A Makah Legend

A Makah Legend





The Indians who live on the farthest point of the northwest corner of Washington State used to tell stories, not about one Changer, but about the Two-Men-Who-Changed-Things. So did their close relatives, who lived on Vancouver Island, across the Strait of Juan de Fuca.





When the world was very young, there were no people on the Earth. There were no birds or animals, either. There was nothing but grass and sand and creatures that were neither animals nor people but had some of the traits of people and some of the traits of animals.



Then the two brothers of the Sun and the Moon came to the Earth. Their names were Ho-ho-e-ap-bess, which means "The Two-Men-Who- Changed- Things." They came to make the Earth ready for a new race of people, the Indians. The Two-Men-Who-Changed-Things called all the creatures to them. Some they changed to animals and birds. Some they changed to trees and smaller plants.



Among them was a bad thief. He was always stealing food from creatures who were fishermen and hunters. The Two-Men-Who- Changed-Things transformed him into Seal. They shortened his arms and tied his legs so that only his feet could move. Then they threw Seal into the Ocean and said to him, "Now you will have to catch your own fish if you are to have anything to eat."



One of the creatures was a great fisherman. He was always on the rocks or was wading with his long fishing spear. He kept it ready to thrust into some fish. He always wore a little cape, round and white over his shoulders. The Two-Men-Who-Changed-Things transformed him into Great Blue Heron. The cape became the white feathers around the neck of Great Blue Heron. The long fishing spear became his sharp pointed bill.



Another creature was both a fisherman and a thief. He had stolen a necklace of shells. The Two-Men-Who-Changed-Things transformed him into Kingfisher. The necklace of shells was turned into a ring of feathers around Kingfisher's neck. He is still a fisherman. He watches the water, and when he sees a fish, he dives headfirst with a splash into the water.



Two creatures had huge appetites. They devoured everything they could find. The Two-Men-Who-Changed-Things transformed one of them into Raven. They transformed his wife into Crow. Both Raven and Crow were given strong beaks so that they could tear their food. Raven croaks "Cr-r-ruck!" and Crow answers with a loud "Cah! Cah!"



The Two-Men-Who-Changed-Things called Bluejay's son to them and asked, "Which do you wish to be--a bird or a fish?"



"I don't want to be either," he answered.



"Then we will transform you into Mink. You will live on land. You will eat the fish you can catch from the water or can pick up on the shore. "



Then the Two-Men-Who-Changed-Things remembered that the new people would need wood for many things.



They called one of the creatures to them and said "The Indians will want tough wood to make bows with. They will want tough wood to make wedges with, so that they can split logs. You are tough and strong. We will change you into the yew tree."



They called some little creatures to them. "The new people will need many slender, straight shoots for arrows. You will be the arrowwood. You will be white with many blossoms in early summer."



They called a big, fat creature to them. "The Indians will need big trunks with soft wood so that they can make canoes. You will be the cedar trees. The Indians will make many things from your bark and from your roots."



The Two-Men-Who-Changed-Things knew that the Indians would need wood for fuel. So they called an old creature to them. "You are old, and your heart is dry. You will make good kindling, for your grease has turned hard and will make pitch. You will be the spruce tree. When you grow old, you will always make dry wood that will be good for fires."



To another creature they said, "You shall be the hemlock. Your bark will be good for tanning hides. Your branches will be used in the sweat lodges."



A creature with a cross temper they changed into a crab apple tree, saying, "You shall always bear sour fruit."



Another creature they changed into the wild cherry tree, so that the new people would have fruit and could use the cherry bark for medicine.



A thin, tough creature they changed into the alder tree, so that the new people would have hard wood for their canoe paddles.



Thus the Two-Men-Who-Changed-Things got the world ready for the new people who were to come. They made the world as it was when the Indians lived in it.

