We were all mad back then...

It's over. Summer can now officially start anytime in northern Vermont. The assembled kayakers have rolled in competition once again at the Burlington Boathouse. The highlights for me were Michael S's walrus pull and seeing a number of young people out there learning and enjoying.
However, the big disappointment was the flat refusal of the triple decker tour boat to even attempt a basic balance brace. I mean, even I can do that if pushed as hard as they were. Isn't that so, Cheri? Remember, that time in your 'cheater' boat?

On Sunday 20 paddlers headed out for lunch on the far side of Lake Champlain. It was sunny, with a light wind, lots of good humour and best of all - at least for coffee freaks - was Turner's amazing expresso beach cafe! Who would have thought that what Wendy Killoran wrote about in Sardinia would show up on a beach in northern Vermont! Turner added to the ambiance by appearing in his black monk's habit and surrounded himself with people equally dressed in black. Only Freya was noticeable absent...

Opening Day!

The fisherman are back on the water! Thank whoever it was on a Friday. Tomorrow I suspect one will be able to walk across any of the lakes around here by stepping from boat to boat all the way across! Today was slightly less crowded, but I could tell immediately something was different.
I usually change in a boathouse facing the water. I don't even bother shutting the door, I just strip down and suit up. Not today! I hadn't even loosened my belt before two boats puttered by. When I carried my kayak to the beach a passing fisherperson (they're all 'persons' these days, as you probably already know), suggested there wasn't any room on the lake for kayaks. "You might get arrested..." he claimed. "We'll see about that!" I thought.
But every bay and cove had the sounds of motor boats and popping beer cans. Fisherpeople have so much more fun than kayakers. You can really tell when they're working hard at their pleasure. One guy I know said he had been out since sun up and wasn't going home 'til sun down. Now that's fishing tough, fishing hard, as he put it.
For me, it was a nice sunny day with little wind. I paddled for a couple of hours, poking into favourite haunts and crannies. I got hung up on fishing lines a couple of times, but nothing serious. I made it home in one piece and changed back into my street clothes without getting a public nudity citation or even a cat call.

Renata's Voyage

Both Frogma's blog and Paddling.net have been carrying items recently about Renata's Chlumski's incredible voyage around the mainland US states. Truely this woman is on yet another amazing adventure. A few years ago she met her late friend Goran Kropp in Kathmandu, after he had peddled his bike from Sweden to Mt Everest. She worked as his base camp crew as he summited after which they then returned home across Russia on their bicycles.
I suppose she has a support team helping in this present endeavour to enable her to carry on month after month on her present odyssey. It seems most big expeditions these days require support teams of some sort or another. Insurance companies demand it, families insist on it and even governments require some guarantee they won't be called in for a rescue operation.
Does this take away from the accomplishment? In a way it does. There is nothing quite like knowing you are paddling off the edge of the world into adventure and will only return months later with found treasures surprising the world with what you've done. Those days are gone, perhaps sadly for would-be future explorers. Still these voyages stir the hearts of many and no one can take away the feeling of accomplishment for the finisher.
I suspect that Renata will be biking as she passes through my area, but I hope to get out to cheer her on. It will be a cheer for all those out there pushing their limits discovering who they really are and what life is all about.

April is the cruelest month...

I suppose you have to live life completely outdoors and know nothing of the 'inside' life to really appreciate why we need a month like April. The weather changes on an hourly basis, now sunny, now rainy, now snow, now heat. How does one dress for that? You either freeze because you didn't put enough on, or you boil under your layers. There're no winners here, or are there?

Why not stay inside and play guitar? There's so much here to learn. There are technical skills to practice for the right hand, others for the left, there's music both written and not to learn, there's the joy of playing a well known piece one more time, the mindless improvisation of just letting the tune wander as it wants around the fretboard... In short, another little universe to explore while the climate slowly makes it's shift from winter to summer. So I'll not paddle today. I'll 'toca la guitarra' instead and dream of my summer paddling plans.

Where's the put-in?

Ya, right! Have you ever had a problem with the put-in? I have...

I once wandered around a small Ontario town for a whole morning wondering where my paddling partner was. Certainly not at the same put-in I was at. The town was so small I think I knew the whole place before we finally met up. Another time I traveled for two and a half days and never got to see the put-in at all! Now that was the worst of all.

Last winter in Marco Island I wound up going down a series of deadend streets with marble tiled driveways looking for a put-in. It was like a I'd gone to some kind of rich heaven with no put-ins anywhere. Now what kind of a heaven could that be? I beat a retreat before some rich sweet widow enticed me through the door...

We all know the best put-ins are the ones we can find, down little gravel roads with free parking spots. Down at the beach, the waters stretch before us out in the distance and even if it's raining, who cares. We unload, pack our gear and launch the boats, and with a smile towards our friends, we leave the shore forever - or as Pooh said, "Even longer".

I'm working on just that! I hope you are too.

Trapped?

