I drove to Mobile Friday to visit my parents, and took the Jocassee. Saturday morning ws bright and clear, so I drove down to Dauphin Island. I hadn't been there in many years, and it was kind of spooky -- awakening lots of memories of childhood and adolesence. Searched the west end for a good place to launch. I hate boat-launching ramps because they generally force me to endure several minutes of my kayak bumping and grinding against rough concrete or against the pilings of a dock, while I park the truck and stow equipment. Erosion and debris made the sands on either side of the public ramp unuseable, so I moved on. I followed the road around the periphery of Fort Gaines to where it ends behind the fort, on the south side of the island. There I found a small half-moon beach protected by large boulders. This would be a good place to launch if there were two people, which would make it easy to carry the kayaks across the rocks. Since I was alone, I wound up dragging mine through a few yards of deep sand, to get to the west end of the beach that runs most of the length of the south side of the island. At least this had the advantage of being partly protected by several rock groins a few yards offshore that broke the force of the waves. I started paddling out to the southeast, toward the Mobile ship channel for lack of a better plan. I was really surprised at all the large and small platforms that cluttered the horizon in all directions. I also noticed an attractive young woman setting up a lounge chair on the beach from which I had just launced. I continued out toward Cuba for a while, just enjoying the ride, the bright sunshine, the gulls, pelicans, and the migrating ducks heading out to sea in ragged, slowly climbing formations. The sea was kind of choppy, with long-period swells about 2 or 3 feet high coming, with the wind, from the east, clashing with steeper, shorter-period waves coming out of the mouth of Mobile Bay, and with reflections off the end of the island. The result was an irregular motion, with occasional slow lifts and descents interspersed with a lot of just rocking and bumping up and down. About a half-mile out, I reached for the disposable camera I had stuck in my shirt pocket at launch, and found it missing. I should have known better: the top of my sprayskirt tunnel rides across that pocket and always causes the contents to work up and out. I turned about and started back a little downwind of my outbound track just on the odd chance of finding the camera floating, but without any luck. The young lady who had come down to the beach I launched from was still there sunbathing, so I crashed on in through the surf, ran the bow up on the beach, and tried to strike up some conversation with "G'day -- Is this New Zealand?" She laughed good naturedly, but gave no sign of being interested in chatting, and her little dog was having none of it, watching me pointedly and intently, so I waved and pushed back out. I paddled southwest this time, almost parallel with the shoreline, examining the damage left by Hurricane Georges. The irregularity of the damage was odd. A house that had lost all of its shingles would be next to another that had none missing at all. A house that had been blown off its foundations and turned into a pile of wreckage would be right beside others that looked untouched. The trees and the dunes seemed undamaged: only man-made structures seemed to have been vulnerable to the storm. I paddled two miles or more back along the island coast and then turned southwest toward Sand Island, which lies in a sort of arc from the middle of Dauphin Island out to the south and east, toward the Mobile Ship Channel. After paddling for a while without seeming to get any closer, I broke out the GPS unit to track my progress. Most of the satellites seemed to be to the north, and my body was apparently blocking their signals, because the GPS wasn't getting a good fix. So I turned onto a more southerly course to let the GPS "see" their signals a little better, and finally began to get some position and speed information. Playing with the GPS, comparing compass readings, looking at variations in my speed, I fell into the old "head-in-the-cockpit" syndrome that can pose a risk to pilots. Next thing I knew, I was shaken back to reality by a small breaker soaking me from the left side and shoving me almost up on the beach of Sand Island. Whoops. Fortunately, nobody was watching but the gulls. Splashing back out through the shallows, I set course east-northeast toward Fort Morgan on the other side of the mouth of Mobile Bay. I thought I would go out to a position upwind of Fort Gaines and then surf the big swells back to my put-in. The GPS began giving really improbable speed readings. It would drop to zero, then suddenly pick back up and go to as much as 8 or 9 mph (not likely!) before fading back to more realistic speeds. It also, at one point, swung the course indicator all the way around to indicate I was moving west instead of east. I was just wondering if I could find the manual to see about getting it serviced, when it flashed a message telling me the batteries were about dead and should be replaced. Hopefully, that will prove to be the reason for the bizarre readings. After what seemed like an hour of paddling into the wind and waves, I turned north-northwest toward Ft. Gaines, and tried surfing. However, the swells were too irregular what with all the other wave patterns interfering, and those swells that did offer any kind of a ride swept under me so fast that I couldn't keep up with them. So I wound up just paddling in while riding up on the crests and down in the troughs. The sunbather was still there, but still uninterested in a heroic middle-aged ersatz Viking returning from the sea (sigh). Back on shore, loading the Jocassee on my pickup, I happened to glance in a side mirror and realized I should have brought a hat -- my face was a deep bright red from the sun. I noticed a dorsal fin breaking the surface just off shore, and as I watched, I realized that several small, dark-colored dolphins were playing (fishing?) just off the rocks lining the end of the island, making me want to relaunch and go join them. However I was due back home to be on-call for work, so I resisted the temptation for now. Ira Adams iadams_at_earthlink.net http://home.earthlink.net/~iadams/ ************************************************************ I don't do .INI, .BAT, .CFG, or .SYS files. I don't assign apps to files. I don't configure peripherals or networks before using them. I don't manage IRQs and DMA channels, either. My computer works for me, not the other way around. I have a Macintosh. *************************************************************************** PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List Submissions: paddlewise_at_lists.intelenet.net Subscriptions: paddlewise-request_at_lists.intelenet.net Website: http://www.gasp-seakayak.net/paddlewise/ ***************************************************************************
Ira, sounds like you had a nice day out on the island. I think you picked the best day of the weekend to go out there, i went on Friday and the winds were strong and blowing right down both sides of the island (out of the west?). I launched from the west end free launch just short of Fort Gaines and paddled through some pretty big whitecaps in the channel. I guess the tide was receding because when i got to the point their were huge breakers smashing into each other. With my lack of hip pads or knee braces i was toast. Air temp was pretty low also, which took away some of the fun. I just couldnt wait another day for my minicell foam from CLC. Anyone else out there customize their cockpits? sorry i missed you, robin lovelock mobile, al. *************************************************************************** PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List Submissions: paddlewise_at_lists.intelenet.net Subscriptions: paddlewise-request_at_lists.intelenet.net Website: http://www.gasp-seakayak.net/paddlewise/ ***************************************************************************
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