Kayak Yak

Linkapalooza

2012-02-01T06:55:00.000-08:00

Check this out...some surfers hit the waves at Bondi Beach decked out in TRON-styled wetsuits and surfboards.

But on the other hand, do sharks really need the extra help the lights will give them?

Of course, you don't to be surfing to see strange things on the water. Have you ever been kayaking out in the middle of nowhere when a dog has swam up to you? Check out this video:

Sadly, the story does not have a happy ending for the dog's owner.

This is Sean Morley playing in the big surf. He knows how to paddle fast; he recently held the record for fastest circumnavigation around Vancouver Island. Here, he gives tips on developing your forward stroke.

It turns out that everyone is working for the weekend -- even tornadoes. They and hailstorms occur at a rate of 20% below average on weekends, and 20% above average on work days. According to a recent study (as paraphrased by National Geographic), "This connection hints that pollution might help breed storms, the study authors say. That's because moisture gathers around specks of pollutants, which leads to more cloud droplets. Computer models suggest these droplets get lofted up to higher, colder air, leading to more plentiful and larger hail."
So there you go -- one less thing to worry about when out on your weekend paddle...

...although you may want to watch out for strange metal balls falling out of the sky.

The big (oceanic) picture

2012-01-31T19:43:00.001-08:00

Before the University library closed for Christmas, I raided it for all the books on all the subjects my whim dictated. Two weeks (in winter) seemed like a very long time to not be able to get at the books. Among them was a glossy hardcover titled "Marine Ecosystems of the North Pacific", published by the North Pacific Marine Science Organization, aka Pices. Then I got sidetracked into reading about outbreak investigation (need some excitement when the water's solid), and it was only lately that I picked up the book, saw it covered the early part of last decade, and got to wondering if there were an update. Indeed there is, "Marine Ecosystems of the North Pacific, 2003-2008", and it's online in PDF form at the Pices Website.

Canadian Paddling Legend Don Starkell Dies

2012-01-30T20:53:00.000-08:00

Don Starkell, who canoed from Winnipeg to the Amazon River and kayaked from Hudson Bay to the mouth of the McKenzie River, passed away over the weekend from at the age of 79.
In 1980, Don and his two sons began a 20,000 km canoe trip from Winnipeg to Brazil. One son would leave the expedition and journey took almost two years, but when finished Don and his other son Dana would enter the Guinness Book of World Records for longest canoe journey.
In 1990, Starkell began his 5,000 km kayak expedition to trace the Northwest Passage. He nearly died, losing the tips of almost all his fingers and some toes. His two expeditions led to his writing two best-selling books and co-starring in a third, all reviewed on Kayak Yak here.
Starkell is believed to have paddled more than 120,000 km over his paddling career, which also included taking part in the 1967 trans-Canada Centennial Paddle.
Starkell was inducted into the Manitoba Sports Hall of Fame and Museum in 2006.
More coverage can found at Canoe and Kayak, The Winnipeg Free Press, the CBC, The Mundane Adventures of Bryan, The National Post, The Winnipeg Sun and Paddling Instructor.

PaddleToThe Amazon - Introduction (www.PaddleToTheAmazon.com) from Lost From Normal on Vimeo.

No Vancouver Island Paddlefest This Year

2012-01-26T17:56:00.000-08:00

It looks like there won't be a Vancouver Island Paddlefest this year. An announcement this morning on the Paddlefest website indicates that the event will take a break this year to develop future plans and strategies. "The Society recognizes the paddlesport industry has evolved greatly over the past 14 years and it is time to look at re-structuring the volunteer/business model to develop a new mandate which will accommodate the needs of the public as well as the contributing partners," said the statement.
Hopefully, Paddlefest returns next year as it's always a welcome part of the paddling calendar here on the island.

Ride the Wild Wind

2012-01-22T19:20:00.000-08:00

It probably serves me right for my cheeky comments concerning the small amount of snow that fell in Victoria last Sunday morning. A small amount of snow fell on Monday and Tuesday, but on Wednesday nature took her revenge by sending Victoria a full-fledged dump, along with cold Arctic air that froze us solid for a couple of days.
Here's the standard postcard shot of the harbour (winter version).

And yes, that's a skim on ice on the harbour's surface. We don't see that very often.

If I took this shot of Government Street in July, there might be a few hundred people in it, but Wednesday there was only a half-dozen or so pedestrians and one car.

The deep freeze continued until a warm front finally broke through early Saturday morning, but the rising temperatures also brought rising winds, culminating in a rip-roaring wind storm that started early this morning and continues this evening.

Winds were clocked at over 50 kmh, with gusts recorded at over 110 kmh in places.

The MV Coho was caught in the blast on its daily trip from Port Angeles.

Needless to say, we did not go kayaking today...

...but we still got wet.

Howling a Gale

2012-01-22T11:07:00.000-08:00

No paddling this morning for us! We woke up to gale force winds. The website for BigWaveDave reported at 10:00am that the winds were at 49 knots, with gusts of 59 knots. Woo-hoo!
Now sure, that kind of weather might see the likes of Leon and Shawna of Body Boat Blade heading out to practice their rough water paddling. They've done it before, when visiting Victoria and a windstorm struck. But then, they're the kind of professional sea kayaking guides who take time to paddle a circumnavigation of Iceland -- and another of Haida Gwaii -- during the peak summer seasons for their business. Oi.
The wind may have kept us off the water, but it didn't keep Bernie from walking the landlady's dogs in Gyro Park. And it didn't keep us off the promenade along the shore of Cadboro Bay, in the spray of the pounding waves. Funny, this morning the usual weekend walkers were sparse. There were only a few die-hards out getting salt and sand in our teeth.
The big rollers coming in pounded driftwood logs along the shore. It was great to watch the birds in the wind and waves! Cormorants and seagulls faced into the wind and waves, wings cupped to ride air currents up over a crest and then down, darting to the water. Maybe they were snatching little fish once in a while, though there was more rising and bobbing than snatching. It looked like surfing, honestly.
A few little round ducks rode the surface, tucking their wings and heads in till they looked like black footballs. There's no telling what their webbed feet were doing under the surface, paddling frantically, but the ducks rode up and over big swells and kept heading out to the break, not pushed in to the shore.
There were a couple of deadhead logs bobbing in the water, turning in the waves so that a branch would look for a moment like an arm. We had to look carefully to be sure that yep, it was a log bobbing vertically. And as we came close to the storm drain outfall, there was a river otter tumbling in the surf.
Honestly! He was out in a howling gale, with pounding surf all along the bay. I thought the otters who live around the bay would be holed up in the shrubbery along the rocky part of the shore or maybe in the thick bushes on Flower Island. But no, here was an otter, gamboling in waves that rose higher than his length from nose to tail-tip.
And just as Bernie was saying, "Where did you see it? Are you sure?" a new wave crashed. Three otters tumbled in the foam. They didn't come out of the water, just turned in those liquid moves they do and dove back under the thrashing surface.
Maybe they were catching fish driven into the shallows near shore by the waves. Maybe they were playing a little, too, letting the waves push them under water.
I hope the pictures turned out. If you want to see some photos of otters that are even clearer than the great ones that John has put here on Kayak Yak, check out The Marine Detective blog for some images of otters on docks.
Oh, and just to make it clear -- there are no cars in the parking lot with kayak racks this morning, and no kayaks visible in the bay. So it's not just me staying off the water, eh? And some of the sailboats in the Cadboro Bay Sailing Association yard are rocking. One of the catamarans in the UVic sailing club yard almost flipped in a gust of wind as we walked past.

Kayak Night in Canada

2012-01-21T16:44:00.000-08:00

Players of every sport have their own version of celebration after a goal is scored, but the latest celebration craze in hockey is "the kayak." Check out this clip of Evgeny Kuznetsov scoring a goal for the KHL's Traktor Chelyabinsk:

Here he performs the synchronised kayak with a team mate:

He's not the only player to do the kayak. Here's a different player trying out the move:

Hockey isn't the only sport with a kayak tie-in. Lacrosse has a check called the "kayak check." Check out the video:

Of course, all this pales in comparison to the total awesomeness of the "soccer kayak":

Kayak Angst

2012-01-19T00:01:00.000-08:00

So I'm reading Mary Roach's latest book, Packing for Mars. It's a tour through the little-known aspects of putting humans into space. For instance, if you've always wondered how astronauts go poo in space, I'd recommend Chapter 14 -- you'll find out more about this topic than you could ever possibly want to know.
One of the joys of Roach's writing is that she is easily distracted from her main thought and often strays from her topic to follow an obscure notion or fact down a rabbit hole to see where it leads. And thus on page 67, while discussing the phenomenon of "the rapture of the deep," a feeling of calm and invulnerability that can impair a diver, and the possibility of a similar impairment affecting astronauts, she adds the following footnote:

Every mode of travel has its signature mental aberration. Eskimo hunters travelling alone on still, glassy waters are sometimes stricken by "kayak angst" -- delusions that their boat is flooding of that the front end is either sinking or rising out of the water.

Kayak angst! Who knew? Well, Google Books did -- here's a whole bunch of references to it. And so did Paula when she wrote this blog post two years ago describing how she found the term in a book she was reading. And since I've read the same book and don't remember coming across the term at all, I'm getting a little angsty about my memory and comprehension skills right now.
Kayak angst apparently occurs in calm conditions, but a strong wind, a quick current, and big waves, that's what gives me kayak angst! It makes total sense, of course. It's the same reason why pilots sometime slowly and calmly fly their planes into the oceans on clear sunny days. Staring at the same unchanging horizon for hours can create vertigo and cause the mind to think you're falling when you're not. Sort of the same feeling I have when I'm on a ladder.
You can buy Kayak Angst t-shirts if you want to, although the reason why anyone would want to advertise that they suffer from a niche psychotic malady eludes me.

Snow Day

2012-01-15T20:05:00.000-08:00

Now don't start laughing, but it snowed in Victoria last night. I know that barely 2 cm of white stuff on the ground wouldn't count as a "real" snowfall in most locales, especially here in the Great White North, but for Victoria, 2 cm is almost a blizzard. Which isn't to say what we haven't had real blizzards, for we most assuredly have, but snow is a rarity here and anything more than a light dusting throws this town into a tizzy.
I couldn't resist a quick paddle this morning and wheeled my kayak down the hill. It's not often you see a guy in a Santa hat walking his kayaking in the snow. Even one of Victoria's finest was distracted from the traffic ticket she was writing.

Louise would normally accompany me, but she stayed on shore and walked along beside me, the idea being that she could take a few shots of me and the snow for a Christmas card for next winter. She took some nice shots, but they'll have to wait until the holidays roll around again.

I put in at the bottom of my hill....

....and paddled into the quiet morning. Even the small amount of snow on the ground was enough to dampen the sound of the neighbourhood.
But I was quickly joined by a duck that landed right beside me.
While the ducks and other fowl are fairly tame in this area, it's still a bit unusual for them to approach this close unless it's obvious that you have food. I suspect that they're feeling a bit hungry this time of year, although they're certainly aren't suffering. When it became obvious that I was wasn't going to feed him, he went on his way.

Enjoying the crisp and cool air, I continued on, past the (barely) snow covered trees...

...while three swans swam towards me.

The swans had also drawn the attention of a photographer on shore who asked if he could take a few pictures of "Santa" in his kayak, and even though "Santa" never brought him the bicycle he wanted. Turns out he's a local professional photographer named Jason, and he snapped quite a few shots. I was starting to feel like Cindy Crawford.

Check out his website,there's some nice stuff there.

I turned around at Craigflower bridge. Clouds were building to the east and there had been some wicked squalls blow through the last copy of days.

In the end, the clouds never amounted to anything, but on the way back I encountered the swans again at the same spot, only now we were both going the opposite directions.

A heron was bundled up against the cold...

...while Cormorant Tree was draped in its namesakes.

Meanwhile Louise kept pace with me, taking pictures as I drifted along in our temporary winter wonderland.

I landed and began organizing myself for the always fun uphill trek with the kayak.

Trip Length: 3.38 km
YTD: 3.38 km
More pictures are here.

Winter Paddling ROCKS!

2012-01-15T13:52:00.000-08:00

Going out in a kayak in winter is one of the best things about kayaking. For one thing, there are a lot fewer people on the city beaches. This means that an urban-based paddler like myself isn't always running a gauntlet of sunbathers, beach-walkers, and dogs swimming after tennis balls. I like a beach that's not crowded with people, particularly in winter when I'm wearing my old wetsuit with the mend on the bottom.
It's okay if a few people are around. As I carried my little inflatable past the parking lot in Gyro Park, two young people boggled at me walking past. Of course, they were properly bundled up for January weather with a little snow and frost. "Isn't it cold for going on the water?" one asked.
"Sure, it's cold," I answered. "But it's not windy, rainy, snowing, or stormy!" Understanding dawned, and they laughed & waved me on.
On the frozen puddles by the boat ramp, three little girls were learning about ice. They slid around in their rubber boots, squealing and shrieking with delight. "That was great!" said one. "We can do that on other ones," said another. "Look! There's more over there!" squealed the third. And they clomped off to find another patch of frozen puddles. It reminded me so much of the school field trips when my kids were growing up in a pretty flat area of Alberta. Every winter, the teachers would walk all the kids over to a nearby farm, so they could learn what a hill was like, especially for sliding. Kids around Victoria don't get much chance to play on icy puddles, so it's good to see them having fun while they can.
The sun was out, and it was a perfect winter day for playing outdoors. I paddled over to the little rock garden. All along the shoreline and the rocks I could see frost and icy places where rainwater seeps down from above. It hasn't rained for days, but water is still seeping down.
Going past Sheep Cove, I saw the little seal who hangs around the bay and shoreline. There were ducks again, too: mallards and pintails so timid, wood ducks and harlequins and mergansers a little more bold. And surf scoters and buffleheads, all tidy black-and-white.
Best of all were two oystercatchers, nibbling at things in the kelp revealed by the tide partly out. For black birds, these are such bright things, too. Today I saw not only their bright red beaks and pink legs & feet, but their bright eyes looking at me paddling past the shore. There's a local artist who does many paintings of these charming birds -- check out Anne Hansen's website with images of her work.
These were the best of all the birds I saw, even the bald eagle, because they let me look at them as I went by. The eagle was perching on a stone at Flower Island, and when I was crossing the little channel he took to the air and flew away along the shore. I think it was a he because we've seen bigger eagles here, and from what the books tell me it's the female eagles who are the biggest.
Just past Flower is Evans Rock, where I've seen sea monsters of entirely ordinary kinds -- a whale and an elephant seal -- but no official Cadborosaurus yet. I say yet because I have a sneaking suspicion that paddling around in places where they've been seen is going to pay off eventually. It might not be any more fun than getting bawled out by an elephant seal. But if I actually carried the camera John handed down to me, a picture would be possible.
No Cadborosaurus today, though a couple of harbour seals did pop up to look at me as if to say, "Um, you're not really going to hang around for a long time, are you?" I sent a SPOT ok message and went on around Flower and started back.
Out at Cadboro Point by the light, I could see that the freight train was running. Not too much current. And what I thought at first were whitecaps turned out to be floating seabirds, occasionally spreading their wings. Ah! There must have been a school of fish there, just off the point, and the birds were reaching down, one by one, to snag a fish.
Back along the shore with my bow into the wind and my paddle feathered. Sunshine kept the day feeling plenty warm enough, even as a bank of cloud towered over from the American side of the strait. Weather can change here in half-an-hour. We always have to remember.
Thought a bit about two short pieces to write for the blog. One will compare various hats I've worn on the water this year. The other will be about what kayaking has taught me about envy -- what is useful about envy, and what isn't. I'll write them later. When I got back to the house I wrapped up warm, made tea, and put a casserole in the oven to bake. Winter paddling sometimes works out just fine.

Kayak Roll, 1975-style

2012-01-12T19:45:00.000-08:00

Here's a short video from 1975 by Russ Nichols, apparently the first film to demonstrate a kayak roll. The cast of the film were well-known kayakers of the era. A nice little piece of history and instruction.

One Of These Days

2012-01-08T19:36:00.000-08:00

For Louise and I it's been a slow start to the paddling year. What with the flu, the holiday season, family obligations, the flu that came back and so on, we're stilling waiting on the first paddle of the year. Paula's made it out a few times, but we still haven't got our paddles wet yet. Ah well, life is like that sometimes.

But some people did get out on the water today. We briefly met Paula and Bernie for a quick coffee at Cadboro Bay before we did some necessary errands, and we saw that the sail boaters were out early.

We also saw SISKA members getting organized for their first paddle of the season.

Mike Jackson reported that 28 boats hit the water for their paddle around the bay. One of these days we'll get our 2012 paddling season started.

On the plus side, we did find an interesting face or two at the coffee shop.

Ordinary Winter Day

2012-01-07T13:35:00.001-08:00

Another ordinary winter day here. Walked the dogs and realized that it was not windy, not raining, and not 5 minutes before we had to be someplace else. Quick pot of porridge for both of us. Got into the shortie wetsuit and carried the Mini-Tripper down to the shore. A leaden grey sky as the sun was rising promised me that rain and wind would soon be here.

Today's SPOT OK message was sent from the beach at Gyro Park. I did go farther than that, honestly. But as I walked down the boat ramp, a sweet old lady engaged me in conversation. She seemed really concerned that I had a proper grasp of safety.

As regularly happens, my tow rope, throw bag of floating rope, waterpump, and PFD were all inspected. (My paddle float was with the other set of safety gear for my darling Eliza sea kayak -- no need for a paddle float with this little rec kayak.) The design and merits of the kayak were discussed and compared with other boats; not, I hasten to add, because my inspector had any expertise in the matter, but because she wished to be reassured about my own experience and competence.

The last thing I want during these outings is to have fussing shorewalkers panicking and calling 911. Well, okay, the last thing I want is to drown a hundred feet offshore while five dogwalkers try to call 911 on their cellphones (and cuss if there's no signal) and a couple of horrified ancient onlookers have heart attacks or strokes watching me. A close second is not drowning, but flailing my way ashore only to press the Emergency button on my SPOT for the heart attack victims. So I guess not wanting people to make an unneeded emergency call comes third on my list of Things I Really Don't Want To Happen While Kayaking.