The ice is bearly out of the lake, mine is the only boat I've yet seen on the water, but it's the weekend. Anything can happen on the weekend. When I put in, the lake was crystal calm, but exiting the bay there was a good chop driven by a south wind. That means about a seven mile fetch, so I was expecting some fun. I purposefully headed down wind so I would be bashing the stuff on the way home. By then I could expect some 2 footers perhaps.
It wasn't to be. Instead I played 'trapped', sneaking around and dodging a suspicious looking boat with those metal lattice things up over the wind-screen. The only people around here rich enough for that stuff are the 'zebra muscle' cops. I was having a great time until I heard their boat out there somewhere. I just knew some weekender would have their boat out. At first I figured it might be a fisherperson. Then I saw the lattice. Cops! Great they'd wonder where my 'zebra muscle' stamp was, and would generally harass me because I'd failed to buy one so they could spend the summer chasing small boaters (the only ones they can catch) and generally wasting my tax money. We all know this scam well enough by now!
They were about a mile away coming down the opposite shore. I looked for possible cover. Not much, but up ahead was a point I could slip behind. I pushed the paddle down hard and in no time skidded into an edged turn around the point. By then I could hear the cops had crossed over to my side of the lake and weren't far behind. I worked fast. I hit the beach, threw my paddle into the deck cords and yanked the boat out of the water. A short run up the beach, around some trees, across a little meadow and I was back in the water again. A shallow creek with good high banks would permit me to paddle unseen back to the lake where I would come out behind the cops. It was a perfect dodge!
I could hear the motor boat turn in towards shore as it passed the point. Now the fun would begin. I had totally disappeared! I let my kayak slowly drift through the trees along the creek as it headed to the lake. I had fooled them! They had stopped, no doubt pondering whether I was worth a chase on foot. No doubt they knew they'd catch me. After all, I was carrying a kayak on my back! It should be an easy kill.
I waited, hearing nothing, then cautiously paddled towards the lake. What! Several trees had fallen across the creek and blocked my route. I was trapped. The cops wouldn't have far to go to see where I'd gone. I sculled over to the bank and peered through the trees. There they were... fishing! Not cops at all, but early fisherpersons with a rich person's boat. Well, I'll be.
Last summer I had bought a small folding hand saw thinking I would use it for a paddle down the Lower North Shore. I never made that trip, but the saw was just the tool for slicing my way out of that creek. Good thing I'm not too well trained at cleaning out my boat's hatches...

Maintaining Good Order...

Years ago when Quebec Inuit would hunt with their kayaks, they had a system of taking care of each other when traveling from one place to another. The basic rule was: the guy behind you is your responsibility. Thus when paddling, you always kept in touch with the paddler directly behind you. If he needed assistance, you were the one who provided it. In this way hunters learned the value of staying close by, within helping distance, and could send messages quickly up and down the line. The result was the group stayed together. Of course, in the melee of the hunt itself, the system could get a bit confusing...
This same system was used in more recent times when travelling by ski-doo during the winter and that's where I learned it. Once, traveling at night on the way home from a fishing camp my sled hitch broke stranding me in the middle of nowhere with few supplies. I was at the back end of the line and thought I would end up passing the night in a snow house - if I succeeded in building one, which was hit and miss. Most attempts had been wonky at best up until then. I knew nothing of the 'system', but was astounded at how quickly everyone ahead of me circled back to give assistance and help me get home safe and sound.

While out paddling today in a brisk north wind, which on my lake is not its normal direction, I got thinking about all those qajait - those boats built in northern Canada. Where are they? Why can't we see them? How many still exist? The Canadian Canoe Museum in Peterborough, Ontario has several examples, as well as some Greenland varieties. Given that Canadian Inuit have produced a wide variety of boats, it is a pity so few can be seen in our museums. All the examples seen in this picture are from either Quebec or Labrador and look somewhat similar. Yet other styles existed from the west, from the barren grounds and from Baffin Island. In each place the boats under went modifications due to the hunting realities that faced the builders. Yet they seldom see the light of day.

I was the only boat on the water all day, in spite of the warm, sunny weather. I spoke to a lady out raking her beach, two others were passing the time with their sketch books (did I get drawn?). A single, brave, middle aged lady was tucked into a corner sun-bathing in a bikini! I found that wonderful. She made me think that museums need to get out their middle aged kayaks and show them to us, wrinkles, sags, white skin and all. We don't care. We just want to know they were built and that they still exist for us to admire. What they look like isn't important!

Ying and Yang, Part 2

"There's a song in every silence,
There's a dawn in every darkness,
From the past will come the future.
In the cold and snow of winter,
There's a spring that waits to be." (lines from hymn 703)

Our friends buried their son today. It was hard, very, very hard. Probably the hardest thing a parent is ever compelled to do. I tried to close my ears to the questioning mourners. I wanted only to move past the moment. I wanted to work on finding comfort and peace for them and myself. I wanted so much to be in next week. Some place, far far away. Suicide has a way of forcing questions. No one really wants to know the answers. Yet we question anyway. Why can't we just be glad we knew him, that our paths crossed however briefly? That he gave us joy.

At the reception afterwards I saw a once familiar face. She turned and our eyes met, narrowed slightly. Who is that? Yes? Maybe, I don't know. We began the usual, "Do I know you?" and yes we did. "What are you doing these days?" "Kayaking!" Really, me too. I just finished building a wood strip Guillemot!" "No way!" "You should try making one. I'll give you all the station forms, even the book. It's such fun making a kayak..." "But I've made two, Greenland SOF boats..." "Really?"...

