, which catches me off guard. They have erected scaffolding and covered parts of it with plywood to shield the contents. Inside I peek at huge mounds of snow and I remember the Misawa snow festival is next weekend. Some sculptures are being built that are 2-3 stories high.

I haven't been making good time, and by the time I get on the water it is 10:00. My goal is just to cross the lake to the far shore that looks about a 1/2 mile away. I get my gear squared away then race my kayak across the snow to the water. At the edge I bust up the small ice shelf to make it safe to walk across to the water.

Sliding into the K1 I head towards the far shore, occasionally looking back to make sure I can identify where I need to go on the return trip. The expected 10 minute trip takes a half hour - the 1/2 mile closer to a mile and a half. Each pull of the paddle strains the muscles in my shoulder. It has been a long while since I've kayaked with any regularity. I tell myself to pull through the pain...it will go away soon enough. Bushes on the far side grow to become large trees, a small hill becomes a steep cliff, and some shoreline clutter becomes a small fishing community.

There must be over 40 small boats with outboard motors here - all pointing out towards the lake. It looks like this small community is prepared to flee at a moments notice.

Pic #1 Pic #2 Pic #3 Pic #4

I settle into the edge of a small marsh and take a few photos. A fishing boat comes in while I'm sitting there. Mounted near the front a giant spool. My guess it is used to bring in his nets. He cuts his engine near shore and takes out a long pole to back himself in to shore - his boat also pointing towards the middle of the lake. Another picture or two and I turn back towards the launch.

I'm loosened up, but I head straight back towards the car. I have things to do and I'm ready to go. Back on shore I take a few more pictures of the boat and 'snow tracks' left from dragging the kayak to the car. On the way out of the park I see some cross country skiers, and as I get close a woman is franticly waving me down. After I get stopped I step out and the woman tells me she has a kayak just like mine. A little more probing though and I find out she really has a Folbot.

She asks if it is ok to paddle on the lake on days like today. I tug at my dry suit and emphasize I'm dressed for it. She says she has no one to paddle with and the guy with her looks at her strange and harrumphs - which she then points to him and says "except him in his recreational boat. I find out she is a school teacher on base and I mention she'll probably see me at the base beach in the spring. Back in the car and I somehow take a wrong turn out of the park. The road turns out to be a shortcut back to the main road.

Note: "any resemblance to persons living or dead, or events that may have occurred, is intended - and wholly because I actually went kayaking"

Woody

The Crows

My Thule racks came in over a week ago, and I was antsy to try them out. I strapped the kayak down to the car the night before - one less thing to slow me down in the morning.

The weather has kept me off the water since the first part of the month and a long week at work all added up to the need to get out. As I brushed the half inch of snow that had fallen the night before off my car, the crows felt it their duty to laugh at me. They already knew how my day was going to go.

The forecast today was for 10 MPH winds, but the forecast is always wrong. From my time here in Japan I knew I needed to get on the water as early as possible, because by noon the wind could be howling. With 3 layers under my dry suit, I didn't pause to pay close attention to the wind. If it was blowing at all, it wasn't enough to get my attention, albeit it would have been difficult to notice with all these clothes on. If I could make it to the West side of the lake before the wind picked up, I could enjoy the free ride back to the launch with the wind at my back.

So by 6:20 am I was on the road towards the lake. Before 9/11 the back gate of the base was open and it would have been a quick drive through the base and on to the Japanese park. But now I must drive around the base and commercial airport to get there.

As I pulled into the park I noticed what I had hoped not to see. Whitecaps stretched from shore to shore. It wasn't even 7:00 am yet. The wind would get worse as the sun climbs higher into the sky. I had no choice. Other than for one last look, I didn't linger and turned around to head home. I wanted to paddle, but the cold wind would have worked against me all day. A warm wind would have just been a challenge - a cold wind, with the temps in the high 20's, a losing battle.

On the drive home I began to notice things that would have saved me the drive - every flag was straight out and flapping in the wind. A sure sign I should have stayed home.

As I pulled back into my driveway I was going over in my mind the items I would have to bring back into the house. I pondered for a second why no paddles were on my mental checklist, when I suddenly realized I had forgotten to take them with me.

The crows were right.

Woody

Frustration

The week had been beautiful - much like last week. Temps in the 40's, and every time I passed the lake - dead calm.

It's been over a month since I've been on the water. I was determined to get on it today. I work out my stress while negotiating the water, but my lack of being able to get there was in and of itself adding to my stress level.

I woke up before sunrise and listened for the wind. There was none. I will go. But I fell back asleep and it was almost 8:00 before I was on the road towards the lake. While loading the car I felt a breeze and I knew the wind would be up on the lake. But I was determined to go anyway. My house is in a somewhat protected area, so a slight breeze here is windy on the lake, and when the wind at the house is howling it is a tempest on the lake.

I caught myself speeding towards the lake. But drive as fast as I could I still couldn't outrun the wind.

The whitecaps were everywhere, and to walk down towards the water I had to lean hard into the wind. I wouldn't be able to get the boat off the car and back on by myself. I didn't want to come here. I wanted to retire from the Air Force this June, but I took in consolation the thought that I would get in some kayaking I would otherwise never be able to experience. In the 4 months I've been here, I've gotten on the water twice - only for a short paddle - and I'm wearing thin.

Woody

Scouting the Tanesashi Coast

My first major scouting trip for a seaside launch location. The forecast for high winds and rain meant I would leave the boat at home. Reduce the temptation to take her out in conditions I shouldn't be out in.

Not having a kayaking partner means I need to take extra precautions. I've been thinking over the last day how I should handle my float plan. To leave on a Saturday morning and not be discovered missing until work on Monday could have serious consequences. Time to have a chat with my neighbor.

I didn't get out of the house till 9:00 am. The directions I got were simple - Take Rt. 338 south to Rt. 45 south till it ran along the coast below Hachinohe. "Hach" is a fairly large town, and just south of it is the first bit of coastline that is not off limits to Military.

Speed limits in this area of Japan rarely get over 50 KPH (31 MPH), so this 100 mile scouting trip would take the better part of the morning and a bit of the afternoon. While creeping along through one small run down town I noticed an old man shuffling a bit oddly and then stopping on the sidewalk. It took me a second to realize he had stopped to pee. No one on the street seemed to think twice about this, and the man made no attempt to hide what he was doing.

Amazingly, I didn't get lost on the way down, but after driving all the way to the town of Kuji, I had only seen the coast once.

The overcast skies and gray ocean had me squinting hard to try and make out if I was actually mistaking the sea for sky. The person who had given me directions told me there were several beaches - I couldn't miss them. Kuji was double the distance from my house as Hach, so I grudgingly turned around to head home.

About 2/3 the way back towards Hach, at the only place I had seen the ocean, I decided I needed to get off Rt. 45 and closer to the water. I found a coastline road and began following it north. I found a place near the water to pull off and looked around for a way to the water. A calm and picturesque place, the surf here seemed tame and a good distance off shore.

The down side would be having to negotiate this tall seawall to get there. Easy to get down, but it would take true grit to get back up and over. Back to the car and head north again.

Before long I came to another pull off. There were a lot of signs, the one I recognized was the picture of a swimmer with a red slash through it. I could see surfers in the water and I thought if push came to shove I could get in the water here. The surf was a bit bigger than I wanted. It would be nice to find a more protected cove.

Back in the car I soon saw signs for a `swimmers' beach. That sounded promising. And what a spectacular beach it is. A steep walk down from the parking area, but it was doable. I took a few pictures from the bluff overlooking the water, then headed down to the shore for more pictures.

At the base of the bluff was a slot between it and a large rock. On this day the waves were not large. I took a picture of a sign that I think is a warning about rips on this beach. Maybe Vince can fill me in on this.

Back to the top of the bluff and a final picture of the sign there that reads:

A designated Japanese Cultural Property Since December 21, 1937
The Tanesashi Coast: A scenic Natural Beauty Spot

The Tanesashi coastline has many rough points and islands which are made of an infinite variety of curious and mysterious rocks. Rocks of all shapes and sizes complement the breathtaking view. This coastline is full of varied scenery which includes vast, gently sloping sandy beaches, and hills covered with soft green grass. This grand natural scenery combines magnificence with grace and elegance. It has been a valuable treasure house of flowering plants for years. It is home to about 500 kinds, including daily lilies and Nippon chrysanthemums. All year round, you can enjoy the changing seasons.

I'm sure now I have found a launch location to explore.

Heading north again a short distance I stop a short distance up the road at another pull off. Not a place to launch, but the sign drew me in, and the lookout point at the top of the hill looked like an ideal place to scout what was north of my intended launch location. The offshore rocks made me aware that this scenic beauty could have hidden dangers as seen by the fast moving surface foam.

One last picture to the south towards the swimming beach and it was time to go. Arriving home about 4 and a half hours after I had left and feeling better that at last I had found a new launch location.

Woody

Scouting the Tanesashi Coast (from the sea)

8.4 miles

Awake at 5:30, but I couldn't get out of the house till 6:30. There was little traffic till I got to the 1 and a half lane streets of Hachinohe. Part chicken and part Russian Roulette, the goal appears to be you should aim to clip side view mirrors, and at the last moment swerve ever so slightly to just miss. Trucks on the other hand, play a different game as they sometimes wonder completely into your lane before drifting back to the other side of the road.

In the small back roads of Hachinoe near the port, there were a lot of people out. Mostly old women carrying bundles of flowers. The police were out directing traffic and the streets were jammed to the point I was afraid I was going to hit someone.

My GPS had carried me to this point. Using a track I had previously recorded last weekend, I was navigating with 21st century precision. I was looking at the map screen of my Garmin GPS III+ pondering how I would have ever found my way back without this modern technological wonder. When I looked up to the road again I had to stop because I had come to the end of a dead end road. My GPS track kept going.

I was lost.

I looked to my right and I could see the road I was supposed to be on. It was a mere stone's throw away, but I would have to back track a mile or so to find a road that cut over to it.

As I drove along the coast the surf appeared much larger than last weekend. At the north end of the swimmer's beach the waves looked a little too large so I drove down to the south end thinking I could take advantage of the break walls. I parked as close as I could, and after installing the float bags and sea sock I carried the kayak down to the southern most part of this crescent shaped beach. The surf here was small, and after one more trip to the car for my gear I was ready to launch.

Waiting for the last of the large set of waves I pushed off and made it through the surf with little more than a bit of water over my front bow.

I turned north after heading out a good distance from shore to not be surprised by an occasional wave breaking across hidden rocks. The coast was rocky, and I kept drifting out further from shore to not get caught in the nasty waves breaking hard against the shore.

Before long the coast became more man-made as I neared the port of Hachinohe. Just before the port was a Temple high up on a hill overlooking the water. I rounded the point here staying well off shore because of the submerged rocks occasionally causing waves to rise up and break seemingly for no reason at all. Once around the bend I took a closer shot of the Temple. The little white dots were seagulls and as I put the camera away I wondered if it was good or bad luck to be shat on when going to the temple to pray. I already know the answer to that question.

