Pool Session

Practise session at the Pool. Most of the time spent sculling, high brace and sculling turns. At the end of the night I did half an hour of sprints and reverse sprints and reverse turns at speed. I'm finding more and more that I'm reaching for my shorty greenland paddle first. I spent some time sculling with my high angle 'euro' to keep my form. I find that while it's much more powerful than the 'gp', and definitely gives more immediate results, it can be a bear when trying sudden stops and reversals as well as when trying to make sudden and extreme direction changes. I'm still not convinced that either is ideal but the 'gp' feels more fluid and combined with a smooth sliding stroke gives a very nice feel.

Pushed my turns as hard as I could until I edged past my point of balance and started capsizing, I'm sure I could have braced up and out of it.

Worked on my cowboy re-entry, wobbly first few times as I haven't been OTW in a few weeks. After a few shaky starts they came easy. I'm learning to use my paddle for stability while sliding up and dropping into cockpit. I can get up and place me feet and lower legs in while leaning on the sculling for support. I can't figure out how to free-up a hand to ease myself down into the kayak though as I'm using both on the paddle. I'm now increasing the leverage on my support sculling by sitting on the rear deck with my feet in the kayak and leaning it over. This raises my center of gravity to the point of extreme tippiness, and forces me to use the paddle only (no cheating by using my thighs this way).

Upside down re-entry is smooth and comfortable but I can't get my paddle sweeping across the surface of the water to roll up yet. Being upside down with the surface above me is disorienting. Hard to train my muscles to move opposite to instinct.

Balance brace is really close, once I learned to push my bow facing shoulder to the surface I discovered my body floating up and my face coming out of the water. My arms keep wanting to sink and pull me back under though... not sure whether this is due to lack of flotation in my paddle/arms or not getting the kayak balanced properly on edge. I think that once I get my kayak properly fitted with closed-cell foam it'll be a night and day improvement as I won't be sliding around in the cockpit.

Sliding stroke is very comfortable and smooth now, and I'm finding I can do a fast sliding switch of sides for a quick instinctive brace as well. Very handy. Storm Stroke is excellent.

The following two videos demonstrate sculling and the sliding stroke. In the second notice how the paddler's hands move on the paddle.

http://www.qajaqusa.org/common_images/gp_roll_sidescull.mpg

http://www.qajaqusa.org/common_images/gp_slidestroke.mpg

Time on water - 2 hours

Okay it's December the 27th and I haven't paddled in over two weeks... and I'm going nuts... I'm signed up for a pool session this coming Sunday, planning to spend the time working on my sculling and bracing. If I get some quiet time at the end of the session when everyone leaves the pool to sit in the hot-tub or head off early I'll try some rolls. I hate practising my rolls in front of other paddlers, not sure why but I do.

These are the Links to the Greenland and Baidarka videos that were posted recently.

http://www.vsocial.com/ups/75d14eca9b3782cedd05955ee08faf9e
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http://www.vsocial.com/ups/d0b96e8fb3fc281fdf70870606742438
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http://www.vsocial.com/ups/e1cc1027b7c64e2fe3f381cb21a2a10a
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http://www.vsocial.com/ups/e72198574e0b93429c65b7dd5cf052af
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I grabbed this list of Robin's from West Coast Paddler's site.
"So, in no particular order, an extended solo trip gear list for gear packed inside (only myself in the cockpit) and with all of those drybags typically looks like:
*kayak cart
*2 white fuel/unleaded gas stoves..in the past Whisperlites but now Coleman Featherlite 420s
*4 ~1L canisters of white gas shoved to each end of the boatpump water filter
*Pristine binary water purification as a third backup
*frying pan
*1 1.5 L pot
*1L kettle
*2 10L dromedaries
*4 flint/magnesium fire starters -- 1 tied to each stove, food bag, etc.
*4-5 lengths of at least 12m 4mm line
*2 man tent with a ground sheet
*2.9 x 3.9m silicone impregnated nylon tarp
*peak hammock*an MEC Oassis sleeping bag for the summer or an old (overkill) -20 MEC primaloft bag for the winter
*Big Agnes Primaloft Insulated Air Core...used to stick with an old thermarest style but cobble beaches get sore..a much thicker but still compact air mattress is nice
*...no more bulky fleece for me, with a now disco'd MEC Primaloft top for chills
*expedition weight (Malden Mills® Power Dry) long johns
*poncho
*two pairs of tops and bottom mareno wool long underwear
*rubber boots
*short neoprene booties
*cheap rubber thongs for easy footwear
*cheap rain pants
*two thermoguard type paddling tops to always have one to dry
*a shorty paddling spray top for those warmer but windier days
*spare adjustable spray deck
*farmer john wet suit for those in between temperature days
*dry suit for below 13-14 degrees, rainy, or very windy, or exposed coast
*foldable chair (wimping out now...and found that I have the space)
Yeah.....I think that's my main list of the typical kit that I now fully pack inside."

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Merry Christmas...

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This is what a world-class kayaker's body looks like under full exertion.

WOOHOO!!! This is what happens when an inexperienced Russian Soldier is assigned to paddle Kamchatka with two seriously dedicated expedition paddlers. Lady paddler's no less.

Haven't been able to get the kayak out with the crazy snow we've been having lately...

I've been spending my time buried deep in books such as 'Kayak Craft' by Ted Moores, and 'Canoe Paddles' by Graham Warren and David Gidmark. It'll soon be time to repair 'Tassie' for this coming years adventures as well as get started on my two new projects. The 'Hindeloopen' and the 'Nanortalik' replicas. I'm loathe to pull her out for maintenance when I've now the option to don my drysuit, lotsa polar fleece, and expedition-weight underwear. Paddling doesn't have to stop!

After an attempt at a Midnight Madness paddle by the full moon on the Gorge, I chose to peddle over to View Royal, launch and paddle out to Esquimalt Lagoon. Was a gorgeous night/morn for a paddle after all.

There were a few spectators at the Craigflower Bridge waiting to see us out on the water, hated to disappoint them but the weather was a bit 'touch and go' to risk a WCP group paddle.


