New Day

After pulling on our drysuits we headed up to Kanes Creek - the ice is completely gone. I had hoped that Katie would get to experience the ice for her first time. To sit on the edge of an ice floe and listen to the creaks and moans will have to wait for colder weather.

But we can't really complain. The unusual warm spell has us paddling comfortably and since it is high tide, we poke back into the side fingers of the creek as far as we can go. The ducks take flight in waves as we edge our way in.

By the time we worked our way to the back of the creek we met up with some other paddlers out enjoying the day. But we've spent a lot of time working the sides of the creek and with getting on the water late we need to head back.

The return trip is quick and at the take out Katie remarks that she isn't tired. I need to start extending her distance. Before long she'll be out distancing me, but today I'm safe from embarrassment as we load up our kayaks for home.

Maybe the water will turn solid in a few weeks...

Woody

When the Wind Blows Still

It was nice to play in the warm water and I could tell that my roll was getting a bit rusty as my paddle plunged deeper than I wanted. To give myself a little extra help I took the loaded water bladder off the back of my PFD and sat it down at the edge of the pool. The load lightened a bit I found the rust start to disappear as it was washed away by the chlorinated water.

After loading the boat back on the car, and dinner at the local dive with Joan I didn't get home till about 9:00. Tired from an afternoon of play I went to bed early, falling asleep wondering if the wind would keep our group off the water the next day.

The sun rose Sunday over a calm day, but quickly disappeared behind clouds. As I pulled my car away from the car top launch to park along the road, Mary and Vitas pulled up. Before long David, Nelson, and Barbara arrived and we were underway toward Farm Creek.

As we crossed the deserted boat ramps, the Park Ranger flushed a young couple off the rocks with the loud speaker in his car.

The paddle was quick to the mouth of the creek - a bit over 2 miles, but a short distance into the creek we ran aground hard so we made our way to some semi-solid ground for a snack. We thought we might paddle back out to the Potomac and around to the other entrance of the creek. Maybe by the time we got there there would be enough water to paddle back through the creek.

The new moon was working against us keeping the water very low. We paddled a mile north to find the entrance semi blocked by dead falls. Undaunted, Vitas worked his way past the fallen trees, but the shallow water on the other side turned him back.

From the north end of the creek we paddled on north a little under a mile to Marumsco Creek (I can never remember the name of this creek) and paddled back until the dead falls kept us from going further.

When I first discovered this creek, the older houses were set back and somewhat hidden from the water by the trees along shore. But these older homes have now been razed along with the trees that once hid them, and replaced by bigger homes. The illusion of seclusion this creek once projected is now gone.

We headed out of the creek and pointed our bows back toward Leesylvania. My feet were cold all day and it dawned on me during the trip back to take my skull cap out of my PFD and put it on my head. My feet began to warm and I was kicking myself for not thinking of it sooner.

Having turned our 8 mile paddle into 10.5 - 11 miles, we slowly cruised back in to the launch. I was disappointed that Farm Creek had been too shallow to paddle, but was gently reminded by a few of the others that any day on the water is still a pretty nice day.

We put our gear away as the sun dipped low and as our conversations wound down the Park Ranger announced over the loud speaker in his car that the park was now closed. Too early for me, I look forward to the longer days ahead and the warm water of summer.

Woody

Ice Pirates

But the Inuit do it, right?

So I asked for advice around the net and looked locally for a shore crew. Nelson agreed to come along and I received a lot of great advice from around the Internet. The most detailed accounts of ice kayaking came from Gail Ferris, who has written quite extensively about launching and landing on ice. I found her descriptions and advice to be very well thought out and I planned a trip for Sunday feeling fairly well prepared.

Nelson and I met at Mason Neck. Because it had been warm all week I expected the ice to be out of the bay, but as I drove down the little path to the launch I saw Nelson - and ice as far as I could see. The ice extended out to the channel, a good mile away.

Plan 2 was to drive to Leesylvania, and as we drove by the creeks on either side of the park there appeared to be no ice at all. At the beach there was no ice and Nelson and I walked out to the pier to see if we could see any ice up or down river. We were resigned to have to make the long paddle up toward Mason Neck and play in the ice on the outer edge, but Nelson mentioned he had seen ice near the boat ramps. So we carried our boats down to the water and after getting our gear in order we paddled down to the boat ramps.

A new piece of gear rides on my deck: an ordinary garden hoe as described in the info Gail Ferris sent me. There is also a pair of hammer handles which I've drilled and inserted screws into one end. I didn't get around to grinding a point on the screws, so the blunt ends will have to do. Nelson has also made his own ice picks in much the same manner, but he ground the tips into a point to get a better bite on the ice.

When we passed through the breakwall by the boat ramps, I was shocked I had missed so much ice when we drove past earlier. I'm not sure which one of us went first, but once we started we were hopping up on the ice like beached seals as if this was the funnest game on earth. A big grin began to sneak out of my face and I think Nelson may have cracked a smile or two himself.

We paddled to the south end of the boat ramps and found the ice much thinner. We'd land on the ice and then have the ice crack and our kayaks would settle on through to the water. Me being the bigger of us two, found it difficult to find any ice on this end that would support my weight. I set some big floes free by carving them off the main sheet of ice. As my kayak rose on top of the ice, the cracks would spread out in front of me, sometimes for 10 or 15 feet, and cause the ice to spread apart not leaving me anything to grab with my ice picks. Although I didn't try it, it was probably this type of ice the how would have worked best with. On the harder pan ice on the other end of the boat ramps I found it difficult for the hoe to grab the ice. But this softer ice probably would have been perfect and I wish I had given it a try.

After so much fun I went back to my car and got both of my cameras to take pictures, but I shot more small videos then I did still pictures.

The ice was much more friendly to us then I had imagined, and we tired easily pulling ourselves across the ice with our ice picks. We tried using the hoe, but on the hard ice found our picks moved us around easier. When I got home I re-read Gail's account of using the hoe and found she was talking about frazzle and shugga ice, which in that case the longer reach of the handle would probably indeed work better, being able to reach out beyond the cracking ice to pull yourself across. This reinforced what I had speculated about the thinner/softer ice.

We got so comfortable with the ice we tried various other things as we went back to the thicker ice on the north end of the ramps. We found it pretty easy to launch off the ice shelf in reverse, so the both of us wondered what it would be like to land in reverse.

Take a look at this video, and go along with me as we ride together up on to the ice shelf. Don't forget to wave at Nelson as we go by!

All this fun was also a lot of work, so we decided to call it a day. We thought about paddling back but got into a discussion about walking across the ice by straddling our kayaks, with the idea being to plop back in the seat if the ice started to crack. I started off carefully and as our confidence rose, so did our horse play.

Having learned how to walk across the ice, we walked in the same manner up to the boat docks and landed there rather then paddle back around to the beach. We walked up to our cars and drove down to the ramps, making our carry MUCH shorter. Next time I'll launch from here :) I was surprised to see how wet my clothes were under my drysuit - I guess I did work up a little sweat!

So ended my first experience with a kayak on ice. I found out later it was Nelson's Birthday, so I think it was a great way to spend the morning.

Below are a few more movies and some pictures taken throughout the day.

High brace on the ice shelf

Ice water roll

Ice launch

Ice landing

Ice landing 2

Seal Landing Woody

Seal Landing Nelson

Ice wiggle

Pictures

Returning to Winter

It had been two years since Joan had paddled in winter and three since she had paddled in winter with me. But with a new dry suit and an iffy forecast we headed out across Belmont Bay. Just the weekend before this bay was solid ice, but a warm week had caused the ice to vanish and we were happy to be paddling today.

The weather was supposed to turn nasty, with 30 MPH winds forecast for the afternoon. Since we launched at 11:00, it would not be long before it would be 'afternoon'.

As we crossed the channel a boat was busy dropping some sort of trap or crab pot directly in the channel. Prop bait I figured. After crossing the channel we decided we would paddle back in to Marumsco Creek and get out of the wind, which was blowing in from the south.

The waves felt 'old' to me. Only a foot high, they had a long wave length, as though they had formed long ago and were just now reaching us. Waves this small are usually 'bouncy', with a short period they are fun or irritating depending on my mood. But these had enough spacing between them to nearly lull me to sleep as we settled into the rhythm of timing our strokes to the beat of the waves.

Joan asked me if I remembered when these waves used to make her nervous. I did. It seems not that long ago they would have made me nervous too. But today they feel like an old friend - one I knew well.

The tide was running out of the creek as we paddled back as far as we could and turned around. I switched from gloves to to my NRS Toaster Mitts because my hands were chilly. The mitts are quite toasty and still leave enough dexterity you can still pick up a deck line or open a hatch cover.

The wind began to build as we left the creek. We paddled close to shore on our left. The signs all said national wildlife refuge, but I remember not to many years ago they had a different tone to them. My map shows it was a military reservation and the perimeter road looks like this was true at one point. We found a beach and walked back up the road to the porta-potty. A wooden marker with a piece of laminated plastic stapled to it showed us the map of this park.

We walked back to the kayaks and with the wind continuing to build and shift to the west we decided to paddle back across the bay to Mason Neck. After crossing the channel and in the full force of the wind I had Joan stop paddling so I could gage our drift as I tossed out a drift anchor. Joan continued to drift ahead while my pace dropped to a crawl. Since it was attached to my bow I expected it to quickly spin me around and face me into the wind but it didn't. Maybe it needed a longer rode...

I retrieved the drift anchor and caught up with Joan. The wind was pushing us along at a pretty good clip and it took no effort to get back to the park. I could tell Joan was reluctant to land but we both knew the weather was only going to get worse.

We landed and quickly loaded up as another kayaker landed. By the time we were ready to go our cars were rocking in the wind and we were happy to have made it back when we did.

Pictures

Migration

Distant hands in foreign lands
Are turning hidden wheels
Causing things to come about
Which no one seems to feel
All invisible from where we stand
The connections come to pass
And though too strange to comprehend
They affect us nonetheless, yes

As I unloaded the kayak from the car I couldn't help notice the still water. The sky reflecting in the water made it seem to have miles of depth with the only imperfections being the ripples caused by a few geese 100 feet from shore.

I paused for a few minutes to contemplate putting my kayak in the water. To disturb it in this state didn't seem right, but after a few minutes a flock of geese came in to stir up the tranquility.

Once again a time of change
O the change makes music
And the children will dance

I began paddling south around the 'neck' of Mason Neck. It has been some time since paddling this direction and I wanted to check for any changes over the last 3-4 months. A gorgeous day with almost no wind, I turned on the MP3 player to set everything to music as I paddled.

I caught a flash out of the corner of my eye and turned to watch 2 mature Bald Eagle's swooping toward the water and sending the ducks below them scrambling to get away. The eagles skimmed the surface of the water and then turned back to blend in to the trees.

