He met me... and I met myself.

Came from Deception Pass.

Point Wilson Lighthouse, Port Townsend, WA, USA

Packed and left Deception Pass at 0800 (by the finger clock), arrived Point Wilson 1400, but off the water at 1630 - story behind this...



Battled 15-20 knot headwinds, or more like trudged uphill, all day. Later 30+ knots - off my scale. Was forced to take a deep-water route, way off-shore to stay out of restricted zones, Whidby Island. Pretty damn snarky out there. 20 knot winds and three foot broaching waves and chop. This was the story for most of the paddle along Whidby Island, lumpy bumpy, and mile after mile of mud cliffs, which did provide a respite from the wind from time to time.



Partridge Point... has good surf.



The next big crossing...

On the last half hour or so of rounding Point Partridge, the winds dropped off. Nice, calm, pleasant - nothing but gentle ocean swell. I floated there, looking across the mouth of Puget Sound, to Point Wilson, debating whether to cross. Weather to cross. Good weather has been rare, and there have been afternoon respites where the wind stopped it's SE blow, and then went flat for a couple of hours before taking on a SW blow. I decided to go, a sound decision, and a long, but do-able paddle. Never assume...

The first quarter was pleasant, 3-4 foot swell... the other three were and are the most intense challenges I've yet faced in a kayak.

The wind whipped up fast and hard - 20 to 25 knots - the sea just kept getting bigger as I paddled on, with the flood tide coming on fast returning wasn't an option so I was committed. 3-4 foot wind waves cresting, tops blown into spray in my eyes. Then 4-6 feet, then 6-8 feet choppy cresting wind waves against current, white crests everywhere, and over a big swell. Combined seas must have been over 10 feet at the worst of times, I'm sitting here in a chair looking up at the ceiling above me and they were higher than this. I was taking them on the side and front quarter... they were my worst nightmare. This is a long crossing on a good day. Nice thing about waves this big is that when I was in a gulley I could get a few solid strokes in while I was out of the wind. The tops were... wow... I used my moments of air-time to get myself turned back on course-ish. Stay calm Daniel... stay loose... let the kayak roll and pitch... concentrate on a good stroke... Holy Shit. Holy Shit. Holyyyyyyyyy SHIT!

I slogged along for hours, talking to myself and telling Persephone how proud I am of her - she's an incredible beast, and seems to live for this stuff. I believed in her, and will continue to believe in her. That means a lot.

Two thirds across and I'm struggling across the inbound shipping lane... a freighter appears on the horizon... funny the things a guy thinks... I was wondering what they were thinking seeing me out way there... in conditions that swamp and sink boats. She was big, blue and passed me within seeing distance. I waved to the crew - thought it was kind of funny as a few moments earlier I was wondering how many hours were left on my VHF radio's batteries.

The Point Wilson Lighthouse is there - right there within my sight. Sadly unmanned and automated... I laughed at the irony... if something went wrong-er the buzzing and clicking solenoids that run her couldn't care less. They wouldn't see me, or hear me, or really care. That's what it came down to... I'm truly on my own. A tide race forms off Point Wilson, did you know that? I'd hoped by going into the lee of the point I could get some protection from the long fetch. I did, and now I got a powerful tide race, pushing up four foot standing waves, which the wind was pushing me into and worse, out to sea on. Horrendous off-shore winds... standing waves... thirty plus knots... land within reach but not able to turn my kayak upwind to get there... I was being taken off-shore and out into a hell that was even more furious than what I'd already experienced... As I was being blown past the red can that I had been staring at for hours I yelled NO!!!!!! YOU FUCKER!!! You're not getting me!!!

I paddled backwards as hard as I could to hold postion while I thought of options, searched for an option I had missed... nothing I can use to my advantage ahead... tricks... A drogue? Didn't have one... a line to the can? Couldn't get to it... Ride the wind? Not likely... It's getting stronger still... Can't turn around... The standing waves are getting four feet and cresting over me... wait a sec... back out of it? Backwards? BACKWARDS! I'll paddle this bitch (sorry dear) backwards upwind until I get nearer to the lighthouse on the point, maybe find a way out of this tide race so that I'm only dealing with wind, and possibly finding a place the flood tide is carrying me in... So I layed back on my deck to reduce my exposure to the wind and paddled... hard... and slowly I started to move... ever so slowly but I was moving... and in the right direction.

Took me half an hour to move a hundred feet - using every last bit of my precious strength... no reserve... give it everything or give up... I found a rythum in the waves, and started letting the cresting waves broach me, and when my bow came up, falling on my side into the sea and doing a huge backwards extended paddle sweep stroke to get me pointed towards the spit, a few degrees before the wind straightened me out again. I crabbed backwards towards the spit, a little here, a little there, until finally, FINALLY, I felt the waves soften just a hair. My chance! I bought myself a chance! I spun around on my best extended bow rudder - like a flag in the wind - just like Karl showed me - and gave it everything! No second chances, I had to do it. I was now able to keep my bow pointed upwind as I crawled closer... closer... closer... and then I could sustaing a few degrees to the port of the wind... towards the spit... and then a few more... I bought myself a ferry angle out of that tide race... degree by bloody degree.