Time on water - 3 hours

Did I mention how much I love my Dry-suit???

Midnight Paddle - Gorge and Portage Inlet

Moon-gazing :O)

Time on water - 4 hours.

Parson's Bridge to Albert Head

I decided to change my night paddling location and put in at one of the View Royal Pocket Beaches I've been scouting out. Had to toss the kayak off the rocks and jump in after it, cowboy re-entry and off I went! Good solid bench to lock my Trike and trailer at this location.

Water was calm with a light breeze, chill left the air after midnight and it became downright balmy by 0400. I LOVE my new Dry-suit, wore my peddling gear under my paddling gear. Sure simplifies the whole process. Did I mention that I LOVE my dry-suit????

Time on water - 4 hours.

Crystal Pool

Play and Practise.

Time on water - 2 hours.

I've been out paddling in the wee hours again. I get up extra early so that I can get a couple or four hours in before the paper routes.



I've been finding some great launch and pull-out spots in View Royal that give me access to Esquimalt Lagoon and more open coasts.



So far Beach accesses at the bottom of Beaumont Avenue, Stewart Avenue, and Limekiln Bay at Helmecken Road will all work. There are a few others in this area that show promise as well. Still need to take another look at Portage Park/Thetis Cove which would be very convenient if I can find a portage across the Old Island Highway from Portage Inlet at Shoreline School.

Time on water - 4 hours.

The First Drysuit

I finally made the decision to purchase a drysuit. A very big purchase for a guy on a budget. I ordered the bare-bones Kokatat GFER, with relief zipper, and Gore-tex body and booties. I'm getting it custom fitted and in all red for visibility. This model doesn't have an integrated spray skirt tunnel but I hope to be able to wear it underneath a Tuilik eventually.


(edit: December 8th) Whoops... Strike that... I got the Expedition in Red off the rack instead. Couldn't stomach the current exchange rate - and I got a reasonable deal on it..

Midnight Paddle - Gorge & Portage Inlet

Time on water - 4 hours.

Cadboro Bay & Cattle Point

Sculling practise and rock gardening.

Time on water - 5 hours.

Outsides of Chatham and Discovery Islands

Paddled with Mike J, Heike, Paulo, and Dennis.

Time on water - 5 hours.

Course - 'The Gray Zone'

Paddling course instructed by Gary Doran and Richard at the Crystal Pool.


GRAY ZONE
(3 hours) Brace yourself, this is going to be fun!
This practical course is designed to give you confidence and comfort in the gray
zone: the area between being right-side-up and upside-down. In the warmth of an
indoor pool, you will practice techniques to balance your kayak on edge and use
the low brace and high brace to prevent a possible capsize. As well, you will learn
to scull for support and prevent immersion during a partial capsize. Finally, you will
learn the balance brace, a method to lay on the surface of the water while remaining
seated in your kayak. This technique was used by traditional Inuit kayakers for
resting while at sea. You will feel empowered after gaining these skills!
Before taking this course, we recommend that your have basic kayaking skills and
rescue skills.

Time on water - 3 hours.

The Gorge and Portage Inlet

Midnight Paddle.

Time on water - 4 hours.

Crystal Pool

Play and Practise.

Time on water - 2.5 hours

McNeil Bay and Trial Island

Robin, Sheila, Jo, Michael, Philip and I paddled out and around Trial Island.

Time on water - 3 hours.

The Goldstream - Wallace Express

Loaded up the kayak behind the tri-cycle and headed off for a peddle-paddle. Destination Goldstream Boathouse to Wallace Island and back. Possibility of a circumnavigation of Saltspring - weather permitting.

August 24th
The driveway down the hill to the boathouse is steep ::::: so steep that not only will my brakes not stop me, I'm getting pushed down the hill in front of the kayak and trike, feet sliding along the asphalt with all the brakes locked. I'll be talking to someone very soon about modifying the rear axle on my tri-cycle to a (dual?) hydraulic disc set-up. The rain absolutely drenched me on the peddle out from Victoria. The Malahat has got to be the least bike friendly strip of pavement I've had to peddle so far. The bicycle lane is so skinny that at times I'm riding up the steep Malahat with a wheel hanging out in traffic with the other rubbing the highway divider. The rumble strips suck away all forward momentum. Traffic has nowhere to shift over to, and is forced to pass close because of the center divider. Just not a pleasant experience in any way shape or form. I wish they'd get off their butts and complete the Trans-Canada trail through this section like they've been promising for years.

Lyle at the boathouse is very friendly and very accomodating. He allows me to fill my water bottles out of their very good creek fed water system. Tasty mountain water, filtered and certified clean. He even offers to lend me an extra chain and lock for my rig. We have a good talk about kayaks and things to check out while in Finlayson Arm. I'd feel totally secure leaving a vehicle parked there for ANY length of time. Launch at 1700hrs. Trip up Finlayson Arm is calm and relaxing, a great way to stretch out the muscles and get over the pre-trip jitters. Lots of seals slapping the water, and some lunging, body out of the water, to get a good look at me. I travel up the Penninsula side as I wanted to get a good look at Gowland-Tod Park, and Tod Inlet. Tod Inlet is part of an ancient glacial valley system that crosses a good part of the Penninsula, and holds some of the best soil and farmland around. For those who live in the Victoria region, some traces of the glacier's passing can be seen in the grooved rocks along Interurban Road, below Colquitz School . The upper reaches of the same valley system. Geology, geography, astrology, and meteorology have all become passions of mine and fit in very well with the my hiking and kayaking.