See the pieces of the picture rearrange themselves
It feels just like a symphony to me,
With nothing left to chance

On reaching Sandy Point I saw 2 more mature eagles sitting in the trees overlooking the point and before long I realized this was a non-resident population fishing along this shore. Before I reached my turnaround point I would count 8 mature and 3 juvenile eagles.

Long before I reached High Point I could see the heron rookery. With no leaves in the trees, what seemed like over a hundred nests stood out against the blueish white wispy clouds. I thought forward to early spring when this area would be full of gawking herons when I noticed a heron carrying twigs in its beak. The building has already started for spring, and the closer I looked the more pairs I saw in the nests getting ready for the spring brood.

Just look over your shoulder
It's out of you hands
It's over for now
Leave behind what you can
You can always return

Around High Point a bit more I inspected the old park dock, then turned back toward the launch. Ahead of me I saw a mature eagle leave a tree and head several hundred feet out over the water. It zeroed in on its prey and reached out to pluck it from the water with its claws. As soon as it lifted from the water a juvenile took flight and started to pester the elder before finally giving up and landing a few trees away.

The rhythm remains unbroken
Unspoken but loud and clear
It's a slow vibration. Migration

At Sandy Point another eagle is tearing in to its lunch up in a tree, and 3 more eagles are fluttering around trying to get him to drop whatever it is he has. It's been an exciting paddle and I regretted leaving the camera at home.

I'm paddling my Sirocco today. It's been on the car since Nelson and I were running our kayaks up on the ice a few weeks ago. The Sirocco is a little sluggish as compared to the Explorer, and it is a chore to paddle in a high wind, but today she reminds me how much I still like this boat. The bow rudders and hanging draws all the way back to the launch helped prolong the day that I was enjoying so much.

Mystery muse, how I hunger for an answer
Unsung song, how I long to play the changes
Hidden rhythm, haven't I always been your dancer
Sacred secrets of the meaning to my dreaming. Migration
--James Taylor

Rookery Update

The Mason Neck blue heron rookery was more active today than last week. More birds seen with twigs in their beaks. More birds in the trees and in the nests. I wanted to make a journal entry to track the timeframe that the rookery begins to get active. I had the cheap camera with me which is the pits for any distance shots, but here ya go:

Pictures

Hampton Roads Kayaking Symposium

• Develop skills and confidence
• Learn safety on the water
• Have fun with some very special people

• The American Canoe Association
• The Chesapeake Association of Sea Kayakers
• Appomattox River Company
• Wild River Outfitters
• The City of Hampton

• Nigel Foster
• Steve Maynard
• Dale Williams
• Ben Lawry
• Chuck Conely
• Ed Schiller

• Basic Kayak Control: Among other subjects, this class will address basic strokes and maneuvering
• Advanced Kayak Control: Among other subjects, this class will cover advanced strokes and bracing. Competence in basic strokes and edging is preferred
• Self and Assisted Rescues: Among other subjects, this class will cover wet exits and reentry unassisted and assisted; Eskimo rescues, etc
• Basic Kayak Surfing: Among other subjects, this class will cover launching and landing in the surf (very basic as there is normally not much surf in the area)
• Rough Water Paddling: Based on desires and abilities, this course will address rougher water boat handling and maneuvering to build both confidence and skill
• Forward Stroke Clinic: A detailed and systematic investigation of the forward stroke
• Fun with Nigel Foster: An experimentation in alternative learning, and that your skill level going in doesn't matter all that much. Nigel focuses on individual experimentation with different ideas that facilitate a deeper understanding of boat control.
• Advanced Fun with Nigel Foster: Nigel builds on the skills and understanding in his basic course to focus on balance, confidence and greater levels of boat control

• Appomattox River Company (890-0500) www.paddleva.com
• Wild River Outfitters (431-8566) www.wildriveroutfitters.com

• Weekend rate: $200.00 (includes four classes - AM and PM Sat and Sunday)
• Per Class Rate: $65.00
• Surplus funds will be applied to a catered Sat evening picnic, then to T-shirts and then to a safety equipment and gear raffle.

• Equipment Requirements: Bring all of your own gear and clothing
• Kayak Requirements: All Kayaks must have a minimum of one bulkhead and must be capable of attaching a Spray Skirt. For rough water and surfing each kayak must have two bulkheads and capable of attaching a spray skirt.
• Registration: Registration and class scheduling is through Appomattox River Company (757) 890-0500 or Wild River Outfitters (757) 431-8566
• Lunch/Snacks: Bring a lunch, water and snacks that can be carried in your Kayak both Saturday and Sunday
• Kayak Rentals: A limited amount of kayak
  Posted by Woody at 6:11 PM

Pirouettes

The drive to Fredericksburg went quick and 3 miles past town I turned down a dirt road by the sewage treatment plant. My Chesapeake Boat Launch Guide told me there was a launch here on the Rappahannock.

I guess it was about 8:00-8:30 when I arrived and the parking lot was mine. The clean porta-potty was a welcome amenity as I packed for my morning trip. According to my tide software there is still a 3 foot tide difference this far up the river, with up to a knot of current. This is certainly a trip you want to try and time with the tide if possible.

As I'm getting ready a guy shows up with a john boat and has it in the water in just a few moments. We briefly chat about the weather - overcast and just one notch up from gloomy. He parked his truck and was pulling away before I had all my gear on.

There is a slight current heading south, and remembering my tide chart recall that the tide is just starting to turn. I head north making the first half of my trip the toughest, but planning for an easy ride back.

As I leave the ramp I notice what at first looks like a tree under my hull, but on closer study I see it is an old bulkhead made of timber. The river has long ago claimed it as its own as it widened and the water level rose.

High water marks in the trees a full 3 feet above my head tells me this river is capable if running much higher. Old pilings on river right seem out of place and as I stop to take pictures my camera's batteries give up and I'm left to store todays images in my head. On one of the pilings a small tree is suspended on the very top from the last high water to pass through here.

On river left a man is scaling the sharp bank cutting up trees that have fallen. I assume he's after the firewood.

I pass a country club also on river left, but for the most part all the construction is back off the river and on high bluffs. The golf course appears to me to be below the high water line.

Another old pier on river left and the increasing current has me hugging the sides of the river to make better progress north. Before long I pass under the SR 3 bridge and in the distance I can see the railroad bridge.

It seems to take forever to cover the distance to the railroad bridge. The current continues to increase and I edge even closer to shore, seeing several more of the submerged wooden bulkheads.

Since the put-in the water has had the green clay tint I've come to expect in the Rappahannock, but it is very clear this far up river.

I drift for a moment as a train crosses the bridge. On studying the bridge closely it appears to be in need of repair with large cracks and chunks of concrete missing off the road bed.

The City Dock appears on river left and on seeing the sea gulls I paddle to the far side of the river to avoid them. Grandma, mom, and baby daughter are feeding the gulls and old men are gathering around the tail gates of pickup trucks to shoot the bull.

The water feels sluggish as I cross the main current to the other side and I take a very direct route to quickly get back in to the slower water along shore.

I pass under SR3 business and paddle to the north end of Scotts Island. I've had enough. Time to turn around and head back. I cut through to the other side of the island and it feels like I'm being rocketed back south as the current shoves me along.

All the trees on Scotts Island slant down river. It's obvious this island has been washed over before and the trees give testament to past floods. Against the railroad bridge massive tree trunks lay piled up against the two center spans.

A hawk flew from the trees as I continued my southward journey. It actually felt a little more difficult to move as my paddle pushed against the current that was heading me home. My speed was great for the entire trip back and I covered the 4.5 miles in no time at all.

My trip was nearing an end, but I wasn't ready. So in the slight current in front of the ramp while listening to my MP3 player, the Explorer and I danced.

life in the long run
ain't never long enough one
we wanna pocket
like mints
like gold

but its a real short story
with its turned up pages
all us characters waiting
in line to unfold

her silver slippers
his goofy grin
just a momentary spin
but a lovely waltz
you'd be surprised time don't forget
the subtle turning of a midnight pirouette
the ever longing for a midnight pirouette

Midnight Pirouette (listen)

These Things Wrapped
By Leslie Smith (Buy)

Pictures

Point of Origin

Ever since they closed Bull Run Marina to everyone without a gate key and a season pass, I have not paddled out of there. I have paddled down a few times from Fountainhead, but have always turned back after reaching the marina. I have missed the short but tranquil paddles upstream from the marina.

So today I drove out to Fountainhead, paid my $47 non-resident shore launch fee and another $10 for the gate key to Bull Run. My one complaint is the $47 is PER BOAT - and I even had to identify it on my application. I asked if I needed to come back for a pass if I took my daughter with me and learned I would if she paddled with me very often. Back when most car top launches were by canoe, it probably made sense to charge by boat, but with the current popularity of single kayaks it would cost a family of three or four a small fortune to get an annual pass.

Katie first got her introduction to kayaks at this place. Her Gannet towed through the windy sections as we wound our way through the hills.

As I readied my gear, the girls rowing club carried down an eight. My kayak on the dock would be in their way so I carried it back up to the grass then left to park my car.

Two eights launched as I put on all my gear. I bet I looked the sight as I pulled on all my cold-water gear as the young men and women climbed aboard with jeans and shorts.

On launching from shore, I had to step in the muck that covered up to my ankles. I did my best to rinse off my feet before putting them in the kayak, but even with my best efforts, I still carried a bit of the gunk into the cockpit with me.

I had trouble getting on my new spray skirt, but after taking my gloves off it went on just fine. The new Seals Mariner spray skirt is awesome, but I may end up cutting off the paddle park, as it just seems to be a snag waiting to happen.

Heading up stream, I rounded the first bend and was shocked to see the concentration of trash right on the inside of the bend. It was very point specific - 30 feet away there was no trash at all. The trash was primarily water bottles and kid's soccer balls. I thought how odd it was that the trash was so concentrated and specific to athletic type of trash. Looking north I saw the reason.

In the winter, the prevailing winds are from the north. And due north of this bend is a soccer field. I paddle over to take a look, and see that although there is a thick brush/tree line across most of the park, there is an opening where the grass runs down to the water's edge. An orange rubber fence is in place to try to stop things from blowing in to the water, but it is very poorly constructed and not doing the job it is meant to do.

Heading upstream I again find another trash concentration along the south shore, and on the north side, another break in the trees to the park. I hope that those who use Kincheloe Park in Clifton may one day organize a cleanup of Bull Run, or as a minimum plug the flow of trash flowing in to the reservoir from the park.

The water is very flat and I glide across the surface without effort. Geese occasionally fly off in front of me, only to circle back to where they took off from after I pass. The hills along the shore grow taller as I paddle deeper into the creek and a slight current starts to build against me.

Suspended over the water in a tree is a large wasp nest. I would see three of these over the water today.