The first item that Bernie expected would be on that list -- No Spiders Crawling On Me! -- already happened once, between Flower Island and Jemmy Jones Island. Louise reported that she was wondering why I'd popped my skirt and was scrabbling around inside the Eliza, until she hear me babbling, "Out! Everybody out! You are not my spider friend! You can swim for all I care!" At least, that's the babble that's repeatable in polite company.
All the other spiders are my spider friends, as far as I'm concerned, like the big one who rode along with Bernie and me on my first crossing of Baynes Channel to the Chathams, on a cold January morning. It wasn't until the kayaks were back in the yard and I was tidying the gear that this particular spider crawled out from under my kayak seat, shivering, and asked "Are we done yet?" I was so grateful that the big hairy spider had not crawled on me when we were half-way across the channel, that I carefully picked it up with two sticks (BIG spider, eh?) and put it in the garden. Good spider. My spider friend. *shudder*

Ahem.
As for this morning, it took some conversation to show the concerned passer-by that she didn't have to engage the help of a couple of joggers to save me from a reckless expedition. When she asked if I had a way to contact people, I showed her the SPOT device and pressed the OK button.

Eventually she went on her way, much less concerned. I paddled along to the little rock garden and began doing a figure eight around the rocks. Just then, a river otter popped up and down several times. Then he swam to the largest rock and climbed ashore with something in his mouth, maybe a fish or a crab. Clearly it was something tasty, as he began tearing off mouthfuls. He looked in my direction after a few moments, so I quickly averted my face. (I think animals feel more threatened when we look directly at them. Sometimes they don't mind if I peek once in a while with a sidelong glance out of the corner of my eye.)
Apparently it was breakfast time for the otter here, and not my turn in the rock garden. I kept rocks between us and beat a hasty retreat back to the shore. The breeze was just starting to pick up.

A few raindrops fell as I put the kayak away. Some teenagers on a bottle drive came up the driveway and asked if we had any empty bottles. So I plodded across the wet yard with some of ours. The puddle in the front yard is colder than the ocean this time of year. But at least it washed the sand out of my sandals.

It's a rainy, breezy morning now, just right for using my computer. I'm tucked under my years-old sleeping bag, editing the page proofs of my next book. Look for it from Rosen Publishing in the summer of 2012 -- Fish: From The Catch To Your Table, part of the series The Truth About The Food Supply. You can find lots of my other books from Rosen there.

Marine Birdwatching!

2012-01-05T17:26:00.000-08:00

Well, it does seem to be the year of the ducks. The field in Gyro Park on Cadboro Bay was filled with dozens of mallard ducks this afternoon. They were all walking placidly on the mown grass (yes, in Victoria the grass gets mowed in winter) and dabbling in the rainwater puddles. Marine birdwatching was real simple today... no boat needed.

Finally, there's a birdwatching course suited for kayakers! It's taking place through Swan Lake Christmas Hill Nature Sanctuary. The lake itself is a little gem next to the Lochside Trail, the northern spur of the terrific bike trail that runs through Greater Victoria. We're not allowed to paddle there, alas, but it is a good park to take kids or visitors. You can tramp around the trails and floating boardwalks.

Here's the listing for the Marine Birds course, copied from the Nature Sanctuary's website.

Marine Birds – an course for naturalists and nature enthusiasts
Thursdays, March 1, 8, 15, 22, 29, 7:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m.

Field-trip Sundays March 18, 25, 9:00 to 10:30 a.m.
Learn where to find and how to identify marine birds and discover fascinating secrets about how they feed and live with local ornithologist, James Clowater. Cost: $80 for Swan Lake members - $100 for non-members. Please register by calling 250-479-0211.

If you're used to a "course" at a community centre costing about $10 and lasting an hour, don't boggle. This is not a single evening slideshow -- it's a humdinger of a program for anyone who takes an interest in the seabirds we see when paddling our kayaks.
Now I'm wondering if that was a puffin or a marbled murrelet that surfaced beside my kayak out in Oak Bay, with a grey squid in its beak...

North Sea Crossing & Yarns from the Cockpit

2012-01-04T19:33:00.000-08:00

The latest DVD from the University of Sea Kayaking is a 2-disc set with the unwieldy title of North Sea Crossing & Yarns From The Cockpit. It features Derek Hutchinson, Godfather of modern sea kayaking and born raconteur, describing in humorous detail his attempts to be the first person to kayak across the North Sea. Clearly it’s his go-to party piece as the version presented on the DVD is almost word-for-word the version he presented here in town at a recent SISKA meeting, but he presents his occasionally harrowing tale with amusing and charming style. The remainder of the first disc contains an interview with Derek explaining some of the finer technical points of his North Sea journeys.
The second disc contains an assortment of more interviews with Derek, and more of his tall tales of kayak expeditions. (There’s even a few humorous outtakes from a previous DVD.)
If you want to see a terrific kayaking storyteller at his finest, check it out.

And while we're on the topic, we understand that Derek is facing a health issue at the moment. We at Kayak Yak send Derek our best wishes for a speedy recovery.

A Reference Book

2012-01-02T04:00:00.000-08:00

Ever wonder who is credited with the "first descent" of a particular Canadian river? Or how many people have paddled it? Well, there are answers to these questions.

Frequently, of course, the answer is "First Nations paddlers in traditional boats, a long, looooooong time before the Europeans came." But there are other answers as well, particularly when one leaves the "first" aspect behind and asks instead how many people have paddled a particular Canadian river in recent times -- such as the last hundred years or so. Or we could ask, which Canadian rivers did a certain person paddle between 1960 and 1975?

Frequently, of course, the answer for the southern rivers is, "Lots!" But for the northern rivers, there's a managable number of paddling trips that have been recorded. There's a dandy reference book listing paddling trips taken into the rivers of the Canadian North. At the Greater Victoria Public Library, we've got a copy of Canoeing North into the Unknown - A Record of River Travel: 1874 to 1974.

The authors are Bruce Willard Hodgins and Gwyneth Hoyle, and their large paperback book was released by Natural Heritage/Natural History Press in 1994, I believe.

This is one humdinger of a reference book for Canadian paddlers! It is a recommended read for anyone planning a trip into the Canadian North. I've even found it useful when planning a trip on the Red Deer River, which is too far south to be listed. You can look through the listings by area and river and date. There are terrific line maps by Dale Dompseler in each section, which have a great appeal for map fans or anyone bewildered by four-coloured atlases with contour lines. There are several excellent photographs. The bibliography is very useful. There are also separate indexes for people, river and lake names and even organizations, as other reviewers have noted.

It is very Euro-Canadian-centric, if that composite word makes any sense -- the use that First Nations people made of these rivers from 1874 to 1974 for their own purposes is largely unrecorded. But I am pleased to note that the authors of the book have an acknowledgement page giving respect to the First Nations people who still use these rivers and who between 1874 and 1974 were usually the unnamed guides and paddlers enabling the "explorers" to travel in the north. Wherever possible, the authors have listed any of these First Nations guides and paddlers by name. The authors acknowledged their debt as Canadian paddlers to the First Nations paddlers whose names were rarely recorded in the past.

If you're looking for a list of who has made a recreational trip on all the navigable parts of (say) the Porcupine River, this is a good place to start. And it's easy to end up reading the entire book. I'll quote from a review written by Michael Peake for Che-Mun and published on-line by All About Canoes website at this link:

The year 1874 was chosen as a staring point since that marked the first year of northern travel by the Geological Survey of Canada which gave us many northern pioneers, such as the Tyrrells and A.P. Low. Their closing year marked another kind of northern audit - The Wild Rivers Survey, which produced those rectangular booklets now out of print and often replete with errors.

If you can't get to a copy at your local public library, ask them to add one to the collection. If you can get a copy of your own, even better!

New Year's Day paddle

2012-01-01T17:28:00.000-08:00

What great weather to start the new year! I looked out at the sky and the bay and realised that today I wanted to paddle in Telegraph Cove.
Bernie wasn't on for the walk, so I put my little inflatable kayak on a roller and went by myself. The day was mild and calm for January, but as I rolled down the hill into Telegraph Cove there was a bit of a breeze coming out of the east. Rollers were coming in from Haro Strait into the little round cove. Just little rollers, though!

Both coming and going, I had to deal with getting caught in a Cadboro Bay Holiday Traffic Jam. These aren't like traffic jams in other places nearby. On McKenzie Avenue, a traffic jam is bumper-to-bumper car traffic that extends for blocks or miles. Out in the Chain Islands, a traffic jam is a couple of kayakers trying to get out of the way of two dozen bobbing heads of harbour seals.
But in the Cadboro Bay neighbourhood, a Holiday Traffic Jam consists of at least one honkin' big vehicle with kayak racks on top and at least one small sedan with two or more goggling people with swivelling heads. That's about it for cars. The rest of the traffic is people on foot. There's at least one wrestling a kayak, like me with the roller or the two guys who were unloading from their vehicle's roof racks. There are several people walking their dogs. (Note that the size of the dog is in no way correlated to the size of the person: big dogs may be walking with big or small people, and the same goes for small dogs.) And there are people out for their Holiday Walk, which is clearly the only time all year when they walk any farther than from their front doors to their cars. You can tell by their faces that they know it should be an enjoyable walk, and by their paces that they're really not sure how much farther they want to go -- sure, there are two terrific coffee shops in the Village, but...

So, at the cove I talked with the two guys heading out, and reassured them that I was going to keep my little inflatable inside the cove. A river otter scrambled out of the brush and down the beach, and stared at one guy loading his kayak, then slipped into the water.
An old man walking by stopped to marvel at the Dragonfly and to scold me about not wearing a hat. He picked up my toque and held it out to me until I actually put it on. Then he hung around and pushed me off-shore, and stared out from the beach for a while. I think he was reassured that I was indeed staying inside the little cove.

It was great to be out in the Dragonfly again after using the Mini-Tripper so many times lately. I'd never take the Mini-Tripper out in this uneven water. But the inflatable has more rocker, and the bow rises higher, and there's an actual front deck. It's way less tippy, too. I rode the rollers out for a while, and surfed a bit coming back. It was terrific to go out and back several times. There were a couple of harlequin ducks sitting on the rocks, regally observing me as I carefully avoided a couple of boomers near their rocks. This winter does seem to be shaping up to be the Winter Of The Ducks.

With all the rollers, I still wasn't splashed until I came ashore. The last wave soaked me from the elbows down, but that was okay. I was plenty warm packing up and walking back through the Holiday Traffic Jam.

Got back, and played around with the computer for a while, doing some reading for one of the courses I'm taking in the new year. Found my SPOT ok message and put the link here. Now I'm putting together some dinner -- roast chicken glazed with medlar jelly. What a great day!

2011 Kayaking Weather Stats

2011-12-31T23:59:00.000-08:00

And now it's our annual paddling day weather stats wrap up. This year I eliminated the "cancelled due to bad weather" category, so the weather category percentages have been tweaked a bit from previous years.
What can we glean? Well, first we can see that Google Docs makes some neat-o charts. Second, we can see that over the six years we have been paddling that the percentage of sunny days has gone up over this time, perhaps something that should not be unexpected as we enter our future of human-caused climate change, although this is clearly not a scientific study by any means as no doubt we are self-selecting which days to paddle on. Still, it's an illuminating if anecdotal look at how our planet is changing right before our eyes.

New Year's Eve paddle

2011-12-31T18:03:00.000-08:00

What a beautiful winter day! Lately, whenever I look at a shaft of sunlight and say that, the wind blows the clouds back together and another squall of rain comes through with gusts of wind to boot. Today, when Bernie and I went out, we did some errands and took a long walk through Mystic Vale. Back at the Beach House, I scrambled into my shortie wetsuit and pulled a little kayak out. Time to get on the water.
It was a great way to finish the year and start the new year. And the first wave as I pushed off shore broke over the bow and my feet and put a gallon of water in the Mini-Tripper. Wa-hoo!
There was nobody else on the water inside the arms of the bay as I went across the shallows and over to the Buddha. Up along the rocks to Stein Island, where the wind was picking up a bit. The SPOT message shows where I lingered for a moment. The only birds I saw today were ducks of various kinds: mallards, buffleheads, mergansers.
Back at the beach I met Jacques just heading out to look for marbled murrelets in his Eliza. (Ooo, but those composite Elizas look even more sporty than my rotomolded one...)
Back to the Beach House. Roasting a local chicken with a medlar jelly glaze. Wine is chilling. Happy new year, one and all.

Life Vest video

2011-12-27T09:07:00.000-08:00

Just saw a little video with a life vest featured. The next time I put on my PFD, the thought of this video will make me smile. What goes around comes around -- not usually as quickly as in this video, but still...
Check it out

Once You've Watched Them, You Can't Unwatch Them!

2011-12-26T01:09:00.000-08:00

So it's Boxing Day. You should be in a shopping mall doing your best to keep the economy moving rather than sitting around reading a blog about kayaking. Especially since there is precious little in this blog post about kayaking. But as long as you're here already, you might as well keep reading. Or watching the wacky videos embedded below:

Here's a news report on a water-propelled jet-pack that didn't go according to script:

So here's something that you don't see everyday: a dog biting a shark:

And finally, it's DJ Kittehs! After all, why should the dogs have all the fun?

2011-12-25T00:01:00.000-08:00

HAPPY KAYAKMAS!

Rolling a Kayak - 1938-style

2011-12-20T02:32:00.000-08:00

Want to learn how to roll a kayak? This is how it was done back in The Middle Ages. Or 1938 if you prefer.

Warm Winter Day

2011-12-19T21:44:00.000-08:00

It was a warm winter day. Well, it felt warm for winter. When Bernie and I got back from the Rainbow Kitchen it was the middle of the day, and about as warm as it was ever going to get. 7C is pretty warm for winter, so I just pulled a paddle jacket on over my shortie wetsuit and left the merino leggings behind.
It was good not to be muffled down to the calves when the little waves started splashing over the bow of the kayak. Today I was out in the little Mini-Tripper, which is really a child's rec boat. Not one for a choppy day, but it wasn't choppy, just a few rolling waves about a foot high once I was away from the beach.
I tried leaning forward and back, to see how my balance pitched the bow down or up a little. This kayak has a very straight, level keel with no rocker.
Boy, could I ever tell the differences among my kayaks! The Eliza fits like a shoe. At three times my height it's exactly what traditional Greenland kayak makers recommend for a sea kayak. The rocker isn't as pronounced as the Romany kayaks I've tried; rather, it's what feels like exactly enough rocker for me in the kinds of choppy water I'm likely to encounter. The Eliza can surf on a following sea and it feels great doing so.
The Dragonfly inflatable fits tighter. At eight feet it's shorter than the Mini-Tripper, but wider and more stable. I'd rather put a child in the Dragonfly than the Mini-Tripper for a first paddle. And though this inflatable is more like a sit-on-top than a hardshell kayak, it's got rocker! Plus, it steers better than the Mini-Tripper. And it rides waves way, way better.
I went as far as Sheep Cove, to look at the red bridge, then came back. The waves that had been splashing spray all over my legs in the open cockpit were now coming from behind. I tried surfing a little, but thought the Mini-Trippers no longer than a surfboard, it's just not the same shape.
Back to shore and off to run an errand, getting ready for Christmas. What a day!

A Dip in the Ocean

2011-12-09T19:10:00.000-08:00

In April 2009, Susan Outen began a four-month solo paddling odyssey across the Indian Ocean from Australia to Mauritius. Mourning the death of her father, she paddled in his honour, raising money for charity. And she wrote a pretty fine book, too.
Through her charm and self-deprecating wit, Sarah writes of her preparations, her rocky start, her customs troubles, her 500 chocolate bars, the long lonely voyage and the voyage's rocky but [SPOILER ALERT] successful conclusion. Her spirit and determination shine through the pages of her story.
So what does the first woman and youngest person to paddle across the Indian Ocean do for an encore? Currently she's making her way around the world on human power. Follow her adventure on Twitter, or at her London2London web site.

Vancouver to Alaska

2011-12-05T18:43:00.001-08:00

Here's a video from a fellow who kayaked solo from Vancouver to Alaska. Worth your time to check out. Mind you, you'll need some time, it clocks in at 2 1/2 hours plus!

Kayaking To The Moon

2011-12-04T19:30:00.000-08:00

Well, not all the way there, but in that direction...

A great winter day today! After being a good little helper at the Legion's Christmas party for kids (my Dad used to love being Santa, but his vision got too bad to do it) I came right back to the Beach House and worked on my seminar paper for a couple of hours.
So when *golden light* shone in the window, I answered the call and pulled on my wet suit. Out in the yard a few seconds later, I passed the landlady on the path -- me with kayak, she being tugged in two directions by her dogs. "Going kayaking?" she asked.
"Yup! Just along the shore."
"Good!" she said. "Later, I'm going to bury the crow."
Oh boy.
So, while it was a good time on the water, with just enough breeze to wrinkle the surface and some very slight, gentle swells from wakes, something was on my mind. Every bird and animal I saw reminded me that the crow has died, the one my landlady has been carrying around for about two months.
Still, I looked up into the clear sky, and pointed my bow in the direction of the rising moon. There were signs of mortality here on the water, and all positive signs, at least from the point of view of the ducks who were fishing and the otter that crept up on the rocky shore with a crab in his mouth. crunch crunch crunch His pointy teeth cracked the crab shell and pulled out bits of white meat. crunch crunch The otter didn't even flinch when I paddled past. Busy.
Out by Flower Island, there were five other otters tumbling around, so I didn't crowd them by circling the island. It's really their place, eh? I sent a SPOT message and turned back.
Such a good clean feel to the afternoon air! And once I'd put the kayak away, the landlady came by with a small garden shovel. So we buried her crow.
It wasn't a party, but it was a good moment.

The Sail-Past!

2011-12-04T19:05:00.000-08:00

Bernie and I walked down to the beach last night, while walking the landlady's dogs, to see the lights on the water. Turns out, last night was the Christmas Sail-Past. A whole flotilla of boats decorated with lights sailed from Oak Bay Marina to Cadboro Bay.
Sailed? Well, putt-putted with their motors. Most of the rigging was decorated with strings of lights, so there were all these triangles of light in the bay.
It was terrific, seeing about two dozen boats make such a fine display. Next year, let's find out what day is set for the Sail-Past, and maybe we'll meet them with a fleet of kayaks all lit up like Christmas trees.

News for Fuel Tank Owners About Spills

2011-12-03T03:46:00.000-08:00

Hey, yesterday's post about a fuel spill in a local creek didn't cover everything. I may have mentioned salmon spawning in Colquitz Creek, but there's also many other fish and living things in that creek and Swan Creek year-round. When kayaking there, we've seen raccoons and many kinds of birds.
The Saanich News wrote an article about these animals and also included information of interest to homeowners with fuel tanks. Turns out that they've got advice on fuel tank maintenance and a pdf to download from the municipality. Knowledge is power. We can learn things to help us keep our neighbourhoods cleaner!

Not In My Back Yard!

