Wild at Heart - from the log book of Doug Lloyd - not edited for brevity ******************************************* Nootka Sound 07/15/ 2004 to 07/25/2004 Myself, Bill Porter, Mike DuPas, Steve Dirgo, Dale Tangeman, Rob Robinson (trip organizer). Part 3 of 3 The outflow winds that kicked in every night seemed particularly strong in the wee hours against our little lee-shore haven as I hit a second round of sleeping pills. Nevertheless, the winds diminished, dying-off on queue at 9:00am. A lone paddler, who pulled ashore, wearing shorts and T-shirt, interrupted my groggy sleep-in Thursday morning. Gary was a college professor from Colorado, originally Canadian. At one point mid-morn', he had to swim chest-deep to retrieve his kayak when the incoming tide had floated his boat out. I offered to help him carry the boat to his tent site a bit later, but he was busy with other tasks after pulling it up a few meters. Rob and I gave him the gears about his paddling apparel. He asked us if we knew anything about the kayakers that died off Nootka last spring. I said I was investigating the incident for a possible article. I told Gary that by all accounts, they died of exposure, and yes, the two men were wearing.ta da, shorts and T-shirts. We went on to speak privately for hours about various subjects, including men's issues within the faith community, and about group decision-making strategies and aspects like emotional intelligence. I was glad to meet someone who actually understood and taught such theory. In the meantime, Bill, Steve, Dale, and Rob headed out, paddling up the Sound to Burdwood Bay where they found a waterfall back in the woods. As the day progressed, I engrossed myself in another Clive Cussler novel, this one actually written by Steve's brother, Craig Dirgo. The day (and the week) was working toward record high temperatures with little wind to cool down the coast's summer fever. Upon launching to return, Rob had jammed his skeg box with sand whereupon attempts by his companions to free it pulled the cable right out of the skeg blade cable housing, meaning more frustration upon his return to camp, until he had finally swapped the original cable end-for-end and re-installed it. Rob and Bill were staying another week, desiring to camp further toward Estavan Point with its higher wind exposure. Rob was a little concerned as he felt he was out of options for skeg repairs if needed again. Another shout later in the day, this time from Mike, required Gary to take another cold swim -- this time using full breaststrokes to retrieve his rental kayak. I ran down and we carried his boat to high ground, no arguments. I told him we were getting a little concerned. He didn't get my drift, taking me literally. Despite this drifting-boat intransigence, he was a great guy, having paddled BC's waters for many years, though no full open-coast experience. I advised him to think twice about moving camp further out toward Escalante Point, as the relatively calm conditions presently enjoyed were deceiving. Feeling somewhat better by late afternoon, I headed out to cross the 2 miles to Friendly Cove. I spotted a vapour spout offshore, but failed to see any whales. Whale sighting are more common along the Escalante headland. There was a nice 1- to 2-foot chop on a 1-meter swell, allowing exploration around Maquinna Point and the caves. 400 meters from San Rafael Island, either a large seine boat or a trawler (I couldn't tell) was headed for open sea. I raced to cross his bow for a good five minutes flat out, giving him enough room to not have to adjust his course as I passed in front of the vessel. I did an immediate stern sweep, and fell over into the sculling position, head in the water, on purpose. The first bow wave charged over me, the second one broke/bent my sunglass clip-ons. I moved into a full roll-recovery position rather than perpetuating a deep water scull, in an effort to right myself and retain what I thought were my expensive glasses coming off. I waved them off, but had to land on the outside beach of Friendly Cove to calm my extreme arrhythmia. I decided to leave exploring Maquinna Point for another year and crossed back, truly enjoying the combination of swell, wind, and the sweetness of the open Sound; and vowing to mellow-out for the rest of the trip. Time slowed down mid-crossing, even if my heart didn't. If these serene moments can live in one's memory forever, the crossing was an eternity. Back at camp, I was treated to some left over carrots and potatoes -- a much needed change from the previous two days of hot chili. I used up the last of my chemical-pack ice and Advil. A fun evening of frivolity around the fire, fending off mosquitoes, more $20.00 jokes (still upset over the landing fees) and American-bashing ensued. I was lucky the guys were good natured, big-hearted Americans. Early Friday morning before light the wind was blowing strongly