One final trash pile located below an abandoned car. People coming out to this part of the woods probably tossed this trash in. I begin to wonder if the little bit of trash my kayak carries back will make a difference. Before the marina closed to all but season pass holders there used to be many paddlers to launch from there. I would often see canoes, kayaks and jon boats come back with an extra piece of trash or two to toss in the trash bin.

I rounded the corner at the firing range and was surprised to see the lone sycamore tree standing in the middle of the creek. I had forgotten about this tree and on seeing it simply amazed it is still standing, and although it looks rough, it is still alive.

I pass a few islands that have debris stacks against the tree trunks. I have never been on the creek when water was that high - it would be interesting to see.

After paddling through a few riffles, I see one that would eat fiberglass if I attempted it. Not wanting to portage I decided to turn around.

Suddenly I am aware there are people around. Two men in waders are at the shore looking for a place to drop their line. A bit further down the creek two girls play on the rocks. Further down a woman and boy sitting on a log to eat lunch and further down another angler. Where they there when I passed this way a few minutes ago?

I paddled back making a few side trips, taking pictures of a few turtles along the way. I saw four deer bound through the woods and stop. Despite the pictures, they remained hidden when I reviewed them at home. Like some entities that refused to show themselves on film.
Back at the marina there is room for me to get out on the docks. It looks like maybe an open house for the rowing teams, but the boats either are still out on the water or put away and before long my kayak is put away too.

Pictures

Winter Stiffness

After having a morning coffee, on a whim I decided to go to Mason Neck for a bit of practice. I had noticed the water temps in the lower 60s on the Potomac, so I figured this would be a good chance to try out my new wet suit.

As an XXL, I figured I'd have plenty of room. But what I found was it certainly wasn't someone very tall. It fit snugly - I guess like it should, but I felt like my crotch was being pulled toward my shoulders. Hopefully it will stretch a bit with time.

On shore two kayaks paddled up as I was departing. They too were wearing wet suits and I asked about the water temp. They said I'd be burning up.

Once on the water a laid over to cool off. The water running down my back got my attention. As I paddled toward Kanes Creek I just couldn't get comfortable. At the creek I turned around and headed back trying to edge the kayak over but I felt stiff. I was disappointed in how shaky and stiff I was so I spent the entire paddle back weaving to the left and right as I edged over as far as my stiff body and new wet suit would allow.

The water is a creamy brown from all the rain in the last week. I beached to make a run back up to the car to grab my nose plugs then get back on the water to do a few rolls.

The first one sent a lot of cool water down my spine and I was in a hurry to get back up! A couple of high braces, rolls on both sides and a few hanging draws. It felt good to play again like this without the ice cream headaches from icy water.

But I remained disappointed in my edging. My bow rudders were suffering because of the edging and I'll need to spend a bit more time getting it back where it should be. Another 5 degrees in water temp and a pair of shorts will make it easier ;)

Woody

Spring Flexing

I was a little unnerved by last weekend's outing. The 'stiffness' I was feeling and lack of ability to get my kayak on edge left me feeling as though it had been a year since paddling.

I decided to wear my dry suit today. Over the week the water had dropped from the low 60's down to the high 50's and I wanted to to spend time getting my flexibility back. That is, I planned to get wet :)

When I launched I zigged and zagged around anything I could find floating in the water. There wasn't a trace of the stiffness I felt last weekend. Did that wet suit make that big of a difference?

I decided to paddle around the neck and out to the Potomac to play in some chop. Although nearly windless, the constant stream of boats leaving the marinas up the Occoquan gave plenty of agitation to the water. I danced along the break walls in the clapotis and try as I may I just couldn't find that uneasiness from last weekend.

At the heron rookery I could see the herons on the nests. The leaves are coming out and in another week or two the nests will be invisible from the water.

I continued around High Point and in to the Potomac, watching all the birds hoping around on the ground looking for food in the new grasses. Around the old dock I turned around and headed back.

When I got to the rookery, I see some Night Herons have joined in the trees. This was a great surprise to me to see Great Blues and these white birds sharing the same trees, often side by side.

When I returned back to Mason Neck I put the kayak on extreme edge and paddled along as if I had been doing this for years. I rolled on both sides, high braced and felt confident last weekend was a fluke, or at least induced a bit by the wet suit I had been wearing.

After a few rolls I heard a voice behind me and turned to find John paddling up. We chatted for a few minutes and then I returned to playing a bit more. But I was satisfied my skills were not as bad as I had imagined all week, so I paddled in to shore.

So was it the new wet suit that had caused me to wonder all week if I was losing my skills? I guess another outing in it will tell me for sure.

Woody

Unfelt Winds

One interesting observation we had from our trip today was at one point we had a good 5+ mph wind blowing on us. Very warm. But the wind had NO affect on the water. It stayed glassy and perfectly flat. We speculated it might be a down draft but I don't know this to be a fact.

Anyone ever experience something like that?

By flat I mean it was FLAT; not even ripples. There were interesting patterns on the water that were very very slight - like a feather drawing on the surface tension of the water, but no ripples what so ever.

I know this area very well - fresh water but with a 1.5 foot tidal range - no springs - the bay is just over a mile across and cuts back about a mile from the river. Very shallow - maybe 7 feet deep in the deepest areas and only 3-4 feet deep in most others. As we were paddling across the bay we could see waves/ripples out on the river but the majority of the bay was flat. Almost no current - just that caused by the tidal difference across the bay.

I've been paddling now for over 6 years and never seen anything like it.

Woody

Exercise

I've packed on so much weight over the winter I've decided I need to try and get at least some parts of me back in to shape. So after work I headed to Bull Run Marina for about an hour workout. Well, maybe not an hour, but give it some time.

I focused on my forward stroke - trying to conjure up some torso rotation and keep my legs straight. It was a bit gusty and the first half of the trip was straight in to it.

I was actually pleased with my forward stroke. It isn't often I get to dust off the way it is 'supposed to be done' and open the throttle a bit. But the first mile seemed to drag by. It takes about 15 minutes for everything to loosen up but after that the distance seemed to drift by without much effort.

It was a mile and a half before I missed a single stroke. I stopped at the confluence of the Occoquan and Bull Run to drink some water and spin around to head back. I had kept up a pretty quick pace and doubted I would be able to maintain it for the trip back.

On the way out I had hugged the corners, but since I was feeling pretty good I decided to hang to the outside of the bends for the trip back. I don't think I pushed things as hard on the return trip, but with the wind adding a little shove I was traveling faster. In no time I was back to the marina and on the road for home.

Tomorrow I need to add a little distance but keep the same pace. If I can get up to 6 miles each day after work it will begin to make a difference on the spare tire I'm carrying around. And it not, at least I was on the water :)

Docking Maneuvers

My forward progress was such that I was feeling I had been lashed to a dock. I clawed for each inch, sometimes moving at a snail's pace - sometimes slower when the wind blew... Wait a minute, I am lashed to a dock...

When I got to Fountainhead I carried my gear to the edge of the water and noticed quite a site across the reservoir from the park. A man was paddling a floating dock, but the wind was pushing him backwards. There are no houses close by so I knew he had been struggling for some time.

A canoe appeared from one of the fingers of the reservoir and paddled over to the dock as it continued to slip backwards against the wind. The canoe was pulled up on the dock and now two people paddled hard against the wind. Inch by excruciating inch the dock made forward progress when the wind wasn't blowing, and lost every bit of gained ground when the wind blew even a slight amount.

I sat near the water on a table and watched this for 15 or 20 minutes, noting they had gained only a few feet after all this time. Before long the canoe crossed over to the park, and a woman stepped ashore looking for someone with a power boat to help with the dock. Finding no one, she headed back to the other side and was soon back on the dock, again making no progress.

I headed up to the bathroom to put on my dry suit and when I returned I saw the dock was now pressed against the bank by the wind. I pulled my tow rope out of my day hatch and daisy chained the rope before restuffing it back in the bag. After putting on my sprayskirt I paddled across and offered to help.

After latching on the tow rope I began to paddle toward the spot where I had first seen the canoe. The dock began to move ever so slightly and a few minutes later we had cleared the dead falls along the shore and the dock was back in open water.

I don't know how long it took me to paddle the few hundred yards to where the dock would finally rest. We inched along and the occasional comments from my passengers went unheard because of the loud sloshing of the water from my paddle as it dug in to move us another inch toward our destination.

Near the dock's final resting area another man was on shore waiting. As we got close he was thrown a rope and he pulled the dock in the rest of the way as I unhooked and dipped in the water to cool off. I learned the man on the dock had paddled it over a half mile before I even saw him.

The trip back to the park flew by. After hauling the dock upstream the lack of drag had me wondering if the kayak was going to start planing on the way back.

My dry suit felt wet inside from the workout so I opened it up to breathe as I caught my breath back on shore. Soon the pirates arrived and at 5 people strong we had our largest group paddle to date. Our time on the water was short, but my earlier workout didn't leave me wanting much more.

Woody

Playing in the wind

When I got to the park a couple was shoving off in two Old Town Dirigo kayaks. With no spray skirts and little skills I kept my eye on them as they paddled away. I was a bit nervous because the wind was blowing a good bit and these two stayed pointed in to the wind and waves. I was worried if they took off in the direction they were pointed they would be heading out across this open bay and the forecast was for strengthening winds. The return trip would be tough.

John headed off around the point while I went and parked my car. I passed a group going out on a park tour as I walked back to the water to decide what I wanted to do. The earlier couple were slowly making their way down to Kanes Creek, paddling out a bit from shore and letting the wind blow them back. I too headed off for Kanes.

In minutes I passed the Dirigos and asked if they were ok. They said they were so I paddled on down to Kanes, but I couldn't bring myself to paddle in to the creek knowing how over their head they really were.

Now, to look at this honestly, this water is very shallow. If they had fallen out they would be wet and cold, but would only need to stand up to get back to shore. But I paddled out from the mouth of the creek and into the teeth of the wind.

After paddling out a bit I turned and surfed the waves back into the creek. The Sirocco loves to broach so I played with edging it hard to keep it on track. I did this a dozen or so times when the park tour (2 canoes and a double kayak) came by, followed shortly by the Dirigos. As they wondered in to calmer water I paddled back to the park. I let the waves slap me around on the side and sculled a few times down to the water just for fun while leaning in to the waves.

As I turned toward the launch I could see people on shore. One looked a bit like Mike Aronoff but I wasn't positive as I tried to catch a couple of choppy waves in to the shore. When I got close enough I could tell it was Mike I reached over to raise my skeg and lost my focus for a moment.

It only took a moment. I knew I was going over, and in shallow water. I tucked forward to set up and hoped I didn't bang my head on the bottom, but I had plenty of room. I rolled back up to big smiles from the shore. Certainly if no one had been there I would have landed without incident.

On shore a fella was putting together a Pak-Boat. I've seen him launch from here before, but conditions had been going down hill since I had launched an hour and a half earlier. It would be interesting to watch.

