Paddle Sunday

Sunday was a bit windier than expected, so Telegraph Cove wasn't on. A strong onshore wind left the water choppier than was comfortable for our least strong paddler. We keep in mind the adage that you paddle to the conditions best suited to your least experienced paddler, so we moved across the point and back into Cadboro Bay—making this the third time out in the bay in seven days.

The wind was blowing more or less offshore in Cadboro Bay, and the natural features protected us from many of the effects the wind might produce. So, led by Louise, we set off toward the south shore to do some exploring.

The paddle out toward Cattle Point was easy—the small chop was following and the wind gave us a bit of headway even without paddling. With the firm breeze bidding fair to last the entire day, quite a few sailboats were leaving the marina and heading out into Haro Strait. And, for the first time in a couple of weeks, a harbour seal popped up to look us over. Dennis commented that “he must think we're really bottom of the barrel—we've no sails.”

Not much else in the way of wildlife greeted us; the standard contingent of mallards, scaups, cormorants, a sandpiper, and the ever-present herring gulls. I think this may have been the first day in months that an eagle didn't watch over us....

We hadn't quite exited the bay when the wind freshened and shifted slightly, and all of a sudden we were presented with wind-driven chop that had more than doubled in size, and so we returned to the beach, making our way in single file for most of the way. When he found himself at the front of the flotilla, Dennis was heard to say that “You know, I don't find this paddling in single file any easier...,” while the rest of us crowed in behind him, taking advantage of the slight shelter he afforded.

Not a bad day, but one of those when the coffee afterwards lasted almost as long as the paddle itself did.

Plan B

Not many pictures today, folks -- too busy paddling!
Yesterday's plan was to put in at Telegraph Bay, a small cove north of Ten Mile Point. However, a strong north wind was blowing straight into the north-facing cove and chopping up the water, so we decided on Plan B, a return to Cadboro Bay on the south side of Ten Mile Point and hopefully sheltered from the wind.
And at first it was. The sea was fairly flat considering the breeze. We paddled out of the bay and headed south among the rocky shore and small inlets and multi-million-dollar mansions that mark the shoreline. But the wind soon started to whip up the waves and we knew we would be fighting against it on the trip back, so we turned around and headed back.
"I'm a little confused," I shouted to my comrades as the wind whipped my boat and the spray splashed in my face, "why did we decide not to paddle at Telegraph Bay?"

Bernie using Alison's boat as we head out.


Dennis watching the sail boats sail by.


Louise heading out of the bay.


Paula bids a hasty retreat after a panty raid on an ocean-front mansion.

22 February 2006

was, as it turns out, not a half-bad day for a mid-week paddle. Paula, Lila and I met Dennis at Cadboro Bay about 9:00 and got the boats in the water. Dennis very kindly lent Lila his boat, which made dealing with the transportation issue that much easier. Paula took the Pamlico 100 and Lila paddled Dennis' Advanced Design and while they were playing about in the bay (this being Lila's first time in a kayak), Dennis and I went for coffee. When we got back to the beach, Lila and Paula were already back onshore, having spent the better part of an hour on the water. Lila was is a great mood, very excited about having tried a new sport--particularly one that had recently been described to her as "extreme" by one of the staff at Pacifica Paddlesports. She had purchased an O'Neil 3/2 wetsuit the day before at Sportstraders, so she was feeling both warm and confident. Overall, she had a blast poking around the nearshore.
Then Dennis and I snagged the boats and put out. After a bit of sprayskirt trouble , we headed out to the southside of the bay, eventually working our way around the point and into Willows bay. There was a fair bit of wind, causing me no little trouble with weathercocking (the boat turning into the wind rather than maintaining a set course). The wind seemed to be coming from our two o'clock, making the paddle an effort--no paddle-and-pause today! Just keep paddling! But once we made the point, we spun around and coasted in front of the wind back to the entrance to Cadboro Bay. We kept moving in and out of windshadows, but overall we had a terrific time.

Cadboro Bay

Last Sunday morning dawned bright and sunny. Not particularly warm, the temperature managed to crawl just a few degrees above zero. Still this was a far cry from the below zero temps and even nastier wind chills we had suffered from for much of the previous week. So it was a good time for a kayak trip at Cadboro Bay! (Note that I am wearing a red sweater... there will be a quiz later.)