From Tod Inlet I make a bee-line towards Senanus Island, purposely not looking back because every time I see the monstrosity of a development at it's entrance my heart twists. Hiding out of the Northerly wind (odd) between two rocks, with my hull hovering over a skinny long bed of gravel, I munch on my nut and berries. From here it is point to point until I pass Patricia Bay and the coastline becomes more interesting and pleasant. From Warrior Point to Coal Point, through Deep Cove to Moses Point I play amongst the rocks as I travel north to the end of the Penninsula. On this stretch it seems every house has a kayak parked out front, can't blame them, this strip is really nice and a place I'd want live myself - if I was a millionaire... At Moses Point I pull out on a nice little beach, do some good long stretches, sit on a rock, and watch the sunset. From here to Portland Island I'll be paddling in the moonless darkness. Swells are coming across the end of the Penninsula from the north-east, sling-shotting around the coast of Saltspring, big enough to keep things interesting and enjoyable. As I approach Swartz Bay, I find ferries running at a time when they were supposed to be docked for the night. This is the Sunday when the Spirit class ferry lost a prop so they added runs well into the night. Just as I'm surveying the crossing of Colburne Passage, one of the big ones backs out and cuts across my planned crossing, the bright gaudy lights of it's decks destroying my night vision. I decide to use the VHF to call the ferries and tell them I'm crossing - the responder is barely audible (I was within spitting distance) in the bursts of reception I receive and I'm told (curtly), that there has been an open mic for the last five minutes. My radio was definitely off and on WX3... I look back at the ferry dock, check my watch and head across to Piers, then to Knapp Island, then to the shadow of Portland Island. In the darkness I miss Brackman Island, and my first targeted pull-out for the night at Shell Beach. II decide to keep paddling to Arbutus Point. Some things I didn't expect here - with the very high tides this night, the beaches are all completely under water, the shoreline now virtually unrecognizable - compounded by the darkness. Barricades of floating logs block access to 'beaches' i do manage to find. I'm tired, hungry, getting real frustrated, and it's very late. After paddling up and down a good length of the coast a few times, scanning with my headlamp, I find a point with an Arbutus, drag my tired ass, and loaded kayak, up and bumping, through, over, and around the sea of logs. I pick my way up the steep bank, through brambles and salaal, and roll out my tarp. I christen thee 'Arbutus Point the second'. ~Safety first. Shelter second. Rules third.

August 25th
After a good nights sleep - i fell asleep on a rock with my head skewed to the left and my nose in my shoe. It didn't really matter, when my head hit the ground - out went the lights. Well after a good night's sleep I get up, pack everything into it's appropriate ziplock and plastic grocery bag, tie a piece of paracord (doubles as my tarp lines) around each for retrieval from the bowels of Tassie, and then stretch out my body while looking across at the beautiful strip of farmland on Moresby that has become my favourite landmark out this way - that and the cliffs of North Pender off in the hazy distance. Summer haze I guess.View was much clearer back in April when I first paddled towards the them both. I decide to skip a big breakfast here and have a hearty and early lunch at James Bay on Prevost. Munching on a bag of my nuts and berries I pack the kayak down to the beach - there is now a shell beach right on the point this morning where last night it was only vertical and jagged rocks.

Amazing how much gear I can fit in this thing now that I've started packing things in bundles the size of soup cans. A few things are longer or wider but the majority could be can's of Campbell's cream of Kayaker. 1000hrs. I'm on the water, planned to be otw at 0700hrs. but had a later start at Goldstream than planned and also blew off a few hours parading back in forth of Portland in the night. Price is that I'll be dealing with a bit more of the afternoon winds going along the southerly wind exposed north coast of Saltspring. Everything has a price - heh heh heh. so I paddle around the corner of Portland - chose a point to aim for, Eleanor Point, look both ways before crossing traffic and... paddle... around the corner comes one of the smaller 'truck ferries'. Have I mentioned how much I hate dodging bloody ferries out here before? Well I do - enough to put me off paddling this area on a regular basis... Guess I need to find some kind of master schedule to scan when planning my trips as well as tide tables, current tables, weather maps, current atlas's (atli?) hydrographic charts, forecasts. Boggles the mind sometimes - heh heh heh.

Crossing is uneventful, ferry passed behind me, I turn and head towards Prevost. First landmark, Ruckle Park, tenters paradise, follow the park for it's length and cross Captain's Passage outside of Ganges Harbour over to Prevost. Lot of marine traffic out here, mostly large yachts and cruisers heading east. These big monsters kick up big wakes that aren't much on their own until they collide, and concentrate in the already current driven middle of the Passage. Nice thing is that after I get out of the confused (now I understand the term in it's application) waters I'm able to find a gently rolling wake-wave and paddle with it to the Channel Islands. I take a quick breather before the bigger lunge over to Secret Island and the west end of Prevost. I'm trying to find my way to James Bay on Prevost by memory as I'd planned this trip over the charts at my local paddle-shop. I know there are two bays to watch for but I miss the fact that James Bay is in fact the third 'dent' not the second (looking at my map-book now I was in Selby Cove). Time to invoke the 'safe below high tide line' rule Collect up a handful of twigs and make myself a nice hot meal over my little stove, followed by a couple of cups of tea drank at a leisurely pace while i warm myself in the sun. Nice out here today. Launched and start paddling along the outer coast of Saltspring, carried along on wind-waves from behind. By watching my distance from shore I'm able to find a zone where the waves are a little less choppy and rolling, and also being refracted to an angle that brings them on me from dead astern. Really enjoyable paddling along the coast, scanning the high-bank for anything of interest. I was told to head out into the center of the channel for a better ride and easier paddle when planning this trip but Trincomali channel is a lot wider, wilder, and more intimidating than it looks on maps... and with the winds picking up... Galiano seems a long way off. Not much in the way of landings out here. Mostly big rock, and cliffs. Pretty exposed area to paddle. I paddle, lost in my thoughts, and the rythum of the waves, time blurs and slows down in the quiet. Overhead a cluster of dark grey and ominous cumulo-nimbus clouds move over me from the west, and it pours, the rain comes down so hard that it pounds the surface of the sea flat, rebounding upwards in a spray. I'm grinning and enjoying it all, I'm feeling pretty used to the wet at this point, and the new paddling jacket keeps the rain from running down my neck. Just as quickly as it starts, it stops. Cows graze on the beach at Walker Hook, the first real beach I've seen along this whole coast. I'll remember this as a good emergency pull-out for future paddles out here.