again, snapping the fly sharply. It died off at 9:00 am on queue. Though never shrill, the life-affirming songs of small birds could be heard every morning. Garry wanted to paddle with us, as he might not have done so on his own. Mike and Dale took the day off as we headed the 5 miles out to the Escalante River. Gary seemed to take forever, later commenting he was futzing around with his tent (while we paced back and forth waiting). I'm sure our sub vocalizations could have qualified as another early morning chorus, perhaps not so joyous. Steve, Rob and Bill landed on the south end of a rather long crescent beach, so I sent Gary off to land there too, suggesting he not leave anything out as there were wolves and other vermin in the area. I landed in the bigger (but still relatively mild) surging-surf at the north end of the beach, close to the deep-water pools of the river. What a glorious soak, so cool, so refreshing and invigorating against the bright-green setting of algae-covered rock at low tide. Seas were really calm on the way back. I lamented the fact that we could have been out on the west coast of Nootka Island in completely favourable, benign conditions not often afforded to the exposed coast paddler. Steve "Big Dude" Dirgo still looked stoked in his gear-hauling Nimbus, despite the repeat route. Winds continued light on the way back, growing very slowly, with a 1-foot chop and maybe a meter and a half swell. Earl intersected us on the way back, along with two other paddlers from Ronda's group. They returned with us for a time. I was a bit despondent with the lack of gale-force wind moving closer to shore that week, but I was sure Rob and Bill would get some of the good stuff later in the week when they moved camp and the rest of us headed home. Once back at camp, I took Mike's Romany out to play in the rebounding surge, wearing his Chilleaters/skirt combo, and trying a hand at using his skegged boat. I didn't like the pounding bow's underbelly when cresting steep breaks and also found the chined hull very different from a round-bilged one with respect to predictability. Overall though, a fine boat design with superb tracking. Mike had neatly outfitted his boat with foam to reduce cockpit volume, and had a super-sano foot pump installation. Landing again, I passed on the opportunity to test Dale's Mariner II. Only a fool couldn't see Dale's easy time with the kayak in a variety of sea conditions. I'd wait for another time to try a Mariner II, perhaps in some really serious seas. One of the men from Ronda's group was wearing a drysuit. It was one of the hottest days of the year, perhaps 95 degrees. Ya man, you better take a dip. I got dehydrated just looking at him. Earl reported Barry was in trouble back at Charlie's Beach for taking off from the group unannounced, pulling along other paddlers with him. I made some dumb comment about leaving him to the sea's naturalistic determinism. By late afternoon, the tide was high enough to allow some cave exploration south of Burdwood Bay, where the swell impacts directly. There was a good wind with swell off the south point, with power boaters everywhere, all after the evening bite. I spent an intense few hours bashing about in caves and running very technical surge channels and tight passageways, some long enough to force confrontation no matter which end I entered first. I'd purposely not brought my surf helmet in order to force a more cognitive reconciliation of risk homeostasis; Still, I was at the edge of my game and lucky to come out with only my boat badly beaten up. The fishermen got a good show, this time with me in full regalia, awash in a lather of foam and surging seas. So much for my vow. Once outflow winds had died down Saturday morning, Dale, Mike, Steve and I packed up and said goodbye to Bill and Rob, wishing Gary the best of luck. Bill and Rob packed up too, headed for Escalante Island. The paddle back to Tuta Marina was hot and humid. I pushed the pace. People had ferries to catch back at Nanaimo. A cold shower at the marina "facilities" was a perfect panacea. Gold River was hot, dang hot. We arrived at Duke Point just in time for the last afternoon ferry, after Steve quickly unloaded me at the small waiting lot. It took a while to locate Yvonne and the kids on the hot tarmac, my heart still wild, but perhaps a little more subdued. Addendum: Bill and Rob spent a windy few days at Escalante Island before heading home. They saw wolves up close, had a time of it in the big seas and the paddle-wrenching winds. Rob found his hat. Ronda emailed us: Barry died in a plane crash the night of Aug. 3. Minutes after lift-off from the William R. Fairchild airport in Port Angeles, the Cessna 182 he was piloting crashed into Hurricane Ridge in Olympic National Park. It was a sheer miracle that his two passengers, both kayaking guides, survived to walk out the next morning with minor injuries. No one knows how the women managed to survive the crash. The plane disintegrated after hitting dense Douglas fir along the ridge at a fast speed. *************************************************************************** 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. 