I entered the edge of the port and worked my way around only a short distance. Then after exploring a side slip full of small boats, I headed out for one last look at the port and rounded the corner to snap one more picture of the Temple.

On the return trip I stayed in closer to shore. Feeling the swells rise up under me and the sound reverberate as they crashed onto the rocky shore. One last picture and I got serious about paddling back to the beach.

As I got closer to the north end of the beach the waves were huge. I could see green water on the back side of the waves and spray shooting tens of feet into the air. The swells were well spaced and broad out where I was. Based on a rock in front of me that appeared and disappeared with each passing swell I estimated them to be nearly 10 feet high from trough to crest out 100 yards from shore. I began to get nervous about my landing.

The tide had come in a bit, and as I neared the break walls for the swimmer's beach I could see the waves were easily crashing over them. As I turned towards shore I noticed I was catching the attention of quite a few people who came out to walk and sit along the beach. They were probably wondering, like me, how I was going to get in.

My nerves continued to build. These were some big waves. But for each 3-4 set of big nasties, there was a long lull with nothing much to worry about. Timing could be every thing. Heading for the southern edge of the beach, I found the waves just south of the last break wall to be small. I got in just outside the break zone and sat and watched. This was doable. People continued to gather.

After watching the last of a set of nasties crash over the break wall I started paddling in. Feeling the next wave begin to gently pick me up and carry me forward I paddled hard. This wave wasn't big enough to even break, and still it carried me a good ways up the shore. Hopping out and grabbing the bow to pull the kayak on shore I imagined the people watching were commenting how skilled this kayaker must be to make things look so easy.

I carried the gear and boat up to the concrete sidewalk then hoofed it back to the car to get my cart. I was too sore from lack of paddling to carry the boat the 300 yards back. After loading up the car I sat down and had lunch, then started the long drive back to Misawa. Five minutes from home I caught site of the ocean again - off limits to military here.

Here is my GPS track log although I'm sure it is in error because everything north of that big bump is off limits to Military :)

Woody

The Sisters

12.5 miles

Saturday's wind forecast 10-15 MPH; Sunday's 15-20 MPH. So Saturday it would be. I've wanted to do the lower third of Lake Ogawara for a while now.

Shaped like a high-heel boot, my launch location would be at the back of the foot, behind where the ankle is located.

The winds were supposed to be out of the east, an anomaly since I've been here. But as I loaded up the kayak at the shore the waves were coming out of the West. Actually, I should say the ripples were coming out of the west as there was almost no wind. The sun rises at 5:10 today, and by 7:00 am, as I start off on my journey; it seems as if the sun is too high in the sky. By mid-summer, sunrise will be close to 4:00 am.

The first leg of the trip takes me down towards the heel. At least it looks like a heel on the map, but a narrow impassable creek blocks me from actually entering the heel. I stop for a few minutes to survey an old wreck in the water. Some type of floating boat for drilling holes in the lake bottom. Sticking out the front is a long auger bit, and the boat appears to have been scuttled and sitting firmly on the bottom.

I turn west and paddle near the base. There appears to be a road back here that isn't on the base. I'll want to scout this area as a possible put-in in the future. As I'm traveling along, I feel as though something is traveling with me. I look around and find I'm in a cloud of bugs. As they flew along they looked like mosquitoes to me, but I can tell when they land they aren't, but I don't know what they are. I'm not too worried as I'm covered from head to toe in my drysuit. But still, the thought of being in this has me a bit unnerved. The cloud of bugs continues to grow and several times I try to sprint ahead to lose them. But they always catch up, and each time they bring more and more of their friends.

I'm beginning to wish for the wind. The bugs have gotten so thick that almost every other breath has me spitting out these hideous creatures. In my mind I imagine they are saying to one another "Do you think he is too big to carry back to the nest?"

Well, even if I don't know what they are thinking, I certainly know how they taste - yuck!

I try splashing them with water, swatting them with my paddle - but nothing seems to work. There are dead bug carcass' all over my kayak and PFD. Taking off my hat I notice it too is covered. As I get close to the lower edge of the toe, I stop paddling to take a few pictures.

I see a train cross an elevated trestle as I'm getting the camera out, but it passes before I can snap the picture. Panning to my right I take yet another picture of the mountains in the background, and then notice I'm getting close to the park on the western part of the lake.

I'm hungry and decide to go there to eat lunch. But before I start up I notice the cloud of bugs is no longer buzzing around my head. Not a single one! Then I look on my foredeck and see they have all settled onto my deck. I look behind me and find them sunning themselves on the rear deck as well. It's clear to me now what happened.

Ever since they were small pupa, these little bugs have been told that one day a giant yellow flower would come along to carry them off to bug heaven. The bugs were not flying around my head to harass me; they had come to worship the giant flower. I thought for a moment how wonderful it was to believe in such a thing. To fly as fast as you could to catch up to land on this giant flower they had heard about during the long thirty days of their lives. How they must be truly in nirvana now that they had made it to this mystical place that had been spoken about for generation after generation, but never seen. How excited they must be. In a way, I was like a god to them.

So, with a brush of my paddle and a giant scoop of water I washed them off my deck and into the water to certain death.

The wind was starting to blow now out of the East, but with it now hitting me broad side, I didn't pay it much attention. I wouldn't see any more bugs, having shattered the hopes of the few survivors. There will be a different story told to the young pupa tonight.

I finally pulled into shore as a power boat was filling with people in blue exposure suits and bright orange PFDs. I ate my lunch and took a few pictures of a fire circle, an old boat sitting next to the road, and some ducks on the beach. It's interesting that the ducks let me get this close on shore, because in the water they kept a good 150 feet away from me.

One interesting spot I stumbled across was the Legend of Lake Ogawara:

Sign

A few last pictures of the statue, and I headed back towards the boat. I was stopped by an elderly man who did his best to talk with me. But we couldn't understand each other at all. He gestured with his hands all over my clothes and PFD, but his eyes were fixed on the knife strapped to my chest. I wondered if he was trying to warn me if it was illegal. Next time I'll leave the PFD in the boat.

It was time to make my way home. The wind had picked up considerably, but with just enough angle I thought I could use the ridge on my left (top of the foot) to provide a little bit of shelter for about half the return trip.

All along the edge of the lake is dotted with fish traps. It's almost impossible to travel for any length of time near shore without running over nets. The large amount of rebar sticking up out of the water made me a tad more careful than normal.

As I rounded the end of the ridge and headed straight across the lake, the wind got my attention by pulling all the water off my paddle and blowing it back into my face. I feathered my paddle - the first time this year, and dug in for what I guessed to be two miles of wind in the face. Across the open water there wasn't much to keep my mind off the wind, so it seemed even longer than it really was.

But before too long, I beached on the shore. Tired, but knowing that somewhere out there I had left the stress of the previous week...and killed a bunch of bugs.

Woody

Shichinohe Creek

10.2 miles

MAP

Shichinohe Creek isn't the real name of this little stream, but I need to call it something.

Shichinohe Creek is on the toe of the boot of Lake Ogawara, so at around 6:00 am I headed off for the Japanese park on the western side of the lake. I was there by 6:30 and I began to unload the boat from the car. A man a little younger than me came over with his toddler son and surprised me when he said "Good Morning." I returned the greeting and he turned to his son to try and get him to say Good Morning, first in English, and then in Japanese. The little boy was shy and preferred to hide instead behind his father's leg.

There are people everywhere - not a crowd, but for 6:30 am - well, I still haven't gotten used to seeing this many people up early. In the states the only people out as early as I were fisherman, and even then it was rare to see them out this early when the weather was cold. People walking their dogs, bringing their children to the park (mainly small children), all things I'm surprised to see this early.

The lake is calm. The forecast is for building winds out of the SW-W later in the afternoon. As I boarded the yellow flower I notice a small contingent of the cloud of bugs I encountered last weekend. After launching they were gone.

I headed a mile north, past a smaller creek that last week was lined with fisherman. As I approach Shichinohe Creek, the water gets shallow. I don't remember it this way. I thought the entrance was deep, but I forget things a lot so I was probably wrong. Just outside the mouth of the creek is a sand bar with lots of birds standing on it.

Once in the mouth of the creek, near the first bridge, the water got deep again and my speed increased after getting off the shallow sand. For a moment I thought I detected a current - something I missed last week when the wind was blowing hard. Yes - there it is - faint, but a current. Tiny little swirls that I would have missed if there were even the slightest breeze.

As I pushed into the creek, I began to flush ducks from far away. Skittish wildlife. About the time I could see them further up the creek they would take flight. Obvious that they had heard the story of the great flower from the bugs.

I was paddling along not paying attention to anything in particular when I noticed something on my right. A slight movement and then a bigger one as a fisherman cast his line out from his cane pole. I had not noticed him until I was 30 feet away and even then it took his cast to draw my attention. Only one fisherman.

But as I rounded the next corner I find it isn't just one. The shores are lined with people, each with a pole or two in the water. I steer to the center of the creek as to stay out of the way of their lines and begin to count people as I paddle through. Five, ten, thirty five, fifty. When I reached the end of this short stretch I had counted at least seventy-five fishermen. Few were women and children, but most were older men. Needless to say I was their center of attention and I felt uncomfortable. All eyes were on me and it seemed my paddle was making a lot of noise. I stopped a moment, noticing there was a definite current now and my forward progress had slowed. I moved my drip rings further up my paddle shaft so my paddle would enter the water more silently and restarted my cadence.

At the western edge of this stretch is a railroad bridge. This marks the end of the crowd reviewing my progression, but I notice there appears to be rough water under the bridge. It has me puzzled but as I get near I can see it is shallow under the bridge. Rocks are causing strong turbulence. I don't want to turn around just yet, and spot a calmer route near shore. Calmer is a relative term and I had to paddle hard to get through the rushing current and into the calmer water past the bridge. I'm glad I'm using my wide blade paddle today since the bigger bite on the water is helping fight the current.

Still going west I began ferrying from side to side to take advantage of the slower water on inside bends of the creek. It's much shallower there, but in the main stream I can now see sand and small stones being carried along. I need to pee so I find an eddy on the left to pull in and (description of the virtues of a dry suit relief zipper deleted). Back in the boat I find the creek splits. The more rapid stream to my right wanders through the country side. But the current is strong and I would just as soon turn around here. The branch to the left appears calmer and a quick check of my map shows it passes through the town of Shichinohe (hence the name of this article). But a bigger town probably means more trash. I want to go further so I take the slower stream. I pass a few people up on a road operating a purple crane. Seems most cranes are pastel purple and pink.

In the distance I see flying some sort of heron, and a little bird shaped like a swift but a bright turquoise blue in color leads my way up the creek. The creek quickly narrows and increases in speed. Enough is enough and as I decide to turn around. At the last moment I tell myself `one more bend', and when I get there I tell myself `one more'. But this is a losing battle. My progress is almost nil, so I turn around.