I thought I was reaching an end of something in recent weeks. Maybe I'm not. There was talk of resurrection during the service. I'm not a religious person at all, but maybe I need to look more closely at the spring that waits to be!

Spa Time

Several weeks ago, to celebrate my Mother's 90th birthday, the family reserved a townhouse at a well known spa in Stowe, Vermont. Little did I realise then how fortunate the timing would be! It was the perfect place to be this past weekend when all around us life seemed to be gloom and doom. The swims, the massages, the meals, the everything worked together to produce a wonderful calming effect in all of us. It will help us get through the days ahead.
During our stay, I recalled one massage I'd had a few years ago when Maligiaq paddled in the La Traversee kayak race from Forestville to Ste Luce, crossing the St Lawrence River. He was one sore boy when he finished and the sports therapy people at the finish line were fabulous. I didn't paddle in the race, but enjoyed some of the benefits! I don't think Maligiaq would have been able to sleep that night had he not had a massage to relax his aching muscles.
I had a long conversation with the masseur about kayaking and the benefits of regularly having a massage to relax our muscles, especially after a strenuous day on the water. There's nothing like it. We should all train ourselves to give massages when on kayaking trips. Not only would it help to relax our muscles, but would build partnerships and togetherness in the wilderness. I'm sure there are some of you out there who know of which I speak!

The Ying and Yang of it all...

The first paddle of the year on my favourite lake. What could be better than that? Almost nothing. The crispy cold water, the sparkling sun, the clear blue sky. It was a day of everything right. I was home again on the water.

But it wasn't to be a day of joy. There seems always to be a ying with a yang.

As I found light and happiness another found darkness. The son of close friends, a boy the same age as my son, ended his life. Why would he do such a thing? You never really know what moves in the heart of a person so distressed as to wish the end. There was no warning, no obvious reason, nothing but horror. So on coming home euphoric I am plunged into a world of grief and unanswerable questions. Why is life like this? What does it mean? How do we move on from here?

For me, at least, it is a time to try to heal the open wounds in my life. To look for those hurts and insults I have somehow caused in the lives of my friends and loved ones. To send out healing messages and for me to hope that my words cast some light that shines into the lives of those who I've given pain. Perhaps that will let them paddle in calmer seas and find the joy I felt during my first paddle of the year on home waters. What else can I possibly do?

YES!!

After reading Derrick's blog a few days ago, I got the idea that I too needed to 'take a walk' in the woods! So I did, together with a friend and our dog, and guess what I found? A lake with almost no ice in it! I paddle today, finally! And what a day it is: nearly 20°C sunny, just enough breeze to make it interesting and some ice here and there so I can have some Lopez Arctic Dreams! Like it's summer already. I'll be swimming next! Well, maybe I'll wait just a bit for the swim... I wouldn't want to damage any appendages!

What's Wrong Here?

I see at least two nasty things here. First, of course, is the presence of that ridiculous barrier, pretending to block honest paddlers from getting to the water, a public resource. Around here access to the water is becoming more and more the right of the rich and the rest of the world be damned. Paddle in the rain puddles and "Eat cake!" is the message to the 'hoi paloi'.

The other problem is that white skim on the water: ICE! While there is a margin of water to paddle in next to the shore, it is a trap for the unwary. The wind shifts the ice around and can quite suddenly push it against the shore line forcing a paddler either onto the land (not too bad) or, if the shore is steep, then the paddler has to scramble onto the ice itself for safety. This almost always results in the paddler going into the water, as the ice is too weak to support one's weight, and as this is going on, one's boat is usually churned up in the tumbling ice being crushed against the shore. All in all, not a happy picture.

The answer to both problems is to remove them. Out with the barrier, free the access points, and out with the ice, free the water. Where's 'global warming' when it's needed!

Actually the ice formed three weeks late this year and if it break up this week, will do so about ten days earlier than normal. We barely had a winter this year, so I'm using Google Earth to examine the south coast of Baffin for possible real estate bonanzas. I want a site house site on a quiet bay with a sandy beach before the prices go through the roof!

¡Toca, Gitano!

I'm tired. Tired of waiting for Spring, tired of waiting for the ice to go, tired to get moving again. I want to dance like Sara Baras. I want to stamp my heels in the surf and push my kayak out into the water and never come back. Sara dances with passion, with fire and ice. I want to live like she dances. Come on Spring!

And once I'm on the water, I want to sing like Montse Cortés, like she sings on Jesse Cook's album 'Nomad' and her own albums. As she sings, my paddle goes into the water, I feel her rhythm, my paddle settles into it and the kayak moves over the water, into the mist of adventure. Montse's earthy voice mingles with the wilderness, dark and brooding, mysterious.
Do you ever drink cava? If you live in Barcelona you do, in the little tavernas on the back streets. And listen to the gitanos as they play and sing and dance. I'm sure there is a link somewhere to paddling in the wilderness and listening to gypsy music, drinking cava. There has to be. Come Spring. I want to leave. Un otra cava, por favor...

No Ribs Today

Another wet, snowy cold day in Paradise. I suppose a real Inuk would be out there putting the ribs in his qajaq so he could feed the extended family, but 'kadlunavunga!' So I'm not working on my boat, I'm inside playing my flamenco guitar.