...and finally ... off in the distance... i spot Wallace Island. I choose a long diagonal - from Walker Hook on Saltspring to Panther Point on Wallace - that will take me out into the more open waters of the channel, keeping the waves and rising wind at my stern. Wallace is a beautiful little island, much longer island than I expect. The sheltered cove on the Southeast of the island makes a nice calm break after the long exposed paddle. I never do get out of my kayak but paddle around it, loosening up my hips and torso by shifting my weight, and carving turns along the shoreline - and through the moored sailboats. As I travel further north along the coast I played in the reefs and rock outcroppings, fascinating sea-worn stone, and many up-turned slabs of stone. The forces that formed this island were violent, the layers of the earth have been torn open and stood up on edge. A seagull stands on a rock facing a conundrum - the starfish that is his intended meal has wrapped it's legs around his beak and face, neither going down or up. Nature punishes gluttons in odd ways. Finally I round the point and pull into Chiver's Point, a long narrow beach laying between two of these up-ended shards of the earth's crust. I'm greeted by a small group of lady kayakers on an excursion from Maple Bay. Nice people, and I have a real nice chat with the lady who is leading the group. Dinner of Mac and cheese, a walk down the island to re-fill my water bottles (needs boiling) and off to bed. Early launch and long day tomorrow.

August 26th
~The Big Day~
Alarm goes off at 0400hrs., quietly pack up, trying not to wake the others in the close confines of the campsite. Launch on a low tide and on the water before sunrise. I start paddling around the northernmost tip of Saltspring, and make the turn towards the billowing stacks of the Crofton mill. No way to miss a landmark like this one, and when the wind shifts and starts blowing my way, the familiar smell - Port Alberni in the summer's of my youth. The winds pick up very early this morning, almost immediately after the sun finishes it's rising show of orange and rosy reds. Not a good sign as I'm facing many, many hours of paddling directly into it. My destination this morning is Mount Maxwell and Maxwell Point where I plan to beach, catch a few hours sleep, and wait for the ebb tide that I plan to carry me through Sansum Narrows. Only two 'beaches' found along the point, both made up of pointy rubble, and steep. Don't have much choice so I tumble out of the kayak in deeper water, use the bouyency to lift it, fully loaded, up onto my shoulder and pick my way up through the slippery, barnacle covered shards in my bare feet. I find a nice little clearing, out of the wind, and behind a rocky outcrop and fall asleep in the shade of Garry Oaks. Judging by the speed of the sailboats passing through the Narrows, the wind is still picking up from the South, intensifying as it funnels through. Feeling refreshed I launch at 1400hrs., point my nose up-wind, and dig in. Wind waves are nothing to be concerned about until I came to Burgoyne Bay where the Southeasterly winds channel across Saltspring from Fulford Harbour. Mt. Maxwell to the north and Mt. Bruce, Sullivan, and Tuam to the south. Not at all a pleasant scene at the mouth of the Bay. I choose the safer and narrower crossing of paddling up into the Bay, crossing near the head and riding the wind waves back out and around the Point into the calm waters in the shadow of Mt. Sullivan. Tide is changing now as i head into Sansum Narrows and face the 25+knot winds. I make the decision to hug the shoreline of Saltspring hoping for some shelter instead of facing the west side of the narrows and the building mess of wind, opposing current and rebounding waves off the rocks. I pay dearly for this decision... Cruising along, checking the GPS on my deck, I notice my speed climbing, 4.3 knots, 4.5, 5.2, 5.5, 6.1, 6.5 knots. I'm smoking along at a great clip, chewing through the chop, a grin on my face, saltwater splashing off me. As I round the last point I looked down at my 'speedo' and see something that baffles me, my speed has dropped to 3.5 knots. Looking up I see why... whitecaps, spray, waves leaping straight up, showing their black bellies. Big, ugly, and scary. All the water rushing out of the narrows is piling up against the wind, and building against the bigger waters of Satellite Channel. Between Seperation point, my intended crossing, and myself, at the mouth of the narrows, is small-craft hell, and I'm being driven right into it, with no-where and no way to pull out.

Today I set myself another benchmark.
I scream at it and curse at it and pound my way over, around, and mainly through it. My eyes are stinging from the combined salt from waves bursting against my body, and the wind. With no chance to wipe them clear, I squint through tears. Too close to turn in between the uglies I find myself leaning back and trying to force myself up onto them so i can correct before getting hit by the next. Eachdrop down into the hole buries the tip, killing forward momentun, my front deck was is completely under water. I yell and grunt with each stroke, "balance", "brace you idiot", "you can do this", "watch your edge!", "sh*t! sh*t! sh*t!!!! and crank on. Wave by ugly wave I grind my way across, slowly... I can see the marker getting closer, barely, but it's progress, so i just kept heaving. Promising myself a cup of joe at Genoa Bay as my dangling carrot I push on. Reaching the point I realize that I'll be dealing with more of the same going into and more importantly back out of the Bay. The prospect of trying to cross Seperation Point sideways to the chaos makes the decision easy. Keep paddling forward and get the hell outta here - I literally ram my way all the way across Cowichan Bay to Cherry Point. Things don't ease up in the slightest until about 2/3rds of the way through. I'm puffing, my arms, shoulders and calves are aching, but I don't really have much choice. I keep going. Mill Bay being the new goal.

I honestly have to say that this is the ugliest stuff I've had to deal with so far as a newbie paddler. Wind against current can be an awesome animal. I'm pleased with the way I managed it, only at one point did I feel like I was in big trouble, and a high brace, followed by a huge pull on the paddle got me up and out of the hole.

After Cherry Point I'm able to tuck in a bit closer to shore and avoid the ugliest of the waves. At one point, snugging into a little bay for a bit of shelter as I paddle on, I look to the shore to see half a dozen Vultures perched on a snag hanging out over the water, not even twenty feet from me, I laugh and call out "not today guys" as two of them, startled, fly up into a higher tree. For the next few hours i paddle through a non-stop sea of broaching waves until I pass Arbutus Ridge, and am forced out into the deeper waters by the impenetrable fortress surrounding the fuel docks. I don't leave my security blanket of the shoreline easily at this point in the paddle. The sun is getting low on the horizon now, and i round the point and spot the shelter of Mill Bay. Whoooooooosh...... I'm tired, sore, and my butt cheek is getting that awful tingle of falling asleep.