2011-12-02T09:13:00.000-08:00

The usual meaning of "Not in my back yard" seems to be "Put that inconvenient urban necessity out of sight from MY house" for many people who campaign against sewage treatment systems and jails. Now, as for me, I'm usually more of a YIMBY than a NIMBY. I want my sewage treated responsibly and I figure that as far as jails go, though we don't need as many new prisons as the current federal government is trying to push on us, what jails we do have should be clean, supervised and close enough to urban centres for... but I'm digressing.
I had a NIMBY moment today, on the water. Stephanie took this photo a couple of winters ago, showing Karl paddling on Panama Flats when Colquitz Creek was flooded.
This morning dawned so calm that after walking the dogs I got into my wetsuit. The sun was just rising as I took the little green rec kayak down to the beach. Lovely! The mist was rising off the water and blowing off-shore, the sky was so clear that I could have seen the volcano cone of Rainier if there hadn't been clouds piled up along the Olympics and in the direction of Puget Sound. The weather will probably change later this morning.
Today I took time for only a short paddle to the little rock garden and into Sheep Cove. I had to get back quickly to write this post before going to class. The kingfisher scolded me again, and perched to be admired. Other than him, the rest of the birds pretty much ignored me dabbling along. At the head of little Sheep Cove, I looked up into the bare trees along the tiny creek that pounds down the rocks in the rainy season. There it was -- the little red bridge that I love to see in winter! The tiny creek runs under it, and under another footbridge nearer the shore, and falls into a scoop of shoreline mostly circled by a low cement wall. It was a perfect moment to watch the tide swell up just a little, washing a gentle wave into the scooped pond, and then watch the water drain out. This is the only place I've found with a reversing current like that.
I paddled back over winter-clear water, enjoying the sight of the bottom fifteen and twenty feet down as the sun rose higher. The bubbles from my little kayak's wake were still there on the calm water, twenty minutes and more after I'd passed on my way out from the beach.
I passed a floating plastic bag that might have blown off a boat, and a sunken tin pie pan that was probably frisbee-ed from shore. Seeing human trash reminded me of why I had to get to my computer and write this post. There has been another fuel spill locally.
You can read about it in the Saanich News in their article appropriately titled "Oil spill stains urban miracle." It's on the front page, with a sub-heading "Catastrophe strikes Coho-laden creek."
This spill was not from a fuel truck crash. It was from a home heating oil tank that leaked a few days ago.A pipe leading from a homeowner's fuel tank sprung a leak, and over a few days released an estimated 1,000 litres of heating oil into Swan Creek, which drains into Colquitz Creek. John took this photo of Colquitz Creek. That's the salmon stream that we've written about here on the blog, the one Karl and Stephanie have paddled down from Panama Flats.
Swan Creek doesn't run through my own back yard. But it does run past my aunt's condo. I've walked in a little park along this creek that also runs past the townhouses where our friends Leslie and Darren used to live. That fuel tank wasn't mine or in my own neighbourhood, but I must have walked within a hundred yards of it several times before eating and relaxing at a nearby home.
That's it, for me. Not in my back yard. Not in my friends' and families' back yards. Accidents happen, but fuel tanks are owned by people who can look after them. There's no excuse for letting a newly-filled tank drain over several days.
No excuses. I walked back from the beach this morning, put the kayak away and looked at my landlady's fuel tank. No oily stains, no petroleum-product smell, no leaks visible from the tank or lines into the house. No fuel slick on the puddles around the Beach House. Not in my yard.
I'm putting out a call to readers of Kayak Yak. If your home is heated with fuel of any kind, go check that the fuel tank and pipes aren't leaking. I mean it. Go to the tank in your yard or the gas pipe that enters your apartment building. And while you're at it, check if the driveway near your home has any oily stains spreading into a storm drain. I'm just sayin'.
And then write a comment in reply to this post, telling me you checked that your heating fuel is not leaking. John's got some features on the right-hand column of this blog, showing our regular readers. You know who you are. We know that we can't stop all the fuel spills in the world, but we can each look after our own yards.And if you see any fuel spilled on the ground or water in BC, in town or out in the boonies, call the 24-Hour Spill Line toll-free at 1-800-663-3456.

Better Winter Weather

2011-12-01T10:22:00.000-08:00

It's better winter weather! Yay!
I got out on the water yesterday, after kicking Bernie's boots out of my way and grousing about how this paddle jacket isn't as comfortable as my old one -- it's tight where it should be loose and the gaskets just feel wrong -- and then I snarled at him that I was taking out the little green rec boat because I could CARRY it, and not out of any dislike for my beautiful pink sea kayak. Grr.
It was great to get out on the water, and the sandy boat ramp at the beach was half-cleared of logs so I didn't have to wobble while clambering over driftwood. The cold water is so clear compared to summer-time algae blooms!
A mostly high tide meant that the otter families along the rocky shore were probably napping, waiting for low tide so they could hunt for things to eat. Instead, today was another day for seeing winter ducks of various kinds. Some coots and some mallards. I've been enjoying seeing mergansers, too.
As I went around Flower Island, there were mergansers diving between Flower and Evans Rock. These are interesting ducks: little, squat, and round like most ducks (and rec kayaks, for that matter). The big difference is the beak. In mallards, the beak is wide and rounded so that it's good for dabbling in shoreline mud for bugs and plants. But in mergansers, the beak is more narrow and pointed so that it's good for catching little fish.
Best of all, I like the tufted crests that stick out from their heads. Punk ducks.
All I saw of a seal that morning was the round head of Mama Seal peeking before she ducked down. Still, it's nice to know she's around.
I remembered to push the button to send an OK message on my SPOT. Had to feather my paddle, coming back along the rocky shore, as the breeze was picking up just a little. And there was Bernie, walking along the promenade, looking for me. He walked me back to the Beach House before heading off to the dentist. Just a nice quiet morning before we headed out into the rest of the day.

Linkapalooza

2011-12-01T01:00:00.000-08:00

Someone needs to tell these guys that they've run out of water.
This photo by MiNGLED-UK is on a building in Osaka, Japan with a group of rowers going up the side of it. I love the wake slithering down the face of the building.

This video is an example of kayaking (and surfing) too close to whales:

This clip proves that practice makes perfect. Or, you know, not:

Kayakers in Lake Okanagan should be careful. A Kelowna man believes he's filmed the legendary lake monster Ogopogo. But if you chose to go kayaking there, be on the look-out for other mythical creatures: unicorns, Bigfoot, and Bush's brain.

And this video should be the final word on Skeg v. Rudder:

Recently, a man completed the first inner tube crossing of the Atlantic Ocean. He drifted over 3000 miles in a little over six weeks. I read it on The Onion so it must be true, right?

Sea Kayak Rescues

2011-11-29T18:25:00.000-08:00

'Tis the season for new rescue DVDs and hot on the heels of Gordon Brown's latest DVD comes a new DVD by Bryan Smith that features Leon Sommé and Shawna Franklin of Body Boat Blade called Sea Kayak Rescues, and it clocks in at a scant 25 minutes.
Our little viewing group ended up with quite a divided opinion.There's no question that the photography is excellent, but as an instructional DVD some of us thought that there was very little instruction to speak of, and that it was more of a demonstration DVD rather than an instructional DVD; after very brief and simplified descriptions of rescue techniques on flat water, we're quickly shown the rescues in more challenging water. Experienced kayakers may appreciate and understand the skills on display, but some of us were dubious that a beginner would understand the nuances of the skills presented without more in-depth explanation of the steps and manoeuvres involved. Some of our group did find the instruction technique effective, and Leon and Shawna are effective compelling presences on the screen, but some of us felt we'd just watched a trailer for a great DVD and were left hanging waiting for the real DVD to actually start. These criticisms don't take away from the fact that it is marvellously photographed and the rough water sequences are thrilling to watch. And it can't hurt to watch new examples of rescue techniques in action.
If you like watching kayaks in crazy conditions, this will be right up your alley, but as a learning aid your mileage may vary.

Respite

2011-11-27T16:03:00.001-08:00

Gitche Gumee is not the only place where there the gales of November wreak havoc. In between wind storms, the usual gang hit the beach of our main local launch point at Cadboro Bay to see what damage the heavy winds of the last week have done to the beach.
Our normally sandy beach was covered with driftwood that had piled up over the last few days.

Down the beach a ways we noticed that a couple of ships anchored near the yacht club had broken lose and were on the beach.

At least they had better luck than the owner of this boat....

...which is now not much more than kindling and matchsticks.

There were some sail boats out, and we even saw a few kayakers heading out, probably to go play in Baynes Channel.

Finally Bernie found what he was looking for -- the remains of a sail boat that came ashore a few days ago.

Followed ashore by the driftwood, the boat was smashed to bits by the relentless pounding of the waves and the wood. Only the mast and a sink was recoverable. The rest was broken dreams and splinters.

Brinicle Video

2011-11-25T09:32:00.000-08:00

Okay, the weather's better for paddling today but I'm still not out in my kayak. Have to be home for the roof repair worker coming sometime this morning to fix the roof shingled less than a year ago which leaked in the wind & rain. The landlady is not happy about the roof leaking.
Also have to be home when Bernie gets back from the Rainbow Kitchen, so I can help him carry up the hill to University House 2 the cannoli lunch he's made.
Since I can't spend an hour out on the water, I won't pout. I checked out a video my cousin found on the internet -- a video of a brine icicle forming under sea ice. It's been nicknamed a "brinicle."
Y'see, when there's particularly cold air over sea water, like -20 degrees C over water hovering near the freezing point, sometimes a draft of warmish water rises. It freezes at the surface, and the dense, saltier water left behind sinks from the new ice in a column of cold water. It looks like a stalactite or an icicle growing downward from the sea ice at the surface. And if it reaches the sea bottom, the ice freezes, trapping any living thing on the bottom at that spot.
Check out this video, taken in Antarctica! You can tell by the quick movements of the seastars and sea urchins crawling on the sea floor that this is a time-lapse video speeded up a little for the benefit of us hasty warm air-breathers.

As well, you can read a little more about the science of seawater circulation in the Arctic by reading a profile I wrote on oceanographer Dr Chris Garrett. It's on-line at the Science.ca website, along with many other profiles on Canadian scientists.

More Books, Less Paddling

2011-11-24T11:21:00.000-08:00

Woke up today to see the wind was still howling a gale off the bay. When I walked the landlady's dogs close enough to shore that I could see the water (but they couldn't and so didn't start begging to run along the shore) the bay was full of whitecaps. No kayaking this morning! Typical for November.
Managed to get the dogs back to the Beach House without having to shampoo salt water out of their fur. And I've found time this morning before going to the special collections room at the public library to study, so here's a brief note about some more books I've read recently that might interest paddlers.
Philip Teece is a local writer with several good books worth finding on the library shelves. Raincoast Macabre is a collection of his west coast ghost stories -- very chill. Plenty of kayaking references in these stories, as well as other small boats.

His book A Dream of Islands has several stories detailing how he constructed and became familiar with his little sailboat Galadriel. It's of particular interest to anyone jonesing to build their own wooden boat! Most of all, I enjoy the references to local islands and bays around the Saanich Peninsula.Follow the further adventures of the sailboat Galadriel in Teece's book A Shimmer on the Horizon. Here Teece tells of taking his little boat beyond Desolation Sound with a new partner in her own sailboat. Gunkholing from one anchorage to another sounds like a marvelous way to spend a summer.All three of these titles were released by the Victoria-based publisher Orca Book Publishers. Some of Teece's books are still available in bookstores, and these three titles are all in the Greater Victoria Public Library. Check 'em out and do a little armchair sailing and paddling this stormy winter!

From the Octopus's Viewpoint

2011-11-23T04:29:00.000-08:00

If you've been enjoying John's camera work on the blog, you've got to check out this link. Nope, it's not his. It was posted on YouTube by a diver who was filming an octopus underwater when the octopus stole his camera. Check it out:

And while we're in an octopus mood, check out this clip of an octopus walking on dry land:

A Bit of Fluff

2011-11-22T04:24:00.000-08:00

On the weekend, I was out in the Mini-Tripper kayak, the one with the big, wide-open cockpit. Looking down at my sandals, I saw they were messy and picked off a piece of seaweed and another piece of black fluff. Both the messy bits went over the side.
Then I thought a little more about that bit of fluff. Probably from my clothes. I bought new socks the other day, so that fluff might be from a sock. Polyester.
Polyester might not seem like something to write about in a kayaking blog. But if you've read the news on Science Daily, you'll know that clothing is a source of tiny particles of plastic that can be found in sea water. Go to this link and see the article.
Basically, tiny bits of polyester and acrylic are breaking off clothing in washing machines. The water draining out of washing machines ends up in the ocean. Shorelines tested all over the world show microplastic debris on the beaches and in the guts of marine life.
One speck in a microbial life form isn't too much. But the microplastic doesn't digest, and it accumulates in the food chain.
Scientist Mark Browne and his colleagues wrote a report saying that "more than 1,900 fibers can rinse off of a single garment during a wash cycle, and these fibers look just like the microplastic debris on shorelines." The report calls for designers of washing machines "to develop methods for removing microplastic from sewage."
I don't know how guilty I can feel about fibers wearing off my clothing and sludging into the wastewater pipes. Guilty enough that I am going to make the effort to buy natural fiber clothes when I can, and that means no more cheap polyester socks. I already knew that I like the feel of wool, silk, and cotton, as well as other natural fibers. I already knew that merino wool clothes are better for paddling than polyester!

One Thing

2011-11-21T04:04:00.000-08:00

Slept in Sunday morning. Hey, winter mornings are dark! And there was a great movie on TV last night -- final part of The Lord of the Rings. Even with blipping to another channel during the spider attacks, it still kept me awake late. So it was nice to get up a little later than usual.
Pulled my parka on and walked the landlady's dogs. In my neighbourhood it's okay to wear pyjamas while walking dogs, especially if the pjs kinda look like yoga gear instead of being the flannel type with Snoopy dog patterns.
While walking dogs I saw the weather was great for November -- cold but no wind or rain. Yay! So you can bet that ten minutes later I was walking through the park again, but this time without dogs and with a rec kayak on my shoulder.
It's been windy too many days lately! We've been making do with kayaking videos instead of going out in the boats. High tide and slack current made it a great day to be on the water.
So nice to go out and do the loop along the beach, along the rocky shore, then out and around Flower Island and back. There were gaps in the cloud cover, and the sun glared down, bright but not hot. It was wonderful to see the water all clear again! In summer, the bay's water grows cloudy. Now, I could even see white sea anemones on the rocks underwater at the rocky shoreline. I turned and swirled, practising some of the extended-reach moves shown in the kayaking videos. Cormorants took off and gave me some room to move.
There were otters tumbling inside the line of bull kelp, so I paddled outside the tangles and managed not to disturb them too. The otters are good neighbours, as far as I can tell. The one that galloped through our front yard this summer was a big friendly fella.
Birds galore floated or flew past. It always amazes me how ducks' wings whistle as they take off or land. Even those little ducky birds called surf scoters. I made note of the black and white wings of one little flock of birds, to look up in bird books.
As I rounded Flower, I went to Evans Rock. Looking one way, there was Mount Rainier, dim but showing through the patchy clouds. Looking another, there was Mount Baker, bright with fresh snow. It was a two-volcano day! So I pressed the OK button on my SPOT and sent a message with a link showing my location.
The air was so clean. There wasn't any current in the little channel as I paddled past the rock that looks like a crouching cat. "Just give me one thing I can hold onto/ to believe in..." really gotta learn all the words to that song.
An eagle soared past, and a kingfisher darted by. There's a coffee shop in the neighbourhood, and up high on one of the walls is written:
Hopping out of bed and thinking about the one thing
Then a splash distracted me. The otters were still tumbling inside the line of bull kelp along the shore. I guessed there must still be herring or some other schools of fish gathering in that place. Trying to give them lots of room, I headed farther off-shore, but the otters came up in front of me and ducked down again. One popped up again, close enough that I could see the fish caught in his jaws. Way to go, otter!
Back along the shore, avoiding dogs swimming for tennis balls. Then back to the Beach House with the kayak on my shoulder. Made medlar jelly, and sealed it in mason jars. Wrote and wrote while the wind picked up as the day ended. What a day!

But Where's My Jet Pack and Auto-Gyro?

2011-11-20T11:11:00.000-08:00

A 1940 issue of Popular Science features a portable kayak that fits on the running board of a car. No word on whether it would interfere with the aerodynamics of the flying cars we're all supposed to have been using for the last 30 years....

Commando Kayaking in Winter

2011-11-14T15:32:00.000-08:00

I got out to Thetis Lake last weekend, to meet John and Louise and Alison. It was an expedition with multiple transportation choices, as John has already observed on his own post. Scroll down to look at it, and his excellent photographs -- always glad to see 'em.

John and Louise took their car with their Delta sea kayaks on top. Alison rode in her own car that's currently being driven by her parents, with her Wilderness Systems Kestrel rec kayak on top. (Shorter than the Deltas, it's a good fit on her smaller sedan. Here's a photo that John took last year at Gyro Park, showing the Kestrel on the sedan.) The Sinclairs waved at their madcap daughter and headed back home to hot tea and scones, I'm guessing, since they had no interest in hanging around the chill beach. I hopped on the bus a block from the Beach House, transferred downtown, and hopped off the jitney (or le car in French) at Six Mile House.

Yeah, yeah, so who uses "jitney" for the bus linking a satellite community to an urban core? Or "le car" for that matter? Someone who just read an article about Alzheimer's disease, that's who. Apparently people suffering from Alzheimer's who are bilingual can have up to twice as much brain damage as people who show a similar amount of visible signs and symptoms but are not bilingual. In the interest of making my nearly-bilingual brain more resilient in case I'm ever faced with Alzheimer's disease, I'm incorporating vocabulary from French and from other dialects of English into my daily discourse, eh? D'accord?

Bilingual observations aside, commando kayaking in winter is less fun than in summer. While it didn't rain during my commute, there were other issues. I arrived at the bus stop ten minutes early for the first run of that Sunday morning, but the bus arrived ten minutes late. So I got downtown too late for the #50 bus and had to wait. Once I finally got to Six Mile House, it's a fair walk over two little hills to the lake. Luckily, a passer-by alerted me when the ball of yarn from my knitting fell out of my pocket. It was unrolling along behind me on the sidewalk, but my knitting hadn't yet begun to unravel -- whew!

Meanwhile, John, Louise, and Alison had already arrived at Thetis Lake. They paddled from our usual launch spot at the second beach, around a point and up to the first beach as we arranged. I was not yet there. If you check out John's post, you can see his drawing of the route he took that morning. It shows that he and Louise and Alison went around in circles for a while, back to a nearby island and back to the beach when they saw me crest the hill and plod down to the beach.