To Low Point

Bit slow getting camp packed up. Launched 1000ish arrived Low Point at 1300ish. Stopped for a break at Crescent Beach, very pretty and lots of good paddling in the area. Nice reef offshore made for some exciting tide-races and standing waves. Inside the bay is protected on the edges, with nice sandy beaches all around. When I came in on the west side an eagle flew off the rocks and circled overhead, as I approached the beach I saw another adult and two juveniles poking amongst the rocks.





Around the point, after launching, the water got a bit lumpy - three feet or so, and a sea-lion popped his body right up out of the water to get a good look at me.



Made it to Low Point today, not my intended destination of Pysha River but still a good twenty nautical miles of paddling so I'm happy. Did a bad-ass surf landing right on the point, sailing in on a big cresting wave to beached amongst barnacle covered, basket-ball sized rocks. The nylon has a few new scratches, and a superficial dent because of it but nothing too serious. Dumb idea coming in at the point when only moments before I'd passed a quiet little cove with smaller surf and smaller stones but I wanted to check if this was indeed the point by spotting the river. Too lazy to go back, and seeing those beautiful big cresting waves got my adrenalin pumping so hard I just went ahead and caught a big one in.



The sacrificial duct tape I've been putting on my keel peeled away twice today in great long streamers that I had to reach under my kayak and pull off.

R&R

I thought I was in a hurry to get back on the water, turns out I was in a hurry to get away from Port Angeles. It's an odd place, beautiful scenery, idyllic location, but crime and unemployment are rampant. Heavy industry lives, where in many cities, there'd be sea-side boardwalks, and children playing in parks.

 The mill overshadows and is also the lifeline for this town. Men in suspenders driving big diesel trucks roar through town. These same men all watch suspiciously as I order my breakfast and gulp down a cup of tea with honey. I left town late this afternoon, Kevin became my gracious host, driving me around town while I picked up my supplies, and chatting with me while I loaded up for a late departure.



It was dark last night while I was trying to find a landing spot here on Angeles Point, a few hours from town. I was having a difficult time getting off the water as it was high tide and there was dumping surf crashing on rocky beaches at high tide. I paddled along, in the dark towards the mouth of the Elwha River searching in the darkness but mostly just listening to the rumble of waves crushing down on the beach. Listening... listening... crashing surf... crashing surf... wait... no more crashing surf... Something sounded different at one point though, the surf crashed but it wasn't accompanied by the growl of rocks rolling back into the sea with the receding froth. A sand-bar, and a little hidden slot about ten feet wide which allowed me to di\uck through and behind the sandbar into the mouth of the estuary. It felt so good to find it using my senses and my awareness...



Suddenly I'm not in a hurry anymore. This place is so pretty. I'm sitting here by a little brook that is making bloopity bloopity soundsas it flows. Burbling? Off in the distance the sea roars like a lion but here the brooksd laughs like a room full of excited children. A magical place where the river meets the sea - a quote I think. Not sure by who.



I feel the tension drain away as I sit here, writing in the misty rain of morning, listening to birds sing and chirp. Shore-birds sing so differently than sea-birds. A hundred feet to my left I can hear Pigeon Guillemots, gulls, sea-ducks. Here it's Red-wing Blackbirds. The crow is around as well, as man has been here.I'm staying another night.



It's evening now. The sun is two fingers above the horizon, and sinking fast. The light is changing to that pretty low light, soft. All the things around me have shadows, the smallest stones and pebbles even. Everything is so three dimensional in this light. Wish I had a camera as the contrasts are incredible - Ansell Adams was a master in this light.



I had a few people walk by my little camp, typical for a Sunday I guess. I've been thinking that I'll make Sunday and Monday off the water days as often as possible. Possibly a day to go fishing, or write, or hang around the camp and eat. Maybe go rolling. I feel fresh, and comfortable, despite my lack of a shower in days, and bag of sopping wet (stinky) clothes. Ooooops BRB...

forgot to put them back out to dry - nothing worse than climbing into wet long underwear before the days paddle - makes my willy shrink just thinking about it.