Until I was out, out and heading towards a beach.

Point Wilson Lighthouse

I did it. I did it. I had no idea I was enough. I did it. For hours and hours and hours, at the end of a long day of paddling... I did it.

I'll remember this moment forever. That lighthouse. This feeling, sick, exhausted. No pride. Nothing. Empty.



Tonight I sleep. I learned about myself and my resolve, and my images of my end today.



Tonight I sleep... on land...



~d

A gifted story.

This story of this day was a gift to my new friends Jim and Jen. Thanks for your gracious gift of hospitality to a weary traveler. Many happy journies. ~daniel~

http://maybewerecrazy.com/

It's a balance.

Samuel Island, San Juans, WA, USA



It's a balance - I took this saying from you John, it needed a better home. Heh!





Days like today must be the balance, for the last day on the water. I'm sitting here high on a rocky bluff, 69 meters above and less than 10 meters inland from the sea. It's a beautiful little island, a treasure. Eagles slide back and forth on the currents of the air, riding the same south-westerly that forced me into this little cove. Not a pretty cove as such, the kind that has a small beach disappearing at high tide, and collects all the big logs and stumps of great trees that have fallen to the saws over the years. The bank behind it is steep, and I chock up a little platform of driftwood to sleep on up above the water's reach. Note to self - don't even THINK of trying to launch from here at high tide stupid.



As the sun goes down, to my right, Port Angeles lights up the dusk straight ahead, and Burrow's Island Lighthouse flashes to my left. It feels like I have a view of the world from up here - or maybe a world? The ground is covered in thick mats of thick and pristine mats of moss. Patches of ghostly white lichen grows in miniature forests of inches instead of feet. Tiny wildflowers blooming - lemon yellow umbellifers hug the ground - simple white flowers held above fuzzy white leaves - little pink and purple flowers scattered about me in drifts. Can't see then now as the light has faded into the dusk.



Highlights of today? Every precious moment.

The reflected flash of a leaping salmon's scales, launching and paddling with choices, ferries about but never a concern... like I said, every precious moment. 





Upright Bluff is beautiful, as I paddled along it's cliffs of concretions I looked for plants that I knew. A sea-spray stunted flowering current flowering it's red flowers in defiance. Sedum spathufolium pouring out of shaded cracks and fissures, licorice fern covering what it could, in a way that only licorice fern can. The stone concretions that these islands are made up of look like something poured out of the back of one big-ass concrete truck, all glommed together of stone and material. Sloppy worksmanship on a small scale but impresive on this massive one. There's a ferry dock right around the corner for those inclined to ferry/paddle the San Juans.



Stopped to chat with a diver and his captain along the way and to mooch a re-fill on my water bottle. Wanted something to wash down a Clif bar - the toffee ones are goooooood. Must be the caffeine ;O)

I lost my watch as I launched at Friday Harbour so I'm now using fingers from the horizon - and for the next while I guess. I pulled off the water at 0-six fingers. I tried to make the crossing to deception Pass via Bird Rocks, and Burrows Island... tried... just as I was within smelling distance the wind swung to the SW, very strong. I tried my battle my way upwind the rest of the way to the rocks but things just kept getting bigger and tougher. I even tried a half-assed ferry out into the strait to see if it was even possible but as soon as I presented some profile to the wind I was blown off course and lost any momentum. That's what the crab pots told me anyways. I layed on my side, and spun in the wind, caught the first wave back to this cove. At one point i looked down as a wave passed me and my entire lower body was underwater. Peresephone 'rose' to the challenge though.



I made a choice I'm happy with. As a result, I got a day of beach-combing for blue glass, a great sunset hike, and now Orion showing me the way. Time for bed. G'nite.

The Crossing

The big paddle, Pender to Friday Harbour. Left Beaumont Park at 0900, arrived Stuart Island, Charles Point at 1015.

Felt like I was maintaining a good clip though I took time for rests. Took me an hour and fifteen, distance was 6 nautical miles, according to my scratch that's a 4.8 knot average speed. Ducked inside Satellite Island for some peaceful paddling and to get out of the 10 knot southerlies for awhile. Wind waves, two to three feet coming across Boundary Pass. no freighters to dodge this time 'round - whoosh. Slipped through Johns Pass to find myself being pounded by four to six foot wind waves roaring in from the south - Haro Strait. Lots of fetch and winds in the 25 knot range. Persephone handled them with grace, her bow punching into waves and then coming up and then gently lifting up and riding over. Very smooth ride these SOF's. I'll have to admit that there were a few sphincter tightening moments, but they were mine not the kayaks. Once I loosened up and tried to relax things went much easier. Rolling with the punches is easier than taking them face on. As I got close to Speiden, and out of the wind a bit in it's lee, I changed my direction and rode those beautiful big refracting waves all the way down New Channel. WoooooHoooooo!!!!!!