I tie the kayak up to the handrail, change my clothes and I'm off for a much-needed walk up the highway to the Fish and Chip shop for some nourishment. I must have been quite a sight, hair twisted into curls by the salt, beard sticking straight out, salt stung red-eyes, and a stiff legged, swaggering gait. An after-dinner coffee (x2) and donut at TH's, some deep introspection of what I've been through today, and back to my beloved 'Tassie' for the final leg of my journey. It's dark now, and I'll be paddling the rest of the night in complete darkness, no moon, and very few lights. Not a ripple on the water as i pull out of Mill Bay - hard to believe this is the same ocean that rammed it's will down my throat hours earlier. No boats on the water, the dull glow of the lights on the penninsula lighting the canopy of low clouds overhead. A spatter of misty rain starting. I'm off! Plan is to hug the shoreline along the Malahat side of Finlayson Arm all the way back. Next landmark are the incredibly bright lights of Bamberton, I choose to paddle towards them, a landmark in the darkness. The drizzle continues as I paddle so I put my touque on and covere it with the hood from my windbreaker, my little LED light holds the whole mess on my head and keeps it out of my eyes. I never bother turning the light on as there isn't a soul on the water, and the darkness consumes it's beam. Later I'd find the reflection back off the mist made it useless for the rest of the journey. It is very dark as I pass point after point. My night vision is as good as it is going to get but there is nothing. I'm in the deep valley between two mountain ranges. High over-head a car shines it's lights off into the mist as it rounds a corner, ghostly beacons, searchlights, far, far above me in another world. By squinting into the blackness i can barely discern the angles of the next point sloping down to the water. 5 feet or 5oo feet away, I can't tell, i just keep paddling. A few times I have to swerve fast and hard to avoid an unexpected rock jumping out at me from the darkness. Other times i paddle for what feels like hours before finding the next point. Not a sound, not a light, nothing but 'Tassie' and I making our way slowly up a long funnel. The phosphouresence is my constant companion, and I often move closer to shore to find areas where it is more dense so that i can marvel at it, and play in it's glow. On my front deck, trapped under a perimeter line, a little single light glows, and keeps me company for hours before finally washing off. To my port an opening in the mist filled darkness, as i pass by I look across to see the outline of distant land masses against the sky. On and on I paddle, around each point, another point, and another, and another, a waterfall somewhere off my starboard, heard but not seen, and then lights. The orange glow of street lamps, and as I get closer, masts, then shadows of hulls, and boathouses. I duck to the right and paddle towards the boat ramp, peering into the darkness, partially blind from the glare of lights. WHOOOMP!!! The bow goes up, and I desperately back paddle, too late, in the darkness and glare, I've misjudged and managed to plow right up onto the boat ramp at a good 4 knot clip. I slide myself out of my kayak, stretch out, walk up to my tricycle, change my clothes, load up and head for home. It's midnight.

The push up the drive from the marina is grueling, taken six feet at a time, my already spent calves screaming. A long downhill coast along the highway, again wheel rubbing the divider. I choose to travel down, head-on to the traffic so I can see what is coming, not a good scene as the big trucks pass, a spray of water following them, my little trike and LED light not much more than a glimmer in the dark. I hate this stretch. Further along I cross over to Goldstream avenue, and follow the well-lit and respectable bike lane all the way through Langford, hop onto the Galloping Goose Trail and make my way home. After delivering my papers I collapse into bed and sleep... ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

So there it is, my two-and-a-half day, 61 hour, express run around Saltspring.

Tell you the truth, I think I could do it in 48 hours ...maybe next year!
daniel

Time on the water - 61 hours.

Chatham and Discovery Islands

I know that this is a fairly common day trip for Victoria paddlers, I've just discovered how nice it is out here and wanted to share my little excursion.


Thursday, August 14, 2008

Discovery Island

Hot, Clear, high Cirrus clouds. High pressure system holding.


Paddling off Oak Bay, Launched from Cattle Point at 1830hrs. Paddled out to, and around Discovery Island, with a return detour into Baynes channel to play in the current. Pulled out at 2130hrs.




I'm paddling out and around Discovery island tonight. The 'Great Chain islets' to starboard. Hard to tell which way the tide was going until I was well out, by the outer-most rocks. This was a 'what a gorgeous night - I'll stay out longer' paddle. I hadn't checked the tides but felt comfortable with winging it. Some fun little eddies and rips in between the two markers. Passed three paddlers heading back towards Victoria. Nods, smiles and 'nice evenings' exchanged. Farther out it was smoother. Paddled up-current between Discovery and The Chathams. Fairly good current coming in off the strait, I'd guess 2 and 1/2 knots judging by the land as I passed by. Spent some time exploring the islets on the outer edges of the group.



Found a fellow rowing out here in a dinghy, powerfully and easily, amongst the eddies and rocks. Seemed to be really enjoying himself, as was I. It is a beautiful evening to be out here. I find it curious that he choses to moor his sailboat out her amongst the exposed rocks instead of one of the protected bays. In a flight of of imagination I created an image of a crusty, old, sea-dog, spurning human companionship for the company of nature. Seals, birds, ancient sea-worn rocks, gnarled dwarves of trees, the slap of waves against his hull. I understand, or maybe I'm running off with an image, and he's a harried stock-broker, or stressed-out public employee looking for an evening's respite. On a night like tonight, warm, soft-lit and quiet, a man's mind wanders, and sometimes settles into blissful nothingness. No thoughts, just a gliding kayak, a light breeze on the face. I love these moments. No kayak, no paddle, no technique or equipment - skating on water - being.



Toodling over, on a very nice current, to the lighthouse on Discovery; I slide along the inside edge of the kelp, slaloming into and out of it. Occasionally feeling the bump, and drag as it passes under my hull, and rubs past my heels. Little padding between me and the hull. Makes me smile. Water is glass-like out here on the south side of the island, sheltered from the ebb current.