The two Dirigos came back, actually looking a bit more in control. As the Pak-boat launched the canoes and park kayak returned. I took a few pictures of the Pak-boat launching. The water was 60 degrees, the wind 12-25 with gusts to 30.

After everyone cleared out I pulled my boat back in to the water till I was a little over waist deep. I re-enter and roll and paddle the kayak to shore full of water. Enough play for the day.

Pictures

I actually regretted not staying longer. In my dry suit the water was very comfortable and I should have used the opportunity to bounce around a bit more in the wind. Oh well, there will be more chances in the future.

Southerly Winds and Blessing the Fleet

After exploring Kanes Creek I headed towards Sandy Point on the southern end of Mason Neck. The wind was out of the south, so I hoped to pick up some waves around the point.

Off to my right I could see the fire boats spraying water in the air for the Occoquan Harbor's Blessing of the Fleet. As luck would have it, The wind, waves, the big boats leaving the harbor, and I would converge near the point at nearly the same time.

For about a half hour the boats streamed out of the harbor and past this point. I caught a few good rides but seemed to miss the best ones as I paddled back out through the waves to catch another ride.

From a distance I see John returning back to Mason Neck. We chatted for a few minutes and he told me he caught some good rides just this side of High Point. So as John returns to the launch I paddled about a mile SE. A little more fetch from down the Potomac, the southerly winds have organized the waves a bit more. A few rides later I turned to head back.

In the early morning I started out wearing a paddling jacket, but shed it less than a half hour later. Now I roll or lay on the water every 20 minutes or so to cool off.

Back again at Sandy Point I catch my last ride for the day. The wind has dwindled and the steady stream of boats out of the harbor has slowed to a trickle. The rolling swells carry me back in to the bay and on to the launch.

The water is hovering around 70 degrees and my playing is starting to increase. The waves around the point put a smirk on my face that has been hard to remove...

101 Critical Days of Summer

When I was in the military, we had what was called the '101 Critical Days of Summer', which started on Memorial Day weekend. This marked the beginning of a high risk period to military personal for them to be involved in an 'alcohol related incident'.

I was surprised how inactive things were at Mason Neck. Not a single kayak or canoe as I launched. The water was mirror flat and it was a bit overcast.

I just started paddling, with no real destination in mind. I rounded Sandy Point and saw a group of canoes getting ready to cross the channel. The leader of the group was giving everyone detailed instructions on how they would cross and they did so in a very orderly manner.

I was feeling good so I grabbed some waves and then turned toward High Point. Although there was no wind, it wasn't terribly hot. Occasionally I wet my hat or splashed water on my shirt to stay cool.

By the time I reached High Point the boat traffic was picking up. Turning north east I headed toward Sycamore Point, which is the southern edge of Great Marsh.

It was one of those days it felt like I could paddle forever. I started across the wide mouth of Great Marsh, heading north toward Hallowing Point. As I neared the point I saw a boat heading my way about a quarter of a mile away. Although I wasn't out in the river, I was far from shore because of how far the shore cut back toward the marsh. I made a 45 degree turn to take me closer to shore, figuring the boat would head out in to the river.

I can't tell you how much time elapsed for the following events. It was so quick it was over in no time, but it seemed as though everything was moving in slow motion. The boat made a course correction as it neared, putting me directly in the path again. I changed course again, to take me back towards the river and waved my paddle a few times to draw his attention. Again the boat swerved, now dangerously close to me and all I could do was dig in and pray he didn't swerve again. But he did. I knew there was going to be an accident, and it was going to be with me.

I've never been so scared on the water. I was paddling like hell and knew that now I was below the huge boat's line of sight. If I was lucky I might be able to just clear the boat - then it swerved toward shore and headed in to a dock a few hundred yards away.

I stopped paddling. I was pretty shaken and I cursed the boat as it passed close enough I could have hit the boat with my paddle with an easy toss. No one on the boat heard me - it was running wide open.

I turned and headed for the dock. Me and that captain were going to discuss this. But as I paddled with determination and anger toward the dock 2 women hopped off the boat and the boat backed and then sped out to the middle of the river. I paddled up to the dock where another boat was tied up. The gentleman on the boat was having a difficult time walking from one end of his boat to the other. He had a cup in his hand he was trying to keep from spilling. I asked him if he noticed the name of the boat that had just been to the dock. He said no (slurred it actually) and I explained it had almost run me down. I paddled off, angry and still shaking.

A few minutes later I noticed the gentleman's boat left the dock and sped out to the middle of the river where he came along side of the boat that almost ran me down. Together they finished crossing the river to the channel and headed south.

I thought it would take me a long while to calm down, but it didn't. I chatted with the fishermen near shore about their luck today - they said they were tearing up the catfish. I enjoyed the waves from the boat wakes as I rounded the points on the way back, surfing them when I could.

When I made it back to the park I loaded up my stuff and killed a little time waiting for my clothes to dry. I noticed John come around Sandy Point and I waited for him to get back. On relaying my story John said he almost got ran down by 2 boats as he crossed the Potomac back to Mason Neck and we wondered if they had been the same boats that I had seen.

Only 100 days left...

Woody

The new Pungo 5000

All it needs is a spray skirt...

New Addition

One sure fire way to kill a young girl's interest in kayaking...buy her a horse.

Bath Water

Saturday, 18 June - It seems like just yesterday I was wearing my dry suit. Today the water is probably close to 80 degrees or more. It's busy at the launch even though the park has only been open for 15 minutes.

There is a nice breeze and the air temp is in the mid 80s. The perfect day to paddle I launched and turned towards the Potomac.

I have no destination in mind and figure I'll just paddle till I get tired. As I round the lower end of the neck I pass a yellow SOT that is relaunching back in to the water after a break. The SOT follows me NE back up to Great Marsh. I enter the north fork into the marsh and it appears the SOT takes one of the south forks.

As I meander back in to the marsh I come across a fisherman who tells me he has been catching a few. He is heading out and shortly after passing him I cross a flat and see a long gar swimming just a foot or two away. Not long after I run out of open water and turn to make my way out.

Before leaving the marsh I turned on the GPS and set it on deck where I can watch my speed. I have no idea what my 'natural' cruising speed is. As I cruised back to the southern end of the neck I seem to settle in between 3.5-3.7 statute MPH. That seemed to be about right but I thought with all the paddling I've been doing it was a bit slow.

I sprinted for a short while getting up to 4.5-4.7 MPH, but it didn't last long.

As I rounded the southern tip of the neck my speed increased to about 4.0-4.3 MPH. I'm not certain why because it was pretty close to slack tide, but in any event I didn't seem to be putting as much effort in and had picked up speed. Maybe I had finally just loosened up.

As I rounded the last point I saw another gar, but this one had been sliced up by a boat prop. Back at the launch I played around rolling before calling it a day.

On Sunday I didn't make it out to the water till 1:00. I spent a while practicing my roll some more and the warm water was just a delight to play in. After making sure I was soaked head to toe I headed off for Kanes Creek, using the small waves to rocket me along.

I turned around before reaching the end and paddled back out into Belmont Bay. The bay was swarming with small boats pulling folks in giant inner tubes - or whatever they are called. There were a few jet skis buzzing around, and as much as I truly hate those things I have become more tolerant over the last few years as the 4 stroke (quieter) models have become more prevalent.

Again back at the launch I played some more. I always feel somewhat self conscious when doing this as it gets a lot of attention and seems as if I'm showing off. Today I paddled south a few hundred feet before practicing as not to be directly in front of the launch area. After throughly tiring myself I turned for shore. I stored my paddle on the front deck and hand paddled back to the beach, occasionally using my hands as a stern rudder while edging the kayak to aid the turn.

In the loading area my Thule Hullavator was getting a lot of attention. I think I could have sold a few out of the back of my car if I would have had them stashed away.

I was on the water only an hour and a half, but I felt rejuvenated from being able to play in the water so much the last few days...

Woody

Learning to Stand

As I rounded High Point I caught a set of boat wakes and rode them across the shallows of the point for some distance. That was fun, and I was hot so I headed into deeper water to roll and cool off. Not really wanting to paddle for distance today I decided to play. For several hours I sat on the south end of the point waiting for wakes large enough to surf.

Early on it seemed the larger draft boats were coming through giving lots of opportunity to catch a free ride. But in short order it seemed the good wakes became less and less frequent so that I was waiting a good 10-15 minutes between sets near the end.

I played with the skeg a bit. The explorer is just a dream in a following sea, but I wish I had the wire skeg instead of the rope skeg for it's ease to adjust to positions other than all the way up or all the way down.

I saw John appear in the distance, and over my shoulder I saw about 10 boats go by all at once. I jumped on the waves about halfway through the sets and rode two waves for several hundred feet before paddling up to John to chat for a few minutes.

As John paddled away I caught a few more waves then headed back to Mason Neck. I spent some time working on my roll and several folks on shore stopped to watch. As they sat on the beach I tried several new things, failing on all of them. I decided to try and stand up in my kayak.

I had done this in my Sirocco in the pool several times, but never in the Explorer. I tried to stand and immediately capsized. I'm sure this was amusing to the group on shore, but I re-entered and rolled back up. This time I threw my legs out of the cockpit and slid my butt up on the rear deck. I sculled for support as I brought my legs back in to the cockpit and promptly capsized again.

I repeated these funny antics probably six or seven times. After capsizing for the last time I left the kayak upside down and hooked a foot through the painter. I swam using my paddle toward shore, trailing my kayak behind me until I reached knee deep water.

I was disappointed I never managed to stand. I have a lot to master to accomplish this task. But the time in the water, the rolling, and catching some good rides across the point left me feeling refreshed for the rest of the day.

Learning to Stand (Part II)

On Saturday I tried again. I'd put my legs out of the cockpit and then wiggle my butt up on to the rear deck. Sculling furiously I would put my feet in the cockpit and immediately capsize.

When Cyndi came back from her training run I got her to give it a try. But her wing paddle wasn't making it easy so I pulled out my paddle from the car and exchanged it for the wing.

When she first started she said 'there is no way I can stand up in this boat', but before I left I saw her do it twice.

On Sunday morning I got to the park an hour before Joan so I could practice. I learned something from watching Cyndi the day before - I could just sit on the rear deck in shallow water and lift my feet. If I started to capsize I could just put my feet down.

I started by sitting on the rear deck with my legs held very far out from the kayak. Whenever I would start to capsize I would instinctively hug the kayak with my legs, which only made the problem worse. It took a while to break the habit, but I finally got to the point I would push my legs out away from the kayak to get my stability back.

Over time I progressed to putting my legs back in the boat. Much more tippy. But I continued to practice by sculling, bracing, and generally trying to stay on the oxygen rich side of the water line. Over the course of the hour I got pretty good at keeping my balance with my legs in the boat, sculling on either side.

