Ahhh... the refreshing smell of... errr...
Mr. Sea Lion - deceased - decided to pay me a visit in the night.
What's left of him has moved with the recent very high tides, and he's now finishing his natural processes on my door-step. Good news is that I'm getting incredible views of the Eagles and Ravens flying about my camp all day. The bad news is foul. I guess the good news is fowl.
More good news is that I'm on my way into Seattle for a few days R&R and a test paddle of Setsuko's shiny new Qaanaaq 512 SS "Azuki De Cheata". I'm really excited about it. Hope I can find my favourite sneakers there as well as mine have disintegrated beyond use. I'll happily give them a plug as they're the best $100 trail shoes I've ever owned - Inov8 Flyroc 310's. They still have a looong way to go to come anywhere near my Viberg hikers. Leather and kayaks don't play well together unfortunately.
Had a wonderful day yesterday - spent the whole day goofing around in Persephone. We went rolling, and surfing, and bongo-sliding, and I even managed to sneak around the Point to the place I've taken to calling 'The Devil's Armpit' for some rock-gardening and clapotis play. The seas were relatively subdued. Big thank-you to Poseidon - I really needed this day and it was gifted to me.
...and I spent a good portion of time just floating there in balance braces looking up at the sky. Peaceful...
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Coming Around.
I'm feeling like it's all falling back into place again. Getting the need to be paddling boiling up in my blood. Weather is showing signs of change. I test paddle a friend's kayak for giggles and kicks and then I watch for my chance. This week I spend playing in the water and getting a good roll-on. I've been thinking... of a long dreamy balance-brace all day.
Monday, April 26, 2010
A Typical Day.
Funny, I haven't really thought much about posting, or even writing down the typical off-water day, or around camp activities before. They seem like such quiet moments to me.
Submitted for your perusal...
This morning I awake pre-dawn, as has become my custom, slide out from under the tarp and take a look at the world through bleary eyes. Sometimes I imagine how it must look to the ravens or who-ever else is watching. The lumpy brown blob, starts to shake, and bulge, and slowly a tubulous black blob starts extruding out the end, foot by foot by foot. Like watching a cow giving birth... or something equally discombobulating...
Bleary eyes - unstuck but still fuzzy - the sea still crashes but it's quieter now with the distance low tide puts between us. It's cool and misty feeling like... yep... there it is... rain.
So I worm my way back under the tarp feet first, snuggle up next to Persephone, reach out and pull a sea-sock full of deck gear back in to block the entrance, and snake an arm out to deftly flip a piece of driftwood onto the tarp from the outside. Deftly? Maybe not, as a few times I've overshot and caught the weight of it on my noggin.
Sun is up now, has been for a few hours, or so my warmed toes tell me. I lazily roll onto my side, getting a wet lick of the tarp's slippery tongue as I brush it with my face. I pull off my mitts and open up the entrance for some fresh air - cool crisp and clean... ahhhhhh... I roll the rest of the way onto my belly to come nose-to-tail with a big green banana slug. I lay still and watch him hesitantly chose his path, an eye stalk pushes out and touches ever so gently an angle of a fern leaflet, he slowly twists and lifts his body across the void, arching a full half of it out before lowering it slowly to the next. Amazingly he seems to know just how much pressure to put at any point of contact and the fernlet barely surrenders a fraction of the fraction of an inch to the ground below. Such luxury to be able to watch a slug travel - three feet he travels while I watch, slowly, deliberately, and gracefully. A few times he turns towards the taut skin of Peresephone but a tap of my finger to the skin sends a little vibration his way, his eye-stalk pulls in, he turns away again. The grove of coltsfoot I'm camped in looms over me like a tropical canopy. What a unique perspective I think to myself.
Time for a morning walk to get my blood flowing. South to the Point of Arches, a quick look to see the daily state of Mr.Sea Lion - deceased. He's rapidly diminishing in stature, now a half-buried furry object, last week he was quite approachable, the week before I was lifting his flippers to feel the soft wrinkled leather, touching his fur, and looking at his little toe-nails, wiggling his stiff fish-bone whiskers . Now his skin presents little barrier, and his odour... slipping rapidly to carrion for the crows and eagles, and my shy friend the coyote who quietly visits my camp in the night. I've only seen him once but he's around, his footprints give him away, always alone, always in the dim light. I was awakened one night by him on my body... or was it just the dreams thrust upon me by a full pack of cookies devoured in the darkness? I really don't know... it was so odd... and I couldn't wake myself fast enough...
