Day three: navigation day and night

Today is all about finding our way and staying out of traffic. The kind of stuff you hope your kids learn by the time they head off for kindergarten, but it’s trickier when you’re in a small boat on big water.
The day began with navigation exercises on land and on the water. We practiced finding bearings and triangulating to determine our position, and then finding a heading to a buoy that took into account the current and wind. We paddled out to the buoy and, once again, were joined by several playful dolphins.

Lyn photographs a dolphin, one of many we would see during the day.

The next step was safely crossing Tybee Road, a major shipping channel where the Savanna River meets the Atlantic Ocean. So we grouped up at a green bell buoy and watched for boats. When the coast seemed clear, we took the shortest route across, to the red buoy. From there we practiced taking bearings and adjusting headings until it was time to cross the channel again. This time, we heard the rumble of something large in the distance. It turned out to be a gambling boat—a windowless, tank-like vehicle that seemed like a symbol of floating desperation. Playing it safe, we waited about 10 minutes until it was at most two minutes from crossing in front of us, then took off across the channel. Our trip took about nine minutes. We might have made it if we hadn’t waited, but who wants to take the chance of being run over by a gambling boat?

Green buoy 17. When we visited it during the day, it was a helpful aid to navigation, marking our position and one side of the shipping channel. When we came back that night, it was a safe haven--a spot where we felt less vulnerable in the darkness and the Saturday night boat traffic.

When we returned to the same beach after dark, everything looked different. Lights blinked on the water, calling out their identities with their color and frequency. Estimating distances was tough. At one point, the residential lights more than five miles away on Hilton Head Island looked like bioluminescence about half a mile away. We used a red light to read our chart and compasses because red light doesn't compromise night vision, only to discover that the color made it difficult to tell one side of the bearing compass needle from the other or immediately see the color of buoys on the chart. Everything took longer and felt more uncertain in the dark.

Checking the chart and choosing a heading was harder on land in the dark, and even more so on the water.

When we got on the water, strong swells and a pushy current immediately rendered our intended heading obsolete. We paddled out to the buoy while watching a large freighter cruise up Tybee Road. The dolphins must have been asleep beneath us, one eye open, one eye closed. It was beautiful and magical being out at night. By the time we arrived at the buoy, we felt the full two knots of current pushing us out toward the ocean. That's when a motor boat sped by a little too close for comfort, reminding us how vulnerable we were.
Lessons learned include:
- practice with all your night gear before you really need to use it
- plan ahead on shore as much as possible (which is true night or day)
- don't let advance planning keep you from adjusting when you get on the water and feel the real conditions (or as Marsha says, "Get your brain off the paper.")
- pack before it gets dark, if possible
- secure anything you can't afford to lose (we used paddle leashes)
- realize that you may be far less visible on the water than you think.

Day two, complete with dolphins

If you’ve ever checked the online weather forecast and then set out without an umbrella only to immediately get drenched, you would appreciate our first navigation lesson of the day: look around. We checked the Tide Log, so we knew that the high tide had been at 4:43 a.m. and the low would be at 11:25. We knew that the ebb tide would peak at 2.1 knots, so using the 50/90 rule, we figured that the current at 9:30 a.m. was about 90 percent of that. So when Ronnie told us to choose a bearing across Tybee Creek in order to reach a specific heading, we chose bearings well upriver.
It’s a testimony to our honesty that we continued on despite immediate feedback from the water that it wasn’t flowing at anything like the 1.9 knots we had estimated. It certainly didn’t look like it was, either, but we had chosen to let what we thought we knew overrule what our senses told us. Lesson learned.
Ronnie and Marsha excel at demystifying things. Next, they had us paddle backward in current and wind. We dutifully did, correcting as we went with long sweep strokes on one side. Ronnie stopped us to point out something obvious we hadn’t considered: the first half of a reverse sweep stroke propels more than it turns; the second half turns more than it propels. So in windy conditions, the best way to correct is to only use the second half of the reverse sweep stroke on the side to which you’re turning. We knew that, but we had never applied it.
The rest of the day was full of other demystifying moments like these., including a lunchtime navigation exercise about simple ways to locate yourself on a chart and navigate while on the water.


