[Paddlewise] Northern California Skills Symposium and BCU Week (medium long)

Salmon Beach, Sonoma County, California, is a simple bight along the rugged
coast line where on any given day surf riders, both seated and standing can be
found along the waves of the Pacific ocean. We had assembled for a warm up and
a briefing on the last day of the symposium so that our coaches Ian Coleman
and current world kayaking surf champ Neil Baxter could brief us on our
individual exercises. I was worrying about my flat spin when the State Park
ranger's
truck stopped alongside our group.

The ranger hopped out of the cab and asked all of us to gather around. "I'm
not going to tell you what you can and can not do, but I am going to make it
clear to you that I strongly advise you against doing what you are prepared to
do." Well, that makes it kind of clear, I thought.

Then followed the dreaded "S" word.

He continued: "An hour ago we had an incident. A group of surfers were in the
water; one of them was apparently bumped by a large Great White Shark. We
classify it as an incident and not an attack. If it were an attack we would
close
this beach for any water related activities. October is the peak of activity
we see around here."

Well that settles it, I thought. Thank God for picky sharks. Surfers, (AKA
Slow Seals),  aren't as tasty as the real deal. My wife and I drove 12 hours
for
this, but we were thankful for the option to continue as well as the health
of the surfer. They did close this beach for a day last spring when a surfer
was knocked completely off his board and faced a long, lonely swim a hundred
yards to shore. His board bore the telltale marks of the Great White. Last
week
on Tomales Point, to the south, one nipped an abalone diver, and in August, to
the north in Mendocino County, an abalone diver was cut in half by a very
large White. Ab divers and surfers always get the worst of it by Great Whites.
Slow Seals are no match for fast Whites. I must have looked like a bathtub
ducky
in my whitewaterboat to anything below. Slow Ducky.

The ranger focused on the gents with British accents, as they obviously were
not from around here. Some in the crowd cringed, others couldn't care less.
Neil said no one would paddle in South Africa if they heeded shark warnings.
Viva la South Africa, now lets paddle. Anytime spent at sea, is time spent
near
sharks, so get over it or go home. The ranger left us to our own decisions and
out of respect to him we focused on one section of beach and kept everyone
fairly close. A Slow Ducky roundup.

With 6-second periods the surf was not particularly good. I narrowly missed
rocks, and perfected my sand roll on the front line of dumpers. In the end the
shark was the least of our worries. I pitied the swimmers, though. They did
not swim far, but any swimming at all would surely have had a certain baritone
theme song; Duhb&Dumb&Duh-Da-Dooooob&dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun.

BCU week follows the skills symposium and the crowds were diminished. Here's
where we get down to brass tacks and our student to instructor ratio is better
than a private university. The first two days of the week I had little
scheduled and paddled the Ft Ross to Jenner, section of the coast with Nigel
Dennis,
Rowland Woolven and several other paddlers. It was great fun watching Rowland
get spanked in a rock garden. I never knew there were so many forms of high
and low bracing.

My friend Duane Strosaker and I renewed acquaintances and enjoyed the day
rock hopping and chatting with the coaches. A long dark line stretched over
the
horizon and we stroked along with an eye on its obvious intentions. At the end
of the day, myself Bill McKenzie and 2 others ran the great arch south of
Jenner and to add to the excitement we threaded a slot blasting out a
whitewater
jet requiring at least one crux move.

The storm came and went, leaving vivid impressions of its lightning, high
wind and thunder. At least an inch of rain fell, but by morning all that
remained
were seas of 3 to 4 meters with a lot of chop. Duane and I abandoned the
coach's paddle for a simpler paddle of our own. Around Bodega Head the seas
rocked
with large swells, clapotis and zero potential landings. After a couple miles
we turned about and flew along with following seas, negotiating the pass
between the head and Bodega rock, just offshore. After rock hopping and a bit
of
surfing we retired to the land to clean and prepare our equipment for 5 star
training.

The training is my second in a year. Simultaneous to the training was an
assessment, a North American first. I thought about assessing, briefly,
laughed
heartily, and in the end went through with my plan to train and improve under
different coaches before I go for assessment. I was pleased that Nigel,
Rowland,
Ian Coleman and Axel Schoevers were cast for us. The assessee's were placed
under Trys Morris, Fiona Whitehead and Claire Knifton's command. These ladies
have their chops down. Fiona had just concluded her 2600 NM circumnavigation
of
all the British Isles and is a formidable talent.