The last thing I tried before Joan arrived was using one arm to scull with an extended paddle. I felt I was getting close to trying to stand, but not just yet.

Joan and I met a new paddler and paddled with her to explore Kanes Creek. When we returned I attempted to stand up, but I don't think I ever made it fully upright. After climbing back in and pumping out the boat, Joan and I paddled out to Conrad Island to have lunch. While paddling back to Mason Neck I decided I would try to stand again...

It lasted all of 4/10ths of a microsecond. But long enough that Joan was able to take a picture.

Mathews County

Trip report in a few days. In the mean time here are the pictures I brought back with me.

Pictures

The Orphaned Continent

14 million children have lost one or more parents to AIDS.

6,000 children get infected with AIDS each year.

Werner Stoltz decided to dedicate the next 2 years of his life in order to help save lives and join the fight against HIV/AIDS. During this period he intends to paddle thousands of kilometers by means of a sea kayak and take on some of the most treacherous waters this world has to throw at him.

His reasons are simple; to raise money for the Methodist Relief and Development fund and help children orphaned and infected by HIV/AIDS.

He starts off on the 16th of July 2005 in the Liffey in Dublin, accompanied by Fergus Cooper, attempting to circumnavigate Ireland in 35 days! After this he will pick the paddle up once again and paddle the coastline of the United Kingdom, followed by Southern Africa starting at Swakopmund Namibia and finishing in Pemba Mozambique. These African countries are some of the worst affected areas. He will be keeping a diary and collect footage on the trip which he intends to use to make people aware of the heartache and the danger we all face.

Please help him and join the fight against HIV/AIDS.

Donate

Woody

Gatorade doesn't Float

It was a hot day as Joan and I paddled around the end of Mason Neck. A group of young people were swimming and drinking heavily off the stern of their boat between High Point and Sandy Point. As we neared one of them kept yelling for us to come closer so they could have sex with us, and another person jumped off the boat after passing a drink to someone and started swimming toward us. We turned our kayaks out toward the bay to stay away. Assholes.

We paddled on around the neck but it was hot and a clap of thunder made up our mind to turn back. This time we headed much further out in to Occoquan Bay to avoid the drunken swimmers.

Back at the launch we played a little. Paddling around on the backs of our kayaks trying to maintain our balance. A woman sat on shore awaiting her maiden voyage but the thunder concerned her so she was waiting to see what would happen.

Further from shore I needed my webbed paddle gloves out of my rear hatch, so Joan opened it up for me and accidentally dropped the cover in the water. It sank like a rock and I thought it was gone. Joan sank the end of her paddle in the water to mark the spot and I drove my paddle into the sand also and wet exited. The water was only waist deep and after a few minutes of searching with my feet I found the cover.

I put on the gloves, thought about how I would accomplish the roll and went over, trying to use the momentum to help carry me all the way around. The first time I missed it but came close. I knew it would be about timing.

The second time I went over I focused on the timing of when to fire my hands to roll up. And to my surprise I came up with a little momentum to spare. But by this part of the day I was pretty tired and the 6 or 7 attempts afterwards failed to get me back up. When I failed I'd pull the paddle off the front deck and roll up, but the last two attempts resulted in me wet exiting because the paddle hung up in the deck rigging. The timing seemed to be there but my energies were drained from the heat.

Back in my boat I decided to end the hand rolling practice for the day and reached for a fresh bottle of Gatorade from my day hatch. I played with the day hatch a moment, and found that it will float. But as I pulled out the Gatorade, I fumbled it and it splashed into the water. In my mind I knew it would float back up so I didn't reach for it when it fell. I sat there in disbelief as the bottle went straight down. When I realized what happened, I drove my paddle into the sand again and rolled over to wet exit.

I passed Joan my boat to keep from drifting away while I felt around with my feet for the bottle of Gatorade. I must have searched for 15 minutes but it was nowhere to be found.

It was a bit of a defeat for me. The Gatorade was going to be a celebratory treat for getting the first roll with the web gloves. And I felt quite guilty about leaving trash in the water. There was nothing left to do but call it a day.

Olden Times

In the ancient times, when this urbanite first took up kayaking, morning seemed to jump to life as I loaded my wood stripper on my truck to drive to the launch. Those early days were marked by wrong turns as I made first visits to launch sites that would become well known to me in the succeeding years. Drivers pointed and stared at the stripper at stop lights, and the few kayaks I saw on the road were people I knew or would shortly meet.

In today's paddling world, the kayaks on my car are non-descript. Part of the many others on the road. I wake using my internal alarm, stop for breakfast and gas and arrive at the park one minute after opening. A lot of people say "Hey Woody!" at the launch and I'm embarrassed to admit I don't remember their names.

In the old days my progress was measured in bursts, with plenty of stagnant places where I thought I had peaked and could not progress any further. Today, that hasn't changed as I seem to stop learning anything new, then things seem to just 'click'.

Joan was an hour and a half behind me as I dropped my kayak on the shore. It must have been a sight for those on shore as I paddled off - my butt on the rear deck, my legs across the cockpit and feet resting on the front deck.

Three weekends ago I couldn't sit on the rear deck with my feet out to the side without capsizing. Two weekends ago I couldn't put my feet inside the kayak while sitting on the rear deck. This past Friday I couldn't put my feet on the front deck. On Saturday I couldn't put my feet on the deck and paddle forward. But today I took my first strokes. Alternating between sculling draw strokes and forward strokes there were times I made it look easy. A skill that seems impossible at first in this case is learned very quickly.

I wonder if I can eventually do a bow rudder while paddling my Explorer like a SOT?

But standing, that is a skill that still eludes me. I seem to have getting on my feet mastered, but as soon as I straighten up I go for a swim.

What I never expected in my quest to stand in my boat, was all the skills I would learn or sharpen along the way. My high and low brace auto-reflex have been strengthened. I've become somewhat accomplished in the cowboy reentry - a skill I had never acquired before. It's very difficult for me to capsize sitting on my rear deck now, with my feet out to the side. I'm starting to play with this in rougher water. I'm learning to scull with one arm and have found I can paddle my kayak pretty well laying on the rear deck with my head over the cockpit in a quick bolt to shore (or away from shore).

Along the way I've tossed in more practice with the butterfly roll. Once about 50% successful, it now seems fairly bomb proof except when I'm really tired. Other one handed paddle rolls to get me on my way toward a hand roll.

But the hand roll also eludes me. Like trying to stand I seem stagnated - unable to cross the bar I've set. And just 'doing' those tasks are not my end goal. Besides standing, I want to paddle under control. Besides hand rolling I want to make it look and feel effortless, not violent and jerky.

If I've learned one thing about skill development since the early days, it is that these obstacles will either one day suddenly be breeched, or continue on the list of things I can't do. But either way, it is the cool little things I learn along the way that make it fun.

The thing I remember most about a BCU safety class I took way back in the dark ages, was seeing Scott Fairty stick his paddle in the water on his right side and stir the water like a pot of soup. His kayak spun 180 degrees on command and I sat there and thought 'wow'. I tried and tried to master this over the years, but never could get it. On Sunday morning as I rolled the kayak up on edge and swished my paddle around on the right side to turn around I realized that somewhere between then and now I had mastered that technique. Wow. A barrier broken. A skill acquired.

So over the years the barriers continue to come down. When persistence doesn't work, sometimes just going on to something else is the best way to get there.

And when I get discouraged about my progress, I only need to remind myself that the 'olden times' is just six and a half years ago.

I may never learn to stand or roll my kayak with my bare hands, but what I learn along the way...THAT will be cool.

So if I could offer one piece of advice in trying to gain kayaking skills it would be this:

Wear sunscreen

;)

Woody

Seat Repair

The seat broke loose in my explorer again. This time it was my fault for not prepping the area properly. So to try and not make the same mistake twice I ripped out the entire seat to get at the area where it had detached and clean it up.

I also ordered some foam to shape to the bottom of the seat to go between the seat and the hull. After all, if I'm going to try and stand up in my boat, the least I can do is try and give it a little more support, right?

I roughed out the foam and wedged it and the seat back into the kayak and let it sit for a day. When I came home from work the black seat had done its work by leaving a depression in the foam showing me where I needed to take out the last bit of foam to make a perfect fit.

The seat itself was damaged and I needed to reinforce the areas that were cracked. In addition, there was a grove cut in to the hull from the front edge of the seat, so I laid down a layer of glass over the groove to make sure it didn't wear any deeper. I left these pieces to cure for the night before putting the seat back in.

The next day I used up the fiberglass tape I had but wished for a little more. On Friday I stopped by the hardware store but all they had was mat glass. I decided to use it anyway, but it was hard to work with.

After giving it a few hours to set up I put the backhand back in. One side went in easily but the starboard side proved to be a real challenge. Some of the mat fiberglass had cured in the plane that the back band strap needed to rest in. I used a saw to open the area back up and with a quick few turns of a screwdriver the kayak was whole again.

A little sanding to take off some rough edges and the kayak made the trip to the front yard and on to my car.

On Saturday I played around a bit in it. The cold I seem to be coming down with took some of the energy out before I ever got to the water. The seat seems to be a tiny bit higher. I suspect the foam keeps it from bending all the way down to the hull. The positive is I can lean back and lay flat on the rear deck now without lifting my butt out of the seat. A negative is the back band seems to be riding too low.

We'll see how long it lasts this time...

Pictures

Woody

Saying Goodbye

She came to my home off the back of a truck. It cost me an extra $150 to have her shipped to my house in northern Japan from Tokyo. I cut open the cardboard protecting her and took off the cheese cloth inner wrap and saw her bright orange plastic skin glisten in the sun.

She was there when I broke my paddle and she dragged me behind her back to shore through the surf. She taught me how to high brace on the move. She showed me how to bongo slide and surf through the waves. She took pounding after pounding, as I did, beating our way through the break.

She responded when I asked her. Taught me how to carve an edge. We glided together over water 1000 feet deep. We scooted over sand bars and paddled off shore in high winds. She always brought me home and in return I brought her home with me when I returned to the States.

But a few months ago while rolling a tear developed in her coaming. A possible warranty issue according to the factory. So today I dropped her off at the local dealer. If the factory replaces the Sirocco it will be the last time I see her. As I carried her in to Atlantic Kayak's upper storage area I couldn't help think about what the ol' girl and I had been through together.

I'm missing her already.

Woody

Off and On

Yesterday Joan and I paddled around the neck until my foot began to ache bad enough I needed a break. We beached for a little while to let my heel recover. Over the last few months I've developed what I believe to be a bone spur on the outside of my right heel. I had gone to the doctor a few weeks ago and she prescribed motrin and a heel cup and it had been helping. Of course, I had been out of a kayak for 3 weeks, so there had been nothing pressing on the outside of my heel. But now I hobbled around after only a short paddle.