It's an 'Alhambra' like the one in the picture. Not a custom made guitar like the heros play, but a good one nonetheless, with a sweet cypress smell. The day I bought it, I played about 20 flamenco guitars in the store, everything from total junk to the gloriously sublime, guitars which floated under your arm, sending sensuous pulses directly into your heart as you played them. Almost better than... well, a similar thrill at least, one shared between you and a loved one. If you play a finely crafted, sensitive instrument, you'd know the experience.

I begin playing some exercises from 'Pumping Nylon' by Ken Tennant to loosen up my fingers. Then it's on to trying to learn some pieces by Moraito, who is my favourite guitarrista. I like his style of playing. He comes from Jerez, and is more traditional than guys like Paco de Lucia and his followers and very rhythmic.

Like paddling, it allows one to drift away from one's tangled life and float among the gods for a while. Coming back to Reality Beach is always a smooth landing with little dumping surf to roll you around.

Ya had to be there, ok?

A 'vrai Québeçois' takes his three cats, Un, Deux and Trois, out for a walk on the Spring ice the other day. When he returns an hour later without the cats, his 'blonde' is shocked and asks him, "Les chats, la, sont ou?" He shakes his head sadly, "Un, Deux Trois cats sank...".

Ok, it helps to be a bit bilingual for that one.

Here's one more important note:

Did you know that had you been up at 2 minutes, 3 seconds past 1 o'clock this morning, the exact time could have been written as: 01:02:03 04/05/06. This wonderful revelation will never be repeated, and like you, I too missed it by foolishly sleep it away.

Such are the finer things in life, I suppose.

A Rolling Experience from my Younger Days

Learning to Roll... your Bike!

Now the warm weather is back in the Great White North, we're all waiting for the lakes to soften up a bit so we can paddle in them rather than ski on them. In the meantime, with the snow pushed off to the sides of the roads, more or less, it's time to get our bikes out and enjoy the Spring frost heaves. It's a bit like playing in the tide rips in your kayak, but lots more dangerous (fun?).

When I was younger, my bike of choice was a red one like this, a Laverda 750 SF single seat café racer. Fast, nimble and taughtly sprung, it was a real devil on the frost heaves. In fact, it was on this bike that I first got a hint that one could roll a transportation device. Motoring into an 'S' curve outside a New England village one cold, wet day, I hit a series of heaves and realised I was going down, err.. I mean, about to roll.

I realise today that I instinctively set up for a classic Standard Greenland roll! I bent forward and threw myself towards my 'on side' as the bike went over. The bike being so firmly sprung, it hit the next wave and bounced upwards as I hit the surface, allowing me to pass underneath, half completing the roll. Arching my upper torso, and raising my downside knee, I began making the usual move around to the rear deck, I mean, the rear wheel, hoping naturally to be able to sit up and ride off as I came up. The bike had other ideas, however and I was forced to do a wet exit and push off smartly after which I slithered over a couple of more frost heaves and got tossed into the backwash in the ditch. The bike came to a stop a bit further down the beach, I mean road.

Other than a blown tire, the bike was still rideable, so I paddled, I mean rode it slowly into town not much worse for wear and repaired the tire. Like any smart paddler, I was wearing a good leather dry suit that day so didn't suffer from any unsightly road rash, which is lots worse than cold water against the skin!

Tangled Messes

Every now and then most of us get into a mess and wonder how we got there, why we stayed there and how are we going to extricate ourselves with as little damage to ourselves as possible. Sound familiar? Sure it does. When messes happen, life turns into a mangrove swamp a bit like the one above. Definitely no place to be even though in the beginning it seemed great! Now even the water's murky and not very inviting!

But, kayaker's do have an option not available to others. We can get into our boats, and actually paddle away from our tangled lives, leaving the messes behind. Lots and lots of people do it! Some have to paddle a bit farther than others, they have made bigger messes, but in the end, nearly all of us can find a way ahead that's a bit more open, where the water's a bit more clear. With a better perspective on things, we can often come to our senses and fix the messes we've helped create. And all because kayaking offers us a special gift. It gives us time to reflect and think in a natural setting.

As a followup to this, in an article in yesterday's Globe and Mail, five Inuit students and their instructor are pictured with their traditional style qajait in Chesterfield Inlet this past summer. They're actually helping themselves solve another mess. Instead of wondering where life will be leading them (if anywhere), they've begun to see how they might re-connect their past with their future using qajait as the medium. Good for them!

Bernie Howgate in the Rain

After warm sunny days 'silasiaq marialu', perfect for 'qajaliotunni silami' it rained yesterday 'qauput' and I was forced indoors 'iluani' to do other things. I began reading Bernie Howgate's book "Lazy Days of Summer" wherein he relates his amazing paddling trip from Toronto, Ontario to his home in Goose Bay, Labrador 1000's of miles away. What an interesting character!

A perfect read for a rainy afternoon if you don't mind the fact that his grammar is as wild as the country he paddles through and the spelling errors are as frequent as his tumbling beach landings. You just have to Google for a copy of this book yourself. None of his productions are available in stores, but they can be had through an address in Sept Iles. See his site for details .

