A summer in the parc, part 3

Final catchup post . . .



September 11, 2011

This was the day I got on the water shortly after 9 am, and came off in time to catch the 4:30 pm bus, setting a record of 7.5 hours. A still, warm, brilliant late summer day, in which I went out of bounds, paddling half way around the basin beyond Ile de Mai, and then - daringly - back across the middle. Here's the view the eastmost, or at least up-stream-most point . . .



It was one of those glassy water days, when despite the effortless paddling, progress is exceedingly leisurely because of all the photo-pauses to capture all the lovely reflections, starting with the - now quite low - tunnel under the bridge to Île Gagnon, the red house, and blue boats docked alongside.



Pause to take the first of many panorama shots, looking towards the north bank. That's the De Laurentides bridge on the left of the photo, disappearing behind Île Langlois. Île des Juifs/Île des Fraises lies, just to the right of my bow, then Île Gagnon. I don't know the name of the islet with the sparse trees and the yellowish beach.





I paddled under the de Laurentides bridge, under the footbridge to Île Locas, and up the shallow, water-lily strewn channel between the river bank and Île Lacroix, towards the marsh. The water was very shallow and very weedy.



Obligatory panorama shots of the marsh itself: From the approach to the the south . . .



Looking directly at the marsh . . .




Towards Île Chabot . . .



Looking east from the marsh, towards Île Locas and Île Lacroix.



I could get only a little way into the marsh, via a channel that I suspect had been dug out, before running into a bank of debris. Water was very shallow, and I stirred up black mud and marsh gas with every stroke, no matter how careful.



So I left behind the marsh and glided through through the narrow channel between Île Chabot and the promentary from the south bank, and along the channel between the bank and Île Desroches.



. . . up the south side of Île de Mai, hardly noticing the current that on past paddles had nearly stalled me before the top. At the top, I eyed the vista before me and then decided to go for it, working my way up the south coast past people's little river runabouts . . .



To where the river began to narrow again, at which point I turned around and headed back towards Île de Mai. Discovered I am out of practice for paddling long open stretches. (Yes, I hear you say, that is not a long open stretch; it only felt that way.)



And then sauntered downstream on the north side of Île de Mai. This is the junction at the downstream end of Île de Mai. The eastern channel is on the left, the western channel, which joins in a T-junction, in front of my prow, strewn with rocks, and the channel between the northern bank and Île Morris on the right.



The wildlife was enjoying the sunshine as much as I was: herons, out and about along the side of the river.



And turtles, alongside Île Chabot . . .



And an as-yet unidentified bird which held still long enough in the trees of Île Chabot. 



Down the north side of Île Morris, under the bridges - where the swallow's nests were all silent and empty (and unphotographed).



Big panorama that starts on the north bank and swings around to take in, I think, Île Lefebvre, in shallow waters full of water-lilies.



Cirrus cloud moving in, marking a coming change in the weather.



More turtles, east of the bridge behind Île Ducharme . . .





With a detour for a pit-stop, I then completed the circuit by paddling underneath the Boulevard Curé-Labelle and around Île Bélaire, then back between Bélaire and Darling, back under the bridge, and in to home dock, approaching from the east.





Phew!  And then I went home, via La Popessa, for pasta.
 

The marsh through the summer

Just to show the changes in river and vegetation through the summer, here are my marsh-panoramas, with an attempt at alignment.

In May (May 22, 2011)




In July (July 1, 2011)





In September (September 11, 2011)



In October (October 10, 2011)

A summer in the Parc, part 2

Second digest post of trips to Parc de la Riviere-des-Mille-Îles this summer.

July 1, 2011

Kayaking seemed a fitting way to celebrate Canada Day, and the weather was ideal, so off I went on my usual schedule, 0829 De Laurentides bus from Cartier to the Parc. There were already a few groups getting ready, and I knew there would be many more by the end of the day.

I turned west from the landing, under the bridge to Île Gagnon - already noticeably shallower in comparison to May - and out onto the river.



The water was still high enough for an easy trip through the tunnel underneath the south side of the des Laurentides bridge.



Then under the footbridge to Île Locas, and up the north side of Île Locas to the marsh, with the birdwatching lookout clearly in view.





The water level was still high enough that I could poke my prow into the marsh, though all around me I could hear herons muttering and whuffling, and I figured by now they might well be nesting, so I didn't push it. (On the map, if you draw a line from the tip of the promontary just west of Île Chabot to the bank just west of Île Lacroix, everything to the west of that is filled in with marsh and reeds. This photo has me towards the northern margin, just below Île Chabot. That stand of trees beyond my bow marks the little island. I really ought to come back and annotate these maps, but if I wait to do that, these posts won't go up until December).



Then I crossed to the north side of the river, to go up the north side of Île de Mai, loop round the top, and come down the narrower, quicker-moving channel. No photos from this side.

And swung back around the north of Île Morris, to check on the progress of the swallows nests underneath the De Laurentides bridge. Clearly, I'd missed the building stage completely: the nests were built, and already occupied by something hungry, if the constant activity of the parent-birds was anything to go by.