A quick stop on the return trip to pick up my billy - it's sticky with black tar from the odd white wood I tried last night. Strangest stuff. I continue my walk North to the little stream to fetch water, I lower the billy down into a little well in the stones, and scoop it up full. Porridge with raisins this morning, chased back with clear hot tea, and tortillas quartered and toasted over my little wood-stove. I feel a bit spendy today and gob a big blob of Peanut Butter on each one before folding it, and savouring it's crispy warm oozy goodness.
Coming out of the forest I stop behind a tree as I see movement nearby on the beach - a river otter. I'd like to say it trotted out but they don't really trot do they? Odd movement, like an inch-worm, a big furry brown inch worm, that swims... and eats fish... ahhh for lack of the proper word...
So it 'trotted' towards the surf, stopping a few times and looking about, and up, nervously. Eagles? Little otter throws itself forward like a child launching a sled, and slips along it's belly in the foamy residue of the receding froth - repeatedly, with legs kicking it along. I watch it cruise along the waves, looking for... the rip! Little otter knows about rips! It paddles along then starts out at an angle, tiny in comparison to the three foot waves cresting over it but it loses no ground, and not once did I see it lifted up by the wave and tossed, though I expected it.
Odd how much the surf changes day to day. Yesterday it was an intense frothy mess, today it's clean and mellow-er. Yesterday huge crests waaaay out there and crest after crest after crest all the way in. Today a single three foot wave cresting at the beach. They're bigger in the middle of the bay but still quite paddleable. I've decide to wait though, at least until I tye up some loose ends. I want to share this place with others.
It's a long walk the length of the beach to the trail-head - pleasant though.The sand is packed enough... and fine enough that my steps don't sink as I walk. I love walking but trudging is too much like work.
Interesting beachcombing here. Found a glass Japanese fishing float the day I landed. The majority of the beaches tidal washings are plastic water bottles, styrofoam crab floats, and plastic plastic plastic... Yesterday I found a little tub of hand cream - Japanese I think, a glass bottle from China or Hong Kong, a stainless thermos bottle, a sandal with a crop of very healthy gooseneck barnacles living on it, and a piece of plywood to cover my fire-pit and stove - to keep my little woodpile dry.
There is freshwater here in April - little rivulets of groundwater coming off the bluffs, and a larger stream that burbles. Burbles - I've always liked the sound of that word. Burrrrr-bles. Each little rivulet presents a different face to the sand encrusted sea. One has a toothy grin, piles of logs, loosely stacked helter skelter - another a rusty rail, and an little dam of logs neatly stacked - mounds of perfectly round rocks reveal another - a collection of riddled and perforated stones, some with burrowing clam shells still tucked inside litter the mouth of this one - just back there a rocky outcropping hides a hidden little set of falls, mossy, and ferns and wild ginger cling to the cool moistness. The water always runs to the sea, but sometimes it vanishes into the sand.
At my end of the beach it's rare to see footprints - on a weekend a set or two heading purposefully to the point, but that's about it. Here by the trail-head there are tracks everywhere, the toe-heavy dents of heavy loads, scufflers leaving a swoosh splat swoosh splat with each step, over there a little dog, and he had a good roll in the pile of seaweed as well. Only once have I seen a barefoot print, and upon seeing it I took my own shoes off and left a set to keep it company.
The trail out is three miles, maybe four, maybe two, depends who you ask. I love this hike, even the oozy goosh of the humic mud that sucks at my feet as I walk. Salmonberry shoots are ready for the picking and I do pick them, peeling them and relishing their moist, crisp acidity.
A raven is croaking his call over my head as I lean here against a giant of a moss-covered wind-fall. Sun is getting low as I see the colour of the light changing. Off I go!
Walking the trail I'm looking at things differently. Is that some kind of mustard with the white flowers? The ferns are unfurling - Asplenums a tight little top-knot - Swords crazily twisted and twirled. A yellow flowered Geum there. Huckleberries and blueberries, their little flower buds shaped exactly as their berries will be, blushed red from the spring sun. Azaleas, small ruddy little buds preparing to open - red? or possibly purple? A Rufus Hummingbird dances overhead, a rat-a-tat-tat of a pip as he dives and climbs. Must be the pink Salmon-berries he's laying his claim on. Bees, the first bees are about, so glad as the wild strawberries have been flowering for weeks, their blossoms withering and dropping for lack of a drop of pollen.