We also surfed a bit and marveled at how different ocean waves are from Lake Michigan waves. We got long rides on waves that had longer period and came in actual sets. And at one point, while paddling in the offshore swells, we were joined by four dolphins, who slowed down and stayed with us for several minutes. We also paddled through the marsh at high tide, where we saw oyster catchers and other shore birds. The sun was setting across Tybee Creek as we loaded our boats. It was day that satisfied all three of our goals.

Day one, shivers and all

It’s a humbling experience for cold-weather denizens like us to come to a warm-weather locale like this and admit that we’re freezing. But we overcame our pride and acknowledged that today. The water was in the low 50s, the air didn’t break 40 and the wind never stopped.
We asked Ronnie and Marsha to coach us on several levels simultaneously: as paddlers, as instructors and as out-of-town visitors. Today was a mix of all three, with critiques of our techniques and teaching peppered with unfamiliar vistas and conditions. We saw jellyfish, barnacles and fish; marshes and hammocks; gulls and an eagle.
The opportunity to experience the tides and currents we’ve mostly only read about is a boon for Great Lakes paddlers like us. We also got some practice surfing waves that weren’t wind-generated.
Today was a relatively calm day. Even the famous and sometimes feared “triangle” was in a gentle mood. We’ll see what tomorrow brings.

Training with Ronnie and Marsha

During our three-month blogging hiatus, we didn’t hang up the paddles and mothball the kayaks. We were teaching for the Chicago Whitewater Association at the local YMCA, paddling on Wednesday nights in the huge UIC pool, and reading and thinking a lot about kayaking. But somehow, we didn’t feel compelled to write too much about it. There’s something about the indoor season that doesn’t lend itself to that sort of reflection.
All that should change now, at least for a few days. We arrived last night at Tybee Island, Georgia, with Lyn for four days of training with Ronnie Kemp and Marsha Henson of Sea Kayak Georgia. After our white-knuckle flight, we settled into the two-bedroom apartment attached to Marsha and Ronnie’s house, which is perfectly set up for paddlers. In addition to the basics (furnished kitchen, comfy beds, wi-fi), it has an outdoor shower for rinsing saltwater off gear, a bookshelf full of local guidebooks and paddling books and magazines, and a DVD cabinet full of paddling films. The brightly colored walls feature Marsha’s artwork, and the sun pours in through the large windows in the morning. It’s almost enough to make us want to sit around reading and listening to music, except that it’s blocks away from the water, and the reason we came is more compelling than the comfort indoors. We’re here to paddle.
It’s bitter cold here, at least by local standards: 26 degrees. That’s about 25 degrees higher than it is back home, but we probably wouldn’t be dressing for paddling outdoors if we were there and not here. Check back later for observations and images from our first day on the water here.

Signs of a bumpy time ahead?

One of Marsha's paintings hangs in a well-lit spot.

The apartment is on the left; Ronnie and Marsha live on the right.

Paddling the great indoors

The outdoor paddling season is far from over. We'll still be on the lake for another month or so (and, we hope, the annual New Year's Day paddle on the Chicago River). But the indoor paddling season has begun. It's a delightful period of overlap, when we can paddle in water that's 70 degrees one day and 50 degrees the next.

Dave Olson (left) visits with paddlers at the UIC open pool session.

Wednesday nights are open pool sessions at the University of Illinois at Chicago, thanks to Dave Olson of Kayak Chicago. Dave rents the pool for 40+ weeks and welcomes paddlers to pay by the night or by the season to use it. He also rents boats for those who arrange it in advance, and he offers lessons.
We mainly come to work on skills and enjoy weekly time on the water in the dead of winter. This past Wednesday was the first pool session of 2008/09, and most people just seemed happy to see one another again.

Wendy Madgwick and Hannah turn a single into a double.

Alec demonstrates a C-to-C roll.