When we got back to the park I practiced my hand roll for about an hour. It was very close - so close I couldn't figure out why I wasn't going the rest of the way up. Inches separated me from being successful but I just couldn't get there. By the end of the day both my heel and right shoulder were very sore but as a final act I managed to stand in my kayak a good 15 seconds before falling over.

I ordered some foam for my kayak when I got home. kayakoutfitting.com sells a foam 'skin' they say works well for holding up to the wear and tear of heels.

On Sunday I laid in bed till about 8:30 - late for me. I hadn't planned to paddle but on sitting up in bed I decided to dress and see if I could finally get that hand roll.

I was stiff in every joint from the day before. On the water I couldn't seem to get anything to work. I was so far from rolling up with my hands it was depressing so I switched to the butterfly roll. But that wasn't working either. Of about a half dozen attempts I managed one.

I went back to shore for a bit and tried to limber up and then decided to paddle back out sitting on the back of my kayak. At least this seemed to be working. Working pretty well actually. I paddled out a hundred feet from shore and saw Tina and Greg from CKAPCO approaching with their tour group. The wind driven waves were small but turning was still difficult. With spectators now watching of course I capsized.

I did a re-enter and roll and chatted with Tina for a moment while pumping out my kayak before paddling back in. Again I was sitting on the rear deck and managed to beach without another crowd pleasing splash.

An On day followed by an Off day. But even off days are fun. I've missed being on the water for the last three weeks and feel I've fallen behind on where I should be in skills this summer.

Woody

New Virginia Day Trip Guide

Sea Kayaking Virginia - A Paddler's Guide to Day Trips from Georgetown to Chincoteage.

Full Discloser Caveat - I'm mentioned in this book along with this web site, albiet my last name is spelled wrong:)

Having said that, in this second book from Andrea Nolan, I can't help noticing the passion that seeps out of each paddling destination's description. My favorite Maryland kayaking destination book now has a Virginia cousin. Andrea's writing continues to excel and I'm looking forward to exploring the gems she has uncovered!

Buy on Amazon

New Waters

As the Potomac continues to turn a darker and darker green from the alge blooms beginning to form, I needed a new place to explore. I had planned to do this trip a few weeks ago but caught a cold and had to put the trip off.

It rained, sprinkled actually, the hour and a half it took me to get to Hicks Landing on the Rappahannock, which is about 4 miles north of Port Royal. I paid $7 at the store to use the private ramp and drove down to the water. I was very early, but Greg still beat me to the launch. We chatted to kill time and one by one folks began to arrive.

As we put on the water the rain stopped. We paddled north on a flood current and the seven of us covered 4.4 miles in an hour of leisure paddling. Ellen picked a black walnut from the water's edge and at Skinkers Neck we paddled back in to White Marsh. A tidal marsh filled with wild rice that we explored before heading back in to the river and turned south. Mike and Bob headed for the launch while the other five of us explored the side creeks along the way.

I was happy with this section of the Rappahannock. I suppose all day we saw 6 or 7 boats and each creek was filled with wild rice getting this place put on my fall paddling list to explore when the migratory birds come through.

Along the way we saw wood ducks, buzzards, bald eagles and all sorts of flora and fauna. The slight breeze, cloudy skies and cooler temperatures made me feel like I could paddle forever, but two miles away from the launch we hauled out and had lunch. This recharged my battery and allowed my heel a much needed rest.

The doctor had called the night before and said the x-rays of my heel looked fine so I've got to figure out what is going on there. Maybe a new paddling shoe will help. I had been resting my heel on a piece of foam the entire trip and I believed it helped, but did not eliminate the pain.

After lunch Ellen headed back while Bill, Andy, Greg and myself went back in to Cleve Marsh a little ways before returning to the river and circumnavigating Goat Island. This entire area too was filled with wild rice. As we exited the thorofare behind the island back into the river we turned right to head back to the launch. The thorofare had been a shortcut, and now we paddled against the current. It seemed to me that someone had moved the launch further away but we eventually made it back. 15.7 statute miles according to Greg's GPS. As we packed up and headed for home it began to sprinkle again.

It was a great day exploring new waters, and the wild rice gets this location added to my fall/winter paddling list. It is a trip best planned riding with the currents. As is much of the Rapp there are few, if any, places to haul out for a break so plan accordingly. The launch at Hicks had clean porta-potties. Remember to stop at the store about 100 feet from the turn for Hicks to pay the $7 launch fee and get a receipt for your windshield.

Woody

Pictures

Wind and Circulation

An interesting note on today's paddling. I had taken the day off to play in the what was left of Katrina. A small craft advisory was in effect with winds out of the south so I hoped there would be some decent waves rolling up the Potomac.

The waves never got over 2 feet, with the winds blowing a fairly steady 14 MPH according to my anemometer. But I did get some long rides back in to Belmont Bay. I paddled out past Sandy Point out to the edge of the channel then rode the waves deep into the bay. I would then paddle close to shore to block the wind and follow it back out to the point so that only a portion of my paddle was against the wind.

The interesting note is that once near shore there was a fair along shore current pushing me back to the point. The water coming in with the blowing waves was then recycled back out along the shore.

The shallow bay between Sandy Point and High Point is actually a better surf area and I did go out there to play a little but it became tiring fighting my way back out against the wind each time. Eventually I went back to Sandy Point to take advantage of the recirculating ride.

When the tide started coming in the waves became more shallow so I headed back to the launch, practiced paddling while sitting on the top of the kayak in the bumpy water for a few minutes, then headed for home.

Woody

44 - A-Hay, A-Ho

On this day, my 44th birthday, the best gift I could give myself was a day off work to go paddle. I didn't want to go far, but the weather has been so nice so I paddled across Belmont Bay for Giles Run.

A-Hay
A-Hay, A-Ho
Four times at your eastern door
Where your children will be born
Where their future will be formed
In that still part of dawn
On the earth I'll kneel upon
In respect my head I'll bow
In ancient tongue I'll make a vow
A-Hay...yo

In the center of the bay I would occasionally pass something very white and sparkled. I had seen something like this before, but never investigated it very closely. I stopped beside one of these things glistening in the bright sunshine and picked it up. It was a feather and was covered with tiny bubbles. I took a few pictures before paddling on.

A-Hay
A-Hay, A-Ho
The Southern winds blow to and fro
Grandfather show us spirit way
To guide our steps throughout the day
In the innocence of life
Will comfort all eternal strife
And I will learn to walk along
With gratitude both great and strong
A-Hay...yo

As I entered the mouth of Giles Run, the fragrance of little white flowers growing wild along the point made me take pause to sit and enjoy the moment. Ducks flew in and out of the creek on the eastern side, while construction and yard maintenance sounds dominated the western side.

A-Hay
A-Hay, A-Ho
Grandmother of the western shore
Show us how to understand
The beauty of this sacred land
Creator it's to you I plead
At this time it's strength I need
To walk in balance on this earth
Giving thanks for my rebirth
A-Hay...yo

Giles Run is a poster child for urban runoff into the Potomac River. Heavily fertilized yards sweep down a dark green slope to the edge of the water. One yard had a one foot high fence two feet from the water. Between this fence and the creek a band of dark brown from being sprayed with weed killer. It's difficult not to get angry knowing that throughout the watershed this is repeated over and over again, contributing to algae blooms and fish kills.

A-Hay
A-Hay, A-Ho
To the North the old ones go
Reflecting Wisdom deep within
Echoes of the circles end
White Eagle fly up to the sun
Look upon us all as one
In reverent prayer I'll call your name
In reverent peace I will remain
A-Hay...yo

A-HAY, A-HO
Written by Kristine Robin

Learning to Stand (Part III...or is it 33?)

No one was around so I took advantage of the moment to stand up in my kayak while holding on to a piling near shore. I'd lift my hand up off the piling and balance as long as I could before grabbing hold of the piling to regain control before lifting off my hand again.

This led to a remarkable jump in my ability to stay balanced. Away from the piling but in very shallow water I stepped in to my kayak, using my paddle as a crutch. With increasing confidence I paddled about 20 feet before turning the boat and paddling back. The water was perfectly flat, which made things easy.

I can't recommend this method of learning. Falling over in such shallow water could lead to injury. But for me the advancement was significant and probably replaced falling out of my kayak about 30 times in deep water.

I went out and practiced rolling a bit. My ankles were sore from standing up in the boat so after another 15 minutes I went ashore to rest. A family arrived and let their baby girl play by the water. I waited for them to leave before working on the standing again. The tide was out and the hydrilla thick so I didn't paddle far while standing up.

Again on shore I watch as two women pull up in a convertible and unload a wind surfer. The wind had been building for the last hour, but the hydrilla made it difficult for one of the women to get out in open water. When she came ashore I went back out for one last rolling session before calling it a day.

I won't get my standing skills up to where I want them before the end of the season, but I'm beginning to see the goal coming in to view.

Woody

Leesylvania to Smallwood

I've been revisiting Leesylvania a lot lately. It started a few weeks ago with Jenny, Greg and Andy exploring the creeks nearby, followed by a Leesylvania to Mason Neck and back trip with Patty. Today Joan and I headed out in another direction to cross over to General Smallwood State Park.

I got to the launch late. REAL late. When Joan called me at 9:00 to tell me she missed the turn and would be a few minutes late she actually woke me up! So about 10:30 we finally pushed away from Leesylvania and started navigating toward the southern tip of Indian Head.

I noticed there seemed to be more bass boats than usual for this late in the season, but it didn't dawn on me that there might be a reason.

The day was clear, blue and only the slightest of breezes. Crossing open water this flat is actually a bit boring, but we occupied our time with conversation. We crossed the nearly 3 miles of open water in short order and with it still being too early for lunch, Joan and I paddled on up Mattawoman creek.

The creek was swarming with boats buzzing in and out of the creek, with most of them bass boats running flat out wide open. We stayed along shore but often paddled out a bit to avoid fishing lines. The water was a bit tannic, but other than that it was crystal clear and I paddled along looking in the water at the fish darting by.

Mattawoman has a healthy supply of lettuce grass growing in fairly deep water. It is one of the few creeks nearby that isn't choked full of hydrilla. The clear water allowed me to see an occasional bass swim by and I couldn't help think to myself 'you missed one' to the fishermen.

We rounded the corner where the government facility ended and there was a small community park. We hauled out at the boat ramp for lunch, making note that the ramp itself was broken off at the end. I'm not sure how the boats launched from the 3 trailers in the parking lot.

We had lunch in the gazebo before starting our trek back. As we headed out the boats seemed to start heading out too. A few did rocket in to the creek though. The crossing seemed even longer back to Leesylvania although there was a little bit of boat wake to contend with. There wasn't enough to make it very interesting and boats seemed to only want to cross in front of us rather than behind us where we could have gotten a bit of ride from the wake.