Way out there I can see clouds of sea-birds feeding against the backdrop of the Olympic mountains. Still some snow hanging in there. I'd guess there's a school of needle fish being herded to the surface by feeding salmon, or possibly something bigger. The birds being the opportunists take full advantage of the easy pickings. A lone bald eagle is trying it's best to get into the crowd for an evening snack, but seems over-sized and clumsy in the chaos. Badgered incessantly, it quits, and flaps it's way back to land pursued by a brazen Sea-gull.



Spotted a group of kayak campers in the campsite - tents, bodies, kayaks up on the logs. Just because I can, I cruise through the bay, playing on the edges of my chines as I lay down, and brace-turn in and out of the outcrops. There's a very fine line where the chines are at their most effective, and I'm still learning the 'sweet-spot'. Occasionally, a wavelet will catch a chine and bump me. The kelp beds are dense and healthy out here, a good sign. Again I wish I'd brought my hand-line, as I'm sure i could have found a nice fat little greenling to fry up for a late dinner. Need to check the restrictions out here first though I guess... I'm skimming around, exploring the rocks, looking down to the sea-floor, 'surprise' out-croppings covered in Fucus leap up at me, forcing me to maneouver quickly. Pop-weed provided entertainment to my brothers and I on the family camping trips. Trick was to find it in the perfect stage of dryness to get a good loud bang when squeezed. Trial Island is off in the distance. A nice fresh breeze from the southwest.



On the south side I find the current heading in the opposite direction of what I would have expected. The kelp fronds streaming away from the direction of Trial Island. Interesting.



Just rounding the western tip of Discovery as the sun was taking on a rich orange glow. I duck up into the channel between the Chathams. A small area of chop marks the spot where the water being forced around and through the islands bump against each other at a hard 90 degree angle. Now I'm working hard against the ebb tide as it funnels through. Sweep, stroke, sweep, stroke, sweep, stroke for a few yards - then a quick vertical power stroke to get up the channel. Just for the fun of it I choose to ram my way right up the center where the current is flowing at it's fastest, the smoothness of the surface in contradiction to the rushing water underneath it. The tiniest bit of edge keeps Tassie's nose straight ahead as I paddle, the land on both sides ticking by to the slowest of progress. Occasionally, a slight over-paddle, or botched stroke, on my part will start a spin-out, sweep sweep sweep.



The sun is hidden behind the land in the distance now. I stop and bob in the kelp, and look across at the churning water between Ten Mile Point and myself. Tonight I get a small taste of Baynes Channel on an ebb tide. The nuts and berries pulled from my PFD pocket get washed down with a swig of water from the camel-bak. The odd Ju-jube sticks between my teeth, and I probe it out with my tongue, while visually working out a ferry angle that will allow me to skim past the south side of Jemmy Jones Island. I plan to turn at this point and catch a free ride on the current back to the beach. I launch into it. Immediately after leaving my nest of kelp on the island's tip, I'm into spinning eddies, and chop from all angles. I shorten my stroke, and start working my paddle angles to provide some brace. I'm spinning left, and right, and left and right - unexpected side-ways flows catch the edge of the kayak and wobble me. I slap the water with my paddle, and continue on. Suddenly it's all calm again, Jemmy Jones is to my starboard, not a swell, or wave, only the slightest ripple. I can't get over how drastic the sea changes. Ten Mile Point must take some horrific forces to give so much shelter. The sun is gone now, and the wispy, torn Cirrus clouds are burning a fiery, tomato-red against a deep blue sky. Behind me the moon is up and white in the sky, looking pretty damn close to full. The ripples on the ocean form diamonds of stained glass, coloured in primary blues and reds, with grey and black highlights provided by the clouds over-head, and the sea below. It all shimmers and shifts, a twirled kaleidoscope, in the hands of Davy Jones, or his band of sea nymphs.



Time to put away my synthetic paddle and reach for the greenland paddle under my front deck lines. Whirling like a bicycles pedals, sweeping, hands sliding back and forth along the grain. Low, high, wide, close, I'm playing, enjoying the feel of the recently sanded and waxed cedar in my bare hands. It's warmth in my palms is comfortable, carbon-fibre and fibreglass seem so cold to the touch. As with my heavily used garden tools, wood is it. Strong and giving, a living thing, and after years of faithful service, a friend.



Just as the last of the light fades, I glide soundlessly into the cove, and pop my skirt loose. With gentle back-paddling, Tassie stops inches from the beach. I slide myself straight-legged up and out of the confines of the cockpit, back onto the deck - make a few stiff-legged jabs into the water with my bare feet in search of a footing, and stand up into a good, long stretch. Hoisting the kayak off the surface and onto my shoulder, I pick my way over logs, up and off the beach, change my clothes, load up, and head for home.



Sipping a tea, getting my thoughts down on paper - my muscles radiating a nice warmth. Very soon I'll eat a late and light dinner, have a shower, and crawl into clean sheets.



Life is good,

daniel

Time on water - 3 hours.

Exploring the Southern Tip of Van Isle

Sorry no photos.

Sunday I left Sooke to see how far I could get - weather permitting - on my first excursion out and around Beechey Head. I'd made allowances for stashing the 'yak and hiking back to pick up my bike and trailer if things got too ugly. Lots of great trail along East Sooke Park, plus potential pull-outs at Cheanuh Marina in Becher Bay, as well as Pedder Bay Marina. Both have easy access back to the Goose and are about a two hour hike from Roche Cove. Monday afternoon I pulled into the Inner Harbour as all the '150 year of BC' celebrations were on. Utter chaos!

Got a late start heading out of Victoria with Kayak in tow behind the bicycle Sunday. Heading out to Roche Cove along the Galloping Goose trail. For anyone who hasn't peddled this trail it is an old railway bed, flat and well maintained. It's a blessing for human powered transport!

Roche Cove is a little used and very calm little Cove tucked way up the end of the Sooke Basin. Perfect place to launch and take out but it's trail access only. A short carry down to the Cove on a good trail from the 'Goose'. Launched at 1630hrs.