I had guessed right about the trash. The water is crystal clear and the bottom has lots of cans, dishes, and other urban trash. The shore is spotted with plastic bottles, and up in the trees for 3-4 feet is plastic bags. 15-15-15 says one bag; fertilizer. At least now I'm moving so fast I'll be out of this section in no time.

Quickly back to where the streams join together I move out towards the stronger flow. I'm enjoying the push, and I paddle normally to increase my speed even more. The trip up the creek I had my rudder down to help keep my bow pointed into the current and to help ferry from side to side. Now I raised it and enjoyed the more maneuverable boat as I used bow & stern paddle rudder and hanging draws to put the boat where I wanted it.

At the railroad bridge I back paddle a bit. The edge along shore still has no fishing lines to fowl so I pass back the way I came. As soon as I pass under the bridge I pull hard to get me back to the center of the creek to stay away from fishing lines. With the current I breeze through the crowd, which is still growing in size.

Just past the crowd I see another branch to the creek I by-passed earlier. I cut hard out of the current and into this side creek, but I don't go far - maybe a quarter mile. It is too shallow so I turn around and head out. It doesn't take long to make it back out to the lake, and once there I settle into a rhythm to move me back towards the park. The wind has risen a bit, and the waves are beginning to kick up. I dropped the rudder to counter the need of my kayak to turn into the wind.

From shore a man is a small boat launches and swings wide around me. He isn't going fast, barely able to catch up to me as he turns behind me and follows me back closer to the beach. Did he think I was in trouble? Did he come out for a closer look? Was he just testing his boat? There didn't seem to be any work related reasons and he headed back to his dock as I got within shouting distance of the park.

The waves have built nicely and are 1-1.5 feet as they come up on the shallow swimming area. The shallow area is so large that the waves have died out by the time they reach shore. I land and haul a few things up to the car. Breaking out lunch I find a place out of the wind to hide. There are some of those bugs here in the wind shadow, but they flee when the yellow flower sits down.

After lunch I go back to the car and get the sea sock. I install it in the kayak and head out into the waves. I have to paddle out a little distance to get in water at least half of my paddle length deep. This is also where the waves are rising to their full height. Perfect. I scull over on my side close to the water a few times and hip-flick back upright. This isn't going to be easy. At least the water isn't as cold as it was up in the creek.

It's been a good six months since I've rolled a kayak. Self doubt has been creeping in all day and coupled with the overall difficulty of rolling this K1 I'm a bit concerned I'll be wet exiting on this first attempt. Set up for an extended paddle roll. and I'm upside down and back upright in seconds. It wasn't easy, and I'm concerned a regular screw roll will be tough. But I have to try it anyway. I make it, but I'm sculling like crazy to make it the last bit. I'll limit the number of rolls to 5-6 to keep from injuring a shoulder. I'm tired after the long paddle - still out of shape from no paddling.

As I head back in I feel a wave start to lift my stern and I pick up speed to catch it. To my surprise I ride it all the way to shore. I toss the K1 on my shoulder and carry it to my car. When I get there I notice my shoulder has bent my thigh brace. @#^%@#^%!!! But when I get home it is easy to bend it back straight. Note to self: always remove the thigh braces before carrying the boat.

Woody

Staying in the Bubble

14 miles

The eastern shore of Ogawara is mostly undeveloped, unlike the more populated western shore. My trip today will take me up the back part of the boot from the Japanese Park to almost the mouth of the little stream heading out to the ocean. A round trip of about 14 miles.

The forecast is for 10-15 MPH winds out of the southwest. The first part of my journey will carry me north - it will be a long paddle back against the wind and I hope the winds do not strengthen beyond the forecast.

Heading north I retrace my first trip on lake Ogawara. But today I will venture much further than that first day. Two thirds of the lake will have been explored by me by the end of today. I cut across a large, but shallow bay. The ridge on the far side of the bay grows closer and with the gentle wind at my back it is no time before I've crossed. It is a nice clear day, and when I get near the ridge I can see 4 cranes slowly but surely cutting it down. As I pass around the tip I notice the wind at my face. The ripples on the water are moving opposite of the waves and I look out across the lake to see if this is caused by the shape of the land, or if the wind is in fact changing directions.

Looking over to the far side I can see smoke moving from the north towards the south. The wind has changed directions, and I'm hopeful it will remain that way to make the paddle back even easier.

Near the top of the lake the ridge fell away and the land flattened out. I could smell the ocean, and here the wind came out of the E/SE. I continued to paddle north across the flat open area and the wind began to increase. I originally had intended to paddle to the mouth of the creek that leads to the sea, but the wind continued to build to the point I knew it would be an unpleasant paddle back if it should continue to blow this hard.

I turned south only a short distance from the creek. It is a long and hard paddle back to the ridge line. The water across this open area was shallow, preventing the waves from getting too large. Mostly about 1.5 feet deep about 1/4 mile from shore, and the wind kept blowing me further out. I altered my course to take me closer to shore. As I neared the ridge the water deepened and I managed to get quite close to shore. Oddly, a car is on the side of the road - the driver's door open and no one around for at least a mile that I can see. Probably napping in the front seat - something I see often around here.

Finally under the protection of the ridge, I nuzzled in closer to get protected from the wind. The ridge provided a big area free from the wind, and I stayed as far out from shore as possible. Subconsciously I kept drifting out into the wind - would catch myself - then paddle back into the bubble. On one spot I noticed where the trees had broken free and slid down to the water, and I paddled in close to investigate. Along with the trees was a lot of trash. I investigated a bit closer and was shocked at just how much trash there really was - all of which had apparently tumbled down with the trees. I pondered a bit, wondering if the trash had caused the trees to give way.

After paddling a while along the ridge, the wind shifted again to the SW. The wind was a little to my right and head on. But by moving in close to shore the wind was slowed to the point I could make easy forward progress. This `bubble' of calm air was all that stood between me paddling back, or beaching and walking out to get the car. The wind was too strong to paddle against out in the open, and I was thankful for this cushion of calm against this ridge.

Near the area where the cranes were cutting the ridge away I pulled ashore for lunch. I wasn't hungry, but knew if I couldn't stay protected from this wind I would need all the strength I could muster. Here I found someone had planted a few small bushes and arranged a log to sit on - a perfect lunch spot. My banana was squashed inside my dry bag, making a mess of my lunch. Back on the water I find the wind is still picking up, and I need to stay within 10 feet of shore to stay out of it.

Before long the ridge gives way to the edge of the park. Some kids are riding down the road on a dirt bike much too large for them. The one in front has the throttle wide open and no helmet. Before long the noise goes away and is replaced by a new one - Jet skis. Only two and one is finishing up as I paddle by. As I get near the second he too goes ashore. Where he disappeared on shore I notice there are lots of jet skis here. I'm not sure if it is a dealership or a rental store. I doubt they spend much time right at shore. The entire return trip my kayak has glided over countless fish nets attached to shore and anchored 50 feet into the water. I doubt the fisherman tolerate jet skis ripping across their nets.

While gliding over the nets myself I discovered a way to attach my rudder raise/lower rope in a manner that automatically pulled the rudder back down when pushed up by a net. Using the reverse of this I've finally solved a problem with car toping the K1 - the rudder often swings out of its cradle. By attaching the bungee above one of the knots on the raise/lower rope, it will keep the rudder firmly against the rear deck. This may help a little when going through surf as well, but I suspect the surf can still dislodge it.

Further along I see the motorcycle lying on the side of the road next to a sign. Out of gas I suspected. They had propped the bike against the sign and it had fallen over while they were gone.

I finally paddle up to shore to land, passing a young mother and her little boy heaving rocks out into the water. In the distance I hear a siren, and in a few moments an ambulance appears. They stop in front of the park office and now the motorcycle on the side of the road makes sense. A few moments later the ambulance drivers step out of the building and I hear a new siren. An ambulance from the base this time. Cars pull over to the side of the road just to watch - one pulls right behind my car, meaning I must muscle the kayak on top over the side. I strap it down and pull away before anyone is brought out to the ambulance. The crowd is growing and the police show up to help with traffic and investigate the accident. A sad ending to the trip.

Woody

Sirocco

A knock on my door and a man asks in broken English "Big boat?"

"hai" (yes)

He takes off jogging down the road and motions for me to follow. At the end of my street is a big truck, too large to make the turn into my street. The boat is already half out when I get there and I grab the stern and follow it back to my yard.

Sirocco Pics

At first glance it looks just like my Gulfstream in shape. On closer inspection the cockpit thigh braces fit a little different. The skeg is smaller when extended, and also takes up less space inside the boat. But other than that it is a clone of the Gulfie.

I couldn't get the sprayskirt on, but I'm taking an adjustable one with me tomorrow just in case I can't get it to fit after it is wet. In the morning I leave for Lake Towada - a volcanic crater that has filled in to create a giant lake. I'll post a trip and performance report when I return in a few days.

Woody

Lake Towada

Lake Towada

13.3 Miles

At an altitude of 1315 feet, Lake Towada is a caldron formed by the eruption of Mt Towada. With a mean depth of 230 feet, and a maximum depth of 1095 feet, Lake Towada's crystal clear waters lure the observer into thinking the water is much shallower than it is.

Originally I had planned to camp on the lake, but finding all the campsites closed, I decided to paddle and then reassess if I wanted to camp or not. I found a parking lot just across from a retaining wall at the water's edge and determined this is where I would launch. I carried the Sirocco and all my gear to the retaining wall and spent the next 15 minutes looking for the sunscreen I had in my hands only minutes before. Giving up I decided (hoped) the sun wouldn't be bright today.

Looking over the retaining wall the water looked to be only ankle deep. As I hopped over the wall into the water I found that it was over my knees. It was at this moment I got my first dose of the clearest water I've ever paddled. And cold. Despite wearing my dry suit I noticed the water seemed just above freezing.

I boarded the kayak and stroked away from shore. The Sirocco felt like an old friend. I closed my eyes and knew I was sitting in my Gulfstream. Time to take her through some paces.

A few leaned turns and a bow rudder or two and I knew this boat was a good buy. This is my Gulfstream.

I headed straight out against the left side of the lake, keeping about 200 feet off shore. The water is a deep turquoise color. I stopped to take a few pictures of the rim of the caldron that runs around the lake. From a distance the rim doesn't look high but seeing a bus winding it's way up the side, I guess there is 300-400 feet of ridge above the water. To my right a tour boat three stories high is heading out into the lake.

I become bored with the scenery this far from shore, and deciding the tour boat knows what to go see, I decide to follow it. Turning right I head to the outermost tip of the first of two peninsulas heading out into the lake.

Crossing this mile of deep and open water I see two, then three tour boats. Before long I have my eyes simultaneously on five large triple decked tour boats. Are there that many tourists here?

The water is like glass except for an occasional swell from a tour boat. As I approach the edge where the first peninsula enters the water I can now see the bottom. Thinking it is only 3 or 4 feet deep I push my paddle down and I'm shocked when my 7 foot paddle doesn't even come close to touching the bottom. The shore is much more interesting than the deep water I had crossed and I spend some time looking down into the water at the boulders near shore. Greens, browns, yellows - all different colors of algae attached to the rocks just below the surface. Some of the boulders on the bank have the color of poured concrete.

