Our class was made up of 6 students in addition to Shawna and Leon. We gathered at noon at Bowman Bay on Thursday. We started with some on-land discussion, including getting on the same page with rescues: let Leon and Shawna handle the rescues, and don't try to help; that becomes a distraction. If you go over, flip your boat and move towards the bow but not all the way up. Transfer to the rescuer's boat. Don't hand them your paddle until asked.
We ran through their risk assessment method, where you plot potential risks as red, yellow, or green, and make a conscious effort to change the situation to move reds and yellows towards green. And we were reminded that risk assessment isn't a one time task; you're doing it all day long.
Max flood that day was about noon, with slack around 3:00 and the max ebb of 6.6 knots just before 6:00. The day was calm when the group arrived, but by the time we were ready to launch shortly after 1:00, the wind had picked up and there were frequent whitecaps in the bay.
We had to paddle out of the bay and south around the headland to get into the pass. The waves were decent sized and reflecting off the cliffs of the headland, and we were paddling parallel to them. At one point I found myself on the side of a wave looking down to my left and thinking "That's a long way down to the bottom of the trough." An instant later, I was on top of the next wave.
Some of our group were not comfortable in the conditions, so Leon and Shawna decided to forego rounding the headland. We turned around and paddled back to the bay and portaged across to the pass, which was a short walk.
The pass itself is a narrow channel with steep, rocky cliffs. Pass Island conveniently splits the pass in two at the narrowest part, supporting a high bridge with two arches, one on either side the island. Being there feels much like being on a river with a deep gorge, except that sometimes the current flows one way and sometimes it flows the other way, and sometimes there's no current at all.
We started by paddling around Pass island, after learning that the more islands you circumnavigate, the more likely you are to go to heaven. Or was it the more islands you get to paddle around after you get to heaven? I forget. In any case, the north side of Pass Island was where we would do most of our work (play?) over the next two days. It has good eddy lines when a current is flowing, no matter whether ebb or flood.
I'd taken a couple classes with Geneva Kayak Center last summer on the Menominee River in sea kayaks, learning to handle eddy line crossings and dynamic water. The eddy lines in Deception Pass seemed bigger/longer and at times were faster, but the skills carried over from the river very well, and I was glad of the prior teaching and experience with Scott and Ryan.
DP also has whirlpools. I'd seen them on the video and asked about them at the beginning of the class. No, they don't suck you down. (At least not this size.) Good to know. It is, however, a good idea to pick which side you paddle across them on, as they can slingshot you forward or pull you in towards the center.
Conditions changed constantly as the current moved from flood to slack to ebb over the course of the day. We got some nice standing waves as the swells coming in from the west ran into the ebbing current heading out in the afternoon. When we paddled back around the headland at the end of the day, there was a beautiful seascape of waves and breaking waves off in the distance.
Friday was rainy and we started much earlier (8:30) to catch beginning of the flood current. Our first assignment was to launch some way we didn't normally launch. Leon had showed me a speed launch the previous day (bow in the water, grab the stern toggle, run the boat into the water and launch yourself belly first onto the back deck, then cowboy up into the cockpit.). First time I tried it I went for a swim, but by the end of the class, it was working pretty well.
After a backwards paddling warmup, we headed over to a dock that was a couple feet high. We got out and pulled our boats up and across the dock, then shoved them over the other side and jumped in after them (holding onto them the whole time), and re-entered from the water. (Much easier to do a cowboy re-entry if you start horizontal on the water, not vertical. Thank you, Leon.)
After paddling around the headland, the next destination was the Room of Doom. This is an area on the far side of the pass, just to the left of the bridge pier. There's a back eddy there during a flood current, with a sharp eddy line and whirlpools and boils. (Throughout the class, Leon kept wanting to lead us to the Valley of Sunshine, or so he claimed. Shawna was more apt to take us to places like the Room of Doom. Should we make that mean something?)
Shawna had asked me to lead the group over across the pass. After a period of trial and error and some helpful leading questions from Shawna, I stumbled across the idea that if I was to one side of the group, I could see everyone without craning my neck, and set a pace that was good for the group.
In an example of how our minds play tricks on us (or at least mine does), the Room of Doom had originally been described to me as "behind the bridge pier." (Or at least that's what I heard.) Perhaps because I knew that Shawna and Leon had once been at the University of Minnesota, the image that I created in my mind was based on the the I 94 and Franklin Avenue bridge piers on the Mississippi, and I expected the Room of Doom to be between the pier and the shore. I kept looking for the openings on either side of the pier that would allow us to get behind it. This was despite the fact that we had paddled by the Room on the previous day, and the fact that it was pretty obvious that the pier was solidly on land as we approached it. Sigh.
As with the Pass itself, the Room was fairly mellow that day. It was fun to play in, but fortunately didn't live up to its name.
Back at our now familiar playground by Pass Island, Shawna started throwing tennis balls out into the current for us to rescue. Next came rescuing each other. The plan was for the first person to paddle out across the eddy line, and capsize as soon as we were in the green (smooth) water in the main current. Our partner would be right behind us and come up for a T rescue.
I jumped the gun and capsized and exited a little too close to the eddy line. A couple seconds later I was in a whirlpool. Boat was going one way and I was going another. I remember ducking under it and switching sides, and then I was out and back in the main current. Interesting experience.
We also did self rescues out in the current, and learned other assorted new tricks, including a dynamic leg drop for edging our boats. At one point I was supposed to be watching Leon show me something to try next, and a seal popped its head up right behind Leon. I watched the seal. Sorry, Leon.
By mid afternoon folks were running out of gas and the flood was nearly done, so we headed back around the headland. We found a narrow V in the cliff and took turns moving up to it and paddling forward and back to hold position as we were washed up and down and in and out by the swells. My initial concern was the image of getting my (borrowed) bow caught on the rocks at the top of a swell as the water drained away beneath me, but Leon helpfully pointed out the possibility of getting the bow stuck at the bottom as the water surged up. Good reasons not to get stuck.
We had an early dinner at the Deception Pass Café, and called it a day. Great two days, and a great warmup for the San Juan Currents class in May.
Photos are here.