Yep. Good decision.

Can't say we feel really sorry to miss out on that!

The hard decision not to paddle

We were supposed to paddle on the east side of the lake today with Keith Wikle, Doug Van Doren and Lori Stegmeier--kayaking friends we mostly see during the summer at various midwestern symposia.
But the weather had other plans. Over the past few days, we watched as the forecast grew increasingly unfriendly. Winds of up to 30 knots. Waves of 5 to 8 feet building to 8 to 12. Air temperatures in the lower 40s. Rain. Snow. Sleet.

The marine forecast this morning.

Webcam above the pier at South Haven at 10 this morning.
Keith says waves that go above the pier are 8 footers.

It's hard to decide not to paddle, especially when we've set aside the time and made arrangements with people we'd really like to see.
We're pretty sure Keith will hit the waves in his surf boat. We'll be thinking about him today and checking his blog tomorrow.

Paddles up!

Justine Curgenven. (Photo courtesy of Justine Curgenven.)

Over the course of two evenings, we watched This is the Sea 4. This is a generous package: one disk of shorter profiles of remarkable paddlers and locales; one disk with two longer expeditions.
Disk one follows Justine's now-familiar approach of documenting outstanding kayakers who collectively define the sport. But whereas This is the Sea 1, 2 and 3 were like a kayaking Who's Who and Where's Where , This is the Sea 4 widens the lens to explore the variation and diversity of what can be done with sea kayaks themselves. We meet kayak fishermen off the California coast, whitewater paddlers tackling the Ottawa River in sea kayaks, and a Norwegian father-and-son team who hop around on the tops of their boats in the fjords. We also meet a woman who nurses injured wombats back to health, and see Hadas Feldman on her home turf. The message of disk one is something like, "All over the world, people are pushing the bounds of what they and their boats can do. Don't be narrow-minded about what sea kayaking is about."
Disk two contains two expedition narratives that, like her earlier ones, show why sea kayak trips are so enticing but don't disguise how hard they can be. The Haida Gwaii (Queen Charlotte Islands) circumnavigation with Shawna Franklin and Leon Somme manages to be a loving portrait of a remarkable place, a profile of the whimsical and knowledgeable owners of Body Boat Blade, and a story all in one. (Those of us who met Shawna and Leon at the West Michigan Coastal Kayakers Association symposium last year got a preview of this trip.)

Shawna Franklin and Leon Somme. (Photo by Justine Curgenven.)

The circumnavigation of the south island of New Zealand with Barry Shaw is considerably more challenging. The two paddled 2,400 kilometers, many of them into stiff headwinds, with limited landing options that were further complicated by punishing surf. At one point, Justine develops an infection and has to be airlifted to a hospital. They often look exhausted and sometimes almost defeated, and share all of that in the footage. At some points, Justine is even too tired to laugh. It's really a brutally honest documentary; she shares the tough decisions, the discouragement and the fear as well as the elation and excitement. That's something we've always appreciated about Justine's work, and it's very much in evidence here.

Barry Shaw landing through surf. (Photo by Justine Curgenven.)

We've found, over the years, that we return to each of the This is the Sea DVDs to review segments we love. The same will be true with this one.
Justine and Barry will be showing a one-hour condensed version of This is the Sea 4 and talking about their circumnavigation on Friday, November 14 in St. Charles, IL. Admission is $10, half of which goes to support Chicago Adventure Therapy. There will be an after-party nearby. For tickets or more information, visit Geneva Kayak Center or call 630.232.0320.

An unexpected delay

This is the Lake.

We got home too late Sunday night to watch disk two, and now we're swept up in election-day mania. We'll write our review tomorrow and post it promptly....promise!
So don't sit there reading blog postings. Vote!

Night at the movies

Yesterday we received our advance copy of This is the Sea 4, Justine Curgenven's anxiously awaited sequel to the sequel of the sequel of This is the Sea. Consider her the J.K.Rowling of the paddling world, with lots of great characters, loads of adventure, plenty of magic, but less of the teenage angst.


