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From: Jim Holman <holmanj_at_uswest.net> subject: [Paddlewise] A Beginner's First Class (long) Date: Sun, 28 Feb 1999 10:22:28 -0800 · This archive was generated by hypermail 2.4.0 : Thu Aug 21 2025 - 16:32:56 PDT

What follows are some observations on my first kayak class, which I had
yesterday at Alder Creek in Portland, Oregon.  All you old-timers have
been through this before, but this may be of some little interest to the

newcomers.

It was a nasty, gray day, with almost constant rain, but little wind.  I

had hoped for a reasonably nasty day, because I was particularly
interested in whether it is possible to be comfortable in cold, rainy
weather.  (Not that we have much of that in Oregon!)

The first part of the class consisted of lecture, words of wisdom, some
handouts on basic safety, and explanations on the equipment we were to
use that day.  The five students in the class had a variety of
experience, including some who were fairly experienced in other water
craft, all the way to a couple of us who had almost never been on the
water before.

Then it was time to prepare for the wet part of the class.  We were
issued drysuits, booties, PFDs, and for those in need, fleece insulating

garments.  The equipment selection was a little limited due to a
whitewater class or trip that was held on the same day.  We retired to
various places to outfit ourselves, as thedoor to the men's dressing
room door refused to open.

After donning the fleece stuff, I then spent the next ten minutes
attempting to put my leg through the arm of the drysuit, with a fellow
student assisting me in this endeavor.  We eventually discovered that
there is a subtle, but perceptible and important difference between the
arm and the leg, and equipped with that new insight I was able to get
into the suit.  Well, sort of.  Because of the slim equipment selection,

both the other student and I ended up with drysuits that were probably
about one size too small for each of us.  But with each other's help, we

finally got dressed.  We concluded that it's a good idea to paddle with
another person, not only for safety, but also so that you'll have
someone to help you into the drysuit.

After I was in the drysuit, the first thing that I noticed was that I
was gagging.  The neck gasket was fanatically devoted to it's task of
keeping water out of the suit, and if it had to accomplish it's task at
the cost of my respiration, then so be it. After about 30 minutes I
finally got used to being strangled by this rubber hand at my throat,
and while on the water I had other things to worry about anyway.

Now lacking only spray skirts and PFDs, we retired to a covered area to
be fitted with these items.  By the time I was fully assembled I felt
like I could barely move.  Of course, the undersize items that I was
wearing on my oversize frame contributed to this, but I began to had
serious doubts on whether I could actually get into a boat.  And I was
sure that were I to fall out of the boat, I would have to be towed,
log-like, to the nearest shore.  For some reason, the more-slender
members of the group didn't seem to have this problem.

We then assembled at the dock, where the kayaks were already waiting for

us.  When I was in the store, all the kayaks seemed so large, and now,
standing on the dock, I wondered where all the large boats were, and why

we were going to use these small ones.  I then realized "these are the
big ones."  They just looked small outside.  The instructor showed us
some basic strokes, and we launched the boats.  To my surprise I
actually got in one, although my entry had neither grace nor style.

The boat I was in was rather "tippy," I thought, even though the
instructor had selected the most barge-like boat for me.  After a minute

or so I lost the feeling that I was going to fall out of the boat at any

time.  As I  paddled, it became clear to me that this was an activity
that would take some practice.  I had the feeling that perhaps only
one-third of my energy was devoted to making the boat go straight, the
remainder being expended in various correcting strokes, and yet other
strokes designed to correct the correcting strokes.

After maybe fifteen minutes we arrived at the practice area.  Up to this

point, my entire experience of kayaks had been in magazines and books.
For me, the kayak is associated with beautiful sunsets, distant
snow-capped mountains, sandy beaches, and orcas playing nearby.  Well,
the practice area is located in a backwater of the Columbia River, and
with a few styrofoam cups, Twinkie wrappers, and sticks floating along
the bank, there was nothing of poetry about  the place.  But it was
quiet and out of the main channel.

