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/
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Saturday, March 13, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
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
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
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, March 8, 2010
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.
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
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
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
It's Decided
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