Our intro lecture was based on a simple definition of the 5 star award and
leadership strategies in a variety of situations. It's not a playboaters
award;
rather its focus is on leadership in advanced conditions, most specifically
British conditions, consisting of tidal races, ocean swell and highly variable
weather patterns. The mystique dies and the hard work begins when we suit up
and head out on the water.

If you do not like towing, do not own any tow systems or do not want to have
at least a couple of different tow lines on your belt or boat this training
may not be for you. You can count on towing someone or something several times
a
day in races or swells, out of rock gardens or through the surf. Someone will
be hanging onto your boat as their boat is towed out of a dicey area and the
reunion occurs in calmer seas. At first your tow systems faults will be a
minor nuisance, at the end of the day your lexicon may include colorful
references
often attributed to sailors of old.

On one occasion, another and myself were the rafted part of an inline rafted
tow. We enjoyed shining our fingernails and generally relaxing under the
California sun as Duane Strosaker and Hawk Martin redlined their
cardio-vascular
system trying to get us out of the race on the south end of Alcatraz Island.
Poor saps, I thought, that looks like hard work. Hawk had a towline made with
a
1-inch strap that acted like a sail under the surface of the sea. It exerted a
force in the water contrary to their efforts and no amount of forward momentum
could straighten it out. I grew concerned as his large 'biner snapped open
and devoured another line. It could just as easily have dropped us, too. We
barely made the eddy on the other side of The Rock, my winded friends holding
the
suspect towline with severe suspicion. It looked like something I would have
bought until I saw the demonstration. I'm sure Hawk and I have boxes filled
with formerly good ideas.

Finding rougher water was becoming an issue as the weather improved. The 3-4
knot tidal streams in SF bay produced 1-3 foot waves with the occasionally
larger wave when a 900-foot ship steamed by. Nigel and Ian rated it 2 or 3 on
a
scale of 1-10, still 5 star conditions but just barely. They like a 5 out of
10
for assessment, but that was the assessee's problem, not ours.

As navigation is a significant part of the training we took range after range
and at night we took some more. Our objective was to find an unlit buoy along
the Yellow Bluffs area. Lighted buoys chosen as ranges at the start were
swallowed up in the skyline of the great city. Plan B worked better but we
still
failed to find the unlit buoy. On our return I focused on the band of
moonlight
brightening the waters between Angel and Alcatraz Islands. There sat our buoy
dancing in the chop, well past our deadline to find it.

I thought about my apparel before I went into the water. Nigel typically wore
a Chillcheater vest and shorts combo with a T-shirt over it. He demonstrated
the cliff landing, and his immunity to cold, by swimming up and onto a rock,
climbing aboard and hauling his boat up that he clipped his towline onto. An
instructor clipped onto the stern and held it off until the swells were
appropriate.

Those that were sitting about in their thousand dollar drysuits
understandably passed on the exercise. Being in a farmer John, I bailed out,
clipped on and
swam to the rock. The swell pounded me onto the rock, but the neoprene
armored me well. My bow wedged into a slot and the swell rose behind it. I
freed the
bow and slid the boat up a few feet, fell on my ass, and passed the boat up
to Nigel standing on the driest part of the rock. I pulled on the line holding
another's kayak and slid mine back in the water for a reentry so that others
could give it a try. Most aimed for smaller, more well protected rocks. Some
just said no thanks to bailing out of a perfectly good kayak. I watched Duane
seal land/launch his beautiful Pt Bennet. There is one wooden boater who
doesn't
baby his boat.

While we practiced rolling and reentry/rolling in the Yellow Bluff race, I
noticed Hawk struggling with his roll. He wore the Kokatat Expedition drysuit,
whose hood caught the current. It acted as a drogue and pinned him there for
two failed attempts. He exited and tried to reenter and roll. Again the hood
filled up again and rendered his roll useless. He switched sides and came up
quite easily. I'll scratch the hood option off my wish list.

As we hoped, the conditions were judged to be sufficient for assessment for
those in the other group and after two days, 3 of 7 candidates were passed,
including Bill. This is the first time a 5 star assessment has been held in
the
USA. Some were understandably bummed and the others elated. I'm glad I'm
friends with them so that I may use their insights to aid in my training. I
took
note of what techniques worked and did not work; what equipment failed and
what
held up.

It was a nice, warm day as we passed under the Golden Gate. Light swell and a
slight breeze made landing at the dumpy Rodeo beach a simple task. Soak it
in, I told myself, it's a long drive home.

Kind Regards,

Rob G
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