[Paddlewise] Into Winter Mode

I put the Telkwa up on the rack for the winter today. It wasn't easy.

I suppose I could keep the big boat operational all winter, but there are
storage issues involved. We had enough snow the night before last that
cleaning the van off and driving to work was getting pretty uncomfortable,
so the van was starting to demand its winter home. That means the Telkwa
and the trailer have to come out of the garage. Since the big T-boat is too
long for the storage shed I rent, it goes up on a rack in my parent's garage.

That doesn't mean that I won't be paddling. I still have my old Heron, and
while the Tornado, which I've paddled some the last couple of winters is
all but sold, it's been replaced by a solo canoe.

It's always hard to make the decision to go into winter mode. Denial is
part of the process; there's always the hope of one more nice weekend
somewhere along the way. But this weekend was shot and I'd be gone next
weekend -- it didn't look promising, anyway -- so this was a good time.

But that didn't mean it's easy to do once the decision is made. The Telkwa
had sat on the trailer for almost a month, lonely and unused, the little
canoe sitting next to it, a shrimp by comparison. I suppose the big boat's
feelings must have been hurt by taking the little boat the last time I was
out, right at the first of the month. I got the canoe just because there
are some interesting little potholes and swamps around to paddle, and some
of them are pretty long, tough carries to launch a boat as big and heavy as
my big blue-green favorite, and hard to turn and maneuver her once you get
there.

So, I felt like I needed to make it up to the big girl, somehow. It had
accumulated shop dirt, sand from various beaches in the cockpit; the deck
was dusty and dirty, and around the waterline, there was an inch-wide patch
of algae and grote that I refer to as the "Lake Hudson stripe" -- the
waters aren't the cleanest, and since I clean the boat only once in a
while, sometimes it gets a little grubby. 

I took out all the gear that normally is stored in the cockpit and put most
of it into a milk crate so I'll have it when I need it for the odd times
I'll get out in the other boats over the next few months. Familiar tools,
familiar pieces; some things in the emergency bag need to be thrown out and
replaced before spring gets here, but that can wait till some weekend in
the winter that I don't have anything better to do.

I got the bucket, put in some warm water and soap, and started in with a
wash cloth. It's really sort of useless; the deck will get dirty over the
winter, from the normal garage dust and dirt, and I'll have to wash it down
in the spring when I take it down. But, it makes me feel better to give it
a good cleaning before I put it away.

The Telkwa and I have been lots of places in the last three years, and over
1500 miles have passed under us. It was a reach to buy this boat, and my
wife was less than thrilled at the expense. But, I'm glad Matt Broze gave
me a heads-up on this boat -- though it was more money than I wanted to
spend, I realized from the first that this was the boat for me. I haven't
regretted the decision. I've been with it on four of the Great Lakes -- got
to pick up Ontario sometime, just to make it a clean sweep -- and lots of
other lakes and rivers. Of course, the Telkwa and I know every inch of our
favorite paddling grounds; sometimes we've been out there after work every
night after work all week long.

Working my way up the hull, I got to the back hatch. I didn't think there
was anything in there, but popped the hatch to see, and a musty, mildewy
smell assaulted my nose. The back compartment leaks a little, I think
through the holes where the rudder cables go through, and I don't know how
to fix that. I really should leave the hatch open to dry it out more than I
do, but I never think about it in the summer. Now, I assaulted the
compartment with a rag and some disinfectant; maybe that'll keep the smell
at bay. It'd be a while before I was done, and I wanted the hatch to dry
thoroughly, so I left it open while I worked my way up the  hull.

With all the stuff out, the cockpit seemed barren and empty, but there was
dirt and sand and a few dead leaves floating around, so I got the vacuum
and cleaned up the worst of it, then went over it good with the washcloth.
It'll be clean for the winter, anyway; next summer I can get it messy again.

On up the hull. After the lesson with the back hatch, I decided I'd better
pop the front hatch, just on general principles. It was dry in there; in
fact, there was still a smell of new fiberglass resin, after three years. I
remember how the whole boat smelled of it the first time I sat it on the
trailer, three years ago next June. What an exciting smell, a smell of
newness, of promise, of wonder, making me think of distant horizions that
this boat and I could look forward to crossing over.

Up at the bow, I washed off the Lake Hudson stripe that curls up the side
of the boat. I'm always amused by the Lake Hudson stripe -- there's a
little curve where the bow wave rides up, and it shows that the Telkwa
spends most of it's time afloat moving, not just sitting around. This boat
is built to go places, not just sit tied to a dock, and that curve is sort
of a badge of honor to the Telkwa and me, though I doubt anyone else takes
notice.

I went around, loosened the straps on the canoe, and shoved it to one side,
so I could get at the other side of the big T-boat. I only got the canoe a
couple months ago, and haven't been out in it much, so it still has to earn
my trust, my respect. It seems all right for now, but I haven't pushed it,
and don't want to until the water's warm enough that a swim only means a
swim. That'll have to wait for spring, too.

Finally, I reached the stern of the Telkwa. It was looking better, now. I
went back over my work, touching up some spots that I missed. The chore was
about over with, now; all I had to do is to let the boat dry out a bit,
especially in the stern hatch. Finding the stool, I sat on it and looked at
the two boats sitting side by side on the trailer. They're freedom
machines, that's what they are. I'm getting older, and don't particularly
like it. I decided a few years ago that it's going to be all too soon
before I'm not capable of much more than sitting in front of the TV and
rotting, so I'd better get out and do things I enjoy while I still can. I
already have missed too many things that I would liked to have done in
years past, tied down by family, work, responsibilities, and later by
aging, and stiffness, and fading health. There comes a point where you
can't let it pass by any longer. The Telkwa, and the boats that came
before, have opened up a door to me that I hadn't expected. I'm in better
shape now than I was five years ago, at least partly as a result of the
kayaks, and partly because of an attitude adjustment that came along with
them. They have been worth the price.

I headed over to the house to have lunch, and when I got back the boat was
dry. I put the hatches and the cockpit cover back on, tied the boats down,
and towed them over to my parent's garage. A lot of stuff had to get moved
to get the Telkwa on the rack, and it's not easy to get it up there by
myself, which is why it stays up there for the winter when I get it up there.

With the boat up on the rack, I took a chance to look at the bottom. There
are a couple of deep scratches on there from hard landings, and the gel
coat has been worn at the turn of the bow and the stern. I'd originally
planned to run the boat down to a friend before I put it on the rack; he's
an expert at fiberglass work, and assures me that the problems are cosmetic
and no big deal to fix. But, he's got some problems right now -- his mother
and his son have both recently had bad injuries, and he's having to work
two jobs to fill in for his mother in the family business, while trying to
move into a new house at the same time. Now's not a good time to bother
him. It can wait till spring; maybe I can get the big T-boat down a couple
weeks early when it gets here.

It's sad to look at the Telkwa sitting imprisoned for the winter on the
rack, hanging above a car and a snowblower. It's the final admission that
winter is here, and that spring is far away. It'll be months before we can
get out together again, and spend some time getting a new Lake Hudson
stripe on the hull. We've spent a lot of time together the last three
years, good, quality time, and we've made a lot of memories, most good, a
couple not. It'll be hard to be apart.

So, goodbye for the winter, my trusty companion. Spring will come
eventually.
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