We still had fun. We noodled all over the lake. And it didn't matter a bit whether the wind came up or there were a few raindrops, or more chill than we prefer. The lake is sheltered. That's part of why we paddle lakes in the winter -- so we don't have the disappointment of going all the way to an ocean bay that surprises us by being full of rough waves and wind from an unexpected direction.
After paddling, we stuffed my Expedition into the back seat of Louise & John's car and me into the back seat of Alison's sedan (with her parents staring admiringly as the hardshell kayaks were loaded onto the roof racks of both vehicles). Then we retraced my portage from the bus stop to Six Mile House.

Alas, the pub restaurant serves only buffet luncheon until 2pm on Sundays. A fine buffet, but one for people with grand appetites, not those who just wanted soup and tea. So we went our separate ways. I bid goodbye to the rest there, thanking them for saving me the portage, and hot-footed it a long block to the bus stop, where the driver waited for me to trot the last fifty yards to le car with my kayak. Yay! Merci! Much nicer than waiting 45 minutes for the next scheduled bus to arrive.

The ride and the transfer gave me a chance to knit another few rounds on the latest pair of fingerless mitts for a colleague of Louise's at UVic. Some of us have always felt it's better to wrap the humans up in warm clothes than to turn up the thermostat in winter. These mitts may look like frivolous decorations compared with neoprene kayaking gloves, but I gotta say, if those people in Records and Admissions want to keep warm, I will keep knitting for them!

Blow Hard

2011-11-11T16:29:00.001-08:00

The remains of that big storm that slammed into Alaska a few days ago made its way down the coast and slammed into us today. A morning of torrential rain was followed by an afternoon wind storm. 40kmh winds with gusts into the the 70s.

With the breeze forecast to keep up all weekend, it's not likely that we're going to hit the water...

...which is a real shame because we want to paddle into the Oak Bay Marina and check out this personal hovercraft.

Local Kayaker Wins!

2011-11-10T10:34:00.000-08:00

Congratulations to local kayaker Mike Jackson, who returned from the Greenland Week Kayak Festival in Washingon state's Lake Sammammish State Park with not one, but TWO official award ribbons!
This wasn't just some morning paddle with a couple of buddies. At this festival, there were demonstrations and workshops instructed by two of the most celebrated Greenland-style paddlers in the world. If you don't know who Maligiaq Padilla or Dubside is, well friend, you don't paddle stick. Helen Wilson and Jeanette Rogers instructed as well. Check out Helen's post about the Festival at her terrific website.
Check out the official results at Kayak Academy's website. Mike competed and took third in the "Harpoon Throwing From Kayak for Distance" Category and also third for rolling! That put him solidly in third place for "Overall Combined Kayak Champion." Way to go, Mike!
He also took first place in the demonstration event for accuracy throwing a harpoon... wonder where he got all the practise...
Check out Mike Jackson's blog for his own notes on the event. You'll need to scroll down a little to his post for Oct29-30. Since then, the man's already been to -- get this! -- Surge Narrows. And posted a note on his website about the trip. Wow.

E.T. Seton's The Arctic Prairies

2011-11-07T05:17:00.000-08:00

Ernest Thompson Seton, the writer of The Arctic Prairies, brought his own wilderness agenda with him when he travelled in Canada's Northwest Territory in 1907. His journal notes became the basis for a book that was among the first popular works of environmentalist writing, and had a great deal of lasting influence on many readers and even on government legislation in North America. Ultimately, though, The Arctic Prairies is not a work of environmental propaganda or a book meant to inspire new solutions for the problems Seton observed. Even though Seton took advantage of the prestige this book brought him when he pressured government officials to pass laws limiting hunting, the effect was not so much a change of environmental management as a firmer strategy for continuing to regulate communities and development in Canada's Northwest Territories.

Born in 1860 in South Shields, UK to Scots Loyalist parents, Ernest Evan Thompson emigrated to Canada with his parents and nine brothers when he was six years old. When he was young, he avoided his father by retreating to the woods, studying and drawing animals. A scholarship in art brought him to the Royal Academy in London, England for a couple of years. Rejecting his father, the young man changed his name to Ernest Thompson Seton, as he felt that Seton had been an important name in his father's family tree.

Drawing the natural world became not only a personal passion for Seton, but his career as he failed at farming with his brother and with friends. He was appointed the Provincial Naturalist for the province of Manitoba, and created reference works on birds and animals that are still used today. Of the 42 books that Seton wrote, his 1898 book Wild Animals I Have Known is the most acclaimed. Rudyard Kipling told Seton in a letter that he got the idea to write the Jungle Books from reading Wild Animals I have Known.

In 1907, Seton set out on a canoe trip exploring Hudson's Bay Company routes in Canada's Northwest Territory, in the areas of Athabaska River, Salt River and Thelon River. The trip lasted seven months and covered some 2,000 miles. His notes became the book The Arctic Prairies. Soon after he returned, he was elected to the Explorers Club, which included only the most celebrated adventurers like Sir Edmund Hillary and Admiral Peary.

His Own Agenda

Unlike the explorers that he admired, Seton set off on his journey simply because he wanted to. He was not appointed by the British or Canadian government nor hired by a fur trading company, though as he acknowledged, a trip of this kind simply could not have been made into Canada's Northwest Territory in 1907 without the co-operation of the Hudson's Bay Company. He paid all his own expenses and some expenses for his companion, the natural biologist Edward Alexander Preble. In his book The Arctic Prairies, Seton writes as if the younger man were his assistant, but in fact Preble was conducting his own research.

Though some of the words Seton uses in The Arctic Prairies are no longer polite idiom, they were not used as hate words by Seton. He uses the words "Indian" and "White" as if they had no more nasty connotation than calling casually someone "French" or "Scot." Seton admired many men among the First Nations, and did not hesitate to condemn men of European or First Nations descent who were lazy or venal.

Seton's sense of humour shows in wry anecdotes throughout the text, often at someone else's expense. "'Good man' means a strong, steady worker, as canoeman or portager," Seton notes on page 116. "He may be morally the vilest outcast unhung; that in no wise modifies the phrase 'he is a good man'." This comment is clearly from a city boy who can quote the words that the men of the country are saying, without really understanding the context of what is being said. "Good man" in this context is derived from the British idiom for a man of common birth who is a physically able worker and a whole man in his prime, not a boy or an elder or a tinker or a craftsman who may be willing and deft but unable to do heavy labour.

There's a note of irony here, in that a man who is not physically strong is making comments on other men's strength. By his own admission, Seton was close to a physical breakdown before leaving on this journey. While travelling, he found himself getting stronger, probably from challenging himself physically in new ways. It's significant that Seton doesn't write about taking pride in carrying the same weights his portagers do.

He also observed on page 119 that portaging was much harder than his readers might realize. "It is easily set down on paper, but the uninitiated can scarcely realise the fearful toil of portaging." The voyageurs and working men each carried 150 to 250 pounds on a portage, more than some men are willing to load on a horse. The portagers would carry a load along a very rough trail, then walk back to carry the canoes or a second or third load. Each load was not neatly bundled in packs but in various pieces and packages.

On the advice of experienced travellers, Seton carried some simple medicines with him, mostly laxatives. He was consulted by many people suffering from ailments both moderate and severe. There were many small injuries that he could wash and dress, and laxatives usually caused little or no harm. Seton was appalled to see how many people suffered from lack of medical care. The doctors and teachers promised in the treaty had not arrived, an aboriginal leader told Seton, only missionaries.

Seton gave his ersatz medical treatment to many men (and almost no women) among the First Nations communities as well as the voyageurs, traders and officers of the Hudson's Bay Company. This earned him some respect but it also reinforced the attitude that all white men were wealthy in money and knowledge and health care resources, which they hoarded.

He lost his temper when this attitude surfaced early in the journey. "Just below the Cascade rapids was a famous sucker pool, and after we had camped three Indians came..." Seton wrote on page 22. The visitors borrowed Seton's canoe, and clubbed the fish with his maple paddles. Two of the thin blades broke as they caught a load of three and four pound suckers. Seton was horrified that two of his fine paddles were damaged, and that though the Indians shared the suckers with their friends, Seton was asked to buy a fish for twenty-five cents. He could afford new paddles. He could afford to pay for his fish, and he hadn't yet shared enough to make these men confident about sharing with him. Seton realized again that all white men were seen as wealthy and hoarding, and he resented that impression. As his journey went on, he did share his provisions, including flour and beans, as far as possible. Seton's supplies and provisions included flour and beans in amounts that may have given his portagers the wrong impression that he was much more wealthy than the fur traders and officers of the Hudson's Bay Company.

The same kind of conversation appears in later works by other authors, most notably by a writer who was familiar with The Arctic Prairies, Jack Douglas, comedian and TV writer for Laugh-In and Johnny Carson. Douglas wrote a similar scene in his book Shut Up and Eat Your Snowshoes. He also made reference to the Northern idiom of saying "Good man" about a man who might in fact be a lazy scoundrel.

A Real Buffalo Hunt

It was the thrill of a lifetime when Seton planned to track wood bison, which he called buffalo as many people do, so that he could photograph them. His guide assured him one day that buffalo were near and would be found the next day. "That night, as I sat by the fire musing, I went over my life when I was a boy in Manitoba, just too late to see the Buffalo," Seton wrote on page 43. He recalled how he "used to lie in some old Buffalo wallow and peer out over the prairie through the fringe of spring anemones and long to see the big brown forms on the plains. Once in those days I got a sensation, for I did see them. They turned out to be a herd of common cattle, but still I got the thrill."

"Now I was on a real Buffalo hunt, some twenty-five years too late. Will it come? Am I really to see the Wild Buffalo on its native plains? It is too good to be true; too much like tipping back the sands of time."

When he did see a small herd of buffalo the next day, Seton camouflaged his head with vines. He crept forward without disturbing the animals and took photographs. His guide moved to shoot, but Seton wouldn't allow it. Seeing a closer place to approach the animals, Seton crept away and circled round. The new hiding place was a hollow, a low place in the ground where buffalo could have wallowed in the past. He peered through spring anemones and took his photographs.

This sequence is an example of what Misao Dean calls "the retrospective construction of a narrative arc." If Seton were writing a plain recitation of the events of his journey, he wouldn't have made a point of recounting his boyhood wishes. If Seton were writing an absolutely factual account of the events of his journey in chronological order, the night he mused by the fire might not be written as occurring just before the day of the buffalo hunt. It's also possible that Seton might not have thought about the name of the flowers he peered through as a boy playing in a buffalo wallow, until as a man he lay in a similar wallow photographing the real animals behind the thin veil of a few anemones. This sequence isn't telling just the bare facts of where Seton went and what he did, it tells what he thought and felt at each stage of the story, and it puts his actions on the day of the hunt in context with his boyhood wishes and his lasting sense of fulfillment.

It's not a "just the facts" police report, and it's not necessarily 100% absolutely true, but it's certainly the way to tell the story, and the order in which to tell it. Seton has gone back after the fact and constructed a narrative arc in a work of creative non-fiction. It's a story, but Seton seems to believe it's a true story, about being a youth in a natural place, attracted to wild buffalo, who grows up to be a man who goes canoeing in the wilderness in the company of Indians and fur traders, and takes photographs of the buffalo instead of destroying what he believes are the last few.

Furs

During his journey, Seton made a point of collecting photographs and skins of many mammals for scientific study. The only animal he mentions shooting was a starving lynx that was hanging around a community of children, and he gave the meat to an elderly couple. Among the many small animal hides collected by Seton and his associate Preble was a weasel that leapt onto Preble's chest in camp one day. It took several minutes of wrestling for Preble to overcome the weasel, and Seton had to pry its dead jaws apart to release Preble's hand. "The weasel may now be seen in the American Museum," Seton reported on page 305, "and Preble in the Agricultural Department at Washington, the latter none the worse."

He wrote on page 65 of the mosquitoes in June and July becoming so numerous that they were a plague. "This country has, for 6 months, the finest climate in the world, but 2 1/2 of these are ruined by the malignancy of the fly plague. Yet it is certain that knowledge will confer on man the power to wipe them out." Like many, Seton believed that ploughing the land and developing agriculture would eliminate the mosquito plagues. He was not correct. Land in that country that has been under the plough for a hundred years still raises a fine crop of mosquitos and gnats.

Seton was pleased to meet at Fort Smith several of the men he had learned of in explorer's accounts: Roderick MacFarlane, who founded Fort Anderson, John Schott, a guide, the head man of Hanbury's expedition, Murdo McKay, who "travelled with Warburton Pike in the Barrens and starved with him on Peace river," wrote Seton on page 87. "Very few of these men had any idea of the interest attaching to their observations. Their notion of values centers chiefly on things remote from their dayly life. It was very surprising to see how completely one may be outside of the country he lives in."

Several of the Hudson's Bay officers didn't recognise a spray of uva-ursi (bearberry) that Seton brought into the fort to sketch. Others made similar remarks about a phoebe-bird. Their tunnel vision was shocking to Seton, and it would be to modern people familiar with that part of Canada. These officers were completely detached from their location, as if a modern corporate executive officer in Toronto were unable to recognise either a coffee-room refrigerator or the sound of a doorbell. Bearberry is not only very common, it has edible berries that are available for many months of the year and can be found under snow. The phoebe's distinctive call is common during much of the day in winter, hushing when large animals or people approach. These facts are useful knowledge for people who walk in this part of the world.

Attitude and Ridicule

Seton also got to meet his opposite number, his counterpart among the First Nations. This doppleganger of sorts was a First Nations or mixed-race woman near Fort Smith who put on airs that she lived like a white woman. This woman made much of having two cooking pots, one for coffee and one for tea (page 86). She prided herself on speaking English and straining to wear a corset over her clothes when shopping at the Fort store. Seton describes her (page 92-3) more thoroughly than anyone he meets, and quotes more of her rough speech than of his trusted Indian guides. Without laughing in her face, Seton nonetheless makes it clear in his text that he thought she was making herself ridiculous over and over with her false vanity.

It is a significant thing when a traveller meets his or her double among a different nation. Seton apparently did not consciously recognise this prideful woman as his doppleganger. In this book and his work in the Woodcraft League, he seemed unaware that he was similarly imitative and possibly just as much of a laughing-stock, adopting some of the clothes and manners of the First Nations people he had met. He also apparently did not consciously acknowledge whether his attitude towards her was mirrored by the attitudes toward him held by his associates among the Hudson's Bay Company and his Indian guides. It's a safe bet that these hard-living men were very aware that Seton was an artist and scholar who couldn't carry a full load over the portages. Though he was a wanna-be explorer, playing at following the footsteps of the first white men through that land, Seton proved his mettle. He kept up his journey for seven months and 2,000 gruelling miles, creating detailed maps with no more equipment than a compass.

It's possible that like George Mercer Dawson, Seton was not scorned by his associates as a weakling, but admired by some for his scholarship (even if he wasn't writing in Cree syllabics) and for the willing use of what strength he had. Seton did have the respect of at least two of his guides. Near the end of their journey, the canoe was wrecked and all Seton's journals floated downstream in a bag. Two of the guides risked their lives going after the journals, running for miles along the rough shore, one man in particular reaching over and over into the rough river. "And I did not forget him or the others;" Seton wrote on page 295, "and Robillard said afterward, 'By Gar, dat de best day's work I ever done, by Gar, de time I run down dat hell river after dem dam books!'"

Was Seton someone to be condemned by modern readers as a self-appointed White Indian whose cultural appropriation of voice silenced the First Nations people he felt he could out-perform? The final word on that score belongs to the Sioux who in 1917, gave Seton the name Black Wolf in recognition of his work among the Boy Scouts and the Woodcraft League of America. Seton preferred to use that name ever since, until his death in 1946.

Some references

Dean, Misao. "The Mania for Killing: Hunting and Collecting in Seton's The Arctic Prairies." Janice Fiamengo, ed. Other Selves: Animals in the Canadian Literary Imagination. Ottawa: University of Ottawa Press (Reappraisals: Canadian Writers), 2007.

Douglas, Jack. Shut Up and Eat Your Snowshoes. New York, NY: Pocket Books, 1972.

Edmonds, Ron. Blue Sky! The Ernest Thompson Seton Pages. Posted 2010. Retrieved September 24, 2011. http://www.etsetoninstitute.org

Seton, Ernest Thomspon. The Arctic Prairies. Toronto, ON: William Briggs, 1911. OpenLibrary. Web. Posted April 1. 2008. Retrieved September 23, 2011. http://openlibrary.org/books/OL7197052M/The_Arctic_prairies

Turner, Kate and Bill Freedman. “Nature as a theme in Canadian Literature.” Environmental Reviews. Ottawa: 2005. Vol. 13, Iss. 4, p 169, 29 pp. Posted on the NRC Research Press website at http://er.nrc.ca November 8, 2005. Retrieved Sept 26, 2011. http://proquest.umi.com.ezproxy.library.uvic.ca/pqdweb?did=978921871&Fmt=7&clientId=3916&RQT=309&VName=PQD

Thetis Lake

2011-11-06T19:39:00.000-08:00

Hard to believe it's been a month since we were last on the water. Life is like that sometimes.

Even though it was a brisk 1 degree as we headed out in the morning, the sun was occasionally poking through the clouds and the cool air certainly woke us up.
Our friend Alison is back in town for a visit. She's been post some great paddle reports of her kayaking adventures in Montreal, but she's here in town for a few days visiting her kayak and giving it a little workout.
Unfortunately, Alison suddenly realized that's she'd forgotten to renew her driver's license before visiting, limiting her options for moving her kayak to put ins. And with Paula limited to commando kayaking on public transit today, a tense two-hour negotiating session ended with the decision to paddle Thetis Lake today. (If David Stern needs help with the NBA lockout, tell him to give us a call. After this, we can negotiate anything.)

Louise and I put in with Alison....

....and caught up with Paula at a different part of the lake.

Checking my records, I see that this is our first paddle this year at the lake. How the heck did that happen?

Not only is this a great place to paddle, but it's a great place to do some rescue and paddle practice, but no one felt like doing that today. That water was cold!

So we spent a couple of hours meandering around the lake....

...and then spent a couple of hours warming up afterwards!

But before we could imbibe some warm beverages, we passed a bluff on the shore where a photographer took some snaps of us. We bumped into him later in the parking lot and he graciously emailed us the photos. Thanks for these pictures, Erik!

Trip Length: 7.55 km
YTD: 214.59 km
More pictures are here.