Thanks, Bernie, for letting me borrow one of your trip photos without asking!

Would you like ice with that paddle?

Seems like every paddler on the planet has heard about this summer's Rocky Roundabout - the ladies will circle the Rock, as Newfoundland is sometimes called, or at least Wendy Killoran will. No doubt she will be having some ice in the water she paddles!

Freya Hoffmeister, seen here in the Floridian surf will be tackling leg one, Newfoundland's south coast. Let's hope her 'all in black' outfits show up in the fog!

Wendy, paddling here on the St Lawrence last spring, will go for the whole distance. I wish them both a safe, fun-filled trip full of fabulous memories of their adventures. If you're in Newfoundland, then get out and paddle with the ladies! They're great fun and super kayakers! And if you live in Newfoundland, then I'm sure they'd love a warm shower and a meal!

Installing newly shortened ribs!

In the photo below, you can see the value of owning a vast number of clamps! No kayak builder should be without lots of clamps. Beg borrow or steal as many as you can. You simply can't have enough. You never will. Never...

I tried shortening the ribs while they were still attached to the keel strip and chines, but it was too difficult to align them and have the hull depth values where I wanted them. Instead I separated them and am putting them in one by one as is usually done when building. The difference here is I'm using some templates taken off a boat I know is easy to roll - a serious 'cheater' - to help me get the hull depth values throughout the boat's length correct. When I'm all done, hopefully I'll be able to get in! It looks tight at the moment. Maybe too tight. Skin boat tight!

Tranformation trauma!

As you can see above, I've removed the cockpit coaming and started to slice into the seam along the front deck using a utility knife. Oh, the pain! But the gain should be worth it once this tranformation to a 'cheater' hull is complete.

The skin is nearly off in this picture, only clinging by a few spots where the paint adhered to the frame. Built in 2003, I was glad to see no signs of deterioration either in the canvas cover or the wood frame. Once the skin was removed, I cut all the ribs where they joined the gunnels and loosened the keel from the bow and stern plates. I then removed the ribs, chines and keel as a unit. The next step will be to install temporary templates so that the new interior volume will give the boat it's 'cheater' shape. Then I'll re-size and bed each rib and renew the canvas, paint and paddle away, rolling as I go!

Smoke on the Water

Yesterday I went down to North Hatley to see how the ice was doing in its annual melting process. I do this now and then each Spring. I have learnt to focus some mental forces on the ice, forcing it to melt. I found out how to do this while watching Yoda in some of the Star Wars flicks... Do you remember how he showed Luc how to get that rocket ship out of the muck? That scene is critical... Anyway the ice was beginning to look dark and thin. My powers were obviously working! The Force was powerful.

Then I noticed smoke drifting over the water! I was over-doing it. No, wait, it wasn't me! It was the ancient 5 star hotel, Auberge Hatley, burning. Now that was unbelieveable. A century old hotel was rapidly being turned into flame, smoke and ash. It was horrible to see. So many of my kayaking (yes, there is a kayaking link here) photos have that hotel in the background. There will definitely be a hole in those photos from now on. A sad day in this little resort town...

Hopefully no one noticed me using the Force. I'd hate to get locked up for starting a fire, although most prisons probably have rolling pools these days so I could work on perfecting my Greenland rolls while incarcerated. Prisons have come so far in the past century or so. Hey, and there's always Photoshop for putting the hotel back into the photos...

Whitey's Getting a Refit!

I've finally decided how to get me a 'cheater' rolling kayak without flooding the basement! I'm going to re-fit my white SOF boat. I'll remove the skin, the stringers and the ribs and cut them all down to reduce the volume. Then once that's finished, I'll re-assemble, re-skin, paint and launch. This boat was a wicked weathercocker so hopefully I can do something about that as well, perhaps putting in a skeg keel like Petersen does in his boats. Even if this fails to improve the boat's handing in a straight line, I'll end up with a good boat to practice my growing number of Greenland rolls. And I should have it all done in a couple of weeks! Just in time for open water paddling, which looks like it may come early this year. I'm becoming a supporter of global warming, at least locally this year! It will mean having to go to the lake to practice instead of simply heading downstairs, but I'm willing to make sacrifices if I have too...

Brrr's been kayaking again!

Those of you who know 'Brrr' will recognize his kayak and his favourite kayaking put-in. Actually this photo is more likely his take-out site somewhere down the St Lawrence river from his usual Montreal venue. Looking at the picture makes me wonder why I thought I had to go to Florida for some winter kayaking fun! Don't you just love the ice coated grab handle at the bow? It's so... ah... seasonal! You rock Brrr!

Oh Dear, Where to Begin...

I've never built anything as large as a kayak in my basement (aka trash heap) before. The previous boats were built either in our barn or my workshop in another building. This place looks cramped, untidy, unready... Do I clean up first or just dive in? Why clean up, I'm only going to be making a new mess... Maybe I'll go and get the wood first... Mmmmm those boards will likely be too long to fit in here... What if the kayak is too big to take out? Could I get away with flooding the basement and having my own, personal rolling pool, with built in floating obstacles mimicking Greenland ice floes? That would be cool! After all, this kayak is to be really for rolling practice. It's isn't for tripping or anything... Still, a permanently flooded basement could raise other issues...
Maybe I'd be better off thinking this through a bit more...