We watched disk one last night and will watch disk two tonight after the Chicago Whitewater Association pool session, so if you were hoping to hear what we think, check back tomorrow. Meanwhile, call Geneva Kayak Center at 630.232.0320 to reserve your tickets to her Nov. 14 midwest premiere.
How's that for restraint?

Do lakes get lonely?

We gently paddle the surface of the lake, leaving no trace behind.

As soon as we unloaded out boats near the 59th Street Harbor this morning, we could tell how dramatically the season has changed. The sun angled low through the crisp fall leaves still clinging to twigs overhead; the algae that made the ramp slippery during the summer was gone; fishermen were casting from the barren piers in the outer harbor; there was only one boat left in the inner harbor, and it looked forlorn. We paddled out in the middle of the channel with no concern for traffic because there were no boats in sight.
The wind was about 10 knots out of the northeast, causing waves mostly in the two- to four-foot range, which collided with one another and built a little higher off the breakwater that protects 63rd Street Beach. The surface water temperature is in the mid to upper 50s now--poagie weather.
We didn't have a lot of time, so we paddled south toward Rainbow Beach, enjoying the crashing of waves hitting the boulders along the shore, and then back north to 63rd Street Beach, where we caught a few nice rides on fairly gentle surf. We saw three boats in the distance headed for dry dock, and interrupted a gaggle of geese floating near the harbor mouth.
Lake Michigan must get lonely in the autumn. Perhaps that's why she thrashes her shores in the fall before subsiding under a blanket of ice in the winter. Either that or she revels in her solitude after a summer of assaults by jet skis, motor boats, tour boats and yachts. We like to think she enjoys our company, at least, as we gently paddle her surface, leaving no trace behind.

Knot a good situation

On Friday afternoon, while we were paddling, someone broke into our car and stole both of our wallets. We returned to a broken car window and a rash of urgent tasks: cancel the cell phone and credit cards, rekey the house locks, replace the drivers' licenses and a myriad other cards.

Since then, every day yields a new realization of something we no longer have: library cards, ACA instructor cards, insurance cards, a favorite green pen.
Today we realized the thieves also had the cool set of knot cards we bought with our paddling.net paddle perks and the rope we used for practicing clove hitches and bowlines.

Somewhere, some thief is practicing tying beautiful bowlines.

Note to selves: Bring wallets in boats. Keep house key away from IDs with home address. Renew paddling.net membership.

Not terribly lost in translation

For those of you who read yesterday's post and thought, "That's cool, but I wish I could read about it in French," we have good news!
It was picked up today by "Le Kayak et la mer."
Here's what they wrote:

Fabriquer son bout de remorquage court

Publié le 27 octobre 2008

En principe tous les kayakistes ont déjà un bout de remorquage long, c’est obligatoire en 6eme catégorie.
Mais plus rares sont ceux qui possèdent un bout court pourtant bien utile pour sortir rapidement un kayak d’un endroit difficile, assurer une pagaie ou même servir de leach. Vous trouverez sur le site Have kayaks, will travel une méthode très détaillée pour en fabriquer un de très bonne qualité ainsi qu’une méthode d’utilisation. C’est en anglais mais les nombreuses photos sont très explicites. Je crois bien que je vais m’en construire un sur ce modèle.

---

How to make your own short tow

When I was preparing to go out to Sea Kayak Georgia a few years ago to do some training before my Instructor Development Workshop, I needed a short tow setup. So I went out and bought a good-looking one for about $40.
During the second day of training, Ronnie Kemp and I were working on rescues. I was required to quickly release my tow belt and attached short tow in surf. The brand new short tow slid off the belt and sank.
Ronnie later showed me a type of short tow that can be made for a fraction of the cost of a commercial system. The parts are available at many outdoor sporting goods stores (or online--I've placed links below). The set-up connects to the deck lines in front of the paddler, where it's easy to reach, and uses an ingenious quick-release highwayman’s hitch, which allows it to be disconnected from the boat easily and quickly (essential for any tow system).
This is one of the first pieces of gear Sharon and I have made for ourselves; we find that the more we create and repair our own gear, the better we understand it and can make it suit our needs and the conditions we paddle in.
So here is the short tow system we use and how we put it together. Make sure you have the training to use it appropriately, and let us know what you think or what modifications you make.
--Alec