Here's our gear lined up and ready to go. Paula had borrowed Alison's kayak. (Alison is kayaking in New Zealand for three weeks.) Normally, Bernie and Paula switch off with their kayak, but with Alison's kayak all of us could get in the water at the same time.


And away we go! Here's Dennis in his inflatable kayak...


...and Paula enjoying Alison's boat.


We paddled out of the bay and turned north along the coastline. That's Mt. Baker, an active volcano, ahead of us.


Three of us decided to cross over to Chatham Island. The womenfolk declined.
I had never been there myself, but both Bernie and Dennis had. There's some strong currents to watch out for, and the crossing of about 20-25 mins can be a little rough. You can see the bumpy water around Dennis in the picture below.


Chatham Island itself was beautiful. It's actually a series of small archipelagos, and it makes for a perfect place to explore inlets and rocky shores. We were exploring a small island called Strongtide Island. I was about to find out that it lives up to its name.


We found a little channel with a bit of a current in it. We decided to try our hand at running it. It wasn't a strong current, but this was our first try at something like this.


The first time I went through, there was no problem. The current was strong but not rough. I paddled against it, until it spun me around and sent me back from where I came.
No problem.
But my paddle was in the water and the current caught it, and dragged it under my boat. And over I went. Potential energy and gravity worked their magic. I was upside down in the water.
Problem.
As you can see, I survived. I made my wet exit, and grabbed onto the back of my kayak. Bernie was nearby and beside me almost instantly. As we organized ourselves to begin the process of getting me back in my boat, my feet suddenly touched ground, and I decided to walk my boat ashore at a small beach.


Out of the water but totally drenched, I took off my sweater. I was wearing my Farmer John wetsuit and that kept most of me warm, but my arms under my sweater were freezing. It was fortunate that I was wearing my wetsuit -- "goner" might be too drastic a term, but I would have been in a lot worse condition. Fortunately, Bernie had overdressed and had taken off his fleece jacket, and he lent it to me. (Quiz time - Question 1: What colour sweater was John wearing at the start of the paddle? Here's a hint: It's not the same colour as in the picture below.)
It was, in retrospect, a good thing. We were reminded that we are dealing with nature, and nature abhors cockiness. We had an emergency, and we all survived. There was no panic or hysteria. We kept our heads and did what we had to do. My kayak flipped and everything stayed attached and dry, including my digital camera.
Much to Bernie's chagrin, my glasses stayed on my head.
We re-assessed the safety equipment that we had with us. A dry bag with a towel and/or some dry clothes suddenly seemed like a much smarter idea then it did a few minutes earlier.


Bernie found the incident much too amusing (as you can see below.) However, as we left he decided to shoot the rapids again! (Okay it was only one rapid. "Whitewater" it was not.) He got caught, too, and damn near flipped. He filled up his kayak with water and he had to beach to drain it.
Bernie didn't have his skirt on. Bad Bernie.
(He didn't have any pants on either, but that's a whole other story.)


And so we headed back. We vowed never to publicly speak of the incident. ("What happens on Brokeback Island, stays on Brokeback Island," I said.)
It would be difficult to keep my adventure a secret, expecially since I arrived back wearing different clothes than what I had started with. The womenfolk cast us some wary glances.


But we said nothing. At least, I didn't say anything until I noticed Bernie explaining to Paula what had happened, even using hand signals and pantomime to illustrate my story. "Bernie!" I said. "What about Brokeback Island?"
"Meh," he shrugged. "We've been married twenty years. She would have got it out of me eventually."
We survived and adjourned for some warm drinks at a nearby coffee shop. Dennis took this picture to annoy his friends back in Toronto. Blizzard, anyone?


Now that's a hot chocolate! Sure helped get the taste of salt out of my mouth.


And remember kids, don't try this at home!


More pictures are here.

Williows Beach

Today's kayak trip was from Willows Beach. We puttered around the beach, then set out for a pair of small islands. As seems to be a custom this winter, a bald eagle kept watch over us.




On the back side of the first small island, a bunch (flock? pod? school?) of seals were resting on the rock. Most dive into the drink before I could get a picture, but one brave soul stood his ground.



Wait! Come back!