Lights almost gone now - air is getting cool so I'll be packing up my little stove, and stuffing everything back into it's appropriate dry-bag in preperation for tomorrow. I think I'll push for the next river estuary, maybe it'll be as pleasant as this one.



The world is starting to feel wilder and less 'touched'. Less houses, less people, surf, the Olympics right there as I write. Across the water Vancouver island, probably the clear cuts over Jordan River that I'm seeing to the left. I saw the lighthouse at Race Rocks today. I've been paddling for three weeks and yet a single days paddle could get me home back where I started. Home is where I am, not where I was. Odd...



The Race Rocks lighthouse is flashing at me now - miles away. Time to finish my tea and say goodnight.



Sweet dreams all,

~daniel~

Persephone Runs Off in the Night.

Slept the night on Rocky Point in a 4x8 clearing in the dog roses, on top of a rough driftwood bed, semi-floating on the spongy edge of a salt-marsh. It was rough but it got me through.



Wow what a day... Paddle to Port Angeles was calm and reasonably short, and entirely uneventful. The night on the other hand...





I wanted to go into town to get a late lunch, so I pulled Persephone up onto some logs well above the high tide lineat 'Hollywood Beach'. I felt comfortable leaving her here in such a high visibility spot. I had lunch, wandered around town playing tourist, looking for charts, then found an internet cafe to update my blog. They had a fellow strumming and singing so I spent a very pleasurable evening messaging friends and working my way through my emails until the place closed at 2300. I walked down to the beach to curl up beside Persephone for the night. This is the right path right? This is the right beach right?? That was the log she was sitting on right??? Someone stole my kayak... and all my gear, my only possesions, were in her...



In a panic I ran up to a fellow standing nearby and asked where the police station was. I ended up explaining what had happened. He asked me "Was it a yellow kayak?" YES it is! Kevin listens to his scanner, monitoring ship traffic and local emergency services. He'd heard it reported to the police and coast guard that some kids had set her adrift. While I ran off to find the nearest phone he walked out onto the pier to see if he could find her. When I got back from the phone Kevin called me out to the pier and there below us, hiding amongst the dense cluster of pilings, right in the center, was Persephone, poking her nose out from time to time as if to say "I'm here".  Ooooosh... now how was I supposed to get her out of there??? Police came, took a look said they didn't have a boat, sorry, good luck with that, and told me I couldn't dive off the pier to retrieve her. Kevin being the kind fellow he is walked home, drove back with his leaking inflatable kayak, pumped her up and there I am, past midnight paddling out to get my kayak, with a pump between my knees 'in case'. Thanks Kevin, you're a saint bro.



The night was a bust so I paddled Persephone over to the marina, pulled the one way locking gate shut behind me with a click, and wandered out of town until I found a set of steps in a dark corner where I could sleep what was left of the night.



Port Angeles left a sour taste in my mouth. Something like Old Spice, diesel, sulfur and stale beer.



"Yur not from a-round these parts are yuh?"

Pre-dawn to Pre-dusk.

Big day today, not huge water but a LOT of paddling. Left Point Wilson about 0330, arrived Rocky Point, about two hours paddle from Port Angeles before dusk, possibly 1630. Still don't have a watch but it was five fingers horizon to sun.



Winds were down a bit so I slipped out pre-dawn from Pt.Wilson to get off the point and into something new. Paddled in the dark for a few hours, feeling the two-three footers pass under me, sensing where I was in relation to the shore by by the shape of them as they rocked me side to side. I wanted to stay out far enough that I didn't find the randomly scattered car-sized boulders that litter the shoreline below the packed sand and mud cliffs. Seeing Protection Island at dawn's break was a treat. The orange light coming over the cliffs beside me and lighting the Olympics. My first view of them... the snow on their craggy peaks gleaming in the soft light. Two eagles just up with the dawn soared in lazy circles above me while I drifted and munched on my breakfast of deck snacks. By the way they moved in the air I could tell that there was nothiong much happening in the air this morning yet. Hard to see the big picture sometimes when in the shadow of cliffs.