I decided to take the camera out again and found it would not turn on. Back at home I found it is fried - the smell of burning electronics emanating from it. It was well protected in a clear camera bag, so I have no idea what happened.

Crossing the 1.5 miles from one peninsula to the other I began to feel like I was crossing a major shipping channel. All five tour boats crossed my path at least once in the 30 minutes it took to get across. At the second peninsula I began to notice the high shore and how it affects the nearby water. Steep cliffs ran next to water that turned deep quickly in the water. For sloping cliffs I found the bottom sloped gently away from the bank. There were outcroppings just below the surface and one moment I would be worrying about scrapping the bottom of the boat and the next drifting across a shear drop into darkness.

A tour boat went by loaded with people. I could hear what seemed like hundreds of shutters clicking as they passed. This would be the only tour boat today that had more than 3-4 people on it.

The Sirocco spun on edge as just past the second peninsula I turned around. My eyes had touched all the walls of the caldron, and having paddled a little over 5 miles so far, knew that this was enough.

I crossed back to the first peninsula but this time hugged the shore on around. I found a place to land and take a quick break. I picked up a few pebbles from in the water. I'll mail them home to my kids with the URL to this story and hope that they'll feel connected as they read it.

Back in the boat I began skirting the edge of the shallow and deep water and saw a monstrous fish. Probably a good 20 pounds and at least 15 feet down just staring back at me - motionless.

I moved back over the shallow water and saw several good sized carp looking fish. Nothing like the monster I saw a moment ago. I neared the launch for the tour boats, passing a statue of two (naked) women. Passing a small island maybe 7 or 8 boat lengths long, I noticed what appeared to be two small shrines. On closer look my guess is they are bird houses in the shape of shrines. The shore is lined with people walking between the parking lots and the statues.

Finally crossing behind the tour boats I made a last turn towards my launch location. I didn't want to end the trip, but I was tired and feeling a bit of sun. On landing I carried most of the gear to the car (including the sunscreen that I found in the day hatch) then went back and got in the boat. Sculling brace - that was easy. Onside roll - easy too. Offside roll - this seems too easy. But an ice cream headache is starting to set in with this cold water. It seemed to rush into my left ear for some reason, despite me trying to readjust my Warmers cap several times.

I decided to try a high brace on the move - that too seemed easy. Once more and I was done. I'll try a little more tomorrow on Lake Ogawara where the water is a bit warmer.

As I landed and stood up I realized the cold water had had an effect I wasn't prepared for. I was dizzy. Not just a little, but enough my eyes couldn't focus. I sat on the bank a few moments to get my equilibrium back and then carried the boat back to the car. I had had my fun. I t was time to head back to Misawa.

Woody

Rolling practice

It's hard for me to be completely objective, but on rolling, the new Sirocco seems a tad easier. I hit every high brace on the move on both sides today. Maybe from the extra buoyancy from the dry suit? It had been over 6 months since I've put in any time with rolling practice and I expected it to be much more difficult, but found it slightly easier.

I've always felt the Gulfstream needed just a little more skeg for real high winds, and I think the Sirocco needs it even more. The Sirocco skeg (and skeg box) are smaller than the Gulfstream, and the range of slider movement for the skeg is less. The Sirocco responds a little better to sweep strokes when held flat, and much better when edged.

My trusty Warmers polar Tec cap has been failing me the last 2 days. Water floods in to my ears at an alarming rate. Not sure why. I'll need to find ear plugs soon because the cold water on my left ear really bothers me.

The day hatch and rear hatch leaked. Not a lot, but more than I believed I should accept for the small amount of rolling I did (probably 5-6 tablespoons in ~10 rolls). Front hatch remained dry as a bone.

Plastic is more slippery than fiberglass. I dropped the boat off the side of the car when loading it. I was paying more attention to the car that had parked right behind me when it slipped off the rear saddle. No harm since I still had a firm enough grasp to slow it down as it banged to the ground.

The medium (snap dragon) sprayskirt will just not fit. Once stretched on the coaming the deck is not wide enough to wrap around the coaming on the sides. The dealer in Tokyo is mailing me a large.

This boat really turns with a bow rudder! I think it is also better heeled on edge than the Gulfstream as well. When paddling in reverse I seemed much more in control. The Gulfie wants to resist turning when paddling backwards, and once started try's to turn out of control - The Sirocco responded as well to a leaned turn when going in reverse as it does when going forward.

I feel the boat sits a tad higher in the water at the cockpit. This is probably due to the 20 lbs I've lost though. The bow on the other hand, seems to sit a bit lower. This may be because I've gotten used to the big bow of the K1. I haven't had it out in any waves to speak of yet, so it remains to be seen how well it plunges through them.

I can lean back easier in this boat. Laying back on the rear deck seems like I'm closer to the water. The rear deck may be a tad lower although the depth of both boats is listed as 14 inches. When laying on the rear deck the boat seems more stable than the Gulfie (because of the wider beam?).

The cockpit is an inch longer and I notice it is much easier for me to hop in and out. This will come in handy when launching/landing in the surf. There are 7 more gallons of volume on the Sirocco - I suspect part of that comes from the plastic not having quite the concave curve in the bow that the Gulfstream has, as well as the extra 1/4" beam.

I didn't try a static brace or a hand roll (I couldn't do either in the Gulfstream). I had to paddle out about 300 feet to get into water deep enough to roll, and I was afraid if I had to wet exit someone would call the police so I'll wait for warmer water to attempt the hand roll. The sculling brace seemed easier. My arms are quite sore from yesterday, but today I made an effort to stretch them out before rolling and this helped prevent them from getting worse.

I heeled the boat really far up on edge and held it there as I paddled it. Again, this seemed much easier than the Gulfstream but I'm not sure why. This may be because of the thigh braces giving me better support. Equally easy for me on both the left and right side.

I can't begin to speak to the amount of confidence I regained by playing in this boat today. Going out in some large swell and breaking waves will put me 100% back in the game.

More practice

I dropped the boat at the edge of the water on the base beach. The first time I've launched on the lake from here. Friday afternoon after a long workday. I'm here to practice.

My hanging draw isn't working well. The bow or stern wants to wander and keep me from holding a straight line. I also bleed off speed faster than I would like.

My bow rudder is freaking awesome. My high brace on the move is getting close to never missing - on both sides. I think I missed one offside high brace out of ten. Low brace turns are elegant and graceful. I'm finding it easier to choose which side to roll up on based on my paddle position.

I'm trying to learn some reverse sweep rolls, but I'm afraid I'm doing them wrong. My arms seem to be too far out away from me - adding risk of shoulder injury. I'll need to spend some time with a book before going out again.

I'll be glad when the water warms to wet suit temps so I can shed the dry suit. The dry suit is too buoyant when upside down and I'm anxious to find out how well my rolls and high brace work once the dry suit is gone.

I put in some ear plugs to keep the cold water out of my ears. What a difference it made. I found I could hang upside down much longer, and I had zero disorientation when I rolled back up. Of course I also had a bad case of CHS, but since there were no boats out, there wasn't much danger in not being able to hear.

I can't hand roll yet, but I can roll up by pushing down on my floating paddle about 75% of the time. Dry suit is certainly helping by adding flotation. My balance brace was working too, but again I think the dry suit is helping me stay above water.

C-to-C was working pretty well, and to make it more difficult I choked up on the paddle - one hand at the base of the blade, the other at the mid-point of the paddle.

I still need more work on a sculling brace on my off side. There is still a large gap between my on and off side.

Scouting the Beach

I managed to finally make it down to the local beach yesterday - the one that is off limits to swimmers and water sports (is kayaking a water sport?).

I wish my camera would hurry back from the shop - it'd be much easier to show you guys a few pictures rather than describe it, but I'll try...

Waves were _huge_ - and dumping - and looked bad enough that I'd never consider launching in those type conditions, and I would have to put in a few words with the big guy if I was forced to land/crash ashore in them.

About every 500-600 feet was a jetty. Made from concrete blocks, they started on shore and went straight into the water for about 100 feet - perpendicular to the shore.

I walked out to the end of one jetty - there was a strong rip on one side. Get caught in it and you would be whipped dangerously close to the jetty and battered by waves against it.

The waves started breaking regularly about another 100-150 feet out. Then there was line after line of continuous breakers all the way into shore. Big breakers. The largest just beyond the jetty. There would be no way to time going through the breakers because they broke in random areas - not in defined lines like I'm used to seeing.

The weather was nasty all weekend, so maybe I just picked a bad day.

Several things I noticed:

1) Spray paint on some concrete that said "locals only"

2) Sand dollars everywhere

3) Bumper sticker on a post that read "Misawa surf raiders"

4) Black sand. Rough. Course. Getting maytaged could mean a bad case of road rash (if you're lucky). It was also deceivingly difficult to drive on - like regular deep sand, but it looked firm because it was black.

5) Recent camp fires

Woody

Forbidden Coast

14.3 miles

The cuckoo bird outside my window is driving me crazy. Anyhow, somewhere around 5:30 am I got up and finished packing my gear. My goal today is to paddle the western side of lake Ogawara. I'll launch from the creek that leads out to the ocean on the northern tip, and paddle down the west side until I get tired.

The spot I had scouted in the winter is about 10 miles north of home, but it still takes me close to a half hour to get there. As I'm bumping down the dirt road to get to the launch those blasted gnats as attacking my car in swarms. I don't want to get out of the car, and the fishermen on the far side of the creek must have known about the gnats because not a single person is on this side of the creek.

The launch is not how I remember it. The water is way down and it would be a treacherous climb back up the hill if I make it down. So I head back to the main road with the goal of going to the other side of the creek. When I cross the bridge I decide instead to turn right, and head up the creek towards the ocean. Just to see what is up that way.

I can paddle back into the lake from the creek. At least this is the new plan that is changing by the moment. At the end of the road is a jetty lining both sides of the creek and extending out into the sea. The climb down the bank into the creek isn't too bad here. After putting everything in the boat and moving the car to the side of the road I can't help thinking how nice it would be to paddle on the ocean today. Nearly flat seas and almost no breakers on the beach. But this coast is forbidden. Off limits to me because some scuba diver years ago got hung up and drown. Rip tides we're told. It is a 2 hour drive south to the nearest safe beach.

As I head towards the lake I see a blue wall up ahead. Not sure what it is at first, but closer inspection tells me it is a dam. Damn.

I hadn't noticed it before. The bridge I crossed was a dam. I can't get back to the lake from here so I head back towards the car.

Then I noticed the current. It was running somewhere between .001 and 100 knots. In any event, I couldn't escape its pull. I was being sucked out into the pacific ocean.

I was a good 1/2 mile off shore when it finally released me. To play it safe I turned north to make sure I was clear of the current. I suspected it was only a temporary current that could be easily navigated when I returned.

