Kevin said: <snip> It's been a quite somber week, sadly... so how about a trip report to change the mood and stir some sea kayaking related discussion? ------ I'm way behind on Paddlewise, but was glad to hear ralph and Ralph are okay. I have cam sights bookmarked at work for every part of the globe to track storms and such (on my coffee breaks!), so was able to see the before and instantly the after from the New Jersy cam (I can usually see conditions on the Hudson , so can tell if ralph is reporting his trip conditions acurately :-) ). It looks so empty now without the twin towers. I can't even imagine how empty are the lives of the individuals who lost loved ones and friends. My two young daughters (whom I spend most of my spare time with now, rather than newslists) and I have been praying for all of you down there. Saying God bless you seems so inadequte, however. Anyway, KEVIN, here is the unedited trip report from last spring that I sent to my local club newsletter, (which I cut in half later for them). Dave Kruger was my host, of course, as was someone else very special. ------- The Columbia River: Risk and Reward This past May I headed to the US to paddle portions of Oregon’s swell-battered coastline, and in particular, the salt-influenced section of the 2000-km long Columbia River and its discharge over the notorious Columbia River Bar. I came to the conclusion that the “Columbia” is a river that spills both the silt of pre-history and the flux of contemporary time into an undercurrent that can sweep away one’s very soul into the fathomless depths. To paddle here, where the mighty meets the immutable, is to be immersed by the absolute. The surface lay still as I dipped each paddle blade consciously into the caliginous depths of the backwater slough. Evidence of recent slide activity abounded along the estuary shoreline, miles from the Pacific, where the rusted, twisted remains of railway track disappeared into the brackish waters. Further upstream, I was told, there was evidence of a 2-foot drop of the earth’s surface in the region during a massive subduction quake. I imagined the indigenous peoples fleeing, as a giant tidal wave washed overland. Moving out toward the main stem of the Columbia River, I passed over the shallows of ever shifting sand-shoals and around sensitive island refuge. Although the scope of the area was broad, sufficient landmarks were present such that I found it difficult to believe that paddlers had become disoriented amongst the low-lying islands. My friend from Astoria ingratiated himself by leading me to all the local historical landmarks, including Pillar Rock and an abandoned cannery from bygone days of unprecedented historical Chinook runs. Record setting temperatures, brilliant sunshine, a well-planned route with tide, and amicable conversation leant itself to an unforgettable day I shall cherish forever. As we moved to the rhythm of wind and current, monolithic freighters passed dangerously close along serpentiform sections of river, their bellies full with the payloads of commerce. After lunching and launching, a “sneak route” was used to beat upwind against the vast funnel winds generated by topography and thermal gradients. I headed for Ilwaco the next day on my own, downstream on the Washington side. I had reconnoitered bar conditions from McKenzie Head and the cape the night before. The roar of huge tidal rapids ebbing and swirling seaward brought a lump to my throat. I was grateful for my Astorian host who had provided me with printed graphs from the seven current stations employed near the mouth. I’ve learned the hard way to reference such information with intensity. The Columbia Bar is two miles wide, located between two massive jetties extending far into the open ocean. A swell against ebb can see waves form up to 90-feet high -- challenging even the biggest vessels. As I passed the Coast Guard training center at Cape Disappointment beside the ever shifting Sand Island, it took real determination to make seaway against the growing flood-tide and threat of building onshore wind, while attempting to avoid “pop-up” breakers that had refracted around the north jetty. After the successful and far too easy crossing, I headed north to take a peak off the end of the mile-long north jetty, looking for some action. As I drew closer a dull roar coming over the top from the jetty’s blind side intensified. Two jet skiers passed, swinging half a mile wide (just like the State Marine Board’s directions suggested) to avoid the mayhem off the end of the jetty, where Peacock spit extended 2000 meters further offshore. A wall of waves broke randomly atop a building current -- some tumbling forward, some backwards -- as far as the eye could see. With trepidation, yet utter confidence in my abilities, equipment and roll, I entered into “no man’s land”. Eventually, the throb of fear formed a metallic taste in my mouth, more due to the durational aspect: swept further out into the middle of the mayhem, only the use of intermittent surf-forward waves enabled a safe transit out. I had to utilize every skill and reflex I possessed. By the halfway point, I was down to psychological sleight-of-hand, using positive, reinforcing, verbalized self-talk to get me out. I dared not think what the zone would look like on a winter day. The core of my body ached from the