Last weekend I took a Rough Water class with Geneva Kayak Center. The goal of the course is to gain experience for tidal conditions. Since tidal conditions are rather scarce in the upper Midwest, GKC uses rivers to provide eddy lines, moving water, and standing waves.
There were four students in the class: Brook and John, a couple from the Chicago area; Mark, also from Chicago; and me. We met on the Menominee River in Michigan. Scott Fairty was our instructor.
On Saturday, we worked on ferrying across currents, crossing eddy lines, cutting in and out, S turns, and jet ferries. We discussed SPANGLE (speed, position, and angle) when crossing eddy lines. We played on a standing wave that didn't look very big, but which we could paddle up to and surf. That was helpful for me, because in the rare (once every 6 months) opportunities when I have a chance to play in the surf, being on a wave is a BIG EVENT, and there isn't a whole lot of room for noticing where I am on the wave, working on balance, or taking time to think about where I want to be or how to get there. Sitting on a surfable wave and playing with rudders and edging and having time to just relax and be on the wave was great.
At the end of the first day, we gathered in the light rain by the GKC trailer to discuss evening plans and the next day's schedule. Scott said "there's one extra boat on the trailer." Brook then handed John a beautifully written note acknowledging the difference he had made as a science teacher for the past two years in a challenging school, and explaining that the splendid new NDK high volume Explorer sitting on the trailer was a gift for him. There were moist eyes all around after that. And Mark said it best: "Well done, Brook." And well done, John, for making a difference to your students.
Ryan had been ready to take the fall to keep the boat a surprise. It seems that a number of purchases had been made on Brook's and John's credit card in a short period of time, and an overzealous automated fraud alert had kicked in. The bank had called John about a large dollar amount purchase, which of course was for the boat. Brook had gotten wind of it before disaster struck, and the story was concocted that Ryan had fat fingered the decimal point for a paddle float purchase and multiplied the charge by 100. Fortunately, the gift was given before the bank statement arrived.
Mark had to head back to Chicago Saturday night, so the rest of us found a Chinese restaurant, had a beer and dinner, and split up to crash early.
Next morning we launched farther up river. We had an easy paddle to an island, working on hanging draws and linking strokes and other odds and ends along the way (Scott was willing to teach whatever we wanted to work on). We landed on the upriver point of the island to have lunch and scout the rapids and falls on the next stretch of river.
This was the section of river that the local whitewater rafting company used. They launched two rafts for each group of 6-8 paddlers and came down to this point. Each group would run the brief class IV fall and a longer stretch of smaller rapids with the first raft, then land, walk back up, and run them again with the second raft.
We knew we weren't going to kayak the first drop, so we carried the boats down the trail that overlooked the river before stopping for lunch.
There was a surprising number of hikers wandering up and down the trail, and we and our boats must have been an incongruous sight. Four brightly colored plastic kayaks, lying along the side of a forest trail, high above the water. Four drysuit clad paddlers seated nearby, eating lunch and pondering the river. One man stopped and said "You're not like the rafters. They never stop moving. You guys just sit here, very zen master like." I'm sure most of the difference had to do with the average age of our group vs. the rafters, and the fact that we were hungry and lunch was at hand. And perhaps a bit of our attention was focused on the water that we would soon be paddling.
After lunch, it was time to decide where to launch. Scott might have run the class IV drop had he been with experienced whitewater kayakers, but with a bunch of newbies, if anything went wrong, he was essentially on his own.
Below the class IV drop, the island offered a middle point launch and a lower launch option. Brook and John opted for the lower point. I was on the verge of going for the middle launch, but finally decided not to.
We carried our three boats to the lower point, and then Scott launched from the middle point. I definitely learned more watching Scott paddle that stretch of water than I would have had I paddled it myself. When we scouted the river, the only path I could visualize was straight through, right down the middle, and hoping to miss the big rocks whose positions I would never remember once I was underway.
Watching Scott pick his way from eddy to eddy, I could see how the bits and pieces we had been practicing over the weekend could be put together to paddle down a river or (one day) to cross a tidal race with a great deal of control. If I take the course again, I'll definitely launch from the middle point.
But this time, Brook, John and I launched farther down and had an uneventful trip through the next stretch of rapids. We worked on more eddy crossings, ferries, and eventually on rescues. I did a couple of rolls in the current which, like the final trips through the rapids, were very anticlimactic. When rolling becomes anticlimactic, that's probably a good thing.
By the end of the day, I certainly hadn't mastered all the nuances of ferrying and whitewater kayaking, but I was a lot more comfortable with moving water. Between my own experience and watching Scott look like he had all the time in the world, I seem to have acquired a bit more poise and confidence. Of course, the big question is how much of that will still be around the next time I'm playing in surf.