As I headed north I paddled further and further out to sea. The wind was blowing stiffly out of the NW, and I was able to make pretty good time heading NE. But I was looking forward to the free trip back. Because of the wind I took out my tow belt and put it on, clipping the line into a deck line behind me. This far from shore would be a bad thing if I were to loose my kayak, as the wind would easily blow it out to sea faster than I could swim.

There were several distinguishing features to the north: Inland about 4 miles, were some large wind driven electric generators. They weren't moving today, but I thought it was cool I could see them this far out. Further north was what appeared to be a large jetty. I could see oil tanks on shore near there, so I assumed this was a port of some type. It didn't seem that far north so I picked that as my destination (err, I mean, I believed I would be safe from that evil creek current there).

Not much along shore and from 2 miles out about all I could see was an occasional car driving on the beach. The paddle north was a long one against this wind. 5 1/2 miles to the jetty. Mountains further to the north, I entertained the idea of paddling that far up if I felt ok by the time I got to the jetty. The sea was flat. No swells out this far at all. The only waves were wind blown and they were coming from shore at about 1 foot high. I finally turned and started heading more towards shore. There seemed to be a break in the middle of the jetty and I decided to head towards it.

The water was crystal clear with no sediment that I could see. But out here it looked deep. I moved in more towards shore and from no where I felt the first swell. It came from behind me and lifted me up a good 3 feet before setting me back down. A good reminder to keep an eye towards the sea.

At the jetty I now see the break in the middle is not a break at all. The jetty ends here and to the seaward side is a giant rectangular man made island. The island stretches across the port to another jetty, creating an artificial protected harbor. Cool. If you can picture this: Two jetties about a

Western Leg

9.5 miles

After not being able to paddle for a month, to paddle two days in a row is a real treat for me. I knew the base beach would be officially opening today, so I got there early and started paddling about 9:00.

I headed NW against a breeze towards the western side of the lake. I wanted to try and cover a decent portion of the western side of the lake today. It was a mile and a half crossing to the far side to the fishing village I visited when snow was still on the ground.

The fishing village was completely different than the last time I was here. Before, the water was lined with boats pointing out from shore, waiting for their skippers to take them out. Today, the boats were out, and the shore was lined with little white trucks waiting for the skippers to return with the day's catch. I regret not having my camera with me today, as I think the contrasting pictures would have been cool. I will make a special trip back when my camera is repaired just for such a picture.

I paddled northward along the shore until I came to another fishing village. This is the third such village I knew about on the lake, and I wondered how such a small lake could support such pressure. This village actually had docks, although it was smaller than the first. The captains were in their boats not far from shore so I paddled out to see what they were doing.

Most boats had two people, a man and a woman, probably husband and wife. The man was standing in the water when it was shallow enough, scooping up the bottom with what looked like a milk crate. He would jiggle it a bit then hand it to the woman, who refined the contents even more by leaning over the boat and swishing the crate around. Eventually there would be a bit of small freshwater shellfish left inside.

If the water was too deep to stand in, the crate was affixed to a long pole and the pole was used to manipulate the crate in the water while the man stood in the front of the boat. This looked heavy because he would jiggle the contents for quite awhile before bringing the crate aboard.

Paddling again north I came to yet another fishing village, again smaller than the previous two. I didn't get in close to inspect this one as the wind had changed directions 180 degrees. Yes, I would battle a head wind again.

As I headed back to the base beach, the wind continued to pick up. The 4.5 mile trip back seemed to take forever, and I was quite tired as I neared the shore. Here it is the end of May and I'm feeling a bit self-conscious about still wearing a dry suit. People are setting out in canoes with nothing more than shorts - and I'm covered head to toe in a dry suit. Another week or two and I should be in my wet suit.

A band was getting ready to play, and people are arriving as I eat my lunch. I pack up and head for home, feeling every one of the 23 miles I put in this weekend.

Woody

Surfing

Water Temp: 58 degrees f

Sea fog all around the house. Hopefully it will burn off before I get to the beach.

When I pull in it is clearing up, and the breakers are gently spilling over each other. A beach launch today. I'm easily though with little more than spray on my glasses.

Once well outside the breakers I take off my helmet and stash it in the cockpit and replace it with a wide brim hat. I head south.

It looks to be clearing in front of me, but to the east it is still foggy and I make note to keep an eye on it. After a short mile it looks like the fog is moving back so I turn around and head north back to the launch. I'll play in the surf rather than risk being fog bound.

After putting my helmet back on, I probably surfed in 4 or 5 waves with nothing more than a low brace to keep me up. I'd brace hard on the down wave side to try and keep the boat running as straight as possible, and when I could no longer hold it out of a broach I'd switch sides and brace into the up wave side. Caught in the foam I'd move the brace towards the rear of the boat, and as the foam hit the bow it would spin me around and I'd be racing towards the beach again.

Rarely did any waves develop much of a curl, and I often took a wave across my back as I was waiting for a better wave to ride. But I didn't manage to make it through the morning without getting knocked over. I wet exited and dragged the boat ashore to dump it out. In hind sight I have no idea why I didn't roll up. There was no pressure - the wave quickly released me and I could have, but I reached for the grab loop instead.

After dumping the boat I headed out again to catch another 6 or 8 rides before calling it a morning. The fog was back and as I packed up my gear there were times I couldn't see my car 100 feet away. I was glad I had turned around when I did. I was glad I spent some time in the surf. And I think I should spend some time rolling in them.

Woody

Surfing part 2

It rained hard from about 3 am till 5 or 6. Today is supposed to be nice. By 7 am the clouds were all gone and by 8:30 I'm on the road north back to the beach I was at yesterday.

The waves aren't spilling as gently as they were yesterday. A little more curl to them today. Oddly I'm the only one out here - no surfers, no fishermen, no beach combers.

Launching: I've tried in the past to use a paddle on one side and my hand on the other to walk myself into the water once the spray skirt is on. Today I used two hands with the paddle across my cockpit. This seemed to work a little better. Better control over the boat and I could scoot faster towards the waves.

I spent a lot of time broached. Actually on purpose since these waves seemed perfect to practice side surfing. I can't say I could control where I was going, but I did get more comfortable with staying upright.

I didn't wear my dry suit today, opting instead for my wet suit and a splash jacket. I've been giving thought about why I didn't roll up from yesterday, and I think some of it may have had to do with the buoyancy of the dry suit. It was an odd feeling. I measured the water temp at 58 degrees yesterday and since I was close to shore I decided on the wet suit.

I had a few great surfing runs - running down the face of the wave and then cutting back over the wave and pointed back out to sea. More luck than control. After a while I learned it was easier to sometimes "back out" through the waves if my bow was pointed towards the beach at the end of my run. It seemed easier to take the waves across my back then to take them across my chest, but for the moment the wave was passing I felt I didn't have a lot of bracing control. While paddling forward through the waves I could "reach over" the back side into solid water for good support.

In any event, backing out was easier than trying to turn the boat in the surf zone. But I did, over the course of the morning, work on turning in the surf - leaning the boat over in the calm between waves, or spinning it with a strong sweep stroke on the crest of a wave.

One exciting run had me racing down the face of a smaller wave, cut over the top (I was broaching - again no control), catch the larger wave right behind it and side surf until the bow swung towards the beach then ride it until broaching in the opposite direction.

About half the waves, maybe a little more, could be handled with just a low brace when side surfing. High braces for the more powerful waves. There were times when all you could see was soup and me - the boat completely lost in the bubbling foam.

I had planned to practice some rolling in this stuff, but got too tired before getting around to it. Something saved for another day.

Woody

Expensive Surfing

The tide is down on the beach. No one around except north, in the haze, I can make out someone walking the beach.

The large breakers are a ways out. I am content with the idea of staying closer to shore. An elderly man approaches from the haze. He asks me something I don't understand. I think it has something to do with rolling from his actions.

I play in the soup and smaller breakers for an hour or so, paddling parallel to shore. Surfing, bongo sliding, practicing a roll or two. I am careful about choosing when to roll as the water is pretty shallow.

Nearby, down a little from where I launched, something is causing the waves to bend and wrap as they come ashore. The beach is straight, so I assume it has something to do with the shape of the sand under water. Waves are running at 90 degrees to the shore in this area, and on the outer edge of this zone they collide with the waves running in parallel to the beach. Some exciting fun.

I find myself parallel to a large wave just as it rises up to break over me. I'm not sure if it is sucking me down or rising above me. Just as it curls I'm in the tube for a moment. After bongo sliding a ways, being pulled deeper and deeper into the wave, it finally spits me out the top of the wave.

I beach for a rest. The kayak pulled well up the beach and over the hump to make sure it won't be swept away by a large wave. I collect probably 20 sand dollars in my walk down the beach, along with some unusually colored shells.

Back at the boat I focus mainly on surfing. There are a few surfers in the water now, so I move further down the beach to make sure I stay out of their way.

I finally decide to "punch through" past the outside breakers. I sit and watch for a long time, and finding a lull I easily make it out with only a strong slap of a breaking wave across the chest.

Now I am out. Time to go back in. I paddle slowly toward the shore watching for a large set of waves to see where the outer break line will be. Once I know, I will hold outside and wait for another lull. I thought I have found that zone when I look behind me and know I am in trouble.

A set of monster waves are rolling in. I begin to back paddle hard; it is too late to turn around. I am elevated into the air by the huge wave - it breaks about 10 feet from me when it passes. I look over my shoulder and a bigger wave is on its heels. Again I am back paddling hard and I remember looking straight down at my bow rising out of the trough of the wave before the crest passed my cockpit and the stern slammed down on the back side of the wave with a loud WHACK. My guess is the wave was maybe 7-8 feet in height. The wave breaking immediately in front of me.

That was scary, but not as bad as I again look to the sea to see another big wave. The last I hoped, and I half expect this one to not be as large as the one just passed, but I am back paddling hard anyway. I look to my side as the wave begins to tumble. I can hear the water start to hiss and crackle as it falls down the face just before passing me. To my left is a sheer wall of water.

I hadn't seen any waves this big all day. Certainly not this many in a row and as I slam down on the back side of the wave I catch sight of the next wave. I know that although I am still back paddling and further out then when the first wave passed, I will not avoid this one.

Again I am staring down at my bow in the trough of the wave. I'm 'standing' on the foot pegs and nearly laying on my rear deck as my kayak pitched vertically. Instinctively I reach up and behind me to brace into the top of the wave. As the wave breaks it covers me and pitches me forward. Immediately I am upside down. But I am calm - just waiting for the wave to release me so I can roll up. I have my unfeathered paddle in one hand. The drag I feel will have me off the wave in no time. But a long few moments later I feel the paddle leave my hand. It is obvious from the feel it has snapped in to two pieces.

