This is kind of a long log entry, so I split it in two. Here is part one. I didn't think of it as relevant (and it is a bit "kiss-and-tell like"), but perhaps it may dovetail with some recent threads about safety gear, communication gear, and risk management. This trip was a number of years ago, now, so flameproof. Doug(las) --------------------------- [part one] My Side of Solander Dawn had broke with typical West Coast dinginess on the tail end of a southeasterly regime. Lackluster perhaps, but the rain had ended and northwesterly gales would dominate once again by afternoon. The three of us, emerging from our tents in unison – were all eager to relieve ourselves from the heavy spirits imbibed the night before. We all had a little too much perhaps (unusual for me), and if it hadn’t been for sever heartburn cutting the night short…well, we’d all have been downing some Tylenol in unison that morning. As it was, we seemed to be perpetually medicated on Motrin Ibuprofen tablets. Tom was the oldest paddler amongst us and so was constantly dipping into his Ziplocked supply of pharmaceuticals, trying to pull out the little white 200mg ones with his dew-moist fingers. It had been a fight against head winds all the way from Winter Harbour. While it had looked like we would be doing the reverse as we anticipated heading back into northwesterlies, I figured we would at least find some symmetry in it! As it turned out our aching muscles and tendons would continue to need treatment for inflammation. The surf, already building – was and is a constant reality on North Brooks. For some reason, a consensus itinerary was not discussed. Perhaps there was meant to be a tacit agreement toward a short day-paddle. We departed unladen, though having played off Cape Cook several times myself in previous years, I loaded up with some gear and a large water bladder buckled with Fastex clips to the inside hull for added ballast. I mentioned to the guys that there was a nice beach half way along the outer length of the peninsula. It was a beach too far, I was informed. We would poke out to Cook, then head back for a day of rest and reconstitution, rather than risk getting stuck on a southerly flank. After all, the long-range was for strong northwesterlies. I was still somewhat annoyed. There were three of us: “never less than three there should be.” It was the perfect number for at least a fairly safe sortie out to Solander Island. I’d never made it out there on my own previously. Gales and wild seas had made a circumnavigation window troublesome on all but one occasion on a calm morning -- but one replete with heavy fog. Winds usually blow hard by10:00 a.m. off the Brooks. Whitecaps and growing swell interact with currents and reefs to confuse matters even more. It can be either a marine hazard to avoid, or conversely, one to affront with skill, dexterity, and determination. As we pulled away from Cape Cook, I kept hoping for some indication that a momentum had built, and an inevitable consequence would be a circumnavigation. Gaining on the channel separating the Cape from Solander, Doug was the first to cease paddling. “I don’t feel well.” I’d guess I had half expected it right about there. The expression “I don’t feel well” has to be the penultimate, graceful way to back down from an escalating adventure. In this case, I gave Doug the benefit of the doubt, as he did tend to suffer in such ways in open water/camp-food conditions. Or whatever else one consumes within 24 hours of paddling. I simply stated my intentions to continue onward, asking Tom to take one last picture of me, with my camera, for "posterity’s sake.” Tom replied: “Sure Douglas, why not.” They called me Douglas, to differentiate me from Doug, for emergency situations where such clarification might be important. Then I was informed rather bluntly that I was fully on my own. If I failed to return to camp by late evening, no search effort would be forthcoming, at least not from them. Didn’t they understand? That’s why I hooked up with these guys after 15 years of solo paddling: it was so I could take greater risks. “I mind as well just go back to solo paddling.” I muttered to myself. As I donned my surf helmet, stowed gear away, I turned back momentarily as the men slipped away into the distant haze, just in time to see Tom give one final wave. I really felt alone, yet strangely elated. That elation didn’t last long. I soon realized how vulnerable I truly was, as I mentally listed off my safety backup gear: I had no VHF radio, my paddlefloat had been holed by a nail in workshop just prior to trip, my Sea Seat valve had rotted out with no bucks to replace prior to trip, and the three old Skyblazer flares carried, were salt-saturated many times over. I was also wearing an old paddling jacket with no latex seals, there was a busted ferrule on the spare paddle, and I hadn’t replaced the contents of my survival pouch -- having left the old contents at home. And, my two fuddy-duddy buddies had backed out. The elation soon returned, however, as the realization dawned that I was proceeding precisely without my usual plethora of backups -- and I was still willing to venture forward, as opposed to moving forward to greater risk because of all the gear. At some point the current coincided jive with uneven topography below surface, creating a jumbled interface on what had been a rather smooth veneer up to that point. It grew much worse the closer I navigated to the back northwest side of Solander. It was simply incredulous. I hadn’t even gotten near the outer flanks yet, and already I was exasperated by the constant need to brace. The pyramidal waves were only two-feet high, but tightly clustered in expansive patterns, such that I'd never experienced anything like that before. The elation dissipated rather rapidly -- once again. Before me lay a gauntlet of reefs, with breaking seas from fairly deep-water waves, often with little warning. *************************************************************************** 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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