There can be some challenging conditions on the Sooke Basin, especially on the North and North East sides, if the usual westerly or South westerly winds are coming in. Can be a lot of fun surfing in and around the East end towards Goodridge Penninsula, but there's always the option of ducking back into Roche cove if things get nasty. Tide changes can present the paddler with a current under the bridge at the cove head.

Paddling along the South side of the Basin keeps me (relatively) out of the wind when I'm trying to save my juices for the outer coast. Another place to watch for currents on the tide change are crossing through the narrows at the mouth of the Sooke River.

So I decided to paddle across to Pim Head and followed the South side, paddling against a 2 1/2 knot current at Sooke River narrows. Crossed over to North side to come up in the lee of Whiffen Spit. Afternoon winds were pushing from the west, causing me some weather cocking as I crossed over. As I paddled up towards Whiffen Spit , I noticed a thick cloud of fog hanging outside... not a good sign... I hummed and hawed for a few minutes before deciding to cruise out and give it a look around Company Point. Turns out the fog was forming a heavy bank, but it was worst 100 feet or so off-shore. Waves were fairly chunky, 2-3 feet with crests, and paddle-able. Things got ugly off Possesion Point, the result of the time of day as well as westerly winds picking up. Big (!) waves were breaking on the submerged rocks so I scooted along in the Kelp beds as much as possible to keep out of the uglies. I was heaving on the paddle pretty heavily, when all of a sudden I looked to my left and saw a big, barnacle covered flat shelf of rock exposed as a wave pulled back and built... it was about a foot off my port, and I was about to breach right onto it with the wave dumping down on top of me... Now I'm not sure how I did it, or even what exactly I did but I swept a sweep stroke off the front, reef side of my bow, layed myself horizontally, down into the wave as it started to bury me, my whole body was in it, including my head, I somehow rotated my wrists and pulled off a high brace in to the face of the wave... instinctively... which still blows me away... I didn't even think I had a reliable high brace. Next thing I knew I was out from the rock like I had been yanked away sideways - and I was paddling as hard as I could to get around the point. The fishermen sitting on the edge of the fog got quite a show. I screamed out a yee-haaaaaaa and caught my breath for a sec. What a rush! Around the point things calmed down considerably, and after getting around Pike Point the wind was pushing at my back. Possesion Point seems to be my physical testing grounds, especially when I paddle out there in the afternoon breezes. Iron Mine Bay in the lee of Donaldson (Secretary) Island is a good hideaway/rest stop, and I've tucked in there before.

After Iron Mine Bay, decent landings are few and far between, there are a few little pocket beaches, hardly big enough to get out of the weather though and surrounded by cliffs. I was almost tempted to pull into one of them but decided to paddle on in search of a better place to stay the night. Plan was to get off the water by 1830hrs. and before I reached Beechey Head. Those same westerly waves that gave me grief off Possesion made for some fun paddling, they were coming up on my rear quarter and with some heavy handed sweep strokes I was able to surf along. A few came right over the back of my kayak and slammed into my back. I was still running on adrenalin from earlier and thoroughly enjoying it all! The stop I was looking for was past the 'Trap Shack', but seeing as how I've never been out this far I had to keep a pretty keen eye on the coastline looking for the hidden entry to a beach I'd been told about. I definitely didn't want to miss it and have to paddle back against the waves and wind. Searching the coast kept me a lot closer than I wanted to be, and I was watching for rocks or the breaking waves that seem to indicate them. I got slammed enough times by suddenly breaking waves to keep me fresh and on edge.

...and there it was, I almost missed it. A narrow little crack in the rock, and a glimpse of gravel and a log across it. I cranked Tassie in and glided into the calm and windless narrows, narrow enough that I felt like I was being squeezed by the high walls. There was the beach. Beautiful, quiet, and serene. kingfishers swooped overhead, and seals ducked away. Wow! Like finding paradise. Hidden behind an island I baked a couple of potates, roasted a head of garlic and drank a few cups of hot sweet tea while writing by the light of my little woodstove. Later I watched the stars, played with the voles scurrying about searching the seaweed, touching them when they weren't looking, and went for a hike up to the cliff to watch the sea. Later I crawled under my tarp, wrapping myself in mylar and slept.

Monday I packed up, got on the water at 0800 and seeing how perfect and calm the sea was decided to head straight out to Beechey Head instead of hanging about and trying my home-made handline out. I originally had planned on waiting for slack tide in the afternoon but decided to make a good start of the day of paddling. At this point I was just expecting to pull in at Beecher Bay, after an explorartory look at Race Rocks. The fog lifted at 0900, sun shone bright, some interesting paddling at the next few rocky outcrops. Most of the morning I had the waves following me. Beechey Head had some rips, and swirling eddies, choppy and confused seas but not too drastic. The morning was windless as was most of the day, really surprised me, I figure it is because of the building ridge of high pressure off the coast of Vancouver Island.

Becher Bay was calm... so I kept paddling.

...from here there was so much to see and remember and i didn't take any notes. I spotted the sandbar that had been mentioned to me. Nice to see a few landmarks. Race Rocks was calm, I chose to duck on the inside of Bentinck Islands, where the D'Arcy Island lepers were moved to live out their lives. Things were calm and peacful, until I rounded the point, then I had to contend with an oncoming two knot current for the better part an hour (or two?), lots of time spent trying to keep straight into it while it constantly tried spinning me around.

Pedder Bay was calm... so I kept paddling.

Next point to pass, William Head. There on my left was a finally a landmark I recognized, the shiny white trailers of Weirs Beach. I decided to take a breather and grab a bite to eat on the next big beach I spotted - Devonian Regional Park. A nice, fairly steep, cobbly beach. Zoomed across Parry Bay on a changing tide at 5.3 knots (according to the GPS speedo) feeling fresh and happy. Water was still flat, not a cloud in the sky, and no breeze so I headed off-shore and made a bee-line to Albert Head, then straight across the open water to the Inner Harbour.

Looking ahead I watched the Snowbirds performing over Victoria, what a show, the sun reflected off the white bellies of the jets and they shone as they flew formation. I had no idea just how close together they fly. WOW! Highlight was when they came barreling over my head, and made a sharp banked turn, perfectly in unison, wing over wing, engines roaring, and hooked inland. An unexpected treat!

