Nope Not Today

Gave it a try today. Weather wasn't good with the incoming front and tomorrow's storm.



20 knot winds in my face, three to five foot short period wind waves on top of a three to four foot swell in my face, fog in my face. It all beat me back from the south. Cape Elizabeth would have been inpassable with it's shallows reaching far out. No protected landings for the next twenty or so miles. Not a place to wait out a storm and upcoming 3-4 meter swell for the better part of a week.



I got out a mile or so, and then made the call, pretty easy to make actually - no place for me out here today.

The Long Sandy

Crossed the river bar into Queets yesterday, bused into Quinalt to print off weather reports and plan next leg. Tenative plans to land at Grenville Bay and later at Copalis River/Beach. Not many options for protected landings and launches on the next few stretches. Especially worrisome are the stretches from fifteen miles north of Pt.Brown, Grays Harbour to Cape Disapointment.









Tenative stops/emergency pull-outs at inside of Pt.Chehalis, Grays Harbour; Tokeland/Toke Point, Willapa Bay; possibly North Head or Benson Beach, Cape Disappointment. This means I'll be doing really long days along exposed, surf pounded shorelines... if anyone knows of or could recommend more pull-outs it would be appreciated. Options when the brown hits the spinning are always nice to have.



Weather - looks like big seas May 20th through the 23rd so I'll most likely stay off the water. May try to get tomorrow on the water and a short day on Wednesday to take advantage of the last of the smaller seas. A series of fronts coming through will make for windy conditions Wednesday and Thursday... after that a calm? I hope so.



For the techies here are the sources I'm currently using - A LOT.

Buncha numbers from a buoy

&

A buncha blah blah blah from the NOAA Weather guys

Wild Life and Wildlife

It was a long paddle from La Push to Queets and a full-filling one as well.



Early this morn I found a few left-over glowing embers in someone's abandoned campfire from the previous night while on my morning walk and leg stretch. I re-arranged things, added a few twigs, and soon enough I had a cheery 0600 fire to warm my body and spirit.







I had very pleasant 3-4 foot following seas about half the way, and then on the rear quarter with the wind the rest of the way. A bit of work keeping a heading as there was a tendency to broach but in general it was nice to have the assist.



I had my first whale encounter in a kayak, nothing hugely overwhelmingly intimate, no big whale eye looking up at me, or tail raised high in the air. A small whale, a gray I think, lolling about the surface, spouting in front of me a few times, beside me a few times, and then it was gone. I was enjoying a series of rides, alongside an off-shore reef at the time, and this was another smile in a gallery series of today's smiles. Sea-otters, dozens of them over the day's paddle, popping up to watch me, squealing their funny squeal. A porpoise kept me company for a short while. Locals dismiss the Cormorant as a nothing bird but again today they were flying inquisitive circles around me. I like the company. A flock of Brown Pelicans skimmed right bye, feet from me, their wings skimming along the wave crests, almost touching them. I've never noticed how they fold thier wings in a bit to drop down a ahir and open them to lift again. Probably a nothing to most but interesting to me.



Destruction Island makes a great bearing point. It seemed a distant mirage, and as I traveled along the coast it slowly revealed itself - quite a ways out - tempting to paddle out to it but no time today unfortunately - places to be.



Kalaloch was a surfy mess of brown water and I couldn't spot the river mouth so I passed it by.



Queets was a wild surf ride in over the sandbar, and a serious struggle to keep from being sucked/washed back over the sandbar. I picked a beauty of a wave to ride in on, clean, strong and the perfect speed - total fluke but I felt like some kinda bonzo surf-dude riding it in, edging and stern ruddering. Just as it foamed out I felt the lightest tickle of the sand under the skin of my kayak. Nice feeling. Once into the river proper things slowed down a bit, from a five knot current to about a three knot current that I could paddle against and feel like I was able to make comfortable progress. A serene and peaceful place this river - sad that a highway has been built over top of it, and the homes of the friendly First Nations people of Queets Village.

La Push to La Push

I paddled out of the Ozette, seal hopped my kayak across the gravel bar at it's mouth and started today's journey to La Push.



Cape Alava is beautiful and I'm awestruck by it. The sea is calm and sheltered in a triangle of offshore islands and partially exposed reefs.

Tso'ees to Ozette River

Decided to head south after all. Lightest of breezes and calm(er) seas made for a challenging but comfortable paddle. Fishermen everywhere, a result of a very short Halibut Fishery. Most of the guys were clustered behind the big offshore reefs, and a bunch were crowded gunnel to gunnel in the Devil's Armpit at Point of Arches. Clapotis was rough in there, and they were being tossed around badly as they hung in there in hopes of getting the big one. I paddled merrily through the middle of them, chuckling a bit under my breath. They must have thought I was even nuttier than they were as I disappeared in the trough of 7' swells and surfed down the backside of 4' clapotis.

