Dancing with Mr. D

Over Memorial Day weekend, our club has an annual "rendezvous" in the Apostle Islands.  We stay at a campground on Little Sand Bay and take day paddles to various destinations. 

Last year was the first year I attended, and on the first day we paddled around Sand Island.  The second day we split into different groups.  One group paddled to Raspberry Island, one drove to Meyers Beach and paddled to the mainland sea caves, and the third paddled from Little Sand Bay to the sea caves.  I was in the third group, and was delighted to be out paddling in my new boat on the big lake sharing a splendid adventure with Dan, Pete and Jeff.  The sea caves were spectacular, and the day was one of my favorite paddles of the year.

This year we again paddled to Sand Island on Saturday, making it out to the lighthouse and back (returning is always a good idea).  In the evening we had a potluck with lots of yummy food, and then gathered around the fire as it got dark.  It cools off fast up there, and the fleeces and down jackets came out with the setting sun.

Eventually the conversation turned to what to do on Sunday.  We had several  paddling options:  the estuary, Raspberry, the two approaches to the mainland sea caves.  I casually mentioned that Devils Island was only 25 miles round trip, but those who bothered to respond were clear and definite in their lack of interest in that idea.

Then we went around the group and everyone said what they'd like to do.  Raspberry seemed to be the favorite destination.  When it was Jeff's turn, he said quietly "I'd like to dance with Mr. D."  Sam was next, and said he would like to as well, but that we probably needed a third to make it a safe group.  I confessed that I had been the instigator of the trip.  (I'd planted the Devils Island seed a few weeks ago by email, and Jeff has a rubber arm for ideas like that.  Or maybe he'd been planning on it all along.)  At any rate, we had our three.  Nobody else signed on, but later on that evening, I stopped by Pete's (he was camping with his family), and he was in too. 

We weren't a 100% go yet, though.  Jeff and Michelle had been volunteering for the past week at Wilderness Canoe Base, and had just joined us that evening.  Jeff wanted to get a good night's sleep before committing to the trip. 

In the morning we checked the weather, and the front that had been on its way from South Dakota was still on its way, expected to cross our area in the afternoon.  Sam and I were thinking the conservative thing to do was skip the Devils paddle, but then Jeff joined us, coffee in hand, and said he was in.  So we decided to go.   (There was more than one rubber arm in the group.)

We launched a few minutes after 9:00 and headed for the east side of York Island.  After a quick break there and a weather radio check (no change), we were off to Bear Island.  The wind was northeast, 10 to 15 knots, so we were paddling mostly straight into it.  The waves were under two feet, but there were some whitecaps and there were definitely some good sized waves that the boats would ride up and pound down over.  Definitely not Lake Calhoun, and it was a good day to work on forward stroke efficiency.

We landed on a rocky beach towards the north end of the west side of Bear.   It was about noon, and we listened to the weather again while we ate lunch.  The details were getting filled in a bit more as the front got closer.  Forty percent chance of severe thunderstorms;  most likely in north western  Wisconsin.  Time frame was between 2:00 and 8:00.  Where storms occurred, expect winds of up to 40 miles an hour, lightning, and dime sized hail.  The storms wouldn't last long in the locations where they occurred … "only two to three hours."

It was time to decide whether to continue on to Devils or return.  We all had gear with us to sit out a storm or even to spend the night on an island if needed, but we still had two open water crossings of a mile and a half each before getting back to the mainland.   The western sky was clouding up, though there was nothing alarming in sight yet.  It would be 1:00 by the time we launched after lunch. The longer we continued to paddle forward, the more time we would spend on the water in the 2:00 to 8:00 window of possible storm formation, and the closer to dark our return would be if we had to sit out a storm.  Continuing on to Devils would add another 3 hours to the trip.  But … we all wanted to go on, and knew that at any given place, the chance of a storm was quite low.  We had a good view of horizon, and should be able to see signs of a storm before it hit, and there was shelter on Devils and Raspberry if needed.  

In the end we decided to turn back.  Being caught on a crossing in a severe storm would not be a good thing.  We re-visited the decision more than once, but turning back was the conservative thing to do, and the right thing to do.

So back we went.  This time we paddled south along Bear, then crossed to Raspberry.  (I've added one more island to my count now (16?) although the lighthouse tour will have to wait for another visit.)  The western sky was getting darker, and there was rain in the distance.  As we started the second crossing from Raspberry west to Point Detour, the north wind coming from our right was noticeably stronger, with frequent whitecaps.  I was paddling behind Pete, and there were several times when his head was nearly hidden by the waves, which meant that they were approaching 3 feet.  (A kayaker's head is about 3 feet off the water, so looking at another kayaker as you and he/she bob over the waves and observing "under 3 feet, 3 feet, or over 3 feet" are the only wave height measurements that don't involve guessing.)   My rough water skills have definitely improved in the past year, which was nice to see.