Now upside down - spending more time on the wave than I want, and because the paddle broke right in my hand, I don't even have a half paddle to roll up with. I wait till I know I was mostly off the wave and wet exit. I keep hold of the kayak but I know I have to move to the ocean most end quickly. Another big wave is approaching and I don't want to lose the boat or get it slammed into me. I grab the stern toggle and hold on. As the wave passes the boat it pulls me quite strongly toward shore. This is too violent and strong for me to even attempt to get my spare paddle off the rear deck and perform a reenter and roll. I will have to hang on.

Ahead and a little to my right I see my neoprene cap. It has been ripped from my closed pfd pocket. I tow the boat more in its direction and a few waves later I catch up with it. I occasionally catch sight of half of my paddle floating with the blade in the air like a waterborne stop sign. The weight from the extra shaft in this piece is causing the paddle to stand on end.

I finally get into a zone that is calm enough I feel I can get my spare paddle. After I assemble it I touch bottom with my feet. Close enough now to just go ashore, I walk in to the beach.

On shore I drag the boat up and pull off my pfd and skirt. I begin to walk up the beach looking for my broken paddle. Not seeing it I turn around and walk back and spot the big half near where I had come ashore. The paddle is broken on the right side were my hand was holding it.

I search a bit more for the small half. I begin to give up when I see a `fin' flash in the water near the jetty. Now I have both halves. Hard to just give up on a $220 paddle.

Now I'm in search of a good surf paddle. Something that can take the abuse, yet not wear me down to the point of exhaustion when touring at sea. I suspect if I had been paddling feathered the paddle would not have broke, but I was still disappointed at how little pull I was feeling when it snapped.

Woody

Lessons Learned

9 June 2002

I'm off to go kayaking on the base lake. High winds, but still beats the heck out of breaking paddles in the surf ;)

Gonna work on paddling feathered - actually, work on rolling and all the other stuff - the paddling is easy. Gonna have to get used to the less support provided by the whetstone paddles - that swift had a big blade and made braces a piece of cake. I'm probably going to have to get the swift repaired/replaced before taking my 3 star test.

Several things I'm still angry about from yesterday - primary one that I had equipment fail on me and that got me into a bit sticky of a spot. Once I went over upside down and was being dragged along by the wave I felt back in control - just waiting for the time to roll back up, but when the paddle broke I went from one extreme to the other - no control. Until yesterday my greatest fear was the pitching over part. Would I get a mouthful of water? Would I smash myself into something? Would my kayak get pulled from my body? Once upside down and surfing along with the wave I regain control of that fear because I know I just need to wait a few more seconds then roll up. Yesterday may have changed that control feeling I have upside down, and I may need to focus on what my paddle is actually doing. If being pulled at strongly, should I just let it go?

I was a bit concerned that in that zone, even though I had a spare paddle, conditions were great enough that I was afraid I might lose the spare or the boat if I attempted to retrieve it off the back deck. I guess riding it out was the best I could hope for. Even when I did take the paddle off the rear deck, I pulled off a drip ring getting it out from under the bungee. I then had to waste time getting it back on (I think it would have sunk if I had dropped it). I'm thinking of taking off my drip rings all together when not paddling in cold water. I also didn't like the idea of letting go of the boat to assemble the paddle, but that was well timed between waves. I could have stuck an arm through a deck line I guess, but by then I was too close to shore to care if the boat got away from me or not.

Looking at whetstone's web site (I have a T-1 and T-2 whetstone) I think their lay-ups may be a little stronger than the swift paddles. The less blade area should mean less forces acting on it to break it in half. Paddling feathered would keep both blades from dragging through the water under high load. Maybe the combo of all the above will keep me from breaking another paddle... I'm just going to have to learn to instinctively brace with a feathered paddle, which could be a job in and of itself... (I had just noted to myself yesterday that my high and especially my low, braces were getting instinctive)

The other thing I'm mad about is that after the first wave narrowly missed, I should have paddled like hell in as close behind it as possible. When the second wave over took me it would have been nothing but strong soup, and certainly would have saved the paddle even if it flipped me.

Never been in a wave that big. The 4-5 footers out at Assateague were nasty - maybe even more powerful as far as bouncing me around, but not nearly as big. The one where I was looking straight down into the trough I thought I might fall forward it was so steep, and my bow was raising out of the trough when my cockpit finally crossed the top of the wave. When my stern slammed down on the back of the wave, that too caught me by surprise.

I can't help wondering if I may have cracked that shaft sometime in the past, it simply didn't feel like it was pulling that hard on my arm. On the other hand, maybe it was a sudden jerk, and if it hadn't of broke, it might have dislocated my shoulder.

Lots of info for me to digest. I'm not sure why my neoprene cap got sucked out of my closed pfd pocket. My camelback, pump, and paddlefloat stayed on my deck - I think I finally have that lashing combination down (although the pump handle was fully extended - would have been easy to break it off in that position).

Position in the water is something I need to look at also. The waves were breaking much bigger/further out near the jetty, and I may have drifted closer to it as I was back paddling. If I had paddled forward and to my right the waves might never have broke near me.

Water was cold, but I was ok for the first 10 minutes or so. After that my legs began to tingle - no shivering, so I don't think I was getting hypothermic, but my legs felt pretty fatigued when I did get to shore, possibly from walking against the strong undertow the last 50 feet to shore, possibly from the cold, or both. Water temp was 58 degrees, and I was wearing a polartec farmer john, rash guard shirt, and a splash jacket. I would not have wanted to be in the water much longer than I was.

Earlier in the day I rolled in a wave and felt the water get a hold of my helmet and try to pull it from my head. After that I snugged down the chin strap and that seems to have made a difference because I didn't notice that feeling the rest of the day.

I've been told to keep a watchful eye towards the sea at all times, and I was yesterday. When I saw the large swells rolling in, I should have immediately started back paddling. Instead I wasted a good 15 seconds watching, and maybe hoping they weren't going to rise up like I expected.

I always wear a pfd, but this reinforces my conviction to wear one 100% of the time on the water. If I had lost my kayak (the boat actually pulled me ashore by being dragged along with the waves) it would have been a long swim. I could at least count on the pfd to bring me back to the surface after each wave crashed over my head.

My new snapdragon sprayskirt with implosion bar is superb. It really took a licking and except for the wet exit and the water running down the small of my back when rolling, it kept out all the water and not once did I feel it was close to compromising the entire day.

There was a weird experience earlier in the day I had that I forgot to include in the trip report. I found myself parallel to about a 3' wave just as it rose up to break over me. I'm not sure if it was sucking me down, rising above me or both. Just as it curled I found myself in the tube for a moment. After bongo sliding a ways, being pulled deeper and deeper into the wave, it finally spit out the top of the wave. It is an awkward feeling being pulled down into a wave (but a blast being spit out the top).

The surfers never offered help, maybe because I never asked for it. I'm glad they stayed out of the way as my flooded boat came ashore. After being pushed towards shore by the next 2 waves after I wet exited, I felt completely back in control again. But 2 of the 3 surfers went ashore and loaded up their gear while all of this was happening. I think I would have felt a little better if they had stayed at least near shore until they were sure I was ok.

I held on to the toggle on the stern with one hand. I made sure not to get my fingers in the line running to the toggle. I ducked underwater as the first 2 big waves passed over. There was a strong pull on me as the waves grabbed my kayak, but never to the extent I felt I was in danger of dislocating a shoulder (but on the other hand, I didn't feel my paddle was being pulled hard enough to snap either).

I did get an up close and personal look at when a wave just starts to break from the back side of it. Not sure I learned anything from it, but it was interesting to see the green water of the back side of the wave start to fill with air bubbles as the wave began to break.

Anyway, I'm not sure this was as much a lessons learned report as it is additional observations I should have put in the original trip report.

Woody

Sea Fog

17 June 2002

Fog. It had been foggy all week. Thick sea fog in the morning, with rain and thick gray clouds in the afternoon. I had read in the paper that June through July historically saw Misawa 50% of the time being socked in by sea fog. A cold sea current sweeps down from the north and mixes with the warm air over the mainland of Japan to create a fog that lasts 5 days at a time.

When I arrived at the launch, the fog was fairly thick. My goal this weekend is to stay between shore and the outer breakers. First paddling north in the `soup', practicing bracing on my right side. Then turning south I would paddle back practicing on my left. The trick is, I'm switching to paddling feathered, and I figure this will accelerate the learning process.

The wind is out of the southeast. An easy paddle north I think. But before unloading the boat from my car, I go for a walk. North along the beach to survey the large amount of erosion that has taken place from the tropical depression that blew up the coast during the week. What started as a typhoon, quickly died out as it met with the cooler ocean currents coming down from the north.

After walking for about a quarter of a mile, I turn to head back to the car. I won't paddle today. The wind is too great.

As I walk along I ponder what I've read about waves, rips, and undertow. At sea a swell moves through the water with ease, but along with this massive amount of energy, the water moves hardly forward at all. Surface water moves up and down with the crests and the trough, but after the swell has passed the water is essentially in the same place it started.

So what causes the great rips from the beach back to sea? Where does this excess water come from?

To answer, we must first know water must move towards shore, before it is required to escape back to sea. This comes in the way of a broken wave.

Once broken, all that white `soup' is being pushed towards shore. Water. A beach which has dumpers right on the beach may burst in a powerful crash, but moves little water. But waves which begin breaking far offshore and continue to tumble as soup all the way to shore moves massive amounts. It's ironic that the more gentle sloping beaches, which cause waves to break early and continue as foam towards shore, will have the strongest rips, the strongest undertow. While beaches with waves breaking right on shore will seem violent on the beach, just outside the breakers will be calm.

Today there is little curl to the waves. The wind is blowing them over before they can rise up too high. White foam everywhere and the rips are strong and furious.

18 June 2002

The fog is even thicker this morning. Maybe 1/4 to 1/2 mile visibility at times. But there is no wind.

The waves grab my immediate attention. I'm always nervous when I first see them. Always intimidated. Even the smallest of waves initially seems too much for my skill level. I drive far down the beach, parking about 200 feet from a fence that runs into the water. There were no signs on the fence the last time I was here - I have no idea the purpose.

Out of the car I walk down to the water to watch the waves. It's during this period my mind begins to balance my skill level against the sea. The waves have a defined curl to them today, but they are not tall. The first set of breakers is in closer to shore. This I can do.

When I launch I keep myself from drifting out too far. Timing the waves and a sudden burst of speed to get me around the fence posts in the water. I don't want to side surf into those things. Once past the fence the water characteristics change. Breaking more towards shore, side surfing me more violently in. This feathered paddle is awkward in my hands, but I remain upright. I soon find myself pointed out from the beach at 45 degrees. Enough to keep the waves from broaching me most of the time. Paddling slowly I move in and out from shore, ever so slowly inching down the beach.

I hoped today I would make it to the mouth of Lake Ogawara. But fatigue begins to settle in as I fight my way along the shore. This is no easy task. Many times I find myself stranded up the beach with no water under my kayak. It is during one of these times, while fighting to turn my kayak back towards the sea while sitting on the sand, that I remember another trick I had read. I lean my kayak over 90 degrees so as to create maximum rocker, and easily spin the boat to where I wanted it.