I'm still moving at what i feel is a really good clip. I love the way this kayak handles, fast in the straight runs AND maneouverable in the uglies. If I'd known that I was going to make such good time, I would have taken the scenic route all the along the coast, past Esquimalt Lagoon to Fort Rodd Hill, and across. I did come across a huge red jellyfish caught way out in the center, in an eddy. It was at least 16 inches across, edges the shape of a daisy, with a long, long tail, at least ten feet long before it disappeared out of site in the depths. A yellow-jacket landed on my kayak deck for a brief rest. He was at least three kilometres from land, and looked like he was planning on continuing his way to Albert Head. I wished him luck as he lifted off and buzzed past my ear. Nice to have some company out here.

Next stop - the Inner Harbour.

Utter chaos, with the combined long weekend traffic and all the extra activity generated by the 150 year festivities in the harbour I felt soooo prone. Seaplanes were taking off, one after another, sailboats and fishermen maneouvering back and forth across the harbour mouth, incoming pleasure cruisers, high-powered whale watching boats roaring out. Whoosh. Everyone trying to maneouver around each other at the entrance to get on the proper side for entry and exit, criss-crossing. Tourists in canoes criss-crossing the harbour, in the way of incoming ferries and out-going seaplanes. What a mess! I headed over to Fisherman's Wharf for a much anticipated fish and chip meal. A veritable flotilla of kayaks and dinghies were starting to arrive to cluster in the harbour listening to live entertainment on the Parliment Building's lawn. I found it all over-whelming after the quiet solitude of my paddle so I headed up the Gorge to my take-out spot, stashed my kayak, changed into clothes, and walked home.

Today, now that's it cooler, and I'm rested up a bit, I head back out to Sooke to pick up my tricycle and trailer and peddle it home.

Life is Good
daniel

Time on water - approx. 10 hours.

West Coast Paddler's Spring '08 Trip

Thursday April 17th - Swartz Bay to Portland Island

Beautiful and calm when I left Piers Wharf at 8:30am. Winds picked up around 2pm.

***Whoops*** Left my watch at home.

Friday April 18th - Shell Beach, Portland Island

Slept through entire day - result of last minute packing Wednesday night. Didn't sleep properly and it took it's toll... It's about 6-7pm now, woke to the sun going down. Doh!

Getting nailed with heavy winds from SW. Yesterday winds from SE. Decided to hunker down here for another night and get an early start tomorrow. From now on I'd figure to use 2 1/2 to 3 Litres of water per day. Another one Litre if exerting heavily.

Shell Beach has a very nice campsite but exposed to afternoon Southerly winds. No water on Portland Island? Sign says that it's there though... I'll look for it next time out.

Saturday April 19th - Portland Island to Pender Island

Launched around 7:30am, paddled from Shell Beach on Portland to Moresby Island, crossing at Arbutus Point to NW point of Moresby. LOTS of seals off this point on Moresby. Followed coast to NE Point of Moresby and crossed at approx. a 60 degree heading NE to Entrance of Bedwell Harbour between the Penders. It was a long slog across Swanson Channel, diagonal, nose into the wind. Arrived Beaumont Park at approx. 12:00pm. Pretty steep exertion, but I'm not strong in upper body yet.

Trangia Stoves seem to be the hot ticket for kayakers. Burns alcohol fuel. No water at Beaumont Park but probably available at Poet's Cove Resort. Got off the water just as snow started falling. Amazing! Amongst the many WCP'rs I met Robin who came in during the worst of the snow. He'd paddled all the way from Ten Mile Point direct. Rough weather, rough crossing... gotta give the guy credit!

Bedwell Harbour is calm and gives NO indication of weather and conditions in the Straits and Channels surrounding it and the Penders.

WCP'rs are... a motley assortment of characters... LOL

*Plan for 5 litres of water per day of active paddling. Nalgene bags from Capitol Iron $15. Can be used for water or dry goods. 1/2 bottle of white gas cooked:
- 1 can black beans
- 1 kraft dinner
- 1 oatmeal (quick oats)
- 2 cups of tea
- plus melted enough snow to produce 2 litres of water
1 litre of white gas/day is plenty - probably less.

Kayaking definitely qualifies as sport as much as lifestyle or recreation. Fairly heavy exertion, totally upper-body. Elbows take some beating but I need to work on my technique. Paddle held flat with wide sweeps vs. full arm action, deep strokes. Seems like the hub of the paddle held centered at all times works nicely and balances out. Not sure if it's my technique but the kayak (CD Squall in poly) has an odd tendency to turn to the right all the time. Rudder corrects for this but seems to cause drag.

I might want to take some White-water courses to learn techniques... Dry suits have definite advantages over climbing into wet neoprene - cold and clammy :O(
apparently the proprietary materials don't breathe as well and can get hot compared to Gore-tex.

-Weather at Bedwell- Clouds coming in from West. Cool, almost full-moon. Day was incredibly nasty! Wind! Snow! Hail! Evening looks better.

Should definitely get on the fishing setup... fresh fish would be awesome...

Though wool and cotton are comfy, they're just too bulky for paddling and packing. looks like Polar-Fleece is the best (cheapest) option. Definitely need some synthetic long underwear for under wetsuit and camp wear. Polar-Fleece next to skin, under wet-suit works really well for general use, and it seems to breathe nicely.

Sunday April 20th - Beaumont Marine Park to Sidney

Left Beaumont on low tide at approx. 9:30am. Arrived Sidney beach around 3:00pm. Point to point from Eastern tip of North Pender to Eastern tip of Moresby, then curved towards Arbutus Point with the swells at my back. Lunch break on a tiny little beach, only exposed on low tide, directly behing Point. :O) NICE!

Instead of cruising between the two islands I paddled through on the way out, I chose to swing South and past Coal Island via John Passage. Light westerly current in passage and a strong current at the South entrance of it. Next stop Sidney Beach, and a celebratory mug of beer at the Pub right over top of the beach.

Time on water - 22 hours