The Snowy Hills of Home

The drive through Ontario and even past Montreal was nearly devoid of snow, an indication of the strange winter here in eastern Canada. By Granby, snow finally appeared on the ground (rather than the odd frozen pond) and Orford mountain looked like it usually does at this time of year - covered with snow and rime frost.
My trip is over. It reached and surpassed all expectations. I met many of the paddling legends I've only heard and read about and became friends with many of them. I found interesting paddling partners everywhere I paddled, and seldom ended up paddling alone. I discovered a wonderful paddling environment which seems nearly endless. I will return!
My next project will be to build a Greenland rolling kayak - finally a 'cheater' boat of my own! Stayed turned...

Fire in the Mountains, Spills on the Road!

Just as I was coming to the Tennessee - Kentucky border, I noticed smoke in the mountains. The Smokies really were smoking! I'm not sure what caused the fires, but there were several hot spots all along the ridge on the left side of the car. Smoke had filled the valley for some distance before I could actually see where it was coming from.

Once in Canada, the 401 lived up to its evil reputation once again. This time I was held up for nearly 4 hours by this truck which had run partly off the road and spilled its load everywhere. To make matters worse, this delay put me in Toronto in the middle of rush hour - not a pretty sight! I think I could have paddled home faster today!

Please, Don't Make Me Go Back...

Ugh! It's over. I'm really on my way home. Back to snow and the cold and frozen lakes. Please don't make me do this....

Oh well, at least today was a great drive through the North Carolina and Tennessee mountains, past the Olympic Kayaking Center on the Ocoee River and the Nantahala kayaker center. Truely spectacular area if you're into white water paddling.

Even the I-75 is a better road than the I-84 on the way down, less wind and fewer trucks. Tomorrow it's the 401, Toronto and that much closer to home.

I recommend everyone paddle in Florida at least once a year for a month or more! I've had a great time.

Mountain Paddling

Lake Chatuge is a large lake straddling the Georgia - North Carolina border. It was formed as part of the TVA system back in the 50's. Today it's many bays and peninsulas gives people a chance to paddle high in the mountains in scenic surroundings. The blue Smokey Mountains, the red clay soils and the puffy clouds all made for a great day on the water.

Pogo's Paradise

The weird sensation of paddling into a forest of drowned trees is all too real. Getting lost in there is also very real! I kept my eye on the compass...

Gators are sun lovers and this fellow was not interested in giving up his spot even when I pushed the bow of my boat in really close for a picture.

Turtles and swamps naturally go together, so I had to throw this picture in. I never did see Pogo. Maybe he no longer lives in the Okeefenokee Swamp since the name was changed to the Stephen Foster National Park. Doesn't seem to have the same ring to it, does it?

Homosassa Springs Area

This little spring was bubbling out the most delicious looking blue water and was surrounded by a golden bouquet of frilly algae. There was just enough room in the channel to slip in a kayak bow for a picture.

Some springs were bubbling out of places where even our kayaks couldn't get to. So we walked the rest of the way. This 'secret' place, called the Crack by locals, had a swinging rope allowing one to swing out over the spring and jump into the 72°F water! Fun!

Aaaah! To live in a nice, cozy $300,000 US cottage on the water, with manatees basking by the dock, bubbling springs just around one corner, and the wide open sea around the other... If only!

South Florida Pics

Marco Island looking (and being) all built up!

Don't ask me! Some nut built this place out on wind and tide swept Cape Romano only to be blasted by a hurricane a few years later. Maybe he thought he was in a Star Wars movie, who knows? Now its pillared domes are sinking slowly into the sea...

Bird life on Indian Key off shore from Everglade City. A quiet, desolate place, great for shells and picnics.

Kayaking pirates me thinks! This motley crew were caught on Egemont Key off Ft Desoto State Park. Can you guess which one is in the race around Florida right this minute? Do any of them look prepared?

Homosassa Paddling

I arrived in this area north of Tampa yesterday. Quaint, quiet and full of interesting paddle adventures. I went out in search of the illusive manatee and finally found one in town (!) and not out in the back-country as I was expecting. I tried getting photos, but what with water glare etc, it could be anything in the water! Thankfully, there are 'Go Slow' warnings everwhere to try and protect these creatures.
Today it was more excusions into some of the many fresh water springs in the area. Clear, clear water bubbling out of the ground, which create mini-rivers, lots of fish and bird life everywhere. Saw two small alligators and a black snake with orange bars along its body sunning itself on the shore. It lay quietly allowing me to pass...
I'm beginning to wonder if there really are any dangerous animals down here! Maybe I don't really want to know...

Ungavamiut Unite!

One of the highlights of the Kayak Symposium was meeting Nigel Foster and his wife Kristin. They had paddled the east coast of Ungava Bay, past Killineq and then down the Labrador coast to Nain. I met them afterwards at the house they were staying at and had a look at their pictures of this incredible trip. What an amazing experience adventure. What warm and friendly people to have done such a trip into the land and seas of the Inuit. Hopefully we'll meet again!