constant torsional adjusting. An onshore wind had thrown up a further rambunctious sea state. My problems weren’t over. On the other side of the jetty, a gauntlet of far shore and near shore breakers, a 3-knot alongshore current and a dangerous undertow aimed itself at the formidable jetty. I capsized in the surf numerous times, trying to beat upwind and up-current away from the jetty. Clapotis action was irreverent and intense. To complicate matters, ropes from crab traps pulled taught in the current had laid out many unwary snares. When I finally made shore, never doubting I would, I decided not to tempt fate further -- that’s part of negotiating risk versus reward. A deck cable had snapped, my nerves were shot, and my enthusiasm spent. I proceeded for the next hour to portage my heavy sea kayak over the 50-foot high rock jetty, and then headed on to other adventures along golden surf beaches, arch-formed islands, and spectacular headlands. *************************************************************************** PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List - Any opinions or suggestions expressed here are solely those of the writer(s). You must assume the entire responsibility for reliance upon them. All postings copyright the author. Submissions: PaddleWise_at_PaddleWise.net Subscriptions: PaddleWise-request_at_PaddleWise.net Website: http://www.paddlewise.net/ ***************************************************************************
Doug Lloyd wrote: [snip] > I headed for Ilwaco the next day on my own, downstream on the Washington > side. I had reconnoitered bar conditions from McKenzie Head and the cape > the night before. [snip] > > The Columbia Bar is two miles wide, located between two massive jetties > extending far into the open ocean. A swell against ebb can see waves > form up to 90-feet high -- challenging even the biggest vessels. As I > passed the Coast Guard training center at Cape Disappointment beside the > ever shifting Sand Island, it took real determination to make seaway > against the growing flood-tide and threat of building onshore wind, > while attempting to avoid “pop-up” breakers that had refracted around > the north jetty. After the successful and far too easy crossing, I > headed north to take a peek off the end of the mile-long north jetty, > looking for some action. > > As I drew closer a dull roar coming over the top from the jetty’s blind > side intensified. Two jet skiers passed, swinging half a mile wide (just > like the State Marine Board’s directions suggested) to avoid the mayhem > off the end of the jetty, where Peacock spit extended 2000 meters > further offshore. A wall of waves broke randomly atop a building current > -- some tumbling forward, some backwards -- as far as the eye could see. Hey, Doug, good to see you posting again. BTW, the area you transited has possibly been made worse, over the past few months (years?), by gratuitous dumping of dredge spoils to form a "mound" off the end of the North jetty, courtesy of the US Army Corps of Engineers. Two crab boat crew members died there a couple months ago, owing to "peaking" waves from the mounding, according to some of the local crabbers. Check the Tidepool for updates as they occur: http://www.tidepool.org/ and http://www.columbian.com/09202001/clark_co/218020.html (The latter link is to an article in the Vancouver Columbian, and may have expired by the time this reaches you; hit the Tidepool link if it has.) -- Dave Kruger Astoria, OR *************************************************************************** PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List - Any opinions or suggestions expressed here are solely those of the writer(s). You must assume the entire responsibility for reliance upon them. All postings copyright the author. Submissions: PaddleWise_at_PaddleWise.net Subscriptions: PaddleWise-request_at_PaddleWise.net Website: http://www.paddlewise.net/ ***************************************************************************
Dave Kruger wrote: > Doug Lloyd wrote: > > [snip] > > > > As I drew closer a dull roar coming over the top from the jetty’s blind > > side intensified. Two jet skiers passed, swinging half a mile wide (just > > like the State Marine Board’s directions suggested) to avoid the mayhem > > off the end of the jetty, where Peacock spit extended 2000 meters > > further offshore. A wall of waves broke randomly atop a building current > > -- some tumbling forward, some backwards -- as far as the eye could see. > > Hey, Doug, good to see you posting again. Yeah, well I told Matt awhile back I'd not be posting anymore for a variety of reasons, but I do want to stay in touch here and there...now that summers over -- and I was unsubscriber for a bit but missed your down-to-earth, yet elevating posts/trip reports. BTW, I only check my e-mails a couple of times a week, so replies might take a bit, which isn't a sign of rudeness . > > > BTW, the area you transited has possibly been made worse, over the past few > months (years?), by gratuitous dumping of dredge spoils to form a "mound" off > the end of the North jetty, courtesy of the US Army Corps of Engineers. I wasn't aware at the time that the ACE guys were up to another one of their "mean feats" (pun intended) off the end of the jetty. I was aware, however, that the man-made jetty was partially