BigWaveDave.ca Supports Community Member

2011-11-06T04:42:00.000-08:00

A quick note here for all kayakers, windsurfers, SUPers, and canoeists who make a point of checking BigWaveDave's website for all the low-down on weather, tides, and more. A windsurfer, Andrei Vojakine, who goes by the nickname Russian Dood on the BigWaveDave forum is being treated for brain cancer.
Click on the piratical image in the upper left-hand corner of the homepage for BigWaveDave to learn more about the Russian Dood and his story. The forum has begun collecting donations for the BC Cancer Foundation in his name. There will be a draw much like a raffle, but ya get only one ticket no matter how big the donation, eh? The donated prizes include art, jackets, a GoPro helmet cam and weekends at two of the nicest resorts on Vancouver Island.
Solidarity for the Russian Dood and all people being treated for brain cancer, including a relative of one of the Kayak Yak paddle group.

Debris

2011-11-05T08:23:00.000-07:00

Thanks to this spring's tsunami in Japan, local kayakers may face a new hazard. 18 million tonnes of debris from the tsunami is making its way to our shores. The junk, including refrigerators, televisions and a fishing boat from Fukushima, was recently spotted in mid-ocean by a Russian trawler. The debris field covers a huge swath estimated to be 3200 kilometers long by 1600 kilometers wide.
The good news is that it won't hit the coast until 2014.

The Dangerous River

2011-11-04T09:33:00.000-07:00

It's always interesting to find personal connections to a book, particularly a book like The Dangerous River which describes one particular river in such fascinating detail. (It's worth noting that since the 1954 edition, the D.R. has been re-released by other publishers and never gone out of print. I got these images from Amazon.ca where there are many editions of the D.R and books on Patterson for sale. Check your local bookstore and library for copies!) I found myself interested in two examples of the circularity of Canadian publishing.
The first example is small and merely personal. The D.R. was a terrific read when I was a child, and Prime Minister Eliot Trudeau was guided on the Nahanni River in 1972. In my teens I read the book again as I learned to use a canoe and kayak. The memory of Patterson's journey served me well when a writing assignment came my way years later, to do a biography of Will Hobbs, writer of many young adult adventure novels. One of Hobbs's most successful novels was The Far North, set on the Nahanni River. I was glad to know that when writing the novel, Hobbs read the D.R., but drew on his own experiences paddling the Nahanni with his wife. So, I mused, Hobbs's research included a book I knew well. That helped me understand how Hobbs struggled to compose his novel while he was in the field. He was only able to write the book when he was at home, thinking about the trip. That reminded me of Patterson at his home near Sidney BC in 1953, writing the D.R. more than twenty years after the events recorded in his journal. And there I was, at my isolated home north of Edmonton, writing about the process of writing about a river journey. Very circular.

The second example is larger and more public. It came this fall when I was reading a review by Richard C. Davis of David Finch`s biography RM Patterson: a life of great adventure. Immediately afterward, I found a review by Paul Huebener of Nahanni Journals: R.M. Patterson's 1927-1929 Journals, which was edited by Richard C. Davis. At this point, I was happy to find that I'd learned a little about Richard C. Davis and what makes him a Patterson scholar.

For one thing, reading these reviews showed me that Davis is aware of the appeal that Patterson as an author. "Patterson was able to make bold and adventurous choices about how he lived because he enjoyed the privileges of wealth," Davis observes that he read early in Finch's biography, adding that "a personality that can be as comfortable among the refined audience of a London opera house as it is with poorly educated trappers has an appeal of its own."

For another thing, I'd learned a little about how Patterson's journals were edited by Davis. There`s a world of difference between the journals that Patterson kept during his travels, which were addressed to his mother, and the creative nonfiction work The Dangerous River that he wrote based on this material. "The journals reveal certain elements of The Dangerous River to be fabrications," notes reviewer Huebener. "Davis' editorial choices in transcribing the unpolished journal entries are conscientious but unobtrusive." Those are two qualities that I value in an editor. As well, I value the third thing I learned about Davis: he is perceptive in what comments to make about another writer's work. Davis noted in his review of Finch's biography that "Finch speculates, and he is likely correct, that as Patterson matured, 'he rewrote the past to reflect the kind of person he would have liked to have been that summer of 1927' (p. 96)."

So what kind of person would Patterson have liked to have been when he was on the Nahanni? Clearly, Patterson the writer wanted to present himself as a capable man, confident that he was a peer of the capable people who had survived this wilderness. "I dropped off to sleep by the fire, very snug with the warm rocks of the cave around and above me," Patterson wrote on page 154 of the Allen and Unwin edition, "and behind me a long line of copper-coloured hunters reaching far back into the darkness of forgotten centuries."
Patterson also wanted to show himself as a man of good humour. His sense of humour shows most openly in the scene of the pancakes, which he described on page 243 as occurring "rather in the early Chaplin manner." My favourite humourous scene, though is the one near the end of the book on page 234 where Patterson is appalled by his companion Gordon's elaborate cursing of their sled dogs, collectively and severally, "to various hells, including... a certain prideful eastern city."

The scene that works best to show Patterson as a storyteller comes at the beginning of chapter 7, on page 239, when a group of Nahanni Indians visit the cabin Patterson has built with his friend. Here Patterson keeps his good humour harnessed, letting it keep the tone of the scene light but not silly. It's a short scene, in which Patterson represents himself as doing right by his guests, as other First Nations people had done for him in the past. It's a realistic scene, in which real men come to the cabin, drink an abundance of good tea and show their approval by sharing meat as they are leaving. Even so, it has an air of subtle magic. The men who enter the cabin could have walked out of the past instead of out of the surrounding forest. Though the characters speak and act simply during this sequence, it's not a simple scene. It's a metaphor. Patterson wrote this scene to show that he learned about the place and people and was accepted there. The skill of Patterson the writer is subtler here than when he describes Gordon cursing the dogs. In the cursing scene, the writer has plenty of interaction and dialogue to describe in colourful terms. But in the scene of the visiting Nahannis, what is remarkable is how quietly and calmly the little sequence is told. There is almost no dialogue, and no colourful descriptions of people and movements. This scene is an example of very contained and controlled storytelling without all the hoo-rah of burning pancakes or dogfights.

I will have to linger over a copy of Nahanni Journals and see if there is a journal entry corresponding to the Nahannis visiting scene. As a writer, I could learn a lot from comparing the journal notes with the crafted scene. Huebener comments that "The journal entries themselves, which Patterson accurately admits 'are all much the same - got up, travelled & went to bed,' are nevertheless intriguing in terms of the literary construction of wilderness travel experience." That`s an interesting turn of phrase – literary construction of wilderness travel experience. The writing of one`s wilderness travel experience is not merely a documentary recording all the facts, momentous or trivial, but a literary construction of the story the writer means to tell out of all that raw data experienced during travel in the wilderness. Sometimes the story comes full circle.

Some references:

Finch, David, and Davis, Richard C (REVIEWER). Rev. of: "RM Patterson: a life of great adventure by David Finch." Arctic 54.3 (2001): 342. CBCA Reference and Current Events, ProQuest. Web. 18 Oct. 2011.

Huebener, Paul. "Representing Wilderness Travel." Canadian Literature/Littérature canadienne: a quarterly of criticism and review (Univ. of British Columbia, Vancouver) (202) Autumn 2009, 127-129,155.

Patterson, Raymond Murray. The Dangerous River. London, UK: George Allen and Unwin Ltd., 1954.

Patterson, Raymond Murray. The Dangerous River. Sidney, BC: Gray's Publishing, 1966.

Patterson, Raymond Murray; Richard C. Davis, ed. Nahanni Journals: R.M. Patterson's 1927-1929 Journals. Edmonton, AB: University of Alberta Press, 2008.

Sea Kayak with Gordon Brown Volume 2

2011-11-02T20:36:00.000-07:00

The second volume of Sea Kayak with Gordon Brown recently arrived in the mailbox, and has been taken for a spin on the DVD player. Like the first volume, the DVD is really two films in one -- one features Gordon taking a group of kayakers around the Scottish Islands of St. Lida, the second features Gordon demonstrating rescue and towing techniques. You can also watch the expedition and the lesson section separately as independent features, or as one long film.
The expedition portion takes us to the islands of St. Kilda, a small group of islands forty miles of the coast of northern Scotland. Here, Gordon and his group tour an amazing group of islands and stunning stacks, caves and channels. It’s a stunningly beautiful area, and clearly made to be explored by kayaks.
The lesson portion demonstrates rescue techniques, both solo and assisted, as well as towing techniques and even a few balance exercises, demonstrated in both calm and rough waters. These lessons are excellently presented and easy to follow (although it must be said that Brown’s brogue occasionally left some in our viewing group asking the others “what did he say?” I didn’t have that issue. Your mileage may vary.) The towing lessons were full of ideas that we’re eager to try next time we have a practice session, and the importance of practicing is brought home by a couple of unplanned tip-overs and tows that occured during filming sessions which necessitated some real assisted rescues and tows.
If you enjoyed Volume 1, you’ll love this. It’s a terrific display of safety measures that ought to be seen by kayakers of all abilities.

Linkapalooza

2011-11-01T00:01:00.000-07:00

-- Fear the Cyclops shark! Fear it!

-- Sometimes your adventure just doesn't go as planned. Form the Globe and Mail, here's the story of a fellow who embarks on his dream kayaking expedition, a three-week solo paddle down the West Coast of Vancouver Island. Unfortunately, his dream trip lasted just over an hour. Click here to check it out....and here to read his follow-up story.

-- There's a line from an old Rush song: "Sadder still to watch it die than never to have known it." When I had my bicycle accident almost five years ago, I was heart-broken thinking that I may have to give up this wonderful sport that I'd only just discovered. Luckily for me I was able to continue, but what would it be like to suffer an accident that caused your kayaking skills to quickly wane over a summer?

-- Ever wonder how fish communicate with each other? Turns out it might be by farting.
No, really.
According to an article from NatGeo, "This intriguing idea comes from scientists who discovered that herring create a mysterious underwater noise by farting. Researchers suspect herring hear the bubbles as they’re expelled, helping the fish form protective shoals at night. It’s the first ever study to suggest fish communicate by breaking wind."

-- The Hurricane Riders were riding their kayaks on the Skook recently. Check out their latest video below:

-- The Dash Point Pirate has an interview with Phoxx Ecks who earlier this year spent a month kayaking the northern coast of Vancouver Island with a skin-on-frame kayak, and no gear -- no tent, no sleeping bag, no PFD, and no food or water either -- on a "primitive expedition." Here's the trailer for the interview:

-- And this clip? Well, this is just plain cool:

A summer in the parc, part 3

2011-10-29T21:57:00.000-07:00

Final catchup post . . .

September 11, 2011

This was the day I got on the water shortly after 9 am, and came off in time to catch the 4:30 pm bus, setting a record of 7.5 hours. A still, warm, brilliant late summer day, in which I went out of bounds, paddling half way around the basin beyond Ile de Mai, and then - daringly - back across the middle. Here's the view the eastmost, or at least up-stream-most point . . .

It was one of those glassy water days, when despite the effortless paddling, progress is exceedingly leisurely because of all the photo-pauses to capture all the lovely reflections, starting with the - now quite low - tunnel under the bridge to Île Gagnon, the red house, and blue boats docked alongside.

Pause to take the first of many panorama shots, looking towards the north bank. That's the De Laurentides bridge on the left of the photo, disappearing behind Île Langlois. Île des Juifs/Île des Fraises lies, just to the right of my bow, then Île Gagnon. I don't know the name of the islet with the sparse trees and the yellowish beach.

I paddled under the de Laurentides bridge, under the footbridge to Île Locas, and up the shallow, water-lily strewn channel between the river bank and Île Lacroix, towards the marsh. The water was very shallow and very weedy.

Obligatory panorama shots of the marsh itself: From the approach to the the south . . .

Looking directly at the marsh . . .

Towards Île Chabot . . .

Looking east from the marsh, towards Île Locas and Île Lacroix.

I could get only a little way into the marsh, via a channel that I suspect had been dug out, before running into a bank of debris. Water was very shallow, and I stirred up black mud and marsh gas with every stroke, no matter how careful.

So I left behind the marsh and glided through through the narrow channel between Île Chabot and the promentary from the south bank, and along the channel between the bank and Île Desroches.

. . . up the south side of Île de Mai, hardly noticing the current that on past paddles had nearly stalled me before the top. At the top, I eyed the vista before me and then decided to go for it, working my way up the south coast past people's little river runabouts . . .

To where the river began to narrow again, at which point I turned around and headed back towards Île de Mai. Discovered I am out of practice for paddling long open stretches. (Yes, I hear you say, that is not a long open stretch; it only felt that way.)

And then sauntered downstream on the north side of Île de Mai. This is the junction at the downstream end of Île de Mai. The eastern channel is on the left, the western channel, which joins in a T-junction, in front of my prow, strewn with rocks, and the channel between the northern bank and Île Morris on the right.

The wildlife was enjoying the sunshine as much as I was: herons, out and about along the side of the river.

And turtles, alongside Île Chabot . . .

And an as-yet unidentified bird which held still long enough in the trees of Île Chabot.

Down the north side of Île Morris, under the bridges - where the swallow's nests were all silent and empty (and unphotographed).

Big panorama that starts on the north bank and swings around to take in, I think, Île Lefebvre, in shallow waters full of water-lilies.

Cirrus cloud moving in, marking a coming change in the weather.

More turtles, east of the bridge behind Île Ducharme . . .

With a detour for a pit-stop, I then completed the circuit by paddling underneath the Boulevard Curé-Labelle and around Île Bélaire, then back between Bélaire and Darling, back under the bridge, and in to home dock, approaching from the east.

Phew! And then I went home, via La Popessa, for pasta.

The marsh through the summer

Just to show the changes in river and vegetation through the summer, here are my marsh-panoramas, with an attempt at alignment.

In May (May 22, 2011)

In July (July 1, 2011)

In September (September 11, 2011)

In October (October 10, 2011)

A summer in the Parc, part 2

2011-10-27T09:30:00.000-07:00

Second digest post of trips to Parc de la Riviere-des-Mille-Îles this summer.

July 1, 2011

Kayaking seemed a fitting way to celebrate Canada Day, and the weather was ideal, so off I went on my usual schedule, 0829 De Laurentides bus from Cartier to the Parc. There were already a few groups getting ready, and I knew there would be many more by the end of the day.

I turned west from the landing, under the bridge to Île Gagnon - already noticeably shallower in comparison to May - and out onto the river.

The water was still high enough for an easy trip through the tunnel underneath the south side of the des Laurentides bridge.

Then under the footbridge to Île Locas, and up the north side of Île Locas to the marsh, with the birdwatching lookout clearly in view.

The water level was still high enough that I could poke my prow into the marsh, though all around me I could hear herons muttering and whuffling, and I figured by now they might well be nesting, so I didn't push it. (On the map, if you draw a line from the tip of the promontary just west of Île Chabot to the bank just west of Île Lacroix, everything to the west of that is filled in with marsh and reeds. This photo has me towards the northern margin, just below Île Chabot. That stand of trees beyond my bow marks the little island. I really ought to come back and annotate these maps, but if I wait to do that, these posts won't go up until December).

Then I crossed to the north side of the river, to go up the north side of Île de Mai, loop round the top, and come down the narrower, quicker-moving channel. No photos from this side.

And swung back around the north of Île Morris, to check on the progress of the swallows nests underneath the De Laurentides bridge. Clearly, I'd missed the building stage completely: the nests were built, and already occupied by something hungry, if the constant activity of the parent-birds was anything to go by.

Here's what the north bank of the river looks like, around Île Lefebvre,

Then I paddled back across to the south side of the river (with a pit-stop at Île de Juifs) and worked my way up the shallow, increasingly narrow side-stream just to the east of the de Laurentides bridge. I'd noted it on the way up as a potential side trip. I was stopped by a minor logjam, but on the other side, in a shaded pool, I spotted a mallard with her milling clutch of ducklings, visible more as motion than shapes in the shadows. To my pleasure, the little things bumbled up and over and around the obstruction, towards me. I started poking my way backwards, trying to stay out of their way at the same time as I took photos. Unfortunately, my autofocus was keener on sharp edged grass than cute fuzzy ducklings, so I have a number of fuzzy photos of cute fuzzy ducklings. The best ones were taken against water.

I've been startled by the speed with which ducklings skitter back and forth across the water, but it occurred to me that I was thinking from the perspective of a naked ape who has to slog along with most of its volume immersed, instead of a little ball of waterproof down and trapped air that displaces a fraction of its body-weight and therefore has negligible resistance to the thrust of its (comparatively) big webbed feet.

. . . And then back past the house with the red roof, and through the tunnel (this willow is to the left of the tunnel), and back to the landing.

August

August seemed to consist of a whole month of sunny, calm Tuesdays or Wednesdays or Thursdays, glorious for kayaking, miserable for working in an office that never seemed to get below 82F on the thermostat despite the loud wheezing of our antiquated air-conditioner, while the weekends were rainy and miserable, or had a strong wind warning. Or worse.

Decided to split this post into to two, otherwise both its production and its length were going to become exceedingly protracted. Stay tuned for the longest paddle yet.

Kayaks to the Arctic

2011-10-26T06:15:00.000-07:00

While re-reading R. M. Patterson's The Dangerous River in the McPherson Library at UVic, I found an interesting book on the shelf near the good ol' D.R. (as fans call it). This book "popped" out at me because of its yellow cover, and its title: Kayaks to the Arctic. Ooo! I had to take a look at it
As it turns out, the author E.B. Nickerson is Elinor Nickerson, a physical education teacher from Alamo, California. Ooo Ooo! Another book on adventure travel by a woman. With her husband Richard Nickerson (known as "Nick") and three of their four sons, Elinor kayaked the MacKenzie River to the Arctic Ocean in 1964. The eldest son held the fort at home while the rest of the family spent weeks camping and kayaking.