I reach the parking lot, and the road...
Today I'm starting towards Neah Bay, I make it a two day journey, sleeping under a spruce, or nestled in salaal amongst the rocky outcrops high above the sea, or tucked discreetly down behind a log. I always sleep well, covered in a thin rain poncho that serves as my shelter, as I always eat well. Another day I'll take the time to write it down for you...
~d
Submitted for your perusal...
This morning I awake pre-dawn, as has become my custom, slide out from under the tarp and take a look at the world through bleary eyes. Sometimes I imagine how it must look to the ravens or who-ever else is watching. The lumpy brown blob, starts to shake, and bulge, and slowly a tubulous black blob starts extruding out the end, foot by foot by foot. Like watching a cow giving birth... or something equally discombobulating...
Bleary eyes - unstuck but still fuzzy - the sea still crashes but it's quieter now with the distance low tide puts between us. It's cool and misty feeling like... yep... there it is... rain.
So I worm my way back under the tarp feet first, snuggle up next to Persephone, reach out and pull a sea-sock full of deck gear back in to block the entrance, and snake an arm out to deftly flip a piece of driftwood onto the tarp from the outside. Deftly? Maybe not, as a few times I've overshot and caught the weight of it on my noggin.
Sun is up now, has been for a few hours, or so my warmed toes tell me. I lazily roll onto my side, getting a wet lick of the tarp's slippery tongue as I brush it with my face. I pull off my mitts and open up the entrance for some fresh air - cool crisp and clean... ahhhhhh... I roll the rest of the way onto my belly to come nose-to-tail with a big green banana slug. I lay still and watch him hesitantly chose his path, an eye stalk pushes out and touches ever so gently an angle of a fern leaflet, he slowly twists and lifts his body across the void, arching a full half of it out before lowering it slowly to the next. Amazingly he seems to know just how much pressure to put at any point of contact and the fernlet barely surrenders a fraction of the fraction of an inch to the ground below. Such luxury to be able to watch a slug travel - three feet he travels while I watch, slowly, deliberately, and gracefully. A few times he turns towards the taut skin of Peresephone but a tap of my finger to the skin sends a little vibration his way, his eye-stalk pulls in, he turns away again. The grove of coltsfoot I'm camped in looms over me like a tropical canopy. What a unique perspective I think to myself.
Time for a morning walk to get my blood flowing. South to the Point of Arches, a quick look to see the daily state of Mr.Sea Lion - deceased. He's rapidly diminishing in stature, now a half-buried furry object, last week he was quite approachable, the week before I was lifting his flippers to feel the soft wrinkled leather, touching his fur, and looking at his little toe-nails, wiggling his stiff fish-bone whiskers . Now his skin presents little barrier, and his odour... slipping rapidly to carrion for the crows and eagles, and my shy friend the coyote who quietly visits my camp in the night. I've only seen him once but he's around, his footprints give him away, always alone, always in the dim light. I was awakened one night by him on my body... or was it just the dreams thrust upon me by a full pack of cookies devoured in the darkness? I really don't know... it was so odd... and I couldn't wake myself fast enough...
A quick stop on the return trip to pick up my billy - it's sticky with black tar from the odd white wood I tried last night. Strangest stuff. I continue my walk North to the little stream to fetch water, I lower the billy down into a little well in the stones, and scoop it up full. Porridge with raisins this morning, chased back with clear hot tea, and tortillas quartered and toasted over my little wood-stove. I feel a bit spendy today and gob a big blob of Peanut Butter on each one before folding it, and savouring it's crispy warm oozy goodness.
Coming out of the forest I stop behind a tree as I see movement nearby on the beach - a river otter. I'd like to say it trotted out but they don't really trot do they? Odd movement, like an inch-worm, a big furry brown inch worm, that swims... and eats fish... ahhh for lack of the proper word...