The crossing from Green Point to Limestone Point on San Juan was uneventful - thankfully. Heading across Rocky Bay was a bit of a slog, calm enough with Point Caution in the visible distance UNTIL the wind turned and I was now fighting a 25+ knot South Easterly headwind, I've a suspicion it reached 30 knots a few times as I was paddling and barely moving. I could feel the force on my paddle so I was forced to slip into a low angle 'Freya stroke'. Three foot, short period, cresting wind waves against the current... I was forced shoreward, taking these things on the side for an uncomfortably long time. Found a little Bay to hide in and rest before continuing onwards. My legs were aching for a stretch by this point but no landees on US soil before clearing customs. Did the coastline crawl, taking shelter where I could get it until I came up on Point Caution and the wind mercifully dropped, so that I could round it and cruise into Friday Harbour in peace.



It took me just shy of two hours to clear customs. Brutal. I don't think they believed I paddled there from Canada in one day, they definitely didn't like that I was a farmer and kayak instructor, they hated the fact that I could give them no fixed itinerary. I stood there in my Tuilik, dripping on their office floor, cold, wet, exhausted, weak-legged and off balance, while I answered questions questions and more questions. I walked out the door, went back down to the docks, changed out of my wet gear, knelt down, hung my head over the sea and vomited... I was done. I tried sleeping by my kayak for a few hours but the bitter wind kept picking up and my hands and toes were needling me so I broke down and went to find a hostel dorm-room for the night. Wayfarer's Rest in Friday Harbour. Nice place and affordable. Today is a rest and recuperation day - catching up on email, the LBSB blog and eating.



Ciao!

~d

Waiting

South Pender Island, BC, CANADA



Early awake at 0200 in hopes of a crossing at dawn. No such luck. Winds blasting right up Bedwell started at 0300. WX08 says possibility of hurricane force winds, gales in the 30-40 knot range. Ewwww...





So I decided to take a hike up Mt. Norman, down to Canal Road, and into the bakery at Port browning for a cuppa tea, a date square, and some internet time. I think I'll back through Ainsley Point to Beaumont. I was robbed of the punishment of a view across to the San Juans, and specifically my intended destination of Stuart Island, by a construction crew working on the lookout. Very nice walk so far, I'm sitting at the Canal bridge, at the site of the former isthmus which is a historically important First Nation's site. I'm listening to the wind roar through the trees on the other side of the island - a dropped feather would drift straight down to the ground here. Time to go! Date squares a-calling.

Dampness.

South Pender Island, BC, CANADA



Sun came out after a cold, damp night. Wet, wet, wet - everything is wet and cold. Slept last night in wet polar fleece, over wet meribno wool long underwear. Seems I'm living in my bibs and shell, and sleeping in them as well. I LOVE my down sweater :O)



Today's plan - laundry and shower at Poet's Cove. Dry my gear out while I can. Drink tea and plan. Tomorrow, early morning launch.

Pender pending.

Ewwww... it was a nasty one last night... windy, cold, and pouring rain. Now it's snowing, lightly but it's definitely snow. I'm only carrying enough dry tinder and cedar to start a fire for a meal, so I'm hesitant to use it to keep warm last night. I'm having great results with my little hobo stove, glad I have it. Difficulty with late landings is that they force me to scavenge firewood in the dark. Hard to tell what's wet, green, dry or something I wish not to grab. LED lights don't help a whole lot.

I'm waking up a few hours before dawn, when the frost comes and the chill wakes me up - and going to bed when the sun goes down. No alarm needed when my cold ached toes are screaming at me to to get up, go for a run, rub them, or do ANYTHING to get the blood flowing at 0430hrs...



Not getting as much paddling in as I expected as I've spent a lot of this week trimming my gear down, and working out systems for packing, loading, unloading, and sleeping. K.I.S.S. 'Keep It Simple Stupid' applies in kayak expeditions, apparently as well as it does in the rest of my life. I just need to remember to simplify. Simple right? Simple... yeah right.



Hang-on... Have to reposition myself behind a log, and go fetch my tumbling hat, as the wind is blowing 15 knots with gusts of 25 from the SW. Cold wind too, This is in sheltered Bedwell Harbour - looks pretty snarky out there towards Stuart Island. Terms heard on the VHF WX weather bands that make me go hmmmm... 4-6 foot wind wave, gale warning, 35&40 knot wind. Looks (sounds) like weather is going to hell in a handbasket later this week. Best to get my butt over the border before things take a turn for the worse.



The paddling pattern thus far as I ease into my new life as paddler - one day on and one day off. 40km a day seems a managable and immediately obtainable goal until I get fully settled into the routine. For ease (mine)I'll start refering to distances in Nautical Miles. You can do the conversion yourself if you'd like :P



Whoosh - wind is still picking up - 30 knots plus - The fir trees are sounding like the surf as the wind rushes through their bent boughs. It's not even 0900hrs. yet!



0900 - time to get back to camp and get my laundry organized, and things tucked away in their drybags. I could write a novel about the things I've learned, and the love and hate relationship I have with the various dry-bags - albeit a small novel, but a passionate one!



~d