The paper jacket is long gone on the library copy I read. But I liked the photos (all taken by "Nick"). I also liked the descriptions of villages along the river, and the Nickerson family camping methods. As for their kayaks, the Nickersons paddled folding kayaks that look and sound like Kleppers. The kayaks look much like the one in this 1964 photo from the Klepper website. Their 19-year-old son Devon paddled a solo kayak, while Elinor paddled a double with ten-year-old son Brian and Nick paddled a double with son Lincoln, who turned 12 on the trip.
They took five paddles with them to the Arctic. Five paddlers, five paddles. No spares.
If you're looking for a paddler's guide to the Mackenzie, you'll have to look elsewhere, such as the "Canoeist's Guide to the Liard and Mackenzie Rivers" by Harlow and Ariane Pinson, posted online here. The Pinsons note that Kayaks to the Arctic is not a guide book, but one of "several chatty but useless narratives of recent river travel." Useless to someone planning which river channel to take at the delta, maybe. But to someone comparing Alexander Mackenzie's journals to more recent works about travelling along this river, this book is interesting enough for me to gallop through it.
The most powerful scene in Kayaks to the Arctic comes as the Nickerson family approaches the Sans Sault rapids, the only bit of rough water they've been warned about. All the family knows to stay close to the left bank. When Devon's kayak veers a little less to the left than either of his parents prefer, Nick calls him to shore to have it out. Hot words get shouted, including "a few choice expletives." Then the blade of a kayak paddle swooshes through the air, and --
But that would be telling.

Lego Landing

2011-10-25T19:57:00.000-07:00

Here on the We(s)t Coast, we've had a long string of feet in sneakers washing ashore, eleven in the last four years. But there's another case of feet washing ashore taking place, only these feet are attached to giant Lego-men.

This giant Lego man was spotted on shore this morning in Florida by Jeff Hindman.
But as noted on Boing-Boing, this is not the first time Lego men have washed ashore. One washed up in Holland in 2007, and another in England in 2008. And there's this.
Some places get all the cool flotsam.

Hockey Player Faces Boating Charges

2011-10-22T08:22:00.000-07:00

The Globe and Mail had an interesting report in the Sports section yesterday. Check out page S5 to read their article on Dustin Byfuglien, defenceman for the Winnipeg Jets. His lawyer is attending a hearing for him this weekend, on some charges in Minnesota that stem from what the Globe and Mail calls " a strange boating outing last summer."
It's worth remembering that while in a boat, people are subject to laws. Here's a link to Transport Canada's Safety Rules and Tips. Boating while intoxicated, or failing to use navigational lights, or not having personal flotation devices are all offences for which a person can be charged. Transport Canada also has rules governing kayakers in short boats without motors.
Something else to think about is a program that Transport Canada has to fund boating safety projects. If you've got an idea that could promote boating safety, check it out.
Meanwhile, I'm going out on the water. With (yes) my PFD, floating rope in a throw bag, water pump, whistle, compass, waterproof flashlight, and SPOT.

Kayaking With Blue Whales

2011-10-19T00:30:00.000-07:00

Wow. There's not much more to say of this amazing footage of a couple of kayakers who paddled along with some blue whales in California earlier this month. What amazing creatures. Check it out below:

Another Ordinary Day

2011-10-18T12:15:00.001-07:00

Sunday was a great day for me. Got out and about in the village, did the coffeeshop thing, wrote, and -- ta dah! -- got on the water in a kayak on a bright afternoon!
I love paddling in the winter months. The water in Cadboro Bay is clear again! The crowds of people on the beach have dwindled to include only People Who Like The Beach A Whole Lot instead of the throngs of People Who Bought A New Swimsuit and People Who Think Going To The Beach Is Required In Summer. I am much more interested in sharing the beach in winter with the people who are determined to deal with the cool air.
This Sunday, the University of Victoria Sailing Club was out in full force. Team after team of young people were hauling out their little sailing boats, one after another. The bottleneck of traffic jam on the simple boat launch relented for a moment, and I was able to carry the kayak to shore.
It was the Jackson Kayaks Mini-Tripper. Really, it's meant for kids to noodle around a pond, but I've been taking it out along the shore to Flower Island. The large, open cockpit and slightly tippy narrow hull mean that I don't go around Flower... that would break my self-imposed rule (I'll go anywhere I feel confident about swimming BACK from!) even if it lets me see more of the big bay and even Mt Baker.
Sunday's paddle was a great time. A flock of seagulls was clustering near the middle of the bay, probably finding a shoal of small fish to catch. Many boats that are anchored in the bay all summer have been hauled ashore now, before the big storms of November.
I got chatting with Guy, the owner of the house along the shore with a dock reached by a steep path past the Tiki Hut. Where's their Buddha gotten to these days? Guy reports that the Buddha suffered some slings and arrows of outrageous fortune during his days in the rock niche or just above the dock. Not only did Buddha get knocked around by the otters, a wasp nest was built in his head! A broken arm on the statuette was enough to get Guy and his wife bringing the Buddha up near the house. It has been fine there for over a year. So have Guy and his wife. They love their little dock, but mosquitoes in summer and chill wind in winter make it a place they don't linger as much now as they did ten years ago when they first bought the place. Up at the top of their steep path, they sit outside, untroubled by mosquitoes or chill breezes off the water.
On my way back from Flower and Sheep Cove, I saw that the flock of seagulls was clustered by the little dock. "Did you feed them or something?" I asked Guy, and he shook his head, marvelling.
"They're fishing," he said. "Herring or something. And the seals are hunting, too."
Three little heads were bobbling up and dipping down. It looked like Mama Seal and two young, slim harbour seals were darting around for herring. How wonderful to see them herding the fish against the rock wall at that side of the bay!
I gave the seals, seagulls, and surviving herring a wide berth, then paddled back to the boat launch at Gyro Park. Every time we go on the water, even in familiar places, there's always something to see, and something to enjoy.

Food and Kayaking -- for Blog Action Day

2011-10-16T21:26:00.000-07:00

John figured it would be a challenge to link the theme of Blog Action Day (Food!) with kayaking. Pshaw, I say. Of course food and kayaking are linked!
Don't believe me yet? Think about it for a minute. Why did people use kayaks in the North? Traditionally, the Inuit used them for hunting, and some still do. That's a food-related issue. In fact, I'd call it a food security issue. If we were going out in our kayaks to catch most of our food, food security would feel like a big issue to us, too.
Hunting kayaks were usually long and slim in Western Greenland, Bernie read somewhere. That is, they were long and slim until rifles became available to Inuit hunters. Then the usual kayak shape changed to something more like the Pamlico that Bernie and I lend to beginners -- wide and short, better suited to bringing a hunted animal back to shore than the long and slim kayaks that were good for quickly getting close to an animal for spear hunting.
Like I know how to hunt in a kayak... The only time one of us got close enough to a seal to be able to touch it, Bernie startled the seal and it sank away. Not food!
Instead, the food our paddle group associates most with kayaking is bars. Energy-to-go Bars. Power Bars. Cliff Bars. Luna Bars. Nonuts Bars. Nature Valley Granola bars and any other kind of packaged food snugged up in a water-resistant little parcel that fits in the pockets on our paddle jacket. Nice snacks that give me a boost of energy aren't essential, but they do make me feel more comfortable! Louise noticed the ginger in one bar made her feel warmer.
Oh, and there is another way that food and kayaking intersect. That's the fact that kayaking is better than backpacking because you can bring More Food. And better food, too -- heavy things like fresh fruit or fresh meat or eggs instead of dried or powdered commercial products. Nice to have light, packable food products when backpacking, of course. But on Bernie's kayaking trip to Portland, he was able to bring not only a proper gas stove but a griddle. He made pancakes.
Food... kayaking... yep, they're connected. Just think about how many times we eat after we go paddling!

A summer in the Parc, part 1

2011-10-16T20:54:00.000-07:00

This the first of two catchup posts of my summer visits to the Parc de la Rivière-des-Mille-Îles.

Saturday April 30, 2011

My very first trip this year was two weeks before rentals opened, on April 30, when I did a Saturday scouting expedition, thinking that if I could find a good launch site close to the west side of the Park and the marsh, I would return with the Dragonfly on the Sunday and get a jump on the summer. I hopped off the 73 bus at the gate to the Parc, and trotted down to the landing, meeting the water rather before I expected: the small steep muddy beach that serves as a launch site was underwater, as was the bank above the beach, as were the trees at the top of the bank. The gangway to the dock, instead of sloping down, sloped up to the dock; the anchor point was underwater. Across the flooded channel, I could see various forlorn pieces of summer equipment. I estimated the water was six or seven feet above the ordinary level.

I followed the Boulevard Sainte-Rose west, detouring down side streets down to follow glimpses of the water, and eventually down a km-long packed mud track past the golf course on the west side of des Laurentides which accessed the footbridge over to Île Locas. Last summer, I'd seen fishermen casting from dirt shoulders on either side of the bridge. No dirt shoulders now; I would have had somehow to scramble down the bank and directly into the boat. That after a kilometer or so of slog. Everywhere the river was up over its banks and in amongst the trees. In midchannel, it was the colour of cold milky coffee, and briskly moving. I saw a single kayaker paddling upstream in a yellow hardshell boat that was the brightest colour in the landscape, but I could just envision myself trying to make headway in my own little yellow Dragonfly, with its flat bottom and metronome swivel. Or not.

May 22, 2011

Three weeks later, the rentals were open and the cherry blossoms were out, although the sun wasn't. The day was grey and chill, courtesy of The Spring that Never Was, but not raining, not blowing, and I was not to be stopped.

I headed upstream, paddling against the current beneath the bridge to Île Gagnon, and up along the south bank of the river, underneath the autoroute des Laurentides and then south of Île Lacroix. Where Île Lacroix bends, the woods at the river's edge were flooded deeply enough for me to take the kayak into them, which I did.

I was sitting in my kayak, with the nose against grassy mud, looking around, when I caught sight of a distinctive striped pointed shape underwater off my bow. I misparsed it at first, thinking snake, and the sudden flaring of the front flippers was disconcerting (Hooded cobra! Way too many B-movies at an impressionable age). I recognized it just as it began to float upwards to the surface, and I snuck a hand out for the camera. At that point, unfortunately, the turtle recognized me as foreign and possibly threatening. Flippers, head, snapped back into its shell, lying almost edge-on to the surface, and almost hidden in mud. I waited. It poked its head gingerly out a couple more times, but each time was quicker to withdraw, so I decided to do the polite thing, and take myself off.

On the other hand, nothing and no one was going to put this muskrat off the reed it was munching with all the blissful obliviousness of a child left alone with a stick of rock candy, sitting on a mat of rotten last-summer leftovers under the flooded trees.

The sight of the marsh itself was a shock. With the water this high, I'd anticipated being able to get well into it, but . . . where was the marsh? Where was the land? Nothing remained but a grey expanse of water with some brown stubble of last year's reeds. I wandered the watery wastes in bewilderment, round the back of the little island that used to be, took photographs of the bare marooned trunks and sodden branches, and strange cocoons wrapped around desiccated reeds (which came out blurry, autofocus having favoured the stark branches in the background). The only visible living critter was another muskrat crouching on a root knuckle and looking distinctly morning-after-ish. But although the day was dull and the early spring colours were drab, the birds were feeling anything but (pan movie of the marsh).

For lunch, I sat on the steps at Île Gagnon, with the kayak hitched to the upright and floating at my feet. I watched the grey waters and the sparse traffic, three or four kayaks, a couple of outboards. Then I paddled across to the north side of the river, past Île aux Moutons - I didn't feel like fighting the current alongside Île de Mai - between Îles Chabot and Clermont, and up and around Île Thibault, with the intention of checking on the activity underneath the bridge from the Autoroute de Laurentides, where I had seen swallows nest-building last summer. I was too early in the year; the only nests were abandoned ones, and it was not easy staying on station, against the current, to get a photograph. Going under the bridges, riding the current, was entertaining.

Also between Île Thibault and Île Lefebre, as best I can tell on the map, there's a wooden bridge over a stretch of marsh, which I was able to paddle under, and in amongst the trees, look back out at the river. Somewhere around there, another muskrat was making short work of another reed.

And then I crossed over above Île des Juifs, came round the top of Île Gagnon, through the tunnel under the roadbridge, and let the current sweep me back to the landing. Mission accomplished.

A golden ending

2011-10-11T20:23:00.001-07:00

This was it, the end, the last weekend of rentals, both at the Parc de la Riviere, and at Îles de Boucherville. And what a gorgeous weekend it was, with highs in the low twenties all three days. The one hitch was strong SW wind warnings for both Saturday and Sunday, and a forecast of NW 10-15 knots for Monday as the cooling-off began. But I would have braved worse, for one last paddle. Plus, a fellow epidemiologist and I had been working on getting out on the river together for over a year; between her schedule, my schedule, and the Spring That Did Not Happen and Was That Really August?, this was our last chance. So off we went, on Monday morning, to the Parc de la Riviere. And we were rewarded with one of the best kayaking days I've seen on the river, warm, bright sunshine on golden leaves, barely a whisper of wind, a day when a mere wave of the paddle seemed to send the kayak gliding ahead.

We arrived at the Parc on the 10 am bus, got kitted up, and (after some circling around and taking photographs) headed out along a much narrowed and diminished channel, east around the tip of Île Gagnon; the river had fallen far enough that the water under the bridge carrying the Rue de l'Île Gagnon was not navigable. The river was as low as I had seen it, very shallow except for the main channels, and murky, and it was all too easy to miss large rocks until the moment of contact (or painfully prolonged period of contact), even when not looking anywhere but ahead of the brow. My boat acquired a few more scratches to add to its scars.

We paddled up the south side of the river, towards the marsh. We were not the only ones on the river: several pairs of kayakers and a few canoes, most of them colour-coordinated with the foliage: oranges and reds. This is the season for orange boats. That's my paddling companion Daphne on the left, and a canoe group whom we kept passing, on the water and on the islands, here illustrating the exquisite calm of the water.

At the marsh, more autumnal glory and less water. The bird lookout was hard up against the exposed ground and reeds.

For the purposes of contrast (I do intend to do a catch-up digest post of the paddles I have not yet documented this year), here is a view of the same area in May, while the meltwaters were still coming down the river. That single tree is off to the right of the October photograph, high on dry land and surrounded by tall green reeds.

As another indication of how much the water level has fallen: the first time I paddled this year, that fairly chilly, overcast day in late May, I stopped for lunch at Île Chabon, hitching myself from the cockpit of my kayak directly onto the bottom step of the stairs shown in this photograph. We stopped at Chabon today, too, and discovered that there was no picnic table, but we ate sitting on our PFDs on a lookout platform over the channel between Chabot and "the mainland".

After lunch, we checked out the turtle pullouts along the south side of Île Chabot, but either it was not quite warm enough, or too early in the day: no turtles. We saw a single turtle in shallow, rock and stem-studded shallows at the upstream side of Île Ducharme, but the water had fallen even lower than a month ago, when I found another series of turtle pullouts on the east side of that bridge, and we could not get past the bridge. The herons were dispersed along the riverbank, fishing. The warm weather seemed to have put them in a mellow mood, unlike last year. I'd left my my camera with the zoom lens at home - I'm at the stage in learning when there's a lot of fumbling and muttering over the manual - so my photographs were generally of brilliant foliage with a bird in there somewhere. One of the herons looked almost pure white. It had a heron shape, at least from a distance, and heron stalking motions, but no apparent markings.

Gradually, we worked our way back across the river and back to the location d'embarcations, returned all the gear, and headed for the 3:35 pm bus back to Cartier and thence back to Montréal. And so the season ends.

Sigh. But what a golden ending.

Run Over?

2011-10-11T05:32:00.000-07:00

Just found a link from the forum at Advanced Elements to another forum -- this one for motorhome enthusiasts. The post it links to is from one of their senior members, Nigel, who is also into kayaking. He tells how he was run over by a power boat a few days ago.
Scroll down through the well-wishing to see Nigel's description of his decision to capsize and how his feet were injured. He's lucky to be alive. If Nigel hadn't capsized, the injuries (which were bad enough) might have been to his head. And if the yobs who ran him over hadn't stopped to help him, Nigel probably wouldn't have made it to shore on his own.
Memo to self:
-I'm invisible in my kayak. Yes, this colourfuly-dressed person in a bright kayak is invisible.
-Larger boats might move faster but are unable to steer out of MY way, I must stay out of THEIR way.
-My kayak's place in the spectrum of boats from floating log to ferry is solidly in the "speedbump" category.
-When a collision with a high-speed boat is inevitable, roll over (away from the approaching boat) to take the blow on the hull instead of my upper body. It's possible the fast boat will slide over my kayak, and push me down for a second or two.

Pumpkin My Ride

2011-10-09T15:46:00.001-07:00

Most kayaks are long and pointy and made from fibreglass or plastic. Some are round and made from plant-based materials that you can toss in your compost after you're done. And number of the latter took part in today's 13th Annual Pumpkin Regatta in Windsor, Nova Scotia. According to the CBC (where the picture is from), today's winner was a local school headmaster who finally tasted victory on his fourth try.
Here's a link to a CBC video report showing how to convert a pumpkin into a kayak (sorry, no embed).

Paddle to the Arctic/ Kabloona in the Yellow Kayak

2011-10-08T20:50:00.000-07:00

In the early 1980s, Don Starkell and his son Dana paddled a canoe from Winnipeg to the mouth of the Amazon river in Brazil. For an encore in the 1990s, Don attempted to kayak the fabled Northwest Passage in the Canadian Arctic, from Churchill, Manitoba to Tuktoyaktuk, Northwest Territory. His first attempt in 1990, a solo attempt, ended quickly after a disastrous spill on his third day of paddling. It took him nine days of paddling through wretched conditions to return to his starting point. Despite vowing never to return, in 1991 he returned for another try, this time with two other paddlers. One soon dropped out of the expedition but the other, Victoria Jason, continued on with Don and together they paddled as far as Repulse Bay on the northern shore of Hudson Bay. Despite the utter incompatibility of their personalities, they returned to Repulse Bay in 1992 to continue the journey. They set out from Repulse Bay attempting to follow Don's plan to pull their kayaks on sleds across the frozen ice until they reached open water from which to launch from. The two of them pulled their kayaks across the ice for almost three weeks, until Vicki had to withdraw due to injuries. Don continued on alone, pulling his kayak for another three weeks before reaching open water. Injuries, bad weather and bad choices worked against Don, and he almost met his demise just miles from his destination. He was rescued, but severe frostbite cost him most of his fingers and some of his toes.
There's enough adventures here for more than one book, and in fact two did grew out of this expedition: Starkell's Paddle to the Arctic, and Jason's Kabloona in the Yellow Kayak. And if you've ever wanted to experience a "he said, she said" version of how a kayaking expedition can go wrong, this is as probably as good as you're going to get.
It's clear from his book that Starkell was a driven man, and seemingly would let almost nothing get in the way of completing his expedition. Not even his paddling partners. He consistently and often rudely ignored advice from his partners and from the local residents and indigenous peoples who knew how to survive in this remote and dangerous part of the world. Despite years of planning, he made mistakes like neglecting to pack all the charts required or checking that his kayak compass wasn't broken before setting out. In one notably gaffe, he lead himself and Jason over 100 km off course by paddling east when he though he was paddling west. Even the sun rising from the totally opposite side of the horizon than it should was not enough to convince him that he might be wrong. I lost count of how many times in this book the phrase "Instead, I decided to play a hunch" was followed by "It didn't go the way I expected."
I'm not suggesting this isn't a good book -- it is -- but you will be pulling your hair out as Starkell situation goes from bad to worse. To be fair, Starkell seems to realize that many of the obstacles were of his own making, and he is a much humbler man at the end of the book.