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Doug, I enjoyed your 3-part trip report. As always, reading it provided more insight into your fascinating character. Those darn skegs! It is funny to once again read about another paddler (someone in your group) having major skeg problems on a trip. I am beginning to think that the old sales pitch that skegs are more reliable than rudders is the biggest scam to hit the kayaking industry. Once again it is too bad that more kayaks aren't designed to not need them. As for your comments about rounded hulls vs. chined hulls, I like them both for different reasons. The rounded hulls seem more forgiving in the surf and rough surging water. Chined hulls are a bit grabby (gotta keep the edge up) in the surf and rough surging water, but they also track and carve edged turns better. Choosing between them is a flip of the coin for me. My Point Bennett is a hard chined hull simply because it was easier to design and build in plywood. I would like to hear more comments from you about the Romany and Mariner II that you tested on the trip. It is interesting that you read novels on your trip. I haven't read fiction in a dozen years. It just seems that there are too many interesting true events to read about to be spending time reading made-up stories. Except for books about local history, geology, wildlife and etc., I don't usually read on trips. I like to live in the moment rather than what's written on a page, sort of like living my own adventures rather than read about others. A funny example is my wife sitting on the couch reading about yoga while I was doing my nightly yoga routine right in front of her. You wrote about beating your kayak up on the trip, and recently you wrote about strength demands you had for a kayak you might build. I am a supporter of strong, well built kayaks too, but only to a certain degree. I think it might be better to have a kayak that can be easily carried and only needs an occasional repair, rather than one that is hard to carry and never needs repair. There is also a certain appeal to paddling a kayak in rock gardens, knowing that if you mess up, you might damage your kayak. Besides, nothing is indestructible, including our bodies. It was also interesting to read about your feelings about being in a group, because you are usually a solo paddler and tripper. I could tell that with the group and your health problems, you were really having to hold back, which probably wasn't a bad thing. Again, I really enjoyed the trip report and hope to someday meet and paddle with you. Duane Strosaker Southern California *************************************************************************** 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/ ***************************************************************************
Duane replied (snip): >I enjoyed your 3-part trip report. As always, reading it provided more insight into your fascinating character.< Glad you enjoyed the report - a little long, sorry I didn't have time to edit for Paddlewise (and hopefully not too much "kiss-and-tell" reporting) super busy on other fronts and still haven't got too far with anything for Sea Kayaker Magazine lately. >Those darn skegs! It is funny to once again read about another paddler (someone in your group) having major skeg problems on a trip. I am beginning to think that the old sales pitch that skegs are more reliable than rudders is the biggest scam to hit the kayaking industry. Once again it is too bad that more kayaks aren't designed to not need them.< There's a report by an Australian paddler on the NSW club website detailing a retro-fit of a ruddered Artic Raider to a subsequent skeg. The paddler much preferred the skeg, which I found insightful given he was able to directly compare. I think the concept is awesome, it's just the jamming that's the issue; and that jamming happens within the context of both the box and the control device. I have not been on a trip with other paddlers who have skegs, where there weren't issues. I tried sitting in a glass Necky Chatham the other day. The sales rep said the skeg was flawless. Yes, it did seem smooth to operate and apparently had good clearance for sand and gravel, but the tube that runs the skeg line is routed right underneath the oval hatch cover opening and plunks smack in the middle of where gear goes, let alone the interference of the skeg box. Very odd. It should be said that the paddler in question on the Nootka Island trip didn't realize at the time that the skeg control device was the main cause of the problem. The skeg control slides on a stainless rod. This skeg "finger" tab was poorly installed by VCP such that the tab was contacting the deck indent sides when sliding along the rod, causing excess friction. I believe he filed the tab down and will then have to glass the whole assembly back in place. I like my Nordkapp rudder, but as I have rotator cuff problems, I can't be wholly objective here. I do know it let's me get away with things in big hydraulics where I'd be pounded into reefs without the directional control it gives me, yet here again is some subjectivity, because a more manoeuvrable kayak with chines, rocker, etc., might mean more efficient paddling in big-water rock gardens (I'm not talking about normal rock-garden paddling, but the outer break stuff where all hell is breaking loose and surging seas are moving the kayak laterally up to 10 meters in a few seconds). As I'm a fast-twitch muscle paddler, I can handle manoeuvring strokes well enough too (so that's not the issue), as I tend to be a very strong in these arenas. I've even found myself inventing new combinations of braces that I've never seen taught or used, but wouldn't recommend them to someone prone to shoulder dislocation. I should note that some of the Tsunami Ranger kayaks use rudders, even in the tight, gnarly stuff. My home built kayak I'm designing will not have a rudder. BTW, a fellow bike commuter today in the locker room at work heard me talking to a paddling acquaintance about bashing my boat up. The non-paddler asked me what the problem was, "So, what you are saying is you lack good skills?" Got a kick out of that one. >I would like to hear more comments from you about the Romany and Mariner II that you tested on the trip.< The Romany was a lighter lay-up, with little gear aboard. It seemed to take off sideways in breaking nearshore seas. I find my heavy Nordkapp sits so much deeper in the water, I get pushed around a lot less. There was an older, heavier Romany on the trip too. The paddler who used to own the Romany commented he preferred the more heavier Romany, and wished he hadn't sold it. I still think it's a winning design, and know someone who wants to cedar-strip build or ply S&G a replica of the Romany. I did find the bow yawed left to right to left, etc., as I paddled, but then it's a more manoeuvrable kayak design (less straight tracking, lee-helm, etc., aside). The Mariner II paddler seemed always relaxed, even in some seas that were a bit of a new experience (I believe) for him. In following seas, there seemed little need to wrestle with the boat in the usual tug-of-war. Mostly, he had to hold the thoroughbred back from taking off. One of the paddlers on the trip used to own a Mariner II, and would have liked to have had it out in Nootka Sound, but the gear carrying capacity he wanted was only provided for with a much more cavernous vessel. Though I was kindly offered the chance to take the Mariner out (after asking earlier), I figured I'd really much prefer to try it in more extreme conditions. Matt can hype all he wants about how well his boats handle without a skeg, and I'm sure its true in most conditions even advanced paddlers regularly travel in. But the real test is when a gnarly quartering sea from the stern hits with some good wind behind it, then I'd like to see just how accurate the statements are (assuming proactive paddling, good technique, etc.). I don't think that's an unfair statement to make (about Matt's boats or any other boat designers'). If I were to ditch my rudder in favour of a kayak that was advertised to get by without one I'd sure want to know it lived up to the claims). >It is interesting that you read novels on your trip. I haven't read fiction in a dozen years.< Guess that was the point. I never read novels at any time. I wanted to learn to relax a bit on a multi-day trip, and figured the novel reading would provoke that. Normally on the west coast, I'm up at 6:00, on the water at 7:15, make my miles until noon to 1:00, lunch and rest, then move on, usualy and hopefully in gale-force tail winds. By the time I hit camp, set up,and eat, I'm exhusted, and fall asleep - or just gaze at the surf and whitcapps. On the few group trips I've done in previous years, we'd make camp by 1:00 pm or 2:00, and that would be it for paddling, with a start time of 8:30 am or so. Even then, I'd take off for an afternoon in the whitecapps or playing in the heavy surg/boomers, rock gardens. I'd be back for super, usually eating everyones leftovers for the extra calories, then hit the tent exhusted. My friends helped me see paddling from a bit more of a new perspective. And, for once I didn't experience the tensions and other interpersonal relationship issues, so some of my faith was restored in terms of group paddling. And no one lectured me or tried to micro-manage my life when I went out to have some fun - my style. Maybe it was just because they were Americans, who tend to be more gregarious and generous. > You wrote about beating your kayak up on the trip, and recently you wrote about strength demands you had for a kayak you might build. I am a supporter of strong, well built kayaks too, but only to a certain degree.