I found the mouth of the Ozette and came in without incident in the small breaking waves. Great place to land.

I'm setup on the backside of the little spit where the river makes an S-bend into the ocean. Pretty spot, out of the wind, the river in front of me the sea behind.

Baby Steps and False Starts

Mother Nature spread her legs and gave me a show this morning.

I'm unapolegetically vulgar here -seeing things that normally live under the sea dangling jiggly and flacid in the air is graphic. I awoke to a -0.7' tide, and was able to walk and boulder-hop my way far out on to the point. I was able to walk through a series of magnifcent caverns, and a maze of tunnels; and explore beautiful, life-filled tide-pools; I was amazed by boulders covered inch-by-square-inch with inch sized sea anenomes, crowded so close together they were cubes. Starfish at waist-level, orange and purple gripping and solid, flacid sun-tars sprawled out on the sand, mussels barnacles and goose-necks crowding the line where the sea is thrown up by the incessant pounding. Quite over-whelming and one hell of an inticement to stay 'just a little longer' ...and back to the opening sentence.

Photo credit - Trisha Nettleship

Paddling out from the Point of Arches, I freak out over my discomfort in the clapotis and head North to Tso'ees River instead of South, muttering in disgust "That's it... I'm going home". I'll admit, I'm having a moment of weakness. By the time I reach Portage Head I'm relaxed and feel much more comfortable, the clapotis off here is fairly severe but I've paddled it before and expected it so it doesn't seem such a big deal anymore. I realize - it's just a state of mind and happily surf into the mouth of the Tso'ees all giggles and grins. A nice long paddle up the river with my canoe paddle 'Makah' and I'm feeling unbelievably fresh and cheery. The ride back down-river is serene and a chance to reflect as I drift lazily with the current. I set up camp on the salt-marshes just inside the river mouth. I'm leaning against a giant buttress of a tree that has washed up here, watching the eagles soar lazily in the evening drafts, happy that I'm not listening to the ocean tonight. It's my quiet, contemplative time tonight and I'm not sharing it with jets taking off, that never stop taking off.... Roooooooaaaarrrrrr... Roooooooaaaarrrrrr... Roooooooaaaarrrrrr...



Tomorrow is a new day and damned if I haven't still had 'it' all along... I just forgot where to look.

Time to Get Back on the Water

Weather has been excellent, forecasts look good with a high-pressure systen pushing in from the the SE, surf has recided a bit. Time to get paddling. May be awhile before I post again as towns and computers will be few and far between on this next stretch. Hope to launch the am of Thursday May 13th.



Whoosh... I've butterflies...

~daniel~

What's That Smell?

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...

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.

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

~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~

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.

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

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.

photo credit Jim Mercure

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!

The Bug and the Windshield.

Mark Knopfler sums my day up pretty well... I'm THE BUG.







Well it’s a strange old game - you learn it slow

One step forward and it’s back to go

You’re standing on the throttle

You’re standing on the brakes

In the groove ’til you make a mistake



Sometimes you’re the windshield

Sometimes you’re the bug

Sometimes it all comes together baby

Sometimes you’re a fool in love

Sometimes you’re the louisville slugger

Sometimes you’re the ball

Sometimes it all comes together baby

Sometimes you’re going lose it all



You gotta know happy - you gotta know glad

Because you’re gonna know lonely

And you’re gonna know bad

When you’re rippin’ and a ridin’ and you’re coming on strong

You start slippin’ and a slidin’ and it all goes wrong, because



Sometimes you’re the windshield

Sometimes you’re the bug

Sometimes it all comes together baby

Sometimes you’re a fool in love

Sometimes you’re the louisville slugger baby

Sometimes you’re the ball

Sometimes it all comes together baby

Sometimes you’re going lose it all



One day you got the glory

One day you got none

One day you’re a diamond

And then you’re a stone



Everything can change

In the blink of an eye

So let the good times roll

Before we say goodbye, because



Sometimes you’re the windshield

Sometimes you’re the bug

Sometimes it all comes together baby

Sometimes you’re a fool in love

Sometimes you’re the louisville slugger baby

Sometimes you’re the ball

Sometimes it all comes together baby

Sometimes you’re going lose it all

April Fool's Day Came Early

I'll admit it - I wimped out on writing this. Hence the Mark Knopfler song. It's taken me awhile to come back to this post. I overestimated my own ability in surf, and underestimated the size of the waves, and the difficulties they could present. I don't plan to write about the tough days but they seem to be the ones that leave me with the most to think about. ~d



I'm up, dragging my kayak to the outer edge of the reef. I've found a channel out through it and I'm loading up. By the time I'm finished loading the tide has started washing over the reef, and is coming in fast. I've moved my piles of gear three times so far and had my drybags bobbing like corks in the rapidly filling tide-pools a handful of times. My kayak tips to one side because I - not so wisely - think I can put her stern up on a rock to hold her, it turns out to be a great pivot point for a lean which fills Persephone full of water. I haven't put the sea-sock in yet... in all senses of the term... this attempt is a gong show from the start...