We then went to work on practicing various strokes.  The instructor
would occasionally have us gather around and show us something new.
We'd usually back the sterns of our kayaks against a sandy bank and sit
there while the instructor demonstrated the technique.  Even though my
kayak was "parked" there, I always had the feeling that I was moving.  I

kept checking behind me, but I was always in the same place, even though

I felt movement.  A fellow student later said that she had had the same
experience.

Towards the end of the class, the instructor showed us a couple of
braces, and also explained the "assisted rescue."  It occurred to me
that there has to be something wrong with an activity that has to teach
a "rescue" as a part of the introductory material.  Anyway, the plan was

that we would practice the braces, and then, if someone wanted to try a
rescue, we could do that too.

Well, one student jumped ahead of the class a little, accomplishing a
kind of kayak class "premature ejaculation" when he missed a brace,
flipped, was ejected from the boat.  He was promptly rescued by the
instructor, and back in the boat, seemed none the worse.  Since we
already had this "volunteer" rescue, I decided to try it myself.  Having

paid for the class, I wanted the full treatment.  I informed my lady
friend who attended the class with me that I was going to go into the
water, and I would appreciate it very much if she would rescue me.  The
instructor directed us to a good place in the practice area for this.  I

took the plunge.

As soon as the boat flipped, I fell out into the water -- none of this
having to grab the cord on the spray skirt.  I surfaced almost
immediately, and I was surprised at how quickly I was on the surface.
My hands immediately began to hurt, and my feet felt very cold.  My lady

friend began to move her kayak toward me.  With her entry-level skill,
it took her a while to get to me and get lined up properly.  Meanwhile,
I was in a state of mild anxiety, not knowing if all this was going to
work. My hands hurt a lot, and I pretty soon ended up with claws more
than hands.  I could not tell if the drysuit was working.  I realized
that I had on the PFD, and with that and holding on to the stern, I
could just "relax" until my rescuer arrived.  We got the boat emptied
out and righted, but I had serious doubts as to whether I  would be able

to get back inside.  With my rescuer and the instructor shouting words
of advice and encouragement, I began the re-entry.  It was not pretty.
I imagine a houseboat resident looking out his window and commenting to
his wife "look dear, those nice kayakers are trying to get that injured
walrus on to the deck of the empty kayak."  After much effort I finally
made on to the deck, and somehow got my legs into the cockpit, after
which the rest of me followed.  Even in my exhausted state, I was
pleased to note that the drysuit had worked, and I was still reasonably
warm inside.  My hands hurt like hell.

That was it for the festivities.  We commenced the trip back to the
dock, this time against the current.  Everyone else was in much better
shape than I, and I was the last to arrive.  I made an ungraceful exit,
and walked back to the store.  This time the men's room door opened, and

the four males in the class, all in good spirits, got dressed in
civilian clothes again.  While driving home, my lady friend and I both
commented on how tired we were, even though the actual amount of
exercise wasn't all that much.

Beginning Observations:

1)  kayaking is a very physical activity.  I can see now that I really
need to get in much better shape for this -- start doing more aerobic
exercise and lose weight. It's also going to take a lot of practice to
get to a minimum skill level, even on calm water.

2)  I was extremely impressed by the fleece clothing.  Except for a
couple of minutes in the cold water, I was warm and comfortable the
whole time.

3)  I was also very impressed by the drysuit.  I know that drysuits are
several times more expensive than wetsuits, but yesterday I was darned
glad to have one on -- both in the water and out of the water.  I
suppose in the warmer months a wetsuit would suffice.

4)  I also see the importance of having gear that fits well and is
comfortable.  I think the first stage for me will be to pick up some
personal gear that I like, get a lot more practice kayaking in rented
boats, and then  at some point in the future start thinking about
purchasing a kayak.

jim holman
holmanj_at_uswest.net

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