Mangrove Island Paddling

In the area of Marco Island there are thousands of mangrove islands, marking the beginning of the Everglade coast which stretches south to the Florida keys. One definitely requires a good map and a compass to avoid getting hopelessly lost. The up side is the abundance of wild life, especially birds, fish and dolphins which one encounters. In the picture we've stopped for lunch, but were soon forced back into our boats as the tide was sweeping in so rapidly we could bearly paddle against it!

Surf Paddling!

One of the fun activities at the Symposium was to play in the surf. Here's a picture of German paddler Freya in her Japanese Greenland style rolling boat, as she watches for her chance to blast out through the incoming surf. Not everyone was as expert as Freya and many paddlers found themselves swimming more than paddling. Still, learning the proper techniques for entering and landing in surf allows one to soon feel comfortable in the stuff.

Southern Florida

I went on a river paddle into a saw-grass swamp on Tuesday and slipped quietly between numerous alligators both swimming and basking. Very spooky feeling when they slowly slide into the river and submerge. Where are they headed??? Are they about to bite the boat in half? Do they eat you head first or foot first?

In fact, the alligators are not that nasty and other than slip into the water and look scarey, they usually just let you paddle by. Mind you, they act up in breeding season which begins in March...

Dinner with the Heros!

Arrived yesterday afternoon in 30C weather, with some cloud and wind, but nothing wild. Not the freezing weather many people had talked about.

Settled into my campsite and then went out looking for 'Kayaking Heros'. It didn't take too long before Greg and Freya showed up, then Nigel Foster and Kristin. We were 14 out to a Thai dinner in St Petersburg last night. I have yet to meet Leon and Shawna, but have seen them from a distance so I know they're here. I'll track them down today.

hey, where are all those comments!? LOL

Florida!

I crossed the Georgia - Florida border late this afternoon on the I-75 and the first thing I noticed was a palm tree! A small tree for mankind, but a big milestone for me! LOL

I expect to roll into Sweetwater's camping area mid-day tomorrow and finally get into the kayak that's been sitting on the car roof for over a week now. Can't wait!

Don't forget to post your comments. I read them all (like there are been lots...)!

Winter Fun in Georgia

Temperatures dove below freezing today in northern Georgia. Driving around in the mountains produced ice covered trees and even some closed roads as the picture indicates. By chance I ran into a multi-millionaire and got invited "for drinks" to his mountain top home. He must have thought I'd be interested as it's listed for $4.5 million... A totally incredible place with 12 bedrooms, full staff, gated entrance, a view that goes forever, outdoor fireplaces on the balconies... It's incredible what money will get you these days. I just missed meeting John Travolta and guests. He had flown his own plane in to the local airport and stayed at the 'Chateau', as it's called, the week before. I guess I'll meet my famous people in Florida next week!

I've yet to kayak, but there'll be plenty of time for that in Florida!

Google Earth Rocks!

It being a cold, rainy day I spent much of it indoors. I took advantage of hi-speed internet to download and use Google Earth. Amazing! I was able to virtually paddle around Manitoulin Island again, picking out actual campsites, nearly even some of the trees I sat under, especially on the west end of the island near the quarry where one can obtain greater details. Totally incredible tool to have at one's fingertips both for reviewing old paddle trips as well as planning new ones.
The Lower North Shore looks like a wonderland of islands and interesting coastal features. You have to check out Google Earth before your next paddle!

Northern Georgia

I was lucky enough to squeeze in between two nasty weather systems and arrive here in northern Georgia in gorgeous, warm sunny weather. Back home it's howling winds with snow and as you can see in the picture, there's snow and icy roads in the local mountains. This picture is actually a view close to my sister's house where I am staying for a few days. On Wednesday, it will be off on the next leg, Florida!

Lost in the USA!

Where is this car and attached kayak? Somewhere on I-81 heading south. One thing for sure, it's in Truckland. I never realised there were so many trucks on the roads down here. I'll be very happy to get out paddling somewhere quiet and the sooner, the better!

Don't forget to add your comments below!

Sweetwater Here I Come!

I'm on my way to the annual Sweetwater Kayaking Symposium in Florida. You can follow my travels in the days and weeks to come by returning to this site. Stayed tuned. Who know where else I'll go, who I will meet and what other adventures I could get into! ;-)

Looking for Whales, the end.

So the first weekend was a bust. No whales and very little in the way of paddling either. A few weeks later, we had a second chance. Once again we rented a little cabin as the weather way rainy when we arrived on Friday. It rained on the Saturday, but Sunday was a glorious day with briilliant blue skies and just a breath of wind. We were off!

We drove to Kamouraska, parked the car and headed out before the tide reduced the river to a mud field. We aimed for some islands a mile or more out into the river and kept our eyes pealed for whales.

The islands were mostly steep sided and offered little in the way of landing spots. The stunted trees looked wind-shaped and gnarly. Some of the islands were devoted to bird sanctuaries. We saw snow geese, black headed gulls and cormorants, the latter nesting up in the poor trees. Ungainly Great Blue herons were also nesting in the trees, a sight almost too strange to believe. But where were the whales?