So it 'trotted' towards the surf, stopping a few times and looking about, and up, nervously. Eagles? Little otter throws itself forward like a child launching a sled, and slips along it's belly in the foamy residue of the receding froth - repeatedly, with legs kicking it along. I watch it cruise along the waves, looking for... the rip! Little otter knows about rips! It paddles along then starts out at an angle, tiny in comparison to the three foot waves cresting over it but it loses no ground, and not once did I see it lifted up by the wave and tossed, though I expected it.
Odd how much the surf changes day to day. Yesterday it was an intense frothy mess, today it's clean and mellow-er. Yesterday huge crests waaaay out there and crest after crest after crest all the way in. Today a single three foot wave cresting at the beach. They're bigger in the middle of the bay but still quite paddleable. I've decide to wait though, at least until I tye up some loose ends. I want to share this place with others.
It's a long walk the length of the beach to the trail-head - pleasant though.The sand is packed enough... and fine enough that my steps don't sink as I walk. I love walking but trudging is too much like work.
Interesting beachcombing here. Found a glass Japanese fishing float the day I landed. The majority of the beaches tidal washings are plastic water bottles, styrofoam crab floats, and plastic plastic plastic... Yesterday I found a little tub of hand cream - Japanese I think, a glass bottle from China or Hong Kong, a stainless thermos bottle, a sandal with a crop of very healthy gooseneck barnacles living on it, and a piece of plywood to cover my fire-pit and stove - to keep my little woodpile dry.
There is freshwater here in April - little rivulets of groundwater coming off the bluffs, and a larger stream that burbles. Burbles - I've always liked the sound of that word. Burrrrr-bles. Each little rivulet presents a different face to the sand encrusted sea. One has a toothy grin, piles of logs, loosely stacked helter skelter - another a rusty rail, and an little dam of logs neatly stacked - mounds of perfectly round rocks reveal another - a collection of riddled and perforated stones, some with burrowing clam shells still tucked inside litter the mouth of this one - just back there a rocky outcropping hides a hidden little set of falls, mossy, and ferns and wild ginger cling to the cool moistness. The water always runs to the sea, but sometimes it vanishes into the sand.
At my end of the beach it's rare to see footprints - on a weekend a set or two heading purposefully to the point, but that's about it. Here by the trail-head there are tracks everywhere, the toe-heavy dents of heavy loads, scufflers leaving a swoosh splat swoosh splat with each step, over there a little dog, and he had a good roll in the pile of seaweed as well. Only once have I seen a barefoot print, and upon seeing it I took my own shoes off and left a set to keep it company.
The trail out is three miles, maybe four, maybe two, depends who you ask. I love this hike, even the oozy goosh of the humic mud that sucks at my feet as I walk. Salmonberry shoots are ready for the picking and I do pick them, peeling them and relishing their moist, crisp acidity.
A raven is croaking his call over my head as I lean here against a giant of a moss-covered wind-fall. Sun is getting low as I see the colour of the light changing. Off I go!
Walking the trail I'm looking at things differently. Is that some kind of mustard with the white flowers? The ferns are unfurling - Asplenums a tight little top-knot - Swords crazily twisted and twirled. A yellow flowered Geum there. Huckleberries and blueberries, their little flower buds shaped exactly as their berries will be, blushed red from the spring sun. Azaleas, small ruddy little buds preparing to open - red? or possibly purple? A Rufus Hummingbird dances overhead, a rat-a-tat-tat of a pip as he dives and climbs. Must be the pink Salmon-berries he's laying his claim on. Bees, the first bees are about, so glad as the wild strawberries have been flowering for weeks, their blossoms withering and dropping for lack of a drop of pollen.
I reach the parking lot, and the road...
Today I'm starting towards Neah Bay, I make it a two day journey, sleeping under a spruce, or nestled in salaal amongst the rocky outcrops high above the sea, or tucked discreetly down behind a log. I always sleep well, covered in a thin rain poncho that serves as my shelter, as I always eat well. Another day I'll take the time to write it down for you...
~d
A Quote.
"The sea, like any expanse of nature, is a great teacher of humility. It strips away the nonessentials: the ego, the place in society we fill, and the clutter of busy lives. Swells stirred to life by mid-ocean storms radiate outward, losing little of their power until they steepen in shallow waters or crash with relentless hammerings against cliffs rising straight from the depths. At times it seems that the oceans, with their ruthless power of destruction, would be better left alone. They care nothing for human fear, misjudgement, fatigue, and whatever strength or fragility the human visitor brings to their shores.