Materials:
Approximately 5 feet of 6 mm. braided nylon line ($2)
11 cm. Petzl runner ($4)
Petzl spirit straight gate carabiner ($9)
Or Stohlquist paddle biner ($20)
Rope end stopper with 1/4" hole ($4 a pack)

All the materials you'll need to create a short tow set-up.

First, seal the ends of the rope (if you had to cut it) using a flame:


Next tie a figure-of-eight to connect the rope to the runner:

Figure-of-eight follow-through connecting the rope to the runner. For instructions on this knot, click here .

Now connect the runner to the carabiner.

The runner prevents the rope from slipping off the carabiner.

Attach the rope-end stopper to the other end of the line. (Or, if you prefer, use any small ball or a monkey's fist knot.)

Your short tow is complete! Now it's time to attach it to your deck lines. Here is one way to use a highwayman's hitch to connect it. This is, essentially a series of slip knots, but they need to be done correctly in order to work properly.











(You can also check out this site for an excellent video on tying a highwayman's hitch .)

It's really strong. It can hold a lot of weight on the carabiner end:


And it can be released quickly and easily under tension by pulling on the ball end:

A dam good day

Saturday was the annual Geneva Kayak Center Kayak Fest, a day of free classes and an evening of socializing--sort of like a mini symposium but with boats and gear on sale and without the sleepover or registration fee.
We taught many classes at Geneva this year, so we were psyched to see some of our students again. We were also eager to see some of our fellow instructors, though we anticipate seeing them in the surf on Lake Michigan in the coming weeks (fall is surf season in Chicago) and then in the pool on Wednesday evenings during the winter.
It was a beautiful fall day. Some of the trees along the banks of the Fox River were rich hues of orange and gold; geese and herons adorned the water and banks. But best of all, the river was full of kayakers, many of them beginners or near-beginners, eager to learn new skills before the end of the paddling season.

Students who attended Kayak Fest were rewarded with free classes and lovely weather.

For us, the season isn't quite over. Dry suits and sufficient skill enable us to safely paddle into November and December. In the coming weeks, we'll chronicle some of the beauty of Lake Michigan settling into the solitude of its colder season.
But for now, we're enjoying looking at the photos from Saturday. Funny, but people are smiling in all of them!

Paul Doughty in a rare moment on the other side of the camera.

The blog is back

We've been a bit postless for the past two months. Sorry. We were (obviously) busy. (Know anybody who isn't?)
In fact, taking a break helped us clarify why we blog. Over the summer, we used the blog to share our thoughts about kayaking, teaching people to kayak, and the paddling community. We used it to publicly ponder ideas, poke fun at ourselves and sometimes others, call attention to people and places and sometimes problems, and celebrate what we've learned and what we've done.
We were surprised and pleased by the response we got. In one month, more than 1,000 people visited our blog, even though we did little to promote it. We received thoughtful comments online and in person from people near and far, including some of the students in our classes. Clearly, something we were doing was entertaining, useful or both.
We continued padding after our last post, though not as intensely as during those two months, when padding was nearly a daily activity. Even now, with the air and water temperatures dropping, the days growing shorter and the shadows growing longer, we're out there in our dry suits, enjoying the relative solitude of Lake Michigan in the fall.

The days get shorter, the shadows get longer, and we get taller!

Starting now, we will do our best to post weekly. This blog will stay kayaking-focused; we won't subject you to random musings about life, the universe, brownies and all that. Rather, we'll continue the journey we began back in June, when we asked you to come with us on our quest to become better paddlers, better instructors and better bloggers.
So welcome back. We hope you visit weekly, comment occasionally, and benefit from what you find here.
--Sharon & Alec

An impromptu slalom course near a Chicago beach.