As we neared Leesylvania it finally clicked about all the boats. An announcer was calling out fish weights as the boats came back to the dock. We rounded the point and headed in to Powells creek and back to the launch.

It was good to see some of the area surrounding Leesylvania again. I still need to revisit the area south of the park, an area somewhat boring from what I remember down to the power plant. Maybe the weather will continue to be nice for a few more weeks.

Chocolate Milk

As I launched from Leesylvania, the water was the color of chocolate milk. The rain over the last 24 hours had colored Powells creek with such a heavy sediment load that I couldn't see my paddle blade only a few inches below the surface.

Although it seemed calm as I launched, I could see the waves marching down the Potomac in orderly fashion. With the wind out of the north, Powells creek is well protected from the wind. But I didn't plan to paddle in Powells creek.

I headed for Cockpit Point. This would take me out to the Potomac where I would then change course again to cross the river. The water turned from chocolate milk to a weak coffee with cream along the way. The tide was starting to come in causing the waves to stack a bit.

From Cockpit point I turned southeast and began to cross the river. The following swell gave me quite a push toward Stump Neck. I aimed for the tip of the neck but the opposing current and broaching swell conspired to have me arrive a few hundred yards north of the tip.

Stump Neck is heavily marked with signs forbidding vessels within 1500 feet of the shore. For every large sign warning to keep a good distance, there are 10 smaller signs marking it as a government installation. I stayed outside the crab buoy line, probably within 1500 feet, but I figured if they let the work boats slide... A bass boat came racing out of Chicamuxen Creek and cut the corner much further inshore than I was paddling.

Inside the creek, the grasses spread across the entire creek. It didn't make paddling very difficult, but I was a bit surprised that there did not appear to be a defined channel free of the grass.

The water in the Chicamuxen was not what I expected. Unlike the chocolate milk colored water on the Virginia side of the river, the Chicamuxen's water was crystal clear, almost like spring water.

There were a few boats in the area. I stopped for a moment to ask one if they were having any luck catching fish. None at all. The fisherman told me they were biting good the day before in all the heavy rains.

The grasses quickly narrowed the creek down to a spot only about 10 feet wide. But this channel went on for a few hundred feet then opened back up a bit. I passed a few more fishermen also not having any luck.

As I thought the creek had become too narrow for any more boats I moved to the center to keep from fouling my paddle in the grass. But I was wrong. Around the bend I heard a boat fire up and run up to max throttle so I moved again to the side of the narrow channel. Around the corner came a bass boat, with the driver(?) wearing a crash helmet. Well that was new...

I paddled as far as the water would let me, but the grasses soon closed down the creek. Even then I managed to go on a few hundred feet more as there was plenty of water under the grass. But my fun was over - time to turn back.

The return trip was uneventful. The going more slow against the wind and waves. I stopped in the center of the river to watch a large boat go by, then paddled directly toward the launch. The bouncy water a bit fun. A large sail boat was coming up the river under engine power, but I was well out of his way by the time he was up the river as far as I was.

As I passed Cockpit Point the sailboat turned out to the middle of the river and raised its sails for his run back down river. The crossing from the point to the launch always seems like a long one to me, but it is only a mile and a half.

Near shore I played with standing up in my boat for a few minutes before packing for home. Very few boats today, and water temps in the low 70s. The trees have just a touch of brown in them, but the cool mornings tell me this won't last long.

2005...so far.

A short 5 MB slide show of my season so far. Windows Media Video format(WMV).

It just keeps getting better

Woody

Broad Creek

Distance: 12 miles (statute)

It has been a few years since I've launched from Belle Haven Marina. The office didn't open till 9:00 so I prepped the kayak for launch and started making what seemed like an endless stream of trips back to the car for something I forgot. I paid the $3 launch fee when the office opened about 8:30 and Patty arrived within a few minutes.

The trips between the kayak and car didn't stop. Couldn't find my hat. Where are my gloves? Lunch? One of those days...

Patty was in the water waiting as I put on my skirt and pfd. One the inclined astroturf for the launch I tried to slide in to the water, but there was a bit too much weight in my kayak to slide down easily.

We headed directly across the river. I've never paddled down the Maryland side below the Woodrow Wilson bridge to Swan Creek, so this was all new territory for me. The Maryland side was steep and rocky in places. The shore trashy from the wind blowing floating plastic bottles against it which had flowed in to the river from recent rains. The Potomac was cloudy, but clearing from the chocolate milk color I had seen the week before.

We entered the mouth of Broad Creek, which is.... broad. We explored a small side creek, flushing geese and ducks as we paddled. Further back in Broad Creek the was a large shallow marsh with lots of wildlife. What struck us both though was how the egrets were clumped together, as if they were just standing around chatting with each other.

At the very back of the creek was the feeder creek fairly well hidden from view. Wave after wave of geese began to fly out as we entered. Shallow and muddy, we grounded several times working our way in to it before deadfalls finally blocked our way.

We left Broad Creek paddling down the south side, and headed down river along Hedge Neck once out of the creek. It was only a mile and a half down to Swan Creek, but I think paddling through the Hydrilla made it seem longer. The beam wind causing extra sweep strokes wern't helping either.

New Swan Creek we checked the time and decided to start heading back. We paddled directly across the Potomac to a beach below a parking lot. We decided to land and scout the parking lot as a possible launch location for paddling to Piscataway Creek. A couple of stick paddlers passed down the river while we ate. After lunch we walked up the bank to the parking lot to get a good look at Mount Vernon Memorial Parkway so we could identify the parking lot from the road. The pulloff is just north of Waynewood Blvd.

Back on the water we paddled north against what was left of the falling tide. A stiff wind was blowing out of the NW as we paddled past Wellington and Dyke Marsh. I had been trying to angle in toward Dyke Marsh, but the wind kept me away from shore until I turned sharply toward it and paddled closer. Patty wondered where I was going, but she was enjoying the paddle against the wind.

Back at the marina we packed as Alison paddled up. She was one of the stick paddlers paddlers that paddled by while we were having lunch.

I had just enough time to go home to let the dog out before heading off to Jack's Boathouse for an evening paddle.

Pictures

Woody

Black Vultures

It is sort of ominous to pull up to a launch site and have it covered with Black Vultures. On the trash cans, on the dock. Walking in the grass between the parking lot and the muddy beach, and sitting on the roofs of nearby buildings. But the cool morning made me brush away the vultures from my mind and focus on getting ready to paddle.

Just as I finished packing the kayak Joan rolled up and I helped her carry her stuff down to the water. There was so little boat traffic on the way out, we paddled down the West River from Galesville, staying just outside the channel marker so we could keep a somewhat straight path on our way out.

We had no specific goal in mind, but thought we might paddle out to Thomas Point lighthouse. As we paddled by the town of Mayo a multi-colored roof caught our eye so we headed in close to shore to take a closer look. It was hard to tell, but from our vantage point on the water it looked like someone had painted a tin roof with a variety of colors arranged in small squares. It was too far away for my camera to catch, although I tried.

We crossed the mouth of the South River as the boat traffic began to pick up. Sail boats mostly. The water got a bit bumpy as the traveled down the length of the river toward us. We ruled out paddling out to the lighthouse, about a mile further offshore, since the winds were supposed to strengthen.

Across the mouth of the South River we began looking for a place to stop for lunch. Around the tip of Thomas Point we found a small beach tucked back beyond the rip rap protecting the shoreline. It was good to stretch out after 7 miles sitting in the kayaks, with the last two miles being fairly bouncy with the waves coming in from the rear port quarter.

After lunch we started heading back. The boat traffic was picking up a good bit and we stopped several times crossing the South River to wait for boats to pass. Once across the water flattened out and remained fairly benign the rest of the paddle back.

When I launched I think I failed to lift my back band up to the small of my back, and as we got near Triton Beach, Joan said something that gave us an excuse to go ashore. She stretched her legs while I stretched my back and on returning to the kayaks I made sure my backband was in place. It made all the difference in the world.

Entering the West River again we hung toward the west to avoid all the sail boats tacking back and forth across the entire width of the river. Although we hit a few blasts of wind, in all it was a very pleasant day. After 14 miles I felt like I had plenty of reserves.

Pictures

I just finished working on a little application for myself to make it easier for me to journalize the distances I paddle. I had kept pretty good track of my mileage up through 2002, but not at all since.

After entering what I knew to be correct from 1999 to 2002, I culled though all the trip reports in 2003-2005 and figured out the minimum mileage for each trip and threw that into the application. If you look over in the sidebar of this page near the bottom, you'll see my best guess on the miles I've racked up over the years. It's dynamic - I enter my mileage after a trip and it magically updates the sidebar.

I was a bit taken back to realize I've paddled nearly 2100 miles. Since I didn't write about many trips, there are quite a few miles that could probably be added in, but without a trip report, old GPS log, or a journal entry, I left them out.

2,100 miles down, another 10,000 to go.

Woody

Careful where you step

I don't think I can deny any longer that fall is here. Water temps were hovering around 50 last weekend, but a warm week brought them up to about 56 for the weekend. I met Joan at Hills Bridge on the Patuxent for an upstream paddle on Saturday.

It was obvious to us as we loaded up our kayaks that the tide was running out. We would be paddling against the current for the first half of the trip. The water was high and we easily exited the gut leading from the launch to the river. We turned north to start our trip and hung close to shore to reduce the effect of the current.

We paddled along, making note how shallow the water seemed. We haven't paddled here since the spring, but the river seemed to have shoaled up quite a bit. We zigged and zagged from one side of the river to the other looking for slow current and deep water.

Ahead we heard gunshots. In my head I thought we might have to turn early if we came across a duck blind with hunters. On river left we found a deer that had not been dead very long. I wondered if it could have been from the hunters but deer season doesn't start till after Thanksgiving.

We didn't see many folks on the water as we headed north, but eventually passed a canoe going the opposite direction. I wondered out loud how difficult it would be to return back to their starting point.

Joan and I took out on a low metal dock for lunch. Joan had put in here on the Patuxent sojourn one year. I tied off my kayak with its painter and let it drift a little down stream of the dock while we had lunch.

Before long we were back on the water and enjoying a slow paddle being pushed along by the current. We zipped by the landmarks we noted on the way up river, but we never saw the deer again. We had to be much more careful as the water had continued to drop and there were plenty of places to run aground. We guessed pretty well on the trip back as to which side had water in it.

After a short trip back into a side gut, we arrived back at the launch behind a few kayakers that got out just ahead of us. It didn't look good. One guy offered to haul me up closer to shore because "There isn't a bottom to the mud where you are at". I gladly accepted and stepped out into mud just covering my boot tops.

I sat my kayak up on the dock and since I could now see how shallow (and muddy) it was off the end of the dock, was thankful I had not done the seal launch off the dock that I had been thinking about when we first put in.