Here I gooooo...

I paddle out through the rapidly disappearing shelter of the channel, being swept sideways, and in and out with each surge. A lot of bumping and banging and struggling to keep from getting jammed sideways between rocks, and I'm out. A series of three foot waves crest in front of me, I ride up and over them, a bit wet, no worries. I keep paddling out, strange... it doesn't feel like I'm moving forward... a series of five foot waves come at me and I struggle through as they crest in walls, now I'm getting a serious face-washing. I'm thinking to myself... I've been paddling my butt off and I should be clear of these by now. Then the big boys start standing up in front of me, great green walls of water, their tops spilling over as they roar at me. Where's the damn shoulder??? There's supposed to be a shoulder!!! I get the full body slam, and get pinned to the back deck as I rise up on them and punch through the top, the drop out the backside is high enough to worry me. The roller-coaster starts to sickenly lean waaaaay forward before plummeting downwards, I hang on and get ready to brace. I slam down into the hole only to be picked up by the next, and the next, and the next... I've lost all forward momentum and am now being thrashed by wave after wave.

This is really bad... every wave has me flat on my back deck, every brief period between has me madly fighting a broach, and grabbing for gear that is trying to wash loose. Secure isn't as secure as I thought. Boom! I'm up a face when Persephone starts a horrifying backwards slide - surfing backwards in a baidarka with more bow than stern is a scary undertaking - and she stands up.

This is where it all goes into slow motion... my body turns as I look back... my bow goes up... I roll down the face of the wave into a broach... and I'm being tumbled... my paddle gets ripped out of my hands... roll or drown... roll or drown... roll or drown... thanks Duane... I rat claw myself to air, catch a quick breath before tumbling again... pull my spare paddle out while I'm underwater... it's surreal under here... roll up awkwardly... catch another breath before I'm tumbled again... roll up again... HEY! there's my... tumble... roll up again... I grab my lost paddle and pin it together with spare... tumble... roll up with both paddles in my hand... the front deck is rapidly being cleared... unimportant things like deck snacks, my hat... but my chart case is hanging there by a single hook... flopping around... okay daniel, stow the paddle or grab the case... stow the paddle... tumble... roll up... getting tired now and that last roll was pretty sketchy... chart case is floating six feet away... I can't reach it... I'm now in deep shit here I'm thinking... tumble... finishing this roll I have to lay right back and scull finish... I'm twisted up in the cockpit and can't get straightened out as the sea-sock has somehow wrapped me up... agghhh... wet exit... grab my rear deck bag as it floats by and clip it to a deck line... blow up my PFD... think think think... I fix the sea-sock between hammerings... the chart case floats just out of reach... re-enter and roll-up... the deck bag comes up last and drags me over again... roll up again... crap... the reef is right there now and I'm about to be washed up on it... I jump out of the cockpit so that I can swim the kayak in... a long series of bumps and bangs and thumps and tumbles as I get washed up on the rocks, shins being cracked as I try to push myself away from the rocks and stay seaward of the tumbling weight of a loaded and swamped kayak.

Mats of mussels, blankets of barnacles, slippery masses of seaweed... bump... thump... slide... grounded... repeat... poor Peresephone is taking one hell of a beating. I finally get washed far enough inshore that I can start guiding her through the reefs. I walk her swamped mass around the point, off the reef, and to the sandy beach in Makah Bay.

My bruised shins... my bruised pride... my poor beat-up kayak... barely floating with all the water in her...

Miraculously the Nylon held, the keel strip of duct tape took the worst of the scrapes, and Peresephone seems a bit worse for wear but not compromised. I'll be touching up the places where the coating was knocked off to to prevent seepage leaks, but other than that, she withstood her second trial by reef. I on the other hand, want a drink to calm my tattered nerves. Unfortunately, possibly fortunately - this is a dry town.

My gear sits in a soggy pile beside me for the better part of two hours while my heart-rate slows... my half inflated PFD bulging out from under it all... staring accusingly at me like a big bloodshot eyeball.

Not exactly a good day but probably a neccessary one...