Here's what the north bank of the river looks like, around Île Lefebvre,



Then I paddled back across to the south side of the river (with a pit-stop at Île de Juifs) and worked my way up the shallow, increasingly narrow side-stream just to the east of the de Laurentides bridge. I'd noted it on the way up as a potential side trip. I was stopped by a minor logjam, but on the other side, in a shaded pool, I spotted a mallard with her milling clutch of ducklings, visible more as motion than shapes in the shadows. To my pleasure, the little things bumbled up and over and around the obstruction, towards me. I started poking my way backwards, trying to stay out of their way at the same time as I took photos. Unfortunately, my autofocus was keener on sharp edged grass than cute fuzzy ducklings, so I have a number of fuzzy photos of cute fuzzy ducklings. The best ones were taken against water.





I've been startled by the speed with which ducklings skitter back and forth across the water, but it occurred to me that I was thinking from the perspective of a naked ape who has to slog along with most of its volume immersed, instead of a little ball of waterproof down and trapped air that displaces a fraction of its body-weight and therefore has negligible resistance to the thrust of its (comparatively) big webbed feet.

. . . And then back past the house with the red roof, and through the tunnel (this willow is to the left of the tunnel), and back to the landing.

August

August seemed to consist of a whole month of sunny, calm Tuesdays or Wednesdays or Thursdays, glorious for kayaking, miserable for working in an office that never seemed to get below 82F on the thermostat despite the loud wheezing of our antiquated air-conditioner, while the weekends were rainy and miserable, or had a strong wind warning. Or worse.

Decided to split this post into to two, otherwise both its production and its length were going to become exceedingly protracted. Stay tuned for the longest paddle yet.

Kayaks to the Arctic

While re-reading R. M. Patterson's The Dangerous River in the McPherson Library at UVic, I found an interesting book on the shelf near the good ol' D.R. (as fans call it). This book "popped" out at me because of its yellow cover, and its title: Kayaks to the Arctic. Ooo! I had to take a look at it
As it turns out, the author E.B. Nickerson is Elinor Nickerson, a physical education teacher from Alamo, California. Ooo Ooo! Another book on adventure travel by a woman. With her husband Richard Nickerson (known as "Nick") and three of their four sons, Elinor kayaked the MacKenzie River to the Arctic Ocean in 1964. The eldest son held the fort at home while the rest of the family spent weeks camping and kayaking.

The paper jacket is long gone on the library copy I read. But I liked the photos (all taken by "Nick"). I also liked the descriptions of villages along the river, and the Nickerson family camping methods. As for their kayaks, the Nickersons paddled folding kayaks that look and sound like Kleppers. The kayaks look much like the one in this 1964 photo from the Klepper website. Their 19-year-old son Devon paddled a solo kayak, while Elinor paddled a double with ten-year-old son Brian and Nick paddled a double with son Lincoln, who turned 12 on the trip.
They took five paddles with them to the Arctic. Five paddlers, five paddles. No spares.
If you're looking for a paddler's guide to the Mackenzie, you'll have to look elsewhere, such as the "Canoeist's Guide to the Liard and Mackenzie Rivers" by Harlow and Ariane Pinson, posted online here. The Pinsons note that Kayaks to the Arctic is not a guide book, but one of "several chatty but useless narratives of recent river travel." Useless to someone planning which river channel to take at the delta, maybe. But to someone comparing Alexander Mackenzie's journals to more recent works about travelling along this river, this book is interesting enough for me to gallop through it.
The most powerful scene in Kayaks to the Arctic comes as the Nickerson family approaches the Sans Sault rapids, the only bit of rough water they've been warned about. All the family knows to stay close to the left bank. When Devon's kayak veers a little less to the left than either of his parents prefer, Nick calls him to shore to have it out. Hot words get shouted, including "a few choice expletives." Then the blade of a kayak paddle swooshes through the air, and --
But that would be telling.

Lego Landing

Here on the We(s)t Coast, we've had a long string of feet in sneakers washing ashore, eleven in the last four years. But there's another case of feet washing ashore taking place, only these feet are attached to giant Lego-men.

This giant Lego man was spotted on shore this morning in Florida by Jeff Hindman.
But as noted on Boing-Boing, this is not the first time Lego men have washed ashore. One washed up in Holland in 2007, and another in England in 2008. And there's this.
Some places get all the cool flotsam.

Hockey Player Faces Boating Charges

The Globe and Mail had an interesting report in the Sports section yesterday. Check out page S5 to read their article on Dustin Byfuglien, defenceman for the Winnipeg Jets. His lawyer is attending a hearing for him this weekend, on some charges in Minnesota that stem from what the Globe and Mail calls " a strange boating outing last summer."
It's worth remembering that while in a boat, people are subject to laws. Here's a link to Transport Canada's Safety Rules and Tips. Boating while intoxicated, or failing to use navigational lights, or not having personal flotation devices are all offences for which a person can be charged. Transport Canada also has rules governing kayakers in short boats without motors.
Something else to think about is a program that Transport Canada has to fund boating safety projects. If you've got an idea that could promote boating safety, check it out.
Meanwhile, I'm going out on the water. With (yes) my PFD, floating rope in a throw bag, water pump, whistle, compass, waterproof flashlight, and SPOT.