I hauled Joan up as far as I could so she wouldn't get her feet muddy. But our boats were not as lucky. They dripped a dark ooze from their keels as we carried them up to the cars. We used what water we had left to try and clean them a bit, but even then they were still fairly muddy.

I mentioned to Joan that I'd have to go to Mason Neck the next say to clean up my yak :)

Pictures

On Sunday it was a toss-up: Go to the CPA annual meeting or go paddle in the predicted 20-30mph winds. The winds won the battle although I don't think they ever got above 20. The waves off Mason Neck wern't huge, but were fairly well organized so I had a ball catching ride after ride.

I finally became tired so headed back to the launch, passing Mike and Eric and a few others who were starting out toward Pohick. After passing them I swung wide around Sandy Point just as a large boat came by and caught the best wave of the day. Once on the wave it seemed as though the Explorer didn't want to get off. I zipped by a couple of fishermen who stared as I flew by. As I approached a group of pleasure boaters the energy in the wave finally dropped to the point it couldn't continue to push me forward.

Back at the beach there were a lot of folks getting ready to head out. Shorts and tee shirts worn by all as the park rangers pulled their trailer down to the water. They were putting away the canoes and kayaks for the winter as the water had gotten too cold to rent them any longer.

After getting my car I walked in to the water to finish giving my kayak a bath.

Chickahominy Car Camping

I was the first one to the camp site so after raising the tent I went for a walk around the campground. Being November, the water was turned off throughout the park but I noticed the bathrooms were well heated. A bit of a walk from our campsite, but not anything my fat butt didn't need anyway. As I was making the loop I spotted Bill drive in so I headed back up to the campsite to meet him.

Bill was fiddling with the water spigot when I got back to the campsite and after a short chat I headed off to the camp store to pick up a map of the Chickahominy. Soon Mark, Ralph, and Bob arrived and by about 3:30ish we were on the water paddling back into Gordon Creek. We knew we didn't have time to go all the way around Gordon Island, and with a few of us lacking lights we decided to paddle back a bit and just turn around.

In all too short of a time the light began fading fast, so we turned back toward the launch, knowing we would be pushing the edge of dark to the limit. As the sun slipped behind the trees, the wind that had been blowing consistently since I arrived at the park began to quiet. But with the quiet also came colder temperatures.

The trip back seemed longer than I remembered heading out. While that may always seem to be the case, it is even more so when you are in a hurry. Ralph flicked on his shoulder mounted light and I dug out a little 5 LED signal light I had stashed in my dry bag and propped it up on deck. As we crept closer to darkness the light on my deck began to shine brighter and we arrived back at the launch as dusk turned to dark.

Dick and Yvonne had arrived after we had launched and they were back at the ramp when we returned. After chowing down on some pizza I turned in for the evening before the night air began to make its way through my bones. Wearing two layers and slipping inside my sleeping bag and fleece liner it wasn't long before I was fast asleep.

In the morning the fog hung heavy across the Chickahominy. The water was smooth like glass, but I could tell there was a bit of current as leaves touch the water and began to move away. As the morning lightened a few swirls appeared to have significant speed danced across the water, but as I stood and watched I guessed the swirls were from the wind that was ever so slightly beginning to move.

The fog moved up the river and several pictures I took of it rolling away up the river like someone rolling up a newspaper didn't come out. But as the fog pushed past Gordon Island my camera caught a separation between the fog and clear air. It looked as if a white curtain was being pushed aside to reveal the yellows and browns of the trees hidden behind.

The day was slipping on quickly, so Yvonne, Mark, Dick and I headed off to explore Morris Creek while the others continued to get ready and wait for stragglers.

We crossed the river without incident and rounded the point by the white house on the hill to head back in to Morris Creek. Along the left side of the wide mouth there didn't appear to be an entrance to the creek so we headed to the right side where we could see the creek extend a bit back in to the trees. I thought it odd as we crossed the mouth that there was grass showing above the water, but we had a good foot or more under our boats so I didn't give it too much thought. In this 'field' we paddled past a light pole that seemed so out out of place out here in the water.

We were now in the creek, which began with a spattering now and then of Cypress trees. The dark brown of the leaves contrasted against all the greens, yellows, and reds that the other trees still held. It was almost a bit sad that we had missed the changes of the Cypress, but later I would see one tree with a bit of green and I wondered if these trees were really at their best when fully greened out.

The skies were so blue, and the day was quickly getting warm. Although I had worn my dry suit the day before I was glad I had chosen to wear my wet suit today. Yvonne and Mark pulled ashore at the Wildlife Management boat ramp to shed their paddling jackets.

The creek snaked through the land, alternating between stands of Cypress and wild rice. As we approached one curve we noticed what appeared to be ducks or geese moving quickly through the water. But their swimming pattern was a bit odd. It wasn't until they began to climb up the bank that we realized it had been two deer crossing the creek.

As the creek closed in the trees got older. Large Cypress trees were everywhere. Hundreds of years old these gentle giants felt like old friends. The bends became sharper as we zigged and zagged our way toward the end.

The end seemed a bit anti-climatic. A road stopped further progress, with the clearance under the bridge measured in inches. We stopped for a moment to scope out a landing, but there was none. The banks were steep and the pool deeper than our paddles could reach. We were hungry so we started back for the WMA boat ramp to have lunch.

We passed the others about halfway to the dock. After lunch we stretched out on the wooden planks and soaked up the sun. We probably should head back, but it was just too peaceful staring into space watching contrails and black vultures drift by. A few minutes of rest turned in to half hour, then an hour, then an hour and a half. And before we knew it the others returned.

Yvonne, Dick and Mark left to head back to camp but I was enjoying the peace too much to leave. While others lunched I kicked back again feeling the warmth of the sun recharge my batteries.

But we eventually had to leave, and split into a faster group to go start dinner, while I stayed with the slower group to make our way back to the campsite. I was in no hurry and I see more when I paddle slow.

In the afternoon sun everything took on a golden color as we neared the mouth of Morris Creek. We were all surprised to see that our escape route had been dramatically changed as the tide had receded. The light pole was now on solid ground and it was apparent the channel would take us out the south side of the creek - the part I didn't think had an entrance when we entered.

In the evening we enjoyed a great community feast and later, after desert was heated into shapes of various animals over the grill, I believe a bottle of Apple Brandy made its way several times around the campfire. The weekend ended too quickly, as they always do...

Pictures

Launch Locator

Lake Gaston

As I launched the first day from the dock at the rental house, I stepped down a few feet into the kayak. I've launched from a dock many times, and never with incident. I stepped in off balance so I reached back over to the dock for support. But there was nothing on the deck of the dock to grab hold of, and in slow motion I fell backwards into the water as my fingers dragged across the dock.

I sunk like a rock at first. It was quiet, serene, and I had no urgent desire for air even though I didn't get a breath before going over. No one, as far as I knew at the time, saw me go over.

The air in my dry suit bubbled up to my shoulders, and with the help of my pfd I surfaced. I was a bit dazed/disoriented from the cold water on my head and pulled myself up a little on the dock and grabbed my paddle. "reenter and roll", I thought. Then as the warmth returned to my brain I thought it better to climb out on a nearby low dock and empty my boat so I didn't have to pump it. Between falling in and climbing out - probably a minute or two had elapsed.

Later in the day when I got back, I learned family members in the house had seen me go over. They couldn't see me until I climbed back on the dock, but assumed I was testing out my dry suit and made comments to each other about just that.

I left the dock feeling a bit embarrassed in spite of me not knowing that anyone had seen me. As I headed out of the small cove I headed south for the other side of the lake and directly in to the wind. It was a little bit of a slog as I crossed the 3/4 of a mile of water in hopes if getting on the wind shadow of the other side.

When I arrived on the south edge it appeared the wind was blowing mostly from the east so I headed off that way into the wind, with the thought of a push back to the house when I was finished. Before long though the wind turned around and I was paddling with the wind. So much for the free ride back.

Along the shore was nothing but houses, boats lifted clear of the water for the winter, and jet skis. I continued east until I reached where highway 903 crosses the lake, where I followed the road back over to the North side. I had covered a few miles by now, but had not seen any undeveloped places to explore, but as I looked west I could see one spot without a house overlooking the water. The wind, which had continued to build, made crossing over to the north side an adventure.

Paddling back to the rental house was not fun. The wind bit hard on my face and hands while I sought out every little wind shadow along the way to make progress against the wind. The one bare spot along the shore that I spotted was fenced off with barbed wire and a deer laid dead in the water.

I was glad to be back at the house. I could warm up by the fire and learn from the family that I had been seen falling into the water, but they thought I 'testing out the dry suit'.

Day two was too windy to paddle, but on the third day Katie and I headed off east. When we passed the deer she stopped and discovered additional hooves in the water, as if other deer had died there. We wondered if they could have gotten caught in the fence while going to the water for drinks.

We didn't go far before heading back to the house, but on day three we went west - a new area to explore. Of course it was filled with houses too, but we did find a wildlife management area back in a cove and paddled back to explore it. The small finger of the lake had two houses, and the rest were woods. We paddled as far as we could go then turned around. Katie was getting warm so we stopped on a floating dock had had broken loose from some other area of the lake and came to rest against the bank. I helped Katie out of her kayak and so she could shed a layer of fleece from under her dry suit. In short order we were back at the house.

There was not a lot of wildlife on the lake that we saw. A few ducks, geese and a (dead) deer. With all the boats and jet skis we saw hanging under covered docks, I think summer time would be chaos on the water. But for a late fall paddle it was pleasant if you don't mind the urban feel.

Pictures

Launch Finder

Woody

The 'New' Sirocco

I needed to drop off some books to Nelson for the club library, so him and Carolyn met me at Mason Neck to make the exchange. The prior day I had picked up a brand new Sirocco from Atlantic Kayak, which was an RMA from Current Designs.

CD has been a great company to work with on warranty issues. I bought the Sirocco in Japan a few years back - a first year model - and it had problems with the bulkheads leaking right away. The bulkheads were plastic and on getting back to the states they shipped me everything I needed to replace the bulkheads myself.

Back in early spring I had been out with Joan rolling the Sirocco when I felt the seat give. When we got back to the launch I noticed a tear in the plastic where the cheek plate became part of the coaming. I emailed Wenona/CD asking if they had a repair kit I could buy and was told it may be a warranty issue. So working through AK I ended up hear today sitting in a brand new Sirocco.

As the three of us paddled from shore I enjoyed the Sirocco's responsiveness. It was like seeing an old friend after a long period of absence. Of course, she still needed the skeg for any wind, but for playing in tight spots and turning this kayak is just so much fun.

We made the rounds though Belmont Bay, with me also taking my new Olympus WPi out for its maiden voyage. The results were very disappointing - focus of objects in the same plane being an issue. I'll need to experiment more with this camera. I'm an 'instamatic' kind of guy, so I wasn't something that doesn't take any more than turning on and clicking away.

Pictures

Woody