Wind, waves, cold water, and the exposure of miles of endless cliff can bare the soul as any desert experience might. All the insecurities of society --- the stress of success or fear of failure ---suddenly seem inconsequential. What is left is the stripped-down reality of purposeful, passionate living in an environment that tolerates nothing less. It is a great and continual cleansing, at first shockingly cold; but like the initial plunge into a mountain stream, it refreshes and wakes the body and mind to new life."
A quote of Chris Duff, shared to me by my friend Kathy. Thank-you, ~d
Wind, waves, cold water, and the exposure of miles of endless cliff can bare the soul as any desert experience might. All the insecurities of society --- the stress of success or fear of failure ---suddenly seem inconsequential. What is left is the stripped-down reality of purposeful, passionate living in an environment that tolerates nothing less. It is a great and continual cleansing, at first shockingly cold; but like the initial plunge into a mountain stream, it refreshes and wakes the body and mind to new life."
A quote of Chris Duff, shared to me by my friend Kathy. Thank-you, ~d
Friday, April 23, 2010
~simple~
Simply feel it, breathe it, smell it, see it, touch it... allow yourself to be awed and overwhelmed by it without asking why.
...about me.
I grew up with my fingers in both the soil and sea, lifting boards in the backyard looking for beetles and worms, lifting logs in the forest looking for salamanders and centipedes, lifting rocks on the seashore looking for crabs and blennies. I spent 25 years of my life working the soil, growing beautiful things, growing my food, growing soil. I lived as a simple hermit, in peace, and solitude - I walked the empty rural roads and city streets in the wee hours of the morning when all the world was asleep. My body my transport. Peaceful - the frogs, crickets and owls my companions. Now I paddle - my body my transport. Seems logical to me to spend the next period of my life with the sea. Possibly someday I'll be able to fly under my own power and experience the sky as well.
Soil, Sea, Sky, Food, Water, Shelter ...and Dreams.
I found myself asking why? Why? WHY? I found clarity of vision in a true friends words to me in a particularily rough spell...
"So I will peacefully rake and NOT waste time trying to find answers to insane WHY? questions but breathe the day in in all its beauty. And be grateful for what I can hold onto lightly & lovingly."
I have changed... I no longer argue with what is presented to me - I hold it as a thought, and savour it like quickly melting ice-cream. Accept it or not - it doesn't really matter. It is what it is, and I am what I am, as you are what you are, as the world around us is what it is. The past is heldfast, the future is a dream, and today is the moment of opportunity. It's all quite simple, enjoy it before it melts away.
The honest and simple truth is that I want it all, I want it with my eyes wide open, and I continue to want the incredible clarity of vison that comes with giving in to all the forces acting upon me in any given moment - on the water - in the forest - on the beach - or walking down the road.
I want to live each moment anew, for the rest of of my life. I'm going to feast on these luscious moments - and make a simple life doing so.
Nothing is chasing me, I have nothing to run from, there is no skeleton in my closet waiting to reach out and thump me with a femur when I least expect it. I'm a simple man, with a simple plan, who finds his happiness living a simple life, searching for simple pleasures. I don't ask the question why much anymore.
...and I'm very fond of double scoops of strawberry in a waffle cone.
~daniel~
...about me.
I grew up with my fingers in both the soil and sea, lifting boards in the backyard looking for beetles and worms, lifting logs in the forest looking for salamanders and centipedes, lifting rocks on the seashore looking for crabs and blennies. I spent 25 years of my life working the soil, growing beautiful things, growing my food, growing soil. I lived as a simple hermit, in peace, and solitude - I walked the empty rural roads and city streets in the wee hours of the morning when all the world was asleep. My body my transport. Peaceful - the frogs, crickets and owls my companions. Now I paddle - my body my transport. Seems logical to me to spend the next period of my life with the sea. Possibly someday I'll be able to fly under my own power and experience the sky as well.
Soil, Sea, Sky, Food, Water, Shelter ...and Dreams.
I found myself asking why? Why? WHY? I found clarity of vision in a true friends words to me in a particularily rough spell...
"So I will peacefully rake and NOT waste time trying to find answers to insane WHY? questions but breathe the day in in all its beauty. And be grateful for what I can hold onto lightly & lovingly."