Kayaking With Blue Whales

Wow. There's not much more to say of this amazing footage of a couple of kayakers who paddled along with some blue whales in California earlier this month. What amazing creatures. Check it out below:

Another Ordinary Day

Sunday was a great day for me. Got out and about in the village, did the coffeeshop thing, wrote, and -- ta dah! -- got on the water in a kayak on a bright afternoon!
I love paddling in the winter months. The water in Cadboro Bay is clear again! The crowds of people on the beach have dwindled to include only People Who Like The Beach A Whole Lot instead of the throngs of People Who Bought A New Swimsuit and People Who Think Going To The Beach Is Required In Summer. I am much more interested in sharing the beach in winter with the people who are determined to deal with the cool air.
This Sunday, the University of Victoria Sailing Club was out in full force. Team after team of young people were hauling out their little sailing boats, one after another. The bottleneck of traffic jam on the simple boat launch relented for a moment, and I was able to carry the kayak to shore.
It was the Jackson Kayaks Mini-Tripper. Really, it's meant for kids to noodle around a pond, but I've been taking it out along the shore to Flower Island. The large, open cockpit and slightly tippy narrow hull mean that I don't go around Flower... that would break my self-imposed rule (I'll go anywhere I feel confident about swimming BACK from!) even if it lets me see more of the big bay and even Mt Baker.
Sunday's paddle was a great time. A flock of seagulls was clustering near the middle of the bay, probably finding a shoal of small fish to catch. Many boats that are anchored in the bay all summer have been hauled ashore now, before the big storms of November.
I got chatting with Guy, the owner of the house along the shore with a dock reached by a steep path past the Tiki Hut. Where's their Buddha gotten to these days? Guy reports that the Buddha suffered some slings and arrows of outrageous fortune during his days in the rock niche or just above the dock. Not only did Buddha get knocked around by the otters, a wasp nest was built in his head! A broken arm on the statuette was enough to get Guy and his wife bringing the Buddha up near the house. It has been fine there for over a year. So have Guy and his wife. They love their little dock, but mosquitoes in summer and chill wind in winter make it a place they don't linger as much now as they did ten years ago when they first bought the place. Up at the top of their steep path, they sit outside, untroubled by mosquitoes or chill breezes off the water.
On my way back from Flower and Sheep Cove, I saw that the flock of seagulls was clustered by the little dock. "Did you feed them or something?" I asked Guy, and he shook his head, marvelling.
"They're fishing," he said. "Herring or something. And the seals are hunting, too."
Three little heads were bobbling up and dipping down. It looked like Mama Seal and two young, slim harbour seals were darting around for herring. How wonderful to see them herding the fish against the rock wall at that side of the bay!
I gave the seals, seagulls, and surviving herring a wide berth, then paddled back to the boat launch at Gyro Park. Every time we go on the water, even in familiar places, there's always something to see, and something to enjoy.

Food and Kayaking -- for Blog Action Day

John figured it would be a challenge to link the theme of Blog Action Day (Food!) with kayaking. Pshaw, I say. Of course food and kayaking are linked!
Don't believe me yet? Think about it for a minute. Why did people use kayaks in the North? Traditionally, the Inuit used them for hunting, and some still do. That's a food-related issue. In fact, I'd call it a food security issue. If we were going out in our kayaks to catch most of our food, food security would feel like a big issue to us, too.
Hunting kayaks were usually long and slim in Western Greenland, Bernie read somewhere. That is, they were long and slim until rifles became available to Inuit hunters. Then the usual kayak shape changed to something more like the Pamlico that Bernie and I lend to beginners -- wide and short, better suited to bringing a hunted animal back to shore than the long and slim kayaks that were good for quickly getting close to an animal for spear hunting.
Like I know how to hunt in a kayak... The only time one of us got close enough to a seal to be able to touch it, Bernie startled the seal and it sank away. Not food!
Instead, the food our paddle group associates most with kayaking is bars. Energy-to-go Bars. Power Bars. Cliff Bars. Luna Bars. Nonuts Bars. Nature Valley Granola bars and any other kind of packaged food snugged up in a water-resistant little parcel that fits in the pockets on our paddle jacket. Nice snacks that give me a boost of energy aren't essential, but they do make me feel more comfortable! Louise noticed the ginger in one bar made her feel warmer.
Oh, and there is another way that food and kayaking intersect. That's the fact that kayaking is better than backpacking because you can bring More Food. And better food, too -- heavy things like fresh fruit or fresh meat or eggs instead of dried or powdered commercial products. Nice to have light, packable food products when backpacking, of course. But on Bernie's kayaking trip to Portland, he was able to bring not only a proper gas stove but a griddle. He made pancakes.
Food... kayaking... yep, they're connected. Just think about how many times we eat after we go paddling!