John's pictures are here.

writers of the purple wage

So we went to the outdoor equipment swap at the university last wednesday, then went back later with Louise, and then again in the evening for the Iceland tour talk. We bought nothing but tickets to the talk. And Paula got a phone call on the weekend and a delivery yesterday. She's won a $70 snorkeling mask. Which is good for me--I'm the one who goes snorkeling....

Elk Lake

Yesterday's paddle was a return to Elk Lake. Bernie declined, no doubt due to the painful memories of the dunking he received the last time he was here (see the post Making a Splash below).


A large bird keeps a solitary watch.


Look out for that island!


John's pictures are here.

Iceland Expedition

So, spent the evening yesterday (01 February) at the University of Victoria, listening to a couple present the slide how of their trip around Iceland in the summer of 2003. After receiving an unexpected invitation from another paddler, they spent five months away from their business on Orca Island—Body Boat Blade—with three of those months dedicated to the actual circumnavigation of Iceland. The talk is fascinating, believe me. From the volcanic black sand beaches to the basalt columns, from the trolls to the fjords, it is clear that they are having a hard time keeping their talk to under thirty-two hours long. The people and culture of Iceland alone seemed suitable for a(nother) book; here is a very small population (some towns they visited were as small as fourteen people) yet everyone was tightly wired together with cell phones and internet access, and surrounded by fabulous public art. But there were also what I saw as personal contradictions: heads of local kayak paddle clubs who had never been out of their home fjord being one significant example.

But the one incident that stuck out for me happened only fifteen days out. The three of them decided to paddle the worst section of the circumnavigation first—the southern coast. The south coast of Iceland is fully exposed to the major storm tracks of the North Atlantic, with steady daily winds that are regularly in the hundred kilometre/hour and up class. This builds seas that quite frankly are seriously frightening to a newbie like me. Paddling to James Island solo, I was having a bit of a time with waves that were only sixty to eighty centimetres high. Here, the seas were regularly running six to eight metres high.

Tuesday (31 January) here in Victoria we had a storm blow through that saw winds blowing 100+ km/hr, winds that snapped trees, knocked out power to 50,000 homes, and shut down ferry traffic due to high seas. Shawna and Leon went out paddling around Victoria. Just another day for paddling (their motto being; if you can walk against the wind, you can paddle against it).

But, as they said, being fifteen days out everything has shaken down, your body is responding to the increased demands of regular seven to ten hour paddles, and you're starting to think you know what you're doing. Because launches and landings are so difficult (massive surf, steep beaches), you only launch in the morning and land only in the evening unless something really important arises. Lunch, snacks, urination, all take place on the ocean.

Leon had been having a less than perfect day—he'd been taking a whizz earlier when a wave caught him and filled his cockpit. Not the end of the world, but chilling and frustrating. When a particularly large wave was approaching one or the other of them would call “wave!” and they would turn into the wave, trying to cut up the front and beat the curl over to the back of the wave. As they said, this was standard operating procedure for them. They've spent years training and practising to make this as normal as breathing.

These waves were quite steep, and when Shawna sliced up and over, the kayak almost launched off the water—only the stern stayed in the water, and the whole boat would then come crashing down flat on the back of the wave. Again, normal, everyday activity (okay, normal for them, and repeated over and over all day long). Leon was running a bit behind Shawna, and when his boat reached the apex of its climb the stern of the boat caught in the face of the wave—essentially anchoring him in place while the wave continued to move. So yes, microseconds later the boat was standing on its stern and then the fully-loaded boat was falling backwards onto Leon, burying him in the face of the wave. For me, this is beyond scary. For Leon, just another day at the office.

As he told the eighty or so of us in the audience, this is something he practises, knowing that it's going to happen frequently enough that recovery should be automatic. Except that this wave was having none of it. He began his recovery and the wave flipped him back over. And again. And again. And again. At this point, he says, he was burning for air and realized that he was would have to wet exit. As an instructor, he teaches his students not only how to safely get out of a boat, but also the safe way to be in a boat so that you can both get out of it and back into it. And, among other things, that involves not having a lot of crap in and around the cockpit. And yes, he had violated that rule, and so had a tougher time getting out, but also couldn't get back in once he'd righted himself. He had to call for help.