I have changed... I no longer argue with what is presented to me - I hold it as a thought, and savour it like quickly melting ice-cream. Accept it or not - it doesn't really matter. It is what it is, and I am what I am, as you are what you are, as the world around us is what it is. The past is heldfast, the future is a dream, and today is the moment of opportunity. It's all quite simple, enjoy it before it melts away.
The honest and simple truth is that I want it all, I want it with my eyes wide open, and I continue to want the incredible clarity of vison that comes with giving in to all the forces acting upon me in any given moment - on the water - in the forest - on the beach - or walking down the road.
I want to live each moment anew, for the rest of of my life. I'm going to feast on these luscious moments - and make a simple life doing so.
Nothing is chasing me, I have nothing to run from, there is no skeleton in my closet waiting to reach out and thump me with a femur when I least expect it. I'm a simple man, with a simple plan, who finds his happiness living a simple life, searching for simple pleasures. I don't ask the question why much anymore.
...and I'm very fond of double scoops of strawberry in a waffle cone.
~daniel~
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Quick updates on where I've been
More to follow and I'll add to it as I can.
I left Makah Bay and paddled the day to Shi Shi Beach on April 15th. I left Shi Shi Beach April 19th and landed at Ozette River that same night.
I left Makah Bay and paddled the day to Shi Shi Beach on April 15th. I left Shi Shi Beach April 19th and landed at Ozette River that same night.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Ready to Go
Picked up my charts, have my cases, and the water is calm. Looks like I'm off! I imagine it'll be hard to find internet access for the next while so I'll update when I can. Next stop the mighty Columbia River.
Take care all!
~d
Take care all!
~d
Monday, April 12, 2010
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Happy Dance?
Sounds like the weather is finally calming down for the coming weekend! Woohoo!
...errrrr
Tentative Woohoo!
"...SMALL CRAFT ADVISORY IN EFFECT THROUGH LATE TONIGHT...
TONIGHT...W WIND 20 TO 30 KT...EASING TO 10 TO 20 KT AFTER MIDNIGHT. WIND WAVES 3 TO 6 FT...SUBSIDING TO 1 TO 3 FT. W SWELL 14 FT AT 10 SECONDS...SUBSIDING TO 12 FT AT 10 SECONDS AFTER MIDNIGHT. SHOWERS LIKELY.
FRI...W SWELL 12 FT AT 11 SECONDS. W WIND 10 TO 15 KT... BECOMING SW LATE. WIND WAVES 1 OR 2 FT. CHANCE OF SHOWERS.
FRI NIGHT...W SWELL 12 FT AT 11 SECONDS. N WIND 10 KT...BECOMING NE 10 TO 20 KT AFTER MIDNIGHT. WIND WAVES 1 TO 3 FT. CHANCE OF SHOWERS IN THE EVENING.
SAT...NE WIND 15 TO 25 KT. WIND WAVES 2 TO 4 FT. W SWELL 9 FT...SUBSIDING TO 7 FT IN THE AFTERNOON.
SAT NIGHT...E WIND 10 TO 20 KT. WIND WAVES 1 TO 3 FT. W SWELL 6 FT.
SUN...E WIND 10 TO 15 KT...BECOMING N IN THE EVENING. WIND WAVES 1 OR 2 FT. W SWELL 6 FT.
MON...NE WIND 10 TO 15 KT...BECOMING W IN THE AFTERNOON. WIND WAVES 1 OR 2 FT. W SWELL 5 FT.
TUE...SW WIND 10 KT. WIND WAVES 1 FT. W SWELL 7 FT. "
...errrrr
Tentative Woohoo!
"...SMALL CRAFT ADVISORY IN EFFECT THROUGH LATE TONIGHT...
TONIGHT...W WIND 20 TO 30 KT...EASING TO 10 TO 20 KT AFTER MIDNIGHT. WIND WAVES 3 TO 6 FT...SUBSIDING TO 1 TO 3 FT. W SWELL 14 FT AT 10 SECONDS...SUBSIDING TO 12 FT AT 10 SECONDS AFTER MIDNIGHT. SHOWERS LIKELY.