Victoria's story doesn't end when she pulls out of the 1992 expedition. Her book covers not only the 1991 and 1992 expeditions in all their exasperating details, but her return to Arctic in 1993 and 1994 when she kayaked down the McKenzie River from Great Slave Lake to the Arctic Ocean and then continued along the northern shore, duplicating the final leg of Don's trip but in reverse. And it's here that her book really shines, with wonderful descriptions of the scenery and people she meets along the way. She returned in 1996 to paddle the parts of the original trip that was accomplished by sled in 1992, and returned to the Arctic again over the next couple of years. She was working on another book on her further Arctic adventures when took ill and passed away in 2000.
These books are the classic example of what can happen when not understanding your partner's motivation to for paddling. In this case, one was paddling for the experience of it, while the other was paddling it apparently just for the sake of doing it. As Neil Peart once wrote in a Rush song, "The point of the journey is not to arrive."

Derek Hutchinson

2011-10-04T20:19:00.000-07:00

Yesterday evening, Louise and I attended our first SISKA event as actual members, an evening with Derek Hutchinson. The godfather of modern sea kayaking is a born raconteur and described in humorous detail his attempts to be the first person to kayak across the North Sea. He was a treat to listen to and the audience of about 100 paddlers enjoyed his watery tales.
Unfortunately, the lighting in the hall was not the best and my pictures of the event suck. But at least there was a spectacular sunset outside

Lila and Yves

2011-10-02T18:56:00.001-07:00

The seasons are changing, the proof being in the gloomy skies and cool air. As Louise and I waited on the Cadboro Bay beach for our co-paddlers, the sun was hidden behind puffy grey clouds. We could see off-shore showers on the horizon, and a soft by cool breeze foreshadowed the stronger winds predicted to come later in the day.

But we weren't planning a long paddle today. In fact today's would be rather short and safe. We were being joined by Paula, as well as her daughter Lila and her new husband Yves who are visiting from Edmonton. Neither are experienced kayakers, in fact this was Yves' first time in a kayak and he is not a good swimmer, so we were going to stick close to shore. Also, we didn't have a lot of time to paddle as Yves wanted to attend pirate school later in the day.

And off we went. Paula put her herself and Yves into her inflatable....

....while Lila went out in the Pamlico.

Louise and I in our Delta sea kayaks kept the lead, usually without even trying. Seals were popping up here and there, but they were very shy and unapproachable.

I managed to sneak off and take and watch some cormorants.

And after a quick trip to the point and back, we were done.

Trip Length: 3.90 km
YTD: 207.04 km
More pictures are here.

And Now, A Word From Our Sponsor...

2011-10-01T06:31:00.000-07:00

An ad from a 1959 issue of Life.

Lost Kayakers

2011-09-29T13:53:00.000-07:00

To anyone who has been hearing the local news, it's the kind of story our friends and family have been dreading. Two kayaks have been found off Sooke, near Victoria, yesterday and the day before, say the news reports. This morning, September 29, the local CBC radio station reported that two young men who were working in the area are now missing. It looks like they might have set out into less than ideal weather conditions.
No, none of us at Kayak Yak know the missing men. But that doesn't make the story any better.
When we comment here on our blog about boating safety, or getting a new PFD like John did on the weekend, or practising wet exits and re-entry, it's not just a bunch of hot air. This is the kind of stuff that can save your life -- or lose it.
Sooke basin is a terrific place to paddle. We've been there many times, mostly on calm days. Sometimes we challenged ourselves with steady wind and waves, or consistent currents. The bay seems so sheltered until the wind changes direction. Once we launch, it's easy to get away from the sound and sight of the town and of the houses scattered along some of the shore. And a couple of times, we've faced a few challenges that seemed perfectly fine ten seconds earlier. So far we've all come home, and we've even brought our boats home.
Even in familiar places, it's possible for a person in a kayak or other small boat to have unexpected problems. I hope that anyone reading our blog takes safety seriously -- personal safety and group safety! Accidents happen to everyone. Sometimes being prepared helps.
Last weekend I came to shore on Cadboro Bay's Gyro Park beach just as a young man was launching. We said hi to each other, and he glanced at my kayak's deck.
"Too much stuff," he said.
Well, I did have a spare paddle, water pump, and throw bag of rope on the front deck, and a paddle float on the back. (Mike Jackson stores all that gear inside his cockpit, because he wants a clear deck so he can roll. I can't roll.) I shrugged and said, "Safety gear."
He shook his head. "Too much."
Did I take him more seriously because he was in a well-worn kayak, a muscular First Nations man with a fishing line looped on his deck? Did I take him less seriously because he wasn't wearing a PFD or a kayak skirt?
I thought about him when hearing the news reports of the missing kayakers off Sooke. A PFD won't always save your life... it might keep one from drowning long enough to die of cold, and in these cold waters that can take about half an hour. Then it makes you easier to find.
All the safety gear we carry (and it's required by law here in Canada) is no guarantee of safety. It's just tools that might be useful. We have put them to use, too.
It's hard waiting to hear the news reports from Sooke.
Be careful out there.

Ocean River's 30th Anniversary

2011-09-25T21:12:00.000-07:00

Yesterday when Louise and I headed down to Ocean River's fall sale, we had no idea that the store was celebrating its 30th anniversary. But the folks at the local paper did, and yesterday they published a profile of the store and its owner, Brian Henry. Brian has had a long career in the kayaking industry -- he was also a co-founder of Current Design kayaks. Check out his story here.

Ocean River Gear Grab

2011-09-24T16:08:00.000-07:00

A foggy day dawned-- wait a minute, does a foggy day actually dawn? Or does it just slowly emerge from the darkness of the night? In any event, it was foggy this morning as Louise and I headed down to Ocean River Sports for their annual fall sale. We were a little late, so we had to go to the back of a very long line....

....although it seemed like some people would wear almost any disguise to sneak in.

We checked out the boats....

...and Louise checked out a couple of them very closely.

We got away lightly this time. Louise didn't buy anything, and I replaced my long-serving Kokatat PFD with the latest model. And we saw something that you don't see everyday:

He was either plugging Icebreaker , or one of the start of semester parties got a little out of hand last night.

Tall ships and warships and kayaks, oh my! (Sunday September 18, 2011)

2011-09-21T19:57:00.001-07:00

So, on paper (on screen), the itinerary looked awful, despite my having the tolerance for lousy connections that comes with being a hardened veteran of public transit. As of Labour Day weekend, only one of the four navettes to Parc des Îles de Boucherville is still ferrying. The (hourly from 1000) ferry leaves on the hour. The (hourly) Sunday bus to the ferry arrives at the nearest stop 2 minutes to the hour, with a long, high footbridge over the highway between stop and dock. On the way back, the (hourly until 1730) ferry leaves the island at half past the hour. The (hourly) bus leaves the stop near the dock about 28 minutes past the hour. Added to that, this ferry pulls in at a jetty on Île Charron an extra 1 km of path away from the kayak rental.

But it was an ideal kayaking day, and I live in the neighbourhood of a stadium. The morning of a big game usually features successive serenades by tow trucks, brass bands (though I harbour a secret pleasure at the irreverence of the Pink Panther at 9 am on the sabbath), and vocals ("Oh Ceh-neh-deh!"). There should be a fine for amplifying any singer who cannot. Hit. That. High. Note. On. Key. I had been out at Parc de la Riviere (I will find that grave accent on the keyboard yet) the previous Sunday and spent 7 hours in a kayak (probably qualifying as one of my 5 longest paddles), so I decided I would head for the ferry.

Leg one of the Great Trek was by Bixi down to the Old Port, which I found busy for a Sunday forenoon, having forgotten the tall ships had sailed into Montréal on Thursday. Four were still in dock, and I paused to take a photo and then carried on west along the promenade. The next nautical attraction was not one to pass with a mere snapshot: frigate HMCS Montréal moored with pennants flying and gangplank down. I found a dock for the Bixi and trotted aboard for a good peer at the ship and all its gear (at least the gear they were willing to show off). Since kayaking leaves one very aware of stability, I am still baffled as to how they launch their Sea-Sparrow missiles without, well, turning over. The angle of the harpoon anti-ship missiles made sense, in that when the rig is in launch position the thrust must be towards the middle of the ship, but the Sea-Sparrows are housed laterally and appear to launch vertically. Must read up.

Around 11:30 I collected my Bixi again (same bike), and set off for Parc Jean Drapeau, which involves describing a big hairpin to come at the Parc via Pont de la Concorde. I had to make Metro Longuiel-Université de Sherbrooke by 41 minutes past the hour to catch the 81 bus - the bus that would probably arrive in time for me to miss the ferry. I continued at my own pace, pausing to take a couple of pictures from the other side of the harbour, and rolled up to the Bixi station beside the Metro at Parc Jean Drapeau at 12:20. Lots of open docks, check. None of which were willing to accept my bike. Finally, after I had tried every dock at least once, one grudgingly gave me the green light, and freed me to plunge down the stairs into the metro station. . . . As the masses began pouring out, a outbound train having come and gone.

So there went another 5 minutes. I rode 1 stop under the river, got off the train and scampered. Well, proceeded on impulse power. Seemed silly to miss the bus now. The bus complex has big windows onto the bus parking area, so you can see your bus on approach, and know when to engage warp engines. I caught the bus, 12:41. Along with a little tot whose mother - who looked about thirteen years old - would never lose her in the long grass. Or, indeed, anywhere short of a rock concert.

The bus hit its mark at the appointed time, and I scurried for the footbridge. From the footbridge, I saw the ferry below at its dock, with a line of people with bikes, loading. Scurry faster. Down stairs, along a few dozen yards, skid down gravel path, and arrive to find that they were full and had to come back for myself and another couple. Which they promised to do. So we hung out on the docks, bobbing as the speedboats tore past, and 10 minutes later, back came the ferry. We'd loaded and cast off when a young family, complete with tot (silent tot) in trailer bike, pulled up, and our captain looped back to collect them. With that and a couple more strays, we had a full cargo of people and bikes.

It's a quick trip, just across the narrow strip of the St Laurent between Îles de Boucherville and Boucherville. We offloaded adjacent to a boat ramp that was already stacked with boat trailers depositing boats. Once again, I was the only bikeless passenger, and was shortly all alone (but for a few assorted butterflies), tramping around the opening of the highway tunnel (I'm sorry, it is just so wrong to have a 4-lane highway come up from the underworld on an island which is a park). Across Île Charron on the way to the entrance of the park, and down the south side of Île Sainte-Marguerite. I estimated it would take me close to an hour, and it did, though I was not hurrying. Temperature was probably close to 20C, but the air was so clear that the sun had a Calgary feel to it, hot. There was a constant silver noise of cicadas.

I reached the location d'embarcations about 1:40, and paused for a quick lunch before getting to the point of the day. No queue, no crowd on the beach, quite a contrast to my first trip. Red Kayak, Ookpik, with a rudder I never did get to cooperate with me, fixed unfeathered paddle, which felt too short until I was in the reeds. I calculated I had about 2 hours before I would have to make tracks for the dock, because if I missed the 1730 ferry my options would be (a) hitch a lift, (b) call for a taxi, or (c) check into the hotel on the island until next Saturday. I had no desire to fight with criss-crossing wakes, even if there was no wind to speak of, so I turned left/north/up La Grande Riviere and, well, the pictures speak for themselves. Blue sky, round little decorative clouds, and water like glass. I threaded through the reeds for most of the way along the north leg in Chenal le Courant before I hit my turnaround time. There were a few close encounters with fellow paddlers and canoeists in the narrow channels. Canadian politeness seemed to make us compete as to who could move furthest out of the way, leaving 2 boats discretely trying to extricate themselves. Two herons, on the wing, and what I suspect was a kingfisher, with a striking white stripe on the neck. In the photos, the water looks faintly marbled from the weeds, visible through the clear water. An abundance of tiny fish in the shallow waters of Grande Riviere, and some larger ones in the deeper open areas of Chenal le Courant.

Back to the rental, park boat, deliver gear, collect ID, take a couple more photos, knowing I would probably not make another trip before the ferry stopped running after Thanksgiving weekend. Paths were busier on the way back, but still not nearly as busy as they were in July. Arrived at ferry dock about 5 pm, thinking I might be lucky, and they might be shuttling passengers at need, but there was no sign of the ferry. I sat and and watched the antics at the adjacent boat ramp, with boats ringed around the ramp and cars and trucks with trailers queued back along the road waiting to pick up or offload. I'd thought the ferry might be full, which was the other impetus for getting back early, but when we left, we had about eight aboard, including a flushed couple of cyclists who had done a very fast final km. By the time I reached the bus stop in the shadow of the bridge, I was looking at a 50 min wait.

I started walking, along Boulevard Marie-Victorin, with road and humming highway between me and the water, and standard suburbia on the other side. My knees had been wingeing ever since I got out of the kayak, and they stepped up their complaints as the road opened out before me, though it was the low sun in my eyes that eventually made me decide just to stake my spot in a shaded bus shelter, and wait. I detoured via a Macs for a bottle of gatorade and a chocolate bar. Call it rehydration and replenishing glycogen stores, ok? And settled down to read "Sheepfarmer's Daughter" (Elizabeth Moon) from the Baen Free Library on my iPod touch until the bus came.

Bus to Metro Longuiel-Université de Sherbrooke, Yellow line to Berri-UQUAM, Orange to Metro Sherbrooke, and La Popessa spaghetti house for fettucini a l'Atlantique, which seemed appropriate. So in summary, I kayaked for 2 hours. Biked for probably 2 hours. Walked for 2.5 hours (not counting the time spent aboard HMCS Montréal). Rode various forms of public transit for another hour or so. Definitely did not fulfil Alison's optimum of paddling time > travel time. But I was lucky on the way out, and psychologically prepared for the return, the sky was blue, there was no wind, and the water was like glass . . . [Edited September 22 to add some more photos]

Reno-cation 2011!

2011-09-18T20:40:00.000-07:00

Louise and I planned to have this last week off work quite some time ago, and with the last summer-like weather of the year (or the first summer-like weather as some might say) blazing down on us, the planning could not have been better for kayaking. Unfortunately, kayaking took a back seat this week for Reno-cation 2011!
Having yanked the carpet out of the living room a couple of months ago, this was the week we planned to do a little flooring and painting.
First up, we needed to sand the hardwood floor in the living room.

This house is about 70 years old, and this is the original hardwood floor. When my parents bought the house in 1972, the floor was covered in wall to wall green carpet. My parents replaced the carpet a couple of times through the years, and knew that the original floor was underneath, but never actually saw it. They lived in the era when carpet was king - funny how times change.

We rented a power sander and Bernie volunteered to take it for a spin. A retired woodworker by trade, this is the sort of project he loves to work on.

After a few minutes, there was so much sand being kicked up that Bernie suddenly realized that he had forgotten to put on his Darth Vader mask.

In between sanding passes, came the ironing.

The idea here is that compressions in the wood (like the one below) from years of heavy furniture sitting on it can be alleviated to some degree by ironing a wet towel over the affected areas. The idea is that the steam expands the compressed wood fibres so that they can be sanded to more closely match the surrounding wood.

It was a long and gruelling first day, and we were sure ready to eat when dinner time rolled around. Unfortunately, we weren't going to eat in the dining room, as it was a little crowded in there. Someone had moved our living room into it.

(Bonus Points if you can spot the cats in the picture. Hint: there's two.)

Day Two was a little easier, as we began with hole filing. The Inspector stood in the doorway behind Bernie to make sure his work was satisfactory.

The old floor has taken a beating over the years, but is in good shape. But there's lots of nail holes around the edges near the walls and the fireplace from when the carpet had been laid, but for the most part the floor is quite serviceable. We filled them with filler and sanded them down.
Once the Inspector gave his approval....

....Bernie set to work applying coats of finish to the floor. Then he broke our bathroom sink. But I digress.
Here's the change in the floor colour as the finish went on:

Day Three began with Bernie and I giving the floor another quick sanding before applying more coats of finish.

The Inspector gave the room another quick look over...

...then Bernie applied a final coat.

We took a few hours off, then Louise and I began to prep for tomorrow's painting.

Either we're Number One, or I'm flashing back to the only procedure I learned in proctology school.
I was hoping to get away without much sanding, but when we pulled off the tape we'd put around the baseboards in case the floor finish splashed on the walls, the tape pulled off some paint, and we had a surprise. The baseboards were oak, just like the floor. And it looks like it was my parents who decided to paint over them as there was only one colour of paint on them.

Then the house gave us another surprise. We took off the large mirror off the wall over the mantelpiece without any idea what we might find. We found a niche in the wall containing a golden idol! Quick, someone get me a bag of sand! No, too much -- pour a little bit out!

Okay, so no golden idol, but it turns out that the original colour of the wall was a yellow-gold colour. With some sort of recess in the wall for a light or clock or something. I could still see some old wring there for a small receptacle. Suddenly, the memory flooded back. When my parents bought the house in 1972, my father rewired the whole house, but he didn't replace a couple of special plugs in the house (like the one in the recess and the one in the bathroom vanity) because although they were the norm when the home was built, they were against code by the 1970s. So my folks decided to cover up the hole by hanging a mirror, and they never even painted the wall first.

And now, painting: Day Four was trim and ceiling....

...and Day Five and Six were colour on the walls...

....and did we pick a lot of colour! But we love it! Here's the finished result.

By this point the Inspector had lost all interest.

We decided this should go behind the mirror. Something for archaeologists a century from now to ponder.

And we weren't done yet -- Days Seven and Eight we moved on the dining room. From this....

to this.

The Inspector and his assistant approved. But they insist that we've spent enough time at home and we must go kayaking next weekend.

Planning for Applefest on SaltSpring!