Shawna had turned to check up on him, but wasn't worried; Leon always rolled back upright. She says that it wasn't until he called for help that she realized what she was seeing: Leon was out of his boat. Ultimately she had to get a line on his boat and tow him out while he cleared the cockpit so that he could get back in the boat. A process that left him in the water much longer than it should have.

And then the “fight of the day” erupted. Shawna said “land and warm up.” Leon said “no.” Ultimately he lost that fight—and a good thing too. By the time they landed and got him into dry clothes, he was shaking so hard he couldn't hold a cup of tea.

But as Leon said, they had gotten cocky. One of their sponsors was Kōkatat, so they had state-of-the-art drysuits with them. But for some reason, they weren't wearing them.

So what impressed me was that here was a couple of pro paddlers who were extensively trained for exactly the conditions they were going in to, who had all the experience necessary to handle whatever the ocean would throw at them, and they still got cocky, still made a number of small errors of judgement that added up to a major problem. And even then, Leon, an experienced paddler, wanted to compound the problem by not dealing with its results. And that, my friends, is human nature.

Leon and Shawna will be reprising their presentation tonight (02 February '06) at the Oak Bay Beach Hotel in the Oak Room following a paddle club meeting. Admission will be by donation and is open to the public.

Portage Inlet

This past Sunday, we paddled the upper Gorge and Portage Inlet. We struck out early as a major windstorm was expected in the afternoon, so we set out under early morning clouds.


A pair of geese showed little fear, or interest, in our little plastic fleet.


However, a pair of swans showed much interest and visited each of us in turn.




John's pictures are here.

It's not a mistake if nobody dies

The question to ask is not "How long until I begin suffering hypothermia?" Nor is it "how the hell did I end up upside down?" The question to ask is "now that I'm upside down in the freakin' ocean, how long is it going to be before I make my first bad decision?" The goal is to be back upright in your kayak before making that decision. And the reason for a paddle partner is so that when you make that stupid/bad decision, you've got someone to tell you you're an idiot.
Though on those days you might be paddling out to James Island solo in some pretty heavy chop that you're really not ready for, sometimes it's good to be alone with your stupid decision....

Inner Harbour Paddle Party

It's a new year, so time for another paddle!


We've got a full crew today: Dennis, Alison, Louise, Paula, Bernie and myself. I think it's the first time all six of us have gone out on the water together.


All of us were able to get out because Paula and Bernie have rented a double to try out. (They really need to become a two-boat family.)


Off we go!




I think planes have the right-of-way.


Dennis has moved up to a newer inflatable.


Am I having fun? I think so!


We crossed the harbour and came back along Fisherman's Wharf.




Bernie is risking his marriage by using his paddle to pour water down his wife's back. He claimed innocence, but I know it took him a couple of tries to perfect his technique.
This is a great picture. I wonder if someplace like Wavelength magazine would publish it?


We approached the Johnson Street Bridge....


...and passed under it. But the mysteries that lie beyond it will have to wait for another paddle!


John's pictures are here.

Thetis Lake

This morning was cool and clear, finally a break in the days of rain we've been getting this winter. A kayaking trip was in order!
At Thetis Lake, we put in for what would usually be a two-hour paddle, but nature had other plans and was about to give us an unexpected show only moments from the start of the trip.
Rounding the first point very close to shore, I came almost face to beak with a bald eagle. He was sitting on the rocky shore, between three and four meters away.
He didn't fly away, like a duck or a seagull might have. Instead, he sat and watched me as I was watched him. No doubt he was as surprised to see me as I was to see him. I grabbed my camera and had time to take a picture or two; unfortunately, the glare from the sun off the lake was blinding, and in exactly the wrong position: directly behind the eagle. Any picture that I had taken would have been overexposed, and next to worthless.
The eagle finally had enough and flew off. But it had something in its talons which it dropped in the water as it left. Only then did I realize that I had interrupted the eagle's breakfast; it had dropped a dead cormorant in the water.
It flew to a nearby tree, and perched atop a high branch, perhaps to hoping to add a little something extra to his meal, and I finally got a picture.

2005 Paddling Weather Stats

14 paddles were documented on the blog this year. The weather stats break down like this:

43% of our paddles were on sunny days;
50% were on cloudy days;
and 7% were on foggy days.