I ducked across the mouth of Discovery Bay, behind Protection Island. Nothing but the open strait out there. I kept paddling and paddling until I was around the next point, and into the mouth of Sequim Bay a ways. Not much here in the way of good beaches with the sea-swell dumping on softball-sized and bigger stones. Just steep cliffs and beaches that close out at high-tide. I dragged my kayak up on driftwood skids, ate a quick snack while shivering in my wet gear. Felt really cold today, a change into my dry's hel;ped a bit but I had a pretty serious chill. Back to the water where the movement would warm me up.



Forgot to re-stock the deck snacks, a mistake that would punish me later. Crossing the bay to the base of Dungeness Spit I came across Mike from the Olympic Penninsula Paddlers and chatted a bit with him about kayaks and such. He mentioned it was a long way around the spit, I had no idea how long though.



I paddled, and paddled, and paddled until I saw a couple of white specks in the distance, and then I paddled and paddled and paddled for hours until they were white spots... It was worth the looooooong slog out there though as the view from the end of Dungeness Spit was spectacular. I couldn't land so I drifted in my kayak and took it all in... I could see everywhere I'd been and everywhere I'm going from out here. Vancouver Island, the Gulf Islands (the Canadian San Juans), the San Juans, Whidby Island, the crossing that almost ate me at Pt. Wilson. It all was a big circle around me from here. How much time would it have taken me to paddle straight here from Pt. Partridge I half-wondered. I layed myself onto the water and did a few blissful balance braces, and a soothing roll, floating slowly to the surface before rising up on my paddle. The tip of the spit was a completely different animal,  a strong rip and flood current formed off here, and forced me into the rough shore-break to stay out of it. A lot of work as much of the time I was being slid sideways towards the beach. On the outside a four foot swell was dumping on a steep gravel beach. No place to land and a whole lot more paddling before I could get out of my kayak and stretch my aching legs. I played in the waves, punching through them, and getting facefuls of water, before getting down to the task of paddling. There wasn't a single place I could get off the water for the rest of the day until I reached Rocky Point. No food either... remember not topping up the deck snacks Daniel?



I found a flotsam line and got myself into a counter-current and raced full out for the better part of ten miles to until I arrived. Not much to see along this shore anyways... mud cliffs. Once I landed first thing out was the bag that contained Peanut Butter and a block of chees, both of which I ate by the mouthful and gulped down... sooooo hungry... I was spent, hadn't eaten in eight hours, and had been paddling since well before dawn.

R&R

Met Tom today, a fellow skin-boater from Port Townsend. He came back later with photos of his pretty little retrieval kayak, remarkable job he's done on her design, and the red-dyed accents really bring out the charm of her.

Bill the caretaker and ranger here has a great story, he bought and is restoring the old 38' fishing boat he worked on in his younger years. It was one of the first fibreglass hulls to come out of Port Townsend. He's just finished refurbishing the Isuzu diesels and put then back in a week ago. I'd love to see her...



'The Boiler Room' is a great little coffee-shop and youth lounge in PT. Smoke-free, drug-free, and alcohol free, coffee's pretty damn good too! The place is run by kids and reminds me of a hostel from Kathmandu I loved. Worth checking out for the youthful energy and vibe - makes me feel young. Had another drawing come out of me here. It was the scene of me struggling off the lighthouse at the mouth of Puget Sound... I left iut there at the shop. Everyone that sees my pieces says the same thing - "great use of shading". I'll admit they are dark, but it seems they are becoming my emotional releases. Someday maybe they'll all re-appear in my life - I tend to just leave them behind for others as the need is in the act of drawing not the finished product.

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