A few more times getting side surfed up to the shore and I know it is time to turn back. But a quick stop on the beach. Walking north I hope to see the mouth of the lake, but this fog prevents it. I have no idea how far I've come. The fence has long been hidden deep in the fog. I also notice this beach is much more cluttered. No one has picked over this debris. I become nervous about what the fence means.

Before getting back in the boat I decide to test another idea. Grabbing my painter I begin walking south pulling my kayak in the shallows. If I ever find myself ashore away from my launch, with breakers too large to go through, I wanted to know if it was possible to get my kayak back by walking along shore in the shallows. At least in an area such as this, the answer is yes, but it is a long and slow walk. My kayak was turned upside down several times, but it would work in a pinch.

Back in the kayak I head south. My offside seems a little better because it got a little practice while heading north. I seem to find myself on the beach more often so I head a little further out. Curling waves catch me more often, but they aren't big and most of them I can power my way over them after only a short side surf.

Before long I see the fence and someone in the surf fishing. As I get close he wisely backs towards shore and pulls in his line. But I beach before I get to him - I don't want to risk side surfing into him.

I pack my gear and load the boat on the car. Before leaving I notice there is a new sign on the fence. "U.S. Air Force Installation"

Oh boy. How close I must have been to getting in real hot water. To top things off I realize I had left my ID in my car.

Driving out I decide to find the mouth of Ogawara by car. Along the coast road I find myself in front of a sign which clearly shows the mouth dead center inside a restricted area. There is no way to get there. I know that somewhere north of the base is a bombing range. Is this it? It is pretty small, but the red lines extend far into the sea. I turn and head home.

Woody

Scouting Trip

There is no kayaking in this report - only a scouting trip.

My goal was to find a launch location in the sea port north of Lake Ogawara. I had paddled the ocean from the north tip of Lake Ogawara to the port and back, and I was looking for someplace to continue my northern journey.

It had been raining all week, and with winds forecast for 20-30 mph, I knew I wouldn't be paddling today. But I was unprepared for what I saw when I first caught sight of the sea state.

There were large whitecaps far out to sea. And the large artificial island (sea break) protecting the port had waves spraying 20 feet into the air as they crashed into it. This sea wall is about 20 feet high to start with, so I was impressed with the power in these awesome waves.

On the beach there was wall after wall of green, curling wave sets. There was a strong dumping surf right on the beach, as well as two more lines of curling waves a little further out. The waves crashed with ferocity, violence and a loud roar.

Exploring the port, which is mostly sea walls with a good 10-15 foot drop to the water, I did manage for find a small beach that would be an easy carry from the parking lot. A ship was exiting the port as I was looking around, and I should have paused a moment to watch it navigate out of the port, but my mind was set on exploring.

Back in the car I continued north looking for additional beaches from which I could launch. With surf so big, this wasn't the ideal scouting trip - all the beaches looked too treacherous.

I finally ended my trek north in a little town at the base of the mountains. Here the waves were breaking clean. So large they appeared to be moving in slow motion. As they exploded on the shore and in lines a little further out, the water would shoot up to a height twice the height of the original wave. I wondered if a kayaker could survive such a pounding.

In this little town, the children ran the streets freely - as though they rarely encountered a car. Darting back and forth across the street, often in front of my car - they seemed oblivious to me even being there. Here the seawall protecting the town had water spilling over it.

I headed back south to what has become my ocean `play spot'. I wanted to see how bad the waves were for my own reference.

I was a bit shocked to find most of the beach was gone. Normally it is about 150 feet wide, but today it is less than 50, and in places I actually had to drive in the upper reaches of the wave surge. The beach is strongly eroded, with a steep drop-off to the water.

A small one-lane bridge across the little creek that leads to Ogawara is now open. It has been closed off since I've been coming here. So I venture across and down to the beach to scout the beach south. The beach is steeper than the other side, and the waves crashing harder. The last break is dumping on the beach, and sloshing up the steep shore. When the water rushes back down to the sea, it meets with the next wave crashing and creates what could only be described as `liquid sand'. The mixture of crashing wave, back wash, and churning sand looks deadly. To land a kayak here would be impossible to escape a thrashing.

On the beach it is littered with trash. I decide to drive as far south as I can looking for anything that may be of interest in the piles of trash washed ashore. Light bulbs, oddly enough, are everywhere. Incandescent, fluorescent, and large mercury bulbs seem to be everywhere. I passed probably 4 soccer balls washed ashore (World Cup debris?).

About 2

Illusions

29 June 2002

8.1 miles

I really need to take a pen with me so I can write down the name of this port. I shouldn't just keep calling it "the port north of Lake Ogawara."

In any event, I was launching from the south side of the port, and I wanted to go North. The problem was the fog. So thick I could just barely make out the boat anchored a few feet away at the green channel marker. I only had memory to tell me how far it was to the other side, and from memory I couldn't remember how far to the red channel marker.

I resigned myself to paddle around the inside of the port to get to the other side. It's just too foggy to risk a channel crossing. I can hear small fishing boats but I can't see them. I head west, deeper into the harbor crossing a tidal stream running fairly fast from a side creek. Ten or so strokes on the right side kept me running fairly straight across it. Floating barriers kept boats from entering this creek.

Not much further to the back side of the port. High concrete walls with people lining them fishing. I head north to the far side of the port before turning east to start making my way out. A small ship is being loaded with dirt. The water is dead calm - glassy.

At the mouth of the port on this north side is a seawall extending out past the breakers. Out seaward of this is a giant seawall across the mouth of the port, shielding it from the relentless swells. I only know it is there from memory since the fog is so thick to see it.

Outside the port I turn north on my planned course. The fog is a little unnerving. Sometimes unable to make out the beach, and other times I see it well. It gives the illusion that it is far one moment, and close the next. Long periods of flat, glassy water followed by large swells. I do my best to stay in sight of the beach, yet not close enough to get surprised by a breaking wave.

The waves are dumping hard on the beach. From my vantage point I can see foam run up the beach at a steep angle. And when it runs back to sea I see it collide with the next wave coming in, creating large haystacks right near shore.

This feeling of uneasiness continues until I finally decide to turn and head out to the sea wall. I'm curious to it's actual size. I head further off shore as I paddle south to make sure I intercept it. All the time listening and looking for anything that might be headed my way. At times the fog closes down so tight my only reference is my compass. During these periods I began to get a faint feeling of sea sickness. Nothing major - a slight disorientation. I wondered how I would handle something like this on a large crossing if fog bound. Would it get worse?

A few minutes later the sea wall appeared. I've come in on the protected side so I turn to head out around the end. A few boats are anchored here fishing. The wall is lined with fisherman, who I assume have gotten a ride over by boat. I don't recall seeing any good places to climb up, but the fog kept me from seeing the entire structure. I guess there could be a tunnel out to here from the port. The wall is a solid 20 feet high above the water. Men look tiny leaning their poles over the edge. On the seaward side things get much rougher. Rebounding swells hitting incoming swells. Nothing scary - just enough to finally add some excitement to the ride. This continues along the whole length. Later, when dumping my track log to the computer, I measured the seawall to be 1.1 statute miles in length.

Rounding again to the back side, I begin looking for a place to cross back to the port. The southern sea wall extending out from the port would be the shortest path across, but the fog is so thick I can't tell where it is.

I continue north a bit, listening for the faint sound of what little swell made it through hitting the break. I think I hear it, so I start across, straining to listen or see anything else coming my way. There are a lot of floats in the water marking fish traps, so I'm hoping nothing will be coming through here at high speed. Before long I see the break and duck in behind it.

Inside this area I soon learn I'm in an area a little too far south to take me back to my launch. I'll need to come back out of the port and head north a little, and go into the next inlet. As I'm doing this I hear a loud fog horn, then a minute later the sound of large diesel engines. It's a ship I can't see, so I move in close to the wall next to me. A few moments later I can just make out the outline of the ship I saw loading dirt earlier. Like a ghost ship passing in the fog. The ship is going through the area I just crossed about 20 minutes before.

Entering the next inlet it is only minutes before I'm back to the launch. A few bow rudders to get through the oyster beds that lay exposed at low tide. There are some old men here putting on waders. One says something to me in Japanese and makes a paddling motion with his arms. I acknowledge him, but I'm clueless what he actually asked me, or what I acknowledged.

I pack for home and wonder what I would have seen here without the fog. Maybe it is time to shift my paddling to later in the day.

Surfing

30 June 2002

From home there is no fog, but as I look to the east I see a low level `smoke' near the coast. As I drive to the launch and turn down the dirt road towards the beach, I move from unlimited visibility to being surrounded by thick fog soup in a matter of a few hundred feet.

On the beach there are a half dozen surfers in the water. A few large vans and some racks sit in the sand to hold surf boards when they return. I head down the beach a fair distance. Just barely in sight of the surfers, I want to know where they are while I play. I park the car, which I'll use as my southern limit to keep me from getting too close to them.

I play around in the soup - nothing in particular. Maybe trying to catch the top of a wave to ride in high towards the beach. But I'll need a lot of practice to master that skill. One ride worked well and I intentionally pushed myself over the edge after the wave broke and found myself flying much faster than the wave out in front of it. That was cool, but only something I managed to do once.

After an hour I beached for a rest. I watched the surfers and the surf. The surf appeared small to me, even the outer breakers. The fog pushed itself further out to sea and the sky became blue.

Since breaking my paddle I've been apprehensive to go out beyond the surf line. I lost a lot of faith in my gear that day, and with it I've lost a lot of my confidence. I decide to go. I watch the waves carefully, moving out and timing each advance to pass during lulls. The outer breakers are all that remains. I watch for a period where I don't see large swells rolling in and I go for it. I paddle hard and even after punching through the last breaker I continue to paddle hard till well off shore. I don't want any surprises.

It is at this point the fear - for lack of a better word - settles in. I seriously consider paddling in to the little protected creek to avoid coming back through the surf. But this is a fear I've got to overcome. I need to regain my confidence.

I find myself switching quickly between looking to sea and looking towards the beach. I begin moving in, slowly at first. I find a spot where the waves seem to wait till they are closer to shore before breaking and I aim for the slot. Riding the swells to move in quickly. A wave breaking on my right, but still unbroken under my kayak passes under me. The next wave is breaking on my left, but again I'm making good time riding the unbroken portion of the swell under me. As it passes I paddle hard and I'm almost to shore by the time any white water actually touches my kayak. Picking a good path and a large dose of luck. I count myself as lucky and call it a day.

As I leave, I drive around a bit and find a police car is ticketing an old couple near the beach. I believe they may have been harvesting shellfish from the creek leading to Ogawara, but I'm not sure. One of the police has what looks to be a metal detector. Several cars pass by on the way to the beach so I'm confident it has nothing to do with access.

I *need* to work on this confidence issue. I *need* to get it back. I *need* to have faith in my gear. I suppose that if I had dislocated a shoulder when the paddle broke I would have a little more faith, but the light pull when it snapped took too much of my confidence away. I *need* to reliably learn to get and stay on top of a wave. I *need* to get back in command.