Whoosh

Good thing I moved my camp up the slope a ways yesterday. The sound of huge logs rolling and crashing in the night seemed a lot louder than the night before. This morning I awoke to a collection of oddities. A layer of hail shed to the edges of my tarp, a two foot by twelve inch piece of rotten tree laying beside me - the thump and nudge that woke me last night, A pile of logs where my camp previously had been. Possibly my intuition is more on track than I've been giving it credit for...





I slept very well last night through the onslaught. Made myself two pots of Mussels this time... ohhh so good these little orange creatures.



Walked into town on the low tide this morning to write, and buy some groceries. Fresh fruit and veggies! I had a bag of oranges but I shared them with the kids, I'm a softy.



Though it's been intermittently raining today, the wind has dropped, and as I walked back down the beach to camp I looked out over the bay to see a double rainbow. A rainbow with with one end on the spot I hit the beach on the return trip, and the other on the surf line. If it's a sign I'll take it. The sun is only a finger width above the horizon, there are still some squalls in the southwest, and rain-clouds about, but the sky is predominantly clear. I think the low pressure system has settled in a bit and stabilized a hair.



Fingers, toes, and moustache crossed for good weather to launch tomorrow. Surf looks gentler this evening. Hell - I'll even knock on this log for good luck tomorrow.

Changing Weather

This morning it was an odd scene. To the south - rain and mist, and almost everything obscured under huge cumulo-nimbus clouds. Overhead - clear blue skies, carried by a biting cold wind from the north. To the north, the huge anvil-heads of thunder-storms. Hail, it's hailing now, I run for cover as pieces of ice the size of McD's fountain drink ice rattles down around me. The winds are coming from the southwest again. Makah Bay looks the same as it has every day since I crash-landed here. Big raging waves breaking over it's fields of reefs. Not a friendly looking place...





Something big is happening with the weather and I've no choice but to hunker down and wait. Peanut Butter is almost gone, fruit is finished, ran out of sweets. Still have tuna, KD, cous-cous, lentils and oats. Mussels to feast on for the harvesting at low tide. Freshwater falling from the cliffs around the corner - orange tinted but drinkable. Managed to get a few bags of wood cut up for my little stove before the hail came. I'm eating fresh Mussels tonight my friends, and they're the sweetest, most buttery little beasts I've ever enjoyed. Could be the fresh air though too ;O)

Sleeping with Slugs

They're green, they're surprisingly fast, they're very hungry, and they're tramping through my bed. Every ten minutes or so I have to stop what I'm doing, search out intruders and do the pinch and flick. Things a guy puts up with to 'go-light'. At this moment - as I lay here under my tarp hiding from the rain - a big one munches on an apple core I tossed him, two more are heading straight for me, tubulous eyes extended, mouth thingies extended, bodies extended in a full-out slither. Just out of reach as of yet but...





Twelve of them, I went out to 'relocate' three of them and found an even dozen! Ooosh!

Now I've got myself spooked over the high tide tonight, coming into a full moon you see. Logs are moving about the beach a surprising amount every night. I lay out an escape route to the highest ground possible, a meager three more feet. A scramble up the scree slope would get me higher but no way to get gear up there. Stormy days and highest high tides suck... I'm being forced higher and higher up the beach as the logs continue to start drifting. Thousands of them, rolling and colliding, and the biggest of them pounding the beach like great battering rams - backing out and slamming in. I can feel the big impacts through the sand at my feet. Powerful things these waves... high tide is at midnight, guess I'm sitting up to keep watch. Full moon in two days.



I spent the day scratching my head looking at a field of dumpers. Between here and the outside I can count six or seven layers of crests at any one moment. It's a 'You got yourself into this now how are you getting yourself out?" moment. Low or high tide the big ones are still out there, always over six feet, the smaller ones over four. High tide the reef is covered but it allows the big ones to reach shore. Low tide I risk being washed back over the reef. Full high tide the beach is awash with a sea of floating logs. Sighhh...



Found a bunch of whale bones yesterday. A jaw, a few vertebrate, and what I think may be the flipper  joint bones. Like giant mushrooms. I'm surprised how light whale bone is, I'd expect it to be heavy and strong coming from such a large animal. It's light, and porous, and fiberous. Fun beach-combing here, fishing floats and aerosol cans with japanese writing on them - plastic water bottles by the dozens - blue glass and a beach of stones pocked and dimpled and perforated. I picked a little one up as an amulet. Reality is though that I can't carry anything with me so I limit myself to the tiniest pieces of beach glass that I collect from the beaches I stop at, and which I gift to people I meet. Beach Jewels - the one thing I can take, and enjoy, and not feel like I'm slighting the sea's generous accomodation.