2011-09-16T05:24:00.000-07:00

We had such a good time at Applefest before. I wish I had time to go again this fall. But this year, V-Con science fiction conference is happening that same weekend, and my daughter is bringing her newlywed husband to visit Victoria. So, no Applefest for me. Instead, we'll take the new son-in-law out in Cadboro Bay in the kayaks.
Applefest is a great reason to visit SaltSpring Island, so maybe next year. Another good reason is paddling in Fulford Harbour or Ganges Harbour. But for that, we'll have to see who is interested either in driving onto the ferry with kayaks on their vehicle roofs, or walking on and trundling one of my inflatable kayaks behind them.
Next year, I wonder if the weather will be good enough to camp the night at the campground in Ganges... October is sometimes pretty cold, especially if it rains.
If you haven't been to an Applefest, check out their videos on YouTube.

Paddle to the Amazon

2011-09-15T19:33:00.000-07:00

In June of 1980, Don Starkell and his teenaged-son Dana embarked on an adventure they had been planning for years: to canoe from Winnipeg, in the middle of the Canadian prairie, to the mouth of the Amazon River in Brazil. Even after finishing Don's book, it still sounds like a crazy idea. Paddle the Red River upstream from Winnipeg, portage to the Mississippi River system, down the Mississippi into the Gulf of Mexico, around the Gulf and down the coast of Central and south America, then up the Orinoco River into the heart of Venezuela, then back down the Rio Negro and the Amazon to the sea.
2 years. 12,000 miles. 20,000,000 paddle strokes.
Yet somehow, they pulled it off. Between the arduous paddling, the over-zealous soldiers and policía, terrible weather, and bouts of near-starvation and intestinal upsets, Don and Dana somehow survive, not always because of Don's skill as an expedition leader (or some may say lack thereof), but often only thanks to the kindness and generosity of some of the poorest people on the planet.
Don's diary is a classic story of adventure and survival against insane odds. Well worth checking out.

More Than I Needed To Know About Barnacles

2011-09-12T05:28:00.000-07:00

Yes, I got out on the water this weekend. Nothing unusual, just a nice ordinary summer afternoon on the water. Instead of writing about that, though, I thought this was a chance to mention barnacles.
Barnacles are the bane of a fine kayak's existance. Well, maybe not the bane, but they're a danger to a fine finish on a kayak, anyway. Well, they are if the kayaker makes a habit of paddling along shorelines and in rock gardens.
And I do. My Eliza kayak from Necky has left skinny curls of pink plastic on barnacled rocks pretty much everywhere we go.

I can remember the first time John took his new blue Delta 14 kayak along the shoreline between Telegraph Bay and Gordon Head... He paused to take a photo of an eagle and got a little distracted. Sure enough, his kayak drifted over a rock that hid just under the surface of the water. The boomer had a couple of barnacles on it, and one scratched a line that went an embarrassing distance along the hull. Two years later, he sold that kayak, but a month later I spotted it on someone else's car roof rack. You know how I recognised it... yup, by that light but distinctive scratch.
Yeah, yeah, it's not the barnacles' fault. Those immobile little arthropods don't leap up and actively scratch my boat. If I kept a better eye on the rocks, there'd be no problem at all. So I decided to learn more about barnacles, since there are a lot of them in places I like to go. And besides, they look kind of neat when the tide comes in and all their feathery little feet come out to reach around, looking for food.
Something came to mind that biologist Amy Groesbeck told me when we were taking a clam sample in Waiatt Bay this summer. A researcher at Bamfield Marine Research Station has been learning things about barnacles that most of us will never get to see. Apparently, while barnacles are all hermaphrodites, their male equipment is more than one would expect, based on their body size. And adaptable to wave conditions. They're one of the few immobile species that has to couple, and well, that's about as far as I can take this story.
But don't let it end there. Check out the video that's been posted showing a romantic barnacle interlude.

Talking About Salmon Farms

2011-09-10T22:33:00.000-07:00

At a potluck dinner this summer, I crowded into a kitchen with several other people. All of us are science fans who volunteer with Straitwatch. We help biologists gather data about how whale-watching affects the local orcas. Over dinner, we chatted about the Cohen Commission that is gathering information on salmon.
Salmon are a big issue here in British Columbia! We Straitwatch volunteers knew that most of what resident killer whales eat is salmon. Humans like these oily fishes, too, locally and around the world. "In the last two decades, global consumption of salmon has risen from 27,000 tons to more than 1 million tons annually," noted McKay Jenkins in his book What’s Gotten Into Us? Staying Healthy In A Toxic World. That's a lot of salmon. And much of the salmon we eat comes from fish farms. "So, what is it about farmed salmon anyway?" one of the volunteers asked. "What's different about it?" He wondered why anyone could complain to the Cohen Commission about fish farms. After all, fish farms supply a lot of food. People need food. If a million tons of wild salmon were harvested every year, there might not be any wild salmon left to spawn in some rivers.

Part of the difference, we explained, is that the farmed salmon doesn't taste the same as wild salmon. Wild fish grow up eating a lot of small sealife, especially tiny invertebrates that look like shrimp. That's why salmon flesh is a pink or red colour. Farmed salmon are fed ground-up fish made into pellets. Without their natural food, the flesh of farmed salmon is more pale and less firm than wild salmon. The food pellets are very convenient for the fish farmers, but some people worry about what might be in the pellets. Pollution like heavy metals or industrial chemicals can build up in the food chain, affecting both fish and humans. "Farmed salmon turn out to have ‘significantly higher’ levels of flame retardants than wild fish, likely because they are fed ground-up fish that are themselves contaminated," McKay Jenkins observed.

Another difference that we notice here on the Pacific coast is that most of the farmed fish are Atlantic salmon, thousands of miles from the habitat where they evolved. These farmed salmon are raised in large nets, suspended in small ocean bays. The salmon in a farm don't have freedom to move about over a wide area and scatter their wastes. Under the farms, the muck piles up on the sea bottom. "Salmon farms are dangerous to wild salmon," wrote marine biologist Alexandra Morton on her website, "because they create a place where viruses, bacteria and parasites breed." Wild salmon migrating past the farms might get sick. The Coastal Alliance for Aquaculture Reform promotes on their website the idea of farming salmon and other fish in closed containers, instead of enclosure nets in narrow sea inlets along the salmon migration routes.
Biologists are taking samples, and bringing their findings to the Cohen Commission. But this Royal commission gets different reports from every expert who testifies! The Norwegian companies building the salmon farms say the germs are no problem. Clam harvesters near salmon farms claim that the clam beds are affected. It won't be easy for the best laws to be written to protect wild salmon as well as support sustainable business development. At each city the commission visits, the public audiences get to see history being made.

Departmental Meeting

2011-09-08T11:06:00.000-07:00

I'm starting the Master's program in the English Department at the University of Victoria this month. Looks like this might be a Very Good Thing. To start with, the first departmental meeting that I and the other graduate students were invited to took place on Saturday at Willows Beach.
Well!
I think you can guess that I made my way over to Willows Beach at the appointed time... by kayak.And had a marvelous time. One of the professors is the proud owner of a new double kayak, and wants to join the Kayak Yak people for a paddle outing one day soon. Another student and I have started a kayak chat group on the department's student website. As well, one of the courses I'm taking is taught by Dr Misao Dean. She was the proud recipient of a federal grant from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council, a couple of years ago, for a project on "inheriting a canoe paddle" about the impact of the canoe on Canadian nationalism.
I think I'm going to like studying here!It was a good day to paddle solo along the Upland shore past the big rock garden. The seal that John photographed a day later was sunbathing on a rock. Biiiiig seal. Either a great big male harbour seal, or possibly a young elephant seal. Either way, a very calm fellow.

Seagull With A Mohawk

2011-09-05T20:58:00.000-07:00

Louise has family visiting in town this in town this week, so she and I could only sneak away for a quick paddle up The Gorge today.

We rolled the kayaks down the hill, entered at the Victoria Canoe and Kayak Club launch point, and we were off. The tide was flooding under the Tillicum Bridge so we went for a quick look and saw a lone seal, far away from the open ocean, enjoying a playful ride in the current.

A few minutes later we discovered one of the more interesting seagulls we've seen. May I present Seagull With A Mohawk.

We first noticed him as he flew to the shore carrying some sort of shell. We thought that it may have been a crab shell, or maybe a clam. (I don't do shellfish, a shell is a shell.) Anyway, he landed on shore and spent a few minutes eating whatever was on the inside of the shell, then looked up and saw that there was another seagull on the beach a few metres away. This second seagull was paying no attention to Mohawk (or his lovely breakfast) but clearly Mohawk was feeling threatened so he dropped his meal and ran up to the other seagull and did a bit wing-flapping and squawking. He returned to his meal, but seagull #2 didn't get the hint, and Mohawk ran up and squawked again. He didn't take "no" for an answer and forced seagull #2 off the beach and into the air. Mohawk pursued him into the air, hoping to get the point across that he was not welcome. Louise and I watched the aerial dogfight, the two seagulls swooping and diving over our heads. Also watching were two crows that had sneaked up to Mohawk's dropped meal and finished it off. Mohawk returned to his empty shell, sighed (really! I swear he did!) and flew off.
A moment later....

...he had dredged up another shell and was finishing off the insides.

Cormorant Tree, often covered in cormorants, held only one today.

We continued on into Portage Inlet where the herons were out in force today.

Mohawk wasn't the only bird having good luck with food.

I thought I was cleverly sneaking up on this heron from behind. No such luck -- he knew I was there.

We also saw a few of the gelatinous egg sacks that we see in the waters here every fall. They seem to be a few weeks behind, but then everything is behind after the lousy spring.

The egg sack is the little round thing in the middle. The other brown lumpy things are sponges.

There's a lot of geese around now. They know winter is coming and so are heading south and using the parks in the area as a rest area.

With only limited time today, we quickly turned back.

Trip Length: 7.30 km
YTD: 202.14 km
More pictures are here.

Tired

2011-09-04T23:59:00.000-07:00

It's September and the mornings have a chilly fall edge to them now. So how lousy was our summer? We didn't have a single day over 30 degrees. In fact, we only had two days where we hit 27 degrees, one in July and one in August. Mind you, we had a nice streak of weather at the end of August that is going to continue into the first part of this month and we had a shot of getting another 27 degree day this weekend. (In the end, it didn't happen -- only a high of 24 today.)

Although she looks wide awake, Louise and a terrible bout of insomnia last night. She was operating on only about two hours' sleep as she headed out with Paula and myself from Cadboro Bay.

We had intended to cross to Chatham Island this morning, but as we slowly island-hopped out to the final crossing, Louise was yawing up a storm, her mouth a vast chasm of tiredness. As we made our final "go/no go" decision, she said, "Guys, I am falling asleep in my boat," and we decided a sleeping kayaker was not the best thing to deal with on this crossing. Mind you, a good dunking might have woken her up. So we decided to have a short paddle and poke around the Uplands rocks instead.

This seal wasn't thrilled with our new paddle plan as we went by him a few times.

Actually, Paula said he's been camped out on this rock for a few days now. It seems to be his favourite spot.

The new route wasn't a total waste. Paula found a package of kale floating by. She considered taking it home to cook, but eventually decided that it might be too salty.

Everyone was on the water yesterday. In the bay we had to avoid the racing sail boats....

..and on the beach when we landed we had to avoid the racing stand-up paddlers!

Trip Length: 7.46 km
YTD: 194.84 km
More pictures are here.

Notes From A Bygone Age

2011-09-01T23:06:00.000-07:00

Here's a Blast From The Past, when Men Were Men (and the Sheep Were Frightened). The May 1966 issue of Popular Mechanics had a profile of a fellow named Ben Logan, who liked nothing more than to paddle out in his Folbot (a fold-up skin on frame kayak) and go shark hunting. Not only did he catch them, he lugged them back to shore, checked them over, then released them.

It's a short little article, but has some great stories about kayaking in south Florida in a totally bygone age. Check it out here.

Credits, moi!

2011-09-01T18:45:00.001-07:00

Check out the 2010 Annual report from my favourite Montréal paddle spot. In particular, pages 9 and 16.

Goodnight, Irene

2011-08-30T20:20:00.000-07:00

There are some astounding scenes of flooding from the American east coast playing out over the airwaves right now thanks to the rains brought by hurricane Irene, but here's a small snippet of kayak-related heroics courtesy of The Burlington Free Press in Vermont. Don't know much more about this other than the obvious: someone used a kayak to rescue stranded farm animals.
Until I stumbled onto this picture, I'd utterly forgotten that I'd been to Burlington. Mind you, it was 40 years ago and I was only there for a couple of hours, so I hope I'm forgiven the memory lapse. My family had rented a cottage on Lake Champlain (the Québec side) and we hopped over the border for day trips to Plattsburgh, New York and to Burlington. I don't remember much except the lush forest and the Lake. Beautiful country. Here's hoping the area bounces back soon.

Meanwhile, here in Montréal

2011-08-29T17:24:00.000-07:00

. . . it was not a kayaking day.

We caught the trailing edge. Cumulative rainfall was 56.4 mm over about 12 hours of August 28, with an additional 1.6 mm on August 29. Compared to some of the totals to the east of us, that was modest, and Environment Canada never did grant us more than "light rain" on our hourly assessments. Wind speeds fell short of the 90 kph on our wind warning, though they were impressive enough (see below). I don't have the corresponding hourly rainfall data, or that would be on there too. Temperature started around 20 and gradually drifted down to 13/14C. I missed checking the wind and rainfall records for August 28 on the day itself, and haven't yet found my way into that particular archive.

The force of the storm was much more palpable towards the east of us: much more rain, more wind, more damage, and, unfortunately, loss of life.

Kayakers gained an unwelcome notoriety thanks to a couple of NY paddlers who had to be plucked from the bounding main by the New York harbour patrol on Saturday morning. NY Mayor Bloomberg was not impressed.
On the other hand, as the skies cleared, people have been discovering how useful a kayak can be, in certain extreme circumstances.
Which I hope we won't see again, for a long while.

Testing Stuff!

2011-08-29T13:11:00.000-07:00

Stuff arrived by courier this week. It was a package sent by Icebreaker, with a pair of their Legless merino wool leggings for me to test and write about. Yay!

These Legless tights are the Pace version, meant for runners to wear alone or under light trousers. Other versions of Legless tights are winter underwear meant to leave shins & ankles free from excessive layering with socks & trousers. They're capri length, to about mid-calf on the model on their website. (Full disclosure: I am NOT the model on the Icebreaker.com website. I do not look even remotely like the model wearing the Legless tights, Pace version. I have the finely-honed body of a freelance writer.)

One of my theories about clothing for kayakers is that "dress for immersion" doesn't always have to mean "wear a wetsuit" or "wear a dry suit." It can also mean "wear something I can swim in" where swimming is safe. On hot summer days when we're practising our wet exits at a sheltered lake, I wear a bathing suit or shorts and a t-shirt. But most days, I'm not planning to swim. When I'm kayaking in sheltered, familiar waters and staying close to shore, dressing for immersion means I wear a light merino wool shirt and leggings. In the cold ocean water, I'd be able to swim a few yards to shore.

But my old leggings wore out. And when I wrote to Icebreaker praising the many-mended leggings and shirts that I wear while paddling, they sent me a new pair of leggings to try.

Lemme say, the Legless are pretty much exactly what I'm looking for in paddling pants. They're short enough that I can wade and get into my boat. They dry quickly when splashed. They're warm when wet, something that polyester tights and bike shorts are NOT.

Another factor that works for me is that these tights look like summery, sporty clothes. When commando kayaking I like to be able to wear my paddling clothes on the bus without causing panic and a general exodus via the back door. I wore these tights with a long t-shirt and a long sweater on campus and at the library. (Don't panic. I have permission from my fashionistas Lila, Ben and Marlene, provided that the shirt is long enough to cover the rump.) The verdict from several consultants was that the look was "slimming." Nice thought.

We've been in a bit of a heat wave, and I wore these tights not only while kayaking, but while gardening and walking over a mile on pavement in the baking hot sunshine. In spite of being made of black wool, these tights were cooler than a similar pair of polyester tights.

For people unfamiliar with wearing wool as anything other than a bulky sweater, I can confirm that like other light merino wool garments, Legless tights can be thrown in the washing machine. (Cold water wash, and any other clothes in the load should not be "shedding" lots of fluff.) For drying, hang 'em up. They dry pretty quickly.
The only problem for me is that the promotional ad photos Icebreaker puts on its website are a little weird. Not the photos showing the garments worn by models... those are ok though all the models are young and trim. (Would it be so wrong to have a plump model staying healthy and active in sports gear?) No, it's the flashy promotional photos on Icebreaker's website that are kinda weird. A dark man with a ram's head. A woman riding him. I'm up for images of strength and vigor, but some of these photos look heterosexist and creepy. Not creepy enough to keep me from wearing these merino wool tights and my mended shirts!

Roly Poly Fish Heads. Eat Them Up. Yum.

2011-08-28T18:04:00.001-07:00

So let's be clear about this. I don't do hot. And as we head into the last weekend of August, we've experiencing our first real long stretch of summer weather, and after weeks of complaining about it being too cool and too cloudy, now it's too bright and too hot. I'm thinking of changing my name to Goldilocks. On this hot Sunday we had no real desire to wrap ourselves up in a drysuit or neoprene, or to be broiled outside during the forecast blaze of midday, so we went for an early morning quickie up the Gorge. Of course, before we began, we had our traditional pre-paddle round of charades. Today's topic was music albums, and Paula and Louise did their best impression of Devo's New Traditionalists cover.

Paula, in her Advanced Elements inflatable joined Louise and I in our Deltas and we headed out into the windless morning.

It wasn't long until we kayaked by this seagull who clearly was having trouble eating his breakfast. That fish head is bigger than his own head! Clearly this violates the B.Kliban rule.

From there, we meandered into Portage Inlet.... ...but we were soon reminded that even under such benign conditions and so close to home, you're still on the water, and medical emergencies, even minor ones, suddenly become a whole extra level of difficult. One of Louise's eyes started burning, and she couldn't keep it open. Paula and I came along side and we helped flush her eye. Fortunately we had plenty of water with us. We suspect that a ball of sweat rolled down her face and took some sunscreen along for the ride into her eye. She didn't seem to have anything in it, and it was only slightly red. A few washings and she was able to continue, but we decided to head back.

As we headed back, we saw the local swans. We didn't get to see the baby swans this year, so we're not sure how many babies they started with, but at least one made it near-adulthood, and that's a good thing.

We ran one final gauntlet of geese and we were done. Trip Length: 7.25 km
YTD: 187.38 km
More pictures are here.

It has come to my attention that Louise somehow escaped her formative years without being exposed to the song Fish Heads by Barnes and Barnes, and thus had no pop-cultural reference for the blog post title. Just a blank stare that seemed to say, "What kind of crazy are you now?" That's a look I get a lot.
It seems inconceivable to me that someone as literate and well-educated as Louise could have