< My kayak is heavy for other reasons than the added hull strength. All those stainless steel bolts and nuts, all the modifications (I have 5 hatches), and the epoxied-in retro-fitted deck fittings put my kayak way overweight. If I were to take a normal well-built boat and increase the hull strenght a bit, I'd still be happy without tipping the scales so badly. My hull damage is always around the bulkheads (I have three). When I added 2 layers of 6 ounce cloth to the inner hull a few tears ago, I did it after I had already repositioned and reinstalled two of the bulkheads, meaning I still have the original stress riser breaks from 20 years ago as an underlying problem (pun, not intended). I do however, abuse my kayak more than most, but not as bad as the Tsunami Ranger guys n' gals. However, I doubt even those crazies from your neck of the woods do so in fully loaded kayaks on long tours that often. I need the faith in my boat to know I'll make it back. And don't forget, cloth tape has little strength across its width, so I've added copious amounts pf seam tape in expanding sizes. This adds weight too, but is definitly a non-negotiable item for me. Heck, 500 pounds hitting a rock head on at 8 knots. You need strength - or plastic, plastic... :-) >Besides, nothing is indestructible, including our bodies.< Yes, and I need to constantly remind myself of that. My faith teaches me that my body is a temple. Okay, forget faith, that's just common sense. Fortunately, years of open-water rock garden paddling have left me with a fairly good ablility to time my manouvers and judge when and where to place my boat. I think if offers a challenge far diferrent than river kayaking, requiring less instant situational awarness, but at the same time a more intense ability to think through in a three dimensional way, if one want's to mitigate the lethality of some of these wild ocean places. It involves a constant awarness of what swell set is inbound, what the surging currents are doing and going to do, etc, and an innate ability to deal with the reality of being in a dangerous place that doesn't often offer any degree of certainty when a sudden large swell set can change the dynmics so quickly. I'm sure you and Steve Brown know what I mean (and no disrespect to the river paddlers on the list). And I'm sure not many sea kayakers have had to deal with seas like I found myself in off the North Jetty of the Columbia River Bar, where swell breaks in three different directions with a gnarly alongshore current to make passage almost impossibe. I say this only as a reminder to the list of how increadible seaworthy a modern sea kayak is, more than most can appreciate or may indeed take the time to experience. I've devoted my adult life to this fact. >It was also interesting to read about your feelings about being in a group, because you are usually a solo paddler and tripper. I could tell that with the group and your health problems, you were really having to hold back, which probably wasn't a bad thing.< I tried to refrain from anything too dangerous looking with paddling onlookers. When we came back in the swell with Gary (guest day paddler with us to Escalante River), I strayed behind to do my playing, so as to be out of his view. I certainly don't want to have prudent paddlers left with a wrong conception of west coat paddling. Anyway, these guys from Seattle and environs around I was paddling with know me from Paddlewise and from weekend get togethers where I've told a few tales. Hopefully I gave them an impression that I could probably live up to the reality of some of those stories. I'd hate to be remembered as an exagerator. Not that it really matters, I'm just a piece of floatsam swiring through this sea called life, trying to figure out what beach I'm eventually going to land on (if I even have a choice). But maybe it _is_ the journey that counts -- the time on the water. So I hope my paddling friends will respect how I choose to enjoy the journey, as I do respect them; and as I try to do with all of you on Paddlewise. >Again, I really enjoyed the trip report and hope to someday meet and paddle with you.< I'd like that too. You've certainly thrown your heart and soul, as well as a large part of your intellect -- and more than a few calories -- into the sport Duane (and the journey). To say you've matured in the sport is an understatement. Doug Lloyd (home late, working on my wife's kayak (new KayjakSport hatches - anything is better than those old screw-off Hendersons). *************************************************************************** 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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