responsible for the buildup of Peacock Spit (a known hazard). You had also personally warned me about the dangers off the north jetty, and that was primarily my reason for heading out. I also wanted to make a statement to myself once there about the eminent seaworthiness of a narrow seayak as compared to those two jet skiers and their jet skies who avoided the area on their trip out to North Head. > Two > crab boat crew members died there a couple months ago, owing to "peaking" waves > from the mounding, according to some of the local crabbers. Check the Tidepool > for updates as they occur: http://www.tidepool.org/ and > http://www.columbian.com/09202001/clark_co/218020.html > > (The latter link is to an article in the Vancouver Columbian, and may have > expired by the time this reaches you; hit the Tidepool link if it has.) > I knew something strange was going on as I traversed the wildest portion of the "zone". Waves peaked and broke in every direction, but what was unusual was the color of the waves in terms of their light brownish opacity. Though I was in supposedly deeper water, sand was being sucked up in the vortex (sorry 'bout the garish words, but hey, its your coastline!). The zone fanned out wider south (like a giant "V" off the end of the n. jetty) and as I finally fought the current to the contact line point with the regular confused sea state off the tip of the jetty, it was impossible to break through. The kayak rocketed wildly, both side to side and up and down. BTW, my rudder was never employed. If I had bailed after a possible failed roll, I would have been dragged backwards for one horrendous ride to mid-point in the deep water entrance range to the bar, then hopefully sucked back over the bar to safety (some back-up plan, eh?). In the end, out of pure desperation, I "thought out of the box" and used the bigger peak waves (a large peak wave not breaking provides gravity induced propulsion on each side of it, depending where you want to go -- so one then is in the position to surf forward) to get enough momentum against the current to clear the area. You said it was a nasty area, and you were correct. Another BTW: an assisted rescue in this area would have been impossible. I would have been "solo" regardless. Tina provided me with an informative booklet (after the excursion) "Boating In Oregon Coastal Waters", revised 1988. It delineates bar-crossing issues, and outlines all the man-modified and natural bar crossing on the Oregon coast (bar crossings are the only way to find shelter along the entire coast, so different than BC with its numerous bays, inlets and indentations). The Columbia Bar Crossing chapter indicates numerous dredging spoil dumping sights, all off the jetty. And why not dump there? Who would want to transit the area in a non-selfrighting vessel, anyway -- even without the extra sand? Apparently some have, and have paid for it with their lives and loss of vessels. If there is one point of compassion on my part for the dead, it would be that one doesn't need high seas to produce problems off there. As you know Dave, it was a relatively calm day when I went off the end of the jetty. I suspect others have been lulled too, unless it was loss of crew alertness/fatigue or overtasking of the crew. A couple things in closing: I spoke with the Canby Park warden, who expressed his dismay at all the sand washing ashore at the shore side parking lot by the jetty. He said it was getting worse every year, and it was a constant fight to keep up with the blowing dunes. Well, we know where the sand is coming from now perhaps. Secondly, as far as the risk of such paddling "play" areas, please realize I put that trip off for over a decade, waiting for a weather window/ climatic regime (drought year), and the necessary skill integration ability (vastly different than individualized skills taught a various symposia, etc.). Perhaps someone like Kevin will understand: one learns and practices all these various aspects like edging, reflexive bracing, power paddling with support, proactive broach avoidance, etc., etc., then goes out to experience and perfect these various skills in various settings that build confidence as you "play by the rules". Then, every once and awhile, its kind of satisfying to be put into an arena where there are "no rules", like when a well trained boxer gets thrown into a back-wharehouse and has to fight a bunch of big thugs. There are no rules, no bells, no referee - nothing; but all those skills are used, modified-on-the-fly, and success brought to bear. Those with a Napoleon Complex or those looking for cheap thrills need not apply. These things run much deeper, and are perhaps beyond the soft ecumenicalism sometimes found on Paddlewise. More power to you regardless, Doug Lloyd *************************************************************************** PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List - Any opinions or suggestions expressed here are solely those of the writer(s). You must assume the entire responsibility for reliance upon them. All postings copyright the author. Submissions: PaddleWise_at_PaddleWise.net Subscriptions: PaddleWise-request_at_PaddleWise.net Website: http://www.paddlewise.net/ ***************************************************************************
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