Woody

Follow up on paddle repair

Just to follow up on the Swift paddle I sent in for repair to Eddyline:

I had sent along a note asking them to replace the entire shaft if the current shafts were stronger then the one I sent back rather than just the broken half. This raised the price from $62 to $99 (including shipping).

The new shaft is noticeably more ovaled than the old shaft. By replacing both halves it also eliminated the imbalance that would be created by the splice to the blade (an additional 1 oz on each side).

I didn't think I would notice the additional 2 ounces, but I do. Maybe because I've been using the featherweight kayakstore.com paddles, the balance I remember seems to have changed. I'll have to paddle with it a while.

Anyhow, it is good to get my Swift back for play in the surf. The big blade is great for punching through waves and extra support when needed. I'm sure I'm going to like the increased index oval on the shaft and may make learning to paddle feathered a little easier.

Woody

Summer Vacation

How many kids get a three week all expense paid vacation to Japan for their 12th birthday?

The day before, Katie and I spent the better part of an hour putting the K1 together. It was nice having someone to do all the bending over ;)

We arrived at the base beach on Lake Ogawara about 10:00 am. After carrying both boats to the edge of the water we headed north, into about an 8-10 mph wind.

We had planned to cross over to the fishing village across the lake, but the wind was such we would be taking waves in the side both ways, and I didn't think Katie would enjoy the crossing. So we headed north along shore, passing the base beach and then the Japanese beach. A half dozen jet skis buzzed about, sometimes coming close enough to show off and then scamper away.

At the Japanese beach, 2 giant swan shaped paddle boats were out, along with one shaped like a helicopter. Katie started out with the rudder down on the K1, but she is so short she had difficulty working the pedals. She raised the rudder and easily paddled into the wind till we were about a mile and a half north of the base beach.

When we turned around Katie got a few sodas out of my rear hatch and we drank them as we drifted along being pushed back south.

When we finished our sodas we rafted up and clipped the kayaks together with my contact tow. I stowed Katie's paddle and split mine in half. Each of us canoe paddled our raft with me paddling on the left, and her paddling on the right. (Note to self - this seems like a better option than towing if out with a group and caught without a spare, or someone having directional problems) After a short distance I took a paddle jacket out and put the paddle halves through the sleeves. Katie lowered the rudder and we sailed all the way back to the launch with her steering and me holding up `the masts'.

After landing we loaded up the boats onto the car and Katie went back to play in the water a while.

Later that night Katie said "Dad, thanks for taking me kayaking today."

She won't know till one day when she has kids of her own, that it was me giving thanks.

Woody

Labor Day Fireworks

9.7 miles
On Monday the wind is supposed to be out of the South. It almost is. It has enough eastward component that I can sail across the lake from the Japanese park to the base beach. About 4.5 miles one way.

I got a few really good runs with the sail. Waves a little under a foot, a few times I found my forward speed just under wave speed. It only took a stroke or two to get on the wave, but that sent me speeding ahead and more often than not I would broach, bringing forward progress to a halt.

I've been working on a way to change this sail. It is almost impossible to lower in a stiff wind. I've got a few ideas that I think may work. I'll lose the hands free operation of the sail, but I'm still working on that problem.

In no time I'm across the lake. The base beach is crowded with swimmers so I head a little north to another Japanese park to land. After packing the sail away, grabbing a bite to eat and downing a diet coke, I launch again and paddle past the base beach. A small, slender fish is leaping from the water. Some of them are up to a foot long. Most are just a few inches.

Last weekend there were 2 fish weighing at least 20 pounds washed up on shore. It was kind of funny to watch them clear the 2 fish. A large bulldozer was called in to do the deed. It took a good half hour and repeated tries to scoop up the fish.

After crossing the beach I headed south a bit, staying near shore. I took up station about 100 feet offshore to watch a large heron trying to catch its dinner. As dusk turned to darkness I began to hear fish jump all around.

The fireworks from the water were great. There wasn't much of a grand finale, but it was a good display none the less. One item I thought was pretty cool was a speed boat dropping a floating pyro into the water. This firework exploded up from the water like an aerial firework that had forgotten to leap into the air.

After the show I headed back for the Japanese park on the far side of the lake. The miles went by quickly, but there was a point as I was paddling through heavy lake grass that BIG fish began to jump. BIG fish. Usually only a foot or so from my kayak. Each one catching me by surprise. I began to wonder what I would do, after I pissed myself, if a fish jumped up and hit me.

Tonight is the first tryout of my red/green marker lights. I have no idea how I looked to anyone else - if there was anyone else. The white cone light for my headlamp I put on the rear deck. There are no boats on the water tonight. I doubt there ever is.

Once back on shore I can see more fireworks in the direction of the ocean. The Misawa port festival fireworks were tonight also. It was supposed to be last night, but heavy fog cancelled them. As my kayak sits on the concrete steps where I landed, the right side of my kayak is bathed in green light from half of the marker light. From my car it is obvious, but that is only 100 feet away.

Someone in a car who has come to watch the fireworks turns on their lights so I can see as I load up for home...

Woody

Tappi - On the Sea of Japan

28-29 Sep 2002

I was to follow the group heading up for their dive certifications to Tappi. Unfortunately I got caught at the first traffic light and I never saw the half of the group in front of me until we stopped for breakfast in Aomori. Luckily our sweep took over and did a good job of making sure the second half stayed together.

I couldn't help think the parallel to leading a kayak trip as to leading a convoy of 12 cars across the country. The sweep knew her job of keeping everyone together when she took over as the second group lead. The original lead would have been fired, but I was satisfied with listening to his wife yell at him when we caught up (she was our original sweep). :grin:

But we made it to Tappi. I had used the GPS to record my track to get there, so at least I knew I could get back unaided. I had the K1 and the Sirocco on the car. Debbie and Susan had ridden together. Susan's plan was to paddle after her dive certification. I would take Debbie out for a paddle while Susan had her dive class.

The weather was a little yucky when we got there. A little breezy, but not terribly so. Debbie and I carried the boats down some concrete steps to the edge of the water. We launched and turned left working our way outside the break wall. The water here is deep, but there are many large rocks just under the surface.

I spent a lot of time as I paddled looking for boomers. There were a few spots we had to look out for and I guided Debbie out away from these tricky spots. We paddled on about a mile, but I suddenly became aware the weather was changing and I asked Debbie to turn around.

The wind began to blow hard from shore. To ensure Debbie made good speed we headed closer to the shore to take advantage of a little wind shadow. There was one place I had noticed boomers quite frequently and we had to head back out into the wind at one point to avoid it. Just before we headed out I told Debbie we had to move back out from shore and she asked why. I pointed to where the boomers were happening every few minutes and told her to watch. I didn't need to explain any more once she saw a large wave rise up out of nowhere and then disappear again once over the hidden rocks.

We made it back to the launch with some effort and I pulled the boats back up on the steps and began to secure them. Maybe the weather would clear, or possibly we'd have a better day tomorrow. About 15 minutes after the boats were secured it began to rain horizontally. My guess is that the wind got up to about 30-35 mph, and as I carried clothes and cooking supplies to the cabin I actually had to lean into the wind to make progress.

The next morning wasn't much better, and after taking some pictures I decided to head home. It was a beautiful place, and I wish that I would have had the opportunity to paddle more of it. But the weather is like this here in northern Japan, and it is always a gamble any time you get in a kayak here. If we had been just a 1/4 mile off shore, it is unlikely Debbie would have had the strength to paddle against the fierce wind. When I paddle in a place like this, I hunt for every little pocket beach or possible landing spot I can find. If I were going to be here much longer, I would buy a drogue as an additional safety item to carry.

So, using my trusty GPS as a guide, I made my journey home. The pictures are here.

Woody

Lake Towada, Japan

12-13 Oct 2002

Susan and Debbie met me in the Base Exchange parking lot and then followed me out to Lake Towada. Once getting to the lake, we stopped at one of the scenic overlooks for a few pictures.

On the road again, Susan took lead and I followed them to the campground. After checking in we hauled our kayaks and gear down a small but steep hill to the water. We suited up and headed left along the shore.

The scenery was magnificent even though we were about a week too early for the peak color change. As we glided along the steep banks, we wondered aloud if there were any places to camp along these shores. I'm amazed by the fact that the Japanese have managed not to build along the waterfront. Not just here, but it is that way throughout Northern Japan.

We paddled on slowly and watched a few ferry boats pass us with many interested onlookers. Susan was obviously excited to be on the water as she sang as she paddled. We crossed from one of the large peninsulas to the next, all the while keeping a sharp lookout for the ferries. Once across we all needed a break, and Susan and Debbie headed toward the tip of the peninsula while I headed in closer to shore. I found a tiny pull out but by then couldn't get their attention. I stepped out of the boat for about 2 minutes to give my butt a break then hopped back on to sprint back to the other two.

Around the back side of the peninsula we pulled in to the place where I stopped on my first trip here. We had lunch and talked about everything we had seen; the clear water; the rocky shore plunging deep into the water. Several places we had seen were ideal for a rope swing if only the water weren't so cold. You never see Japanese swim in this pristine lake, most likely they know that the cold water is deadly, and so deep that someone who drowns is unlikely to be recovered. This late in the summer the water isn't nearly as frigid as it was earlier in the year, but it is still cold and I'm glad to be wearing my wet-suit.

We paddled back with the light quickly fading. The air began to chill quickly and I pulled a paddling jacket out to wear over my wet-suit. When we got to about a mile back from the launch I sprinted ahead.

On landing I quickly pulled my kayak ashore and sprinted for the cabin. I hastily put out a cake and a few Happy Birthday decorations. A surprise party for Debbie - her 40th.

At the cabin next to us we had some Americans that I soon learned were friends of Susan and Debbie. With them they also brought some friends of theirs from Alaska.

As we stood around the campfire that night, some Japanese nationals up this way on holiday stopped in for a while. Two men and a woman from what I think they said was Sony, or one of the other large Japanese electronics firms. I don't remember for sure - the problems with waiting so long to write a trip report. But I do remember them telling us they couldn't tell us what they did...it was a secret.

The big joke of the evening was the blue icing on the birthday cake. It got on EVERYTHING. And it was like blue dye instead of icing. People were walking around with blue lips, blue fingers, and blue clothes - we were still finding blue icing the next day. It wasn't like the whole cake had this color icing, only the words "Happy Birthday" were written in this blasted stuff.

The next morning Debbie and Susan went for a paddle while I took a few pictures and went for a walk. When they returned we packed for the drive back to Misawa. The cabin had cost us 3,000 yen (~$25) and although it wasn't the greatest accommodations, it was cheap.

The pictures I took can be found here.

Woody

Update 25 Jan 2003: Little did I know on this trip it would be my last in 2002 and my last in Japan. It was a great year for kayaking for me, and although I didn't write about every trip, I gained a HUGE amount of skill in the surf. I'm still no expert, but I'm better than a year ago. I'll keep good thoughts about paddling in this country.