A fog bank had developed north of the islands, closing off the view of North Shore.  There was no lightning in sight, but we were all eager to get across to the mainland, and we spread out more than we should have as we all focused on getting across.  I had been able to see the paddler behind me out of the corner of my eye most of the way across, but about three quarters of the way across, I lost him and we stopped and re-grouped.  Our lead paddler set a good pace and it was easy to fix on him and paddle hard, and it probably got the group as a whole across in the least amount of time, but it was definitely an undisciplined crossing; we should have stayed together.  We were too far apart to help each other if needed, and too far apart to communicate if a change in plans was needed.  Lesson learned – don't let adrenalin override group cohesiveness.

With the last crossing completed and still no sign of inclement weather, we enjoyed an easy paddle back to Little Sand Bay and landed about 3:45.

In the end, on this particular day we would have been able to go to Devils without getting caught in a big storm (though we might have been caught in a fog bank – looking behind us, Devils could no longer  be seen), but I think everyone was comfortable with our decision.  Another day could have turned out differently.  Dave O. had looked at weather radar in the ranger station, and while we were loading boats onto our cars after the paddle, he told us the storm cells had gone north and south of the Apostles.

But joining three other paddlers on a 17 mile paddle (14.8 nautical miles) in the Apostles through a variety of conditions can be considered nothing less than a treat.  Devils Island is a magnificent destination, though its location on the outer edge of the archipelago, exposed to the big lake's wind and waves, make it an elusive goal.  We often try to dance with Mr. D, but he can be a fickle partner, and the big lake always calls the shots in the end. 

Weekend at Sea Kayak Georgia, April 3-4

If you're going to be in Georgia for something that ends on a Thursday, it would be silly not to stop by Sea Kayak Georgia and take a class over the weekend, right?  Well, actually that's probably what a friend of mine would call "vacation logic" (i.e., the logic may be suspect), but that's what I did.
 

SKG offers classes most weekends, and it turned out that this weekend, there was a BCU 3 Star training on Saturday and Sunday.  Perfect!  Ronnie was teaching it. 
 

3 Star trainings don't follow a set curriculum, and you can't assume that if you go to the training you're ready for the assessment.  The trainings are really just a chance to work with a coach on whatever he or she chooses to teach.  At another training I did with a different coach, we spent most of the time working on towing.
 

Since I arrived on Thursday afternoon, I had a couple of chances to chat with Ronnie before the class started on Saturday, and at one point we talked about Cumberland Island, which I had just returned from.  Ronnie said that once he had been leading a group across Cumberland Sound towards Fort Clinch, and after they landed a fisherman on shore called him over and said "See that great big shark out there?  It followed you guys all the way across."  Okay, right, processing that.  I decided I was quite happy that we didn't see any great big sharks on our trip, thank you very much.  Of course, later on I realized that none of us had been looking over our shoulders as we crossed...
 

On Saturday morning I met the other student in the class, a woman from Canada.  Siobhan and I were well matched in terms of skill level.  For the next two days, we worked our way through various skills, starting in calm water and then moving out.  It was a neap tide, so the conditions weren't as big as at the symposium last fall. 
 

Ronnie puts a big emphasis on skills, but not for the sake of the skill.  His focus is really owning your boat and paddle, so that you can move the boat exactly where you want to, rapidly and efficiently, no matter what the conditions.  Perfecting your technique is simply the means to that end.
 

After lunch on Little Tybee Island on Saturday, we were standing on the beach talking about towing. Suddenly Ronnie said "Is that guy out of his boat?"  We turned around and I couldn't see anything definitive, but there had been a guy surfing in a kayak and we couldn't see him anymore.  We decided to go out and check.  I got launched first and was in the lead (I think Ronnie was intentionally letting us handle the rescue).  Soon I could see that the guy was indeed out of his boat.  When I pulled up next to him, I could see that he had an old style surf kayak with no bulkheads and no flotation.  He was wearing a PFD, but no wet suit, and the water was about 58 degrees.  We were easily half a mile from shore, and he was trying to swim his boat full of water in.  He might have made it, but he might not.
 