FRI...W SWELL 12 FT AT 11 SECONDS. W WIND 10 TO 15 KT... BECOMING SW LATE. WIND WAVES 1 OR 2 FT. CHANCE OF SHOWERS.
FRI NIGHT...W SWELL 12 FT AT 11 SECONDS. N WIND 10 KT...BECOMING NE 10 TO 20 KT AFTER MIDNIGHT. WIND WAVES 1 TO 3 FT. CHANCE OF SHOWERS IN THE EVENING.
SAT...NE WIND 15 TO 25 KT. WIND WAVES 2 TO 4 FT. W SWELL 9 FT...SUBSIDING TO 7 FT IN THE AFTERNOON.
SAT NIGHT...E WIND 10 TO 20 KT. WIND WAVES 1 TO 3 FT. W SWELL 6 FT.
SUN...E WIND 10 TO 15 KT...BECOMING N IN THE EVENING. WIND WAVES 1 OR 2 FT. W SWELL 6 FT.
MON...NE WIND 10 TO 15 KT...BECOMING W IN THE AFTERNOON. WIND WAVES 1 OR 2 FT. W SWELL 5 FT.
TUE...SW WIND 10 KT. WIND WAVES 1 FT. W SWELL 7 FT. "
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Hurricane
Not something to brag about... a very scary thing indeed. I heard the Banshee's screaming at me as the combination of brutally steep 20 foot 12 second seas, a full moon tide, storm surges, and the rain-flooded Wa'atch River bursting it's banks and flooding the plains around it - and me - made for a nervous night. Tatoosh Lighthouse measured sustained Hurricane force winds of 94mph. The brunt of which buffeted me in my exposed location ten feet above the high tide line.
I can proudly say that my little camp came through unscathed. This is a shot from a few weeks back. It's a system that works extremely well. I'll often, when the winds are an issue, turn the tarp to windward side and lay logs and rocks along it to keep it down and ramp the winds up and over me.
I can proudly say that my little camp came through unscathed. This is a shot from a few weeks back. It's a system that works extremely well. I'll often, when the winds are an issue, turn the tarp to windward side and lay logs and rocks along it to keep it down and ramp the winds up and over me.
photo credit Jim Mercure
Thursday, April 1, 2010
A Different Perspective.
I'm sitting here in the wee hours of the morning, a full moon shining across the bay. The moon tricked me into thinking it was pre-dawn light so I got up to see. What a beautiful sight. As I'm munching on a little snack of a couple of cookies, I start thinking...
I'm stuck here... yeah I am, but now I'm off the reef and in the sandy bay. Town is a few miles walk away, things aren't so bad, people have been lifting the tarp, and poking around to see what's under it, but so far seem to respect my stuff...
Possibly I should be looking at this as an opportunity instead of a situation?
My weaknesses are big surf launches and landings... so like everything else I've taught myself... I need to paddle in big surf over and over and over until I get it. There in front of me is a bay with big surf, the weather is going to hell in a handbasket again tomorrow, and I need to replace the charts and case that washed off my deck yesterday. I've been walking the beach at low tide hoping to spot it but no luck so far. Why not just spend the next week of ugly out there, in a controlled environment, with controllable exposure, on a known beach, practising and learning?
I'm going to stay here in Makah Bay until this next big weather system passes through, and until the whales arrive which will be very soon.
I'm going to identify my weaknesses, and fears, and force myself to overcome them, and learn from them.
I'm going to continue!
I'm stuck here... yeah I am, but now I'm off the reef and in the sandy bay. Town is a few miles walk away, things aren't so bad, people have been lifting the tarp, and poking around to see what's under it, but so far seem to respect my stuff...
Possibly I should be looking at this as an opportunity instead of a situation?
My weaknesses are big surf launches and landings... so like everything else I've taught myself... I need to paddle in big surf over and over and over until I get it. There in front of me is a bay with big surf, the weather is going to hell in a handbasket again tomorrow, and I need to replace the charts and case that washed off my deck yesterday. I've been walking the beach at low tide hoping to spot it but no luck so far. Why not just spend the next week of ugly out there, in a controlled environment, with controllable exposure, on a known beach, practising and learning?
I'm going to stay here in Makah Bay until this next big weather system passes through, and until the whales arrive which will be very soon.
I'm going to identify my weaknesses, and fears, and force myself to overcome them, and learn from them.
I'm going to continue!
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