We decided to paddle downstream, following the chain of islands which paralleled the shore. Then, a white flash in the water, there they were! Belugas, several of them in close to one of the islands. Their white backs would break the surface, roll and then with a raising of the tail, down they would go. As we watched them it became clear we were in an upwelling of the river current and the belugas were taking advantage of the good feeding to be found there. The whales were quite aware of our presence. A couple of times they would move in close and release air under our boats. The first time it happened I thought I'd been hit, but we soon learned it was their way of playing with us. When we sighted a baby whale, we wondered if we weren't being warned to keep our distance!

It was a magical few hours on the water. After watching the whales work the area, we slowly made out way back to Kamouraska. We wanted to get in before the tide left us with a long trek in to the shore. We'd had seen only one other boat on the river all day, but when we stopped for lunch on the only sandy beach we'd seen, several other kayakers pulled in right behind us. We wondered if they'd seen whales too, but as they kept to themselves, we never found out.

Back in our cozy cabin, we both agreed we'd been blessed with a special day out on the water. It was worth the days of waiting, the milkshake water conditions, the driving rain and the blasting wind. Looking for whales was a perfect paddle!

Looking for Whales, continued...

Once we were finally clean again, we took a drive down the river to check out the possibilities for launching elsewhere. This shore is known for its traditional old fashioned architecture. This was where the French first settled in New France in the 1600's and many of the original divisions of the land still exist. A lot of the old houses have been carefully restored especially in Kamouraska, perhaps the crown jewel in a string of wonderfully quaint towns along the river. We stopped to explore and have something to eat.

To our surprise, down at the public beach, two kayakers were attempting to do exactly what we had tried to do only hours earlier! This time we took seats on the wind torn wharf to see how they did. Perhaps they were more skilled than we were...

The girl launched first with the help of her friend. She stabbed into the waves with confidence. So far so good. As she moved out from the lee of the wharf, the wind caught her bow and swung it downwind. She tried to correct, leaning into her turn, but more and more her boat was driven backwards despite her efforts. She slowly headed backwards towards the rocks downwind of the launch site. Then her boat turned broadside to the waves, and over she went. Like me, she had little choice but to wet exit. She and her boy-friend walked her kayak back to the more protected put-in. Her paddle was over.

Undaunted by her experience, the boy-friend launched into the waves. Like her, he paddled out looking very much under control until he passed into the wind near the end of the wharf. He too was blown rapidly downwind, however he was able to stay further offshore, away from the jagged rocks. He struggled to get his bow heading upwind, but obviously the boat would not respond as he wished. Within moments he turned downwind and headed parallel to the shoreline. With only jagged rocks as far along the shore as we could see, it was clear he would be in trouble wherever he decided to come to shore.

We raced back to the car and headed along the coastal road trying to keep him in sight. Hopefully we would be able to help when he came ashore. We weren't the only ones. In the end, several of his friends, including his girl-friend managed to get to him in time and perform the rescue without harm to either him or his boat. He was lucky that day!

As the wind and rain continued into the afternoon, we decided to break camp. We rented a tiny cabin right on the water's edge and watched the waves explode against the stone cliff a few feet away. The chocolate spray splattered against the windows of the cabin just like it does on the sides of a milkshake canister. We wondered how the whales were doing. It was comforting to be warm and dry inside!

Looking for whales!

The St Lawrence river in Quebec is well known as a place to see and interact with whales. In fact the north shore is known as the 'Whale Route' where spouting whales can often be seen from the roadside. In the spring of 2005 two members of the 'ckayakers club' went out looking for these whales. Here's the story!

The first weekend out we departed from the town of L'Islet on the south side of the river. The wind had been blowing a gale all the previous night churning the water into something that more closely resembled a frothy chocolate milkshake than it did river water! To make matters worse, the tide was low forcing us to slog out to the water through gluey mud. However we were pumped for whales and wanted to head out and see what conditions were really like. I launched first and began punching my way through several wave sets. Bam! A wave hit the deck and my spray-skirt popped open. I began to taking on water, more and more with each oncoming wave. In my attempts to avoid rocks and continue facing the waves, I found it impossible to get the skirt snugged down around the cockpit rim. I tried moving sideways into the lee of an old dock, but even this proved useless. That skirt refused to lock in place and in the spray I couldn't figure out what the problem was. I'd have to return to shore and find out what was causing the trouble.

My paddling partner had not been successful launching her boat either. When I finally found her through my spray covered glasses, I could see she had decided to pull her boat up on the beach and watch to see what I was going to do. I turned in towards the shore, taking advantage of a few smaller waves to make the turn. I was pleased to see the boat turned easily in the wind and waves. I'd heard stories about boats that refused to follow orders in similar conditions, giving their owners a rough time.

I was soon surfing rapidly in towards the beach. My QCC is not a fast surf boat, but in these conditions, I rapidly picked up speed as each wave passed under the boat. I had the rudder up and was leaning out, steering with my paddle. It was exhilerating watching the bow cut through the backs of each wave and then crash through the foam as the wave broke up. Then it happened. The load of water I was carrying in the cockpit finally got the better of me, and shifted. Before I could recover from the sudden tilt of the boat, I was over. I made an attempt to recover, but the shallowness of the water made a wet exit the better option. I got my first chocolate milkshake bath ever. I was in the shower for the longest time before the water began to run clear!

... to be continued!