Siobhan rafted up next to me and it took two of us to empty his boat out (we had to pull it across our decks and rock it, and it had no deck lines).  I think Ronnie was helping on Siobhan's other side.  We got the swimmer back in and, of course, as soon as his butt was in the seat he said "Okay, thanks, I'm good."  Not.  We stayed rafted up until he was sorted out with his spray skirt on, and then sent him on his way.  He made a bee line for shore.
 

It was a good example of paying attention that Ronnie even saw the guy in the water, and when we debriefed after the rescue, Ronnie had also been watching how close we were getting to the surf.  The offshore wind was blowing us out towards the breaking waves, and if we had gotten closer, he would have towed us back.  I hadn't even been paying attention to the surf line, so lots of lessons to learn on that one.
 

The rest of the weekend we worked on more skills – figure eights, towing, a bit of surfing.  Once after I capsized Ronnie asked "Nice roll, but what did you do before you rolled?"  I mumbled something, and Ronnie said "You had time to take a breath and set up for your roll;  why didn't you brace?"  Hmmm.  Good question.

At the end of the day on Sunday we did some out of boat work.  Between the week on Cumberland and the two days of classes catching up to me, and the cold-ish water (even with a wet suit) and being in swells that I wasn't used to, I was surprised at how quickly I tired.  I've never missed a re-enter and roll, and I missed three in a row.  Also muffed a cowboy rescue.  Oh, well.  That's why we practice, right?
 

All in all, we learned a lot.   Ronnie did a great job of teaching us where we were.   If only I could do that every weekend.

Cumberland Island, March 27 - April 1

Cumberland Island is a national seashore on a barrier island off the coast of Georgia, and until a few months ago, I'd never heard of it. 

I had my eyes on Baja for a winter/spring kayaking trip.  But Mike M. mentioned a Geneva Kayak Center trip to Cumberland in an email and a seed was planted.  I took a look at the trip description, and it was more affordable than Baja.  I talked to Ryan at GKC, and he said the Cumberland trip normally has a bigger range of conditions than Baja ("conditions" are kayak speak for wind and waves).   It's got salt marshes on the west, live oaks and Spanish moss in the middle, and a 17 mile beach along the eastern shore, facing the open Atlantic.  Wildlife includes feral horses, armadillos, and alligators.   The trip would spend 5 days paddling around the island.
 

Before long, Cumberland Island had become my spring paddling destination.  And at the end of March, seven of us gathered at the hotel in St. Mary's where we would spend the first night of the trip.   Ryan from GKC was the trip leader.  Mike was the assistant trip leader.  Scott, Chris and Aaron were all affiliated with GKC in one way or another.  Geoff was from the Philadelphia area.   And me.
 

After boat packing and dinner, we gathered to talk tides and charts.  I have a basic understanding of navigation and had collected tide and current information for each day of the trip, but it's a lot more real when you get down to day to day paddling details.  How early do you need to get up in the morning to get to the launch site and be ready to launch just as the tide is turning so that you can catch the ebb tide as you paddle down the river?  If you want to take a shortcut through the creek, and you know what the creek depth is, and you know that low tide is too low to travel the creek, when do you need to start (allowing for the effect of the tide on your rate of travel) to get there with enough water to get through?  
 

We managed to hit the trifecta for early morning starts on the trip, getting up between 4 and 6 every day to get to where we needed to be with the tides and currents with us.  I had noticed the tide schedule would favor early starts before the trip, but found myself thinking "we won't really have to start that early;  we're on vacation!"  But tides don't follow vacation schedules, so we were early risers.
 

On Day 1 of the paddling portion of the trip, we arrived at Crooked River State Park in plenty of time and got our boats and gear ready.  As soon as the tide turned, we set off down the Crooked River.  We crossed Cumberland Sound (part of the Intracoastal waterway), then paddled into the Brickhill River and stopped for lunch at Plum Orchard, which was the first of the three mansions we would see.
 

Thomas Carnegie (brother of Andrew) and his wife Lucy bought property on Cumberland Island in the 1880s, and built the family mansion (Dungeness) on the southern part of the island.  Thomas died relatively young, and Lucy became the matriarch of a large clan and the social center of the island.  As her children came of age and married, she built several of them mansions of their own.  (Bachelor sons, however, did not get mansions.)  Plum Orchard was the mansion built for son George.  A volunteer park ranger gave us a tour.  It was impressive, with cutting edge amenities for the turn of the century: refrigeration, electricity with DC current inside of wooden conduits, indoor plumbing that wouldn't look out of place today, indoor pool, squash tennis court.  There were buttons to summon the servants, and of course, separate stairways for the servants.  What really made the enormity of the family wealth sink in was realizing that this was a secondary residence, used only a few months a year.
 