There were four students in the class: Brook and John, a couple from the Chicago area; Mark, also from Chicago; and me. We met on the Menominee River in Michigan. Scott Fairty was our instructor.
On Saturday, we worked on ferrying across currents, crossing eddy lines, cutting in and out, S turns, and jet ferries. We discussed SPANGLE (speed, position, and angle) when crossing eddy lines. We played on a standing wave that didn't look very big, but which we could paddle up to and surf. That was helpful for me, because in the rare (once every 6 months) opportunities when I have a chance to play in the surf, being on a wave is a BIG EVENT, and there isn't a whole lot of room for noticing where I am on the wave, working on balance, or taking time to think about where I want to be or how to get there. Sitting on a surfable wave and playing with rudders and edging and having time to just relax and be on the wave was great.
At the end of the first day, we gathered in the light rain by the GKC trailer to discuss evening plans and the next day's schedule. Scott said "there's one extra boat on the trailer." Brook then handed John a beautifully written note acknowledging the difference he had made as a science teacher for the past two years in a challenging school, and explaining that the splendid new NDK high volume Explorer sitting on the trailer was a gift for him. There were moist eyes all around after that. And Mark said it best: "Well done, Brook." And well done, John, for making a difference to your students.
Ryan had been ready to take the fall to keep the boat a surprise. It seems that a number of purchases had been made on Brook's and John's credit card in a short period of time, and an overzealous automated fraud alert had kicked in. The bank had called John about a large dollar amount purchase, which of course was for the boat. Brook had gotten wind of it before disaster struck, and the story was concocted that Ryan had fat fingered the decimal point for a paddle float purchase and multiplied the charge by 100. Fortunately, the gift was given before the bank statement arrived.
Mark had to head back to Chicago Saturday night, so the rest of us found a Chinese restaurant, had a beer and dinner, and split up to crash early.
Next morning we launched farther up river. We had an easy paddle to an island, working on hanging draws and linking strokes and other odds and ends along the way (Scott was willing to teach whatever we wanted to work on). We landed on the upriver point of the island to have lunch and scout the rapids and falls on the next stretch of river.
This was the section of river that the local whitewater rafting company used. They launched two rafts for each group of 6-8 paddlers and came down to this point. Each group would run the brief class IV fall and a longer stretch of smaller rapids with the first raft, then land, walk back up, and run them again with the second raft.
We knew we weren't going to kayak the first drop, so we carried the boats down the trail that overlooked the river before stopping for lunch.
There was a surprising number of hikers wandering up and down the trail, and we and our boats must have been an incongruous sight. Four brightly colored plastic kayaks, lying along the side of a forest trail, high above the water. Four drysuit clad paddlers seated nearby, eating lunch and pondering the river. One man stopped and said "You're not like the rafters. They never stop moving. You guys just sit here, very zen master like." I'm sure most of the difference had to do with the average age of our group vs. the rafters, and the fact that we were hungry and lunch was at hand. And perhaps a bit of our attention was focused on the water that we would soon be paddling.
After lunch, it was time to decide where to launch. Scott might have run the class IV drop had he been with experienced whitewater kayakers, but with a bunch of newbies, if anything went wrong, he was essentially on his own.
Below the class IV drop, the island offered a middle point launch and a lower launch option. Brook and John opted for the lower point. I was on the verge of going for the middle launch, but finally decided not to.
We carried our three boats to the lower point, and then Scott launched from the middle point. I definitely learned more watching Scott paddle that stretch of water than I would have had I paddled it myself. When we scouted the river, the only path I could visualize was straight through, right down the middle, and hoping to miss the big rocks whose positions I would never remember once I was underway.
Watching Scott pick his way from eddy to eddy, I could see how the bits and pieces we had been practicing over the weekend could be put together to paddle down a river or (one day) to cross a tidal race with a great deal of control. If I take the course again, I'll definitely launch from the middle point.
But this time, Brook, John and I launched farther down and had an uneventful trip through the next stretch of rapids. We worked on more eddy crossings, ferries, and eventually on rescues. I did a couple of rolls in the current which, like the final trips through the rapids, were very anticlimactic. When rolling becomes anticlimactic, that's probably a good thing.
By the end of the day, I certainly hadn't mastered all the nuances of ferrying and whitewater kayaking, but I was a lot more comfortable with moving water. Between my own experience and watching Scott look like he had all the time in the world, I seem to have acquired a bit more poise and confidence. Of course, the big question is how much of that will still be around the next time I'm playing in surf.
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