After lunch and tour, we paddled on to our first campsite at Brickhill Bluff.  It's interesting how names conjure up images in our minds.  The bluff I imagined was much grander than the actual bluff, but it was still a fine campsite. We took a walk through the live oak woods before dinner.  A grape vine was spotted and 3 of the guys jumped from a tree a la Tarzan to swing on it.  At dinner we enjoyed the first of the delicious meals prepared by chef Ryan … fish and shrimp.

We put the tarp up over the "kitchen" before we went to bed, and the rain started during the night.  Fortunately it had just about quit by the time we got up the next morning, and the rest of the trip was good weather.
 

Day 2 required an early start to get through Christmas Creek at high water and on the flood tide, so we were up at 4 and launched at 7.  We took a shortcut through Mumford Creek, then were back on the Brickhill river. 
 

The entrance to Christmas Creek was not obvious … we made our way through some reeds and eventually got to the point where the creek became well defined.  The creek provided a shortcut to the Atlantic side of the island, allowing us to avoid paddling all the way north around the tip of Little Cumberland Island.  With few landmarks to use to find our position in the salt water marsh, we used the hammocks (areas of high ground with trees growing on them) that were marked on the charts.
 

Just before Christmas Creek opened up into the Atlantic, we landed to take a break and hike over the dunes to scout our exit route.  The creek was flowing out, the tide was ebbing, and there was an off shore wind, so creek, tide and wind were all moving east.  The swells were coming from the east and pilling up on the sand shoal that stretched out from the creek entrance.  The result was surf that seemed pretty big in a little kayak.  We needed to turn south (right) as soon as we reached the Atlantic, and the main shoal was dead center as we left the creek, so the plan was to keep to the right to avoid the worst of the surf.
 

But things didn't go quite according to plan.  With the current, tide, and wind all moving us east, the group unintentionally ended up in the center of the shoal, and paddling into the biggest breaking waves.  You also want to hit the waves more or less head on, increasing the tendency to stay in the center.
 

I was towards the rear, with Ryan behind us, and he told those of us who were close to him to move right, which we did.  It's always hard to estimate heights after the fact, but I think we were paddling up and over 5 foot waves where I was, and they were probably higher to my left.  I made it out with a bit of an adrenalin rush but no other problems.  Two of the folks who had moved farther to the center capsized.  One rolled and the other was rescued. The good thing about the rescue situation was that wind, current and tide were carrying the rescuer and swimmer out, so by the time the swimmer was back in his boat, they were in calmer conditions.  It would have been trickier if they had been carried into worsening conditions during the rescue.  Mike had done the rescue, and mentioned that in the conditions, he would have liked someone to raft up next to him to help stabilize.  Another lesson was that you need to be paying attention to the big picture, including the landmarks behind you, to know whether you're where you intended to be.
 

Regrouped and glad to be past the shoal, we paddled south, made our way through a second shoal, then stopped for lunch.  Back on the water, we crossed a third shoal and stopped while those who wanted to spent some time surfing.  It was perfect conditions … lots of green water, meaning the waves were big enough to surf on, but not breaking.  Three of us opted not to surf, and hung out in the swells waiting. 
 

Back underway, we proceeded to our Stafford Beach campsite.  As we paddled, several of us struck firm but movable objects with our paddles, which we later learned were probably cannonball jellyfish.  We saw pelicans gliding above the waves, the tips of the "wings" of numerous stingrays on the surface of the water, and several dolphins.
 

This was our longest day at 18 nautical miles (20.7 statute miles), and we were nicely tired by the time we landed.   Some folks did a bit more surfing, but I was ready to call it a day (this was my second day on the water for the season), so enjoyed watching.  Mike did an endo over one of the waves that was very impressive, though perhaps not intentional.
 

We had to carry our gear a good half mile to the camp area, but it was worth it.  The campsite was lovely, nestled in a clearing in the live oaks which we promptly hung with drying gear.  (When returning to the campsite after dark, it was easy to spot our camp with all its reflective tape.)  And there were cold showers, which were most welcome. 
 

That night we walked back down to the beach and watched the nearly full moon rising.  The moon lit up a brilliant path straight towards us.  It was also bright enough that the rest of the ocean was bathed in silver.  As the swells approached the shore and started to pile up, the front of the waves were dark bands against the silver background of the ocean.  When a wave would start to break, you would see the white foam on the top edge, and you could even see the white spray being blown back off the top of the wave by the wind and backlit by the moon. 
 

And if that wasn't magical enough, on our left 3 horses appeared -- two adults and a foal.  They wanted to cross to our right, and started walking along the beach in front of us.  Just as they passed us, they got spooked and started running, and we could feel their hooves pounding on the sand. 
 

It was hard to leave the beach that night.
 

Day 3 was a play/rest/wander day at Stafford Beach.  In the morning we took a final opportunity to surf before the swells died away.  This time I joined in and got some good coaching from Ryan. Try to keep your butt at the top of the wave so you have control.  You want to avoid moving so far down the wave that your bow gets locked in, but stay far enough forward to remain on the wave. Steer away from the breaking wave and towards the green water.  If you get caught in the break, you really have to commit to your brace.  I was bracing the right way, but not hard enough, and eventually would get knocked over by a stray bounce (fortunately, I rolled every time).  I still find it all much easier said than done, especially when I only do it once every 6 months.
 

Apres surf was a yummy brunch (individual omelets, fried potatoes and fresh fruit), then we split up for afternoon adventures.  Geoff, Scott and I walked inland and took a look at Stafford House, a mansion that is still in use.
 

Dinner was individual pizzas with crusts made from yeast dough.  That evening was the official full moon, and we went down to the beach again.  We didn't see the moon at first since there was haze on the horizon.  As an astronomy major, I was starting to feel personally responsible for the absence of the moon.  Eventually we saw a lighter spot in the haze, and the moon suddenly appeared as a horizontal orange slice, with top and bottom still obscured by haze and clouds.  As it rose above the haze, it whitened up.  The surf was minimal at that point, so it was a lovely evening but not quite as magical as the previous night.
 

Day 4 we launched at 8 to get to the south end of the island by high tide.  We had to cross a jetty, and needed high water to do so.  We paddled easily along miles of sand beach, enjoying the day and the sun and the water and the dolphins and the birds. 
 

I wasn't quite sure what the jetty would be like.  Turned out to be a line of big, sharp, black rocks that didn't seem to be at all friendly to kayaks.  We found a low spot and crossed one at a time, waiting for a swell to ride over the rocks.  In between swells, the rocks were uncovered and looked eager to take a large bite out of a kayak.
 

Ryan tried a more challenging spot to cross and didn't quite make it.  We were focused on our spot and heard a crunch to our right and saw his bow sitting up on a rock.  We landed on the other side of the jetty to put a patch on his bow, but Explorers are tough boats and the damage looked superficial..
 

Then we crossed Cumberland Sound to the Florida side (half a mile or so) and landed below Fort Clinch, a brick fortress built before and during the Civil War.  It was obsolete before it was completed.  Preserved and renovated by the CCC during the 1930s, it's now a state park.
 

After eating lunch on the ramparts among the cannons and exploring the fort, it was time to cross back to Cumberland Island.  This would be a trickier crossing. Coming over we were near slack tide.  Going back, we were facing a 3 knot current from our left.  Once we crossed the sound and started to head up the west side of the island, the ebb current would be directly against us, though it would be slowing as the afternoon went on. 
 

We started trying to ferry across, but half way there we decided to accept the drift, get to the far side, and eddy hop against the current. 
 

Working our way up the west side of the island, we stopped at Dungeness Mansion.  It had burned in a huge fire in 1959, but even the ruins were impressive. 
 

Then it was on to Sea Camp, where we would stay on our final night. We hung out while Ryan made sure there was a campsite available, then landed on the dock and carried our gear up.  Like Stafford Beach, Sea Camp has a long walk between dock and campsites, but they had carts we could load our gear on.
 

Ryan prepared another yummy dinner, and for dessert an instant cheese cake that disappeared in less than 2 minutes after it was pronounced ready to eat.  No plates were dirtied in the consumption of that cheesecake.
 

The morning of Day 5 we headed back up Cumberland Sound to the Crooked River park where we had started.  At one point we watched a flock of birds (pelicans?) fly past us in a line.  The bird in front stopped flapping its winds and started gliding, then the next bird, then the next bird, one after another.  Then the lead bird started flapping its wings again, and the others followed one at a time just like fans in a stadium doing the wave.
 

And then … we were back at the launch site.  We loaded the trailer, stopped for showers, and went out for lunch.  Mike and Scott were kind enough to drop me at the Savannah airport on their way home.

There's always that moment at the beginning of a trip when you cross the line from anticipation into commitment to the adventure and whatever it brings.  And there's always that moment of sadness at the end when you and your companions are saying goodbye and parting ways, and the adventure turns into memories. But memories and new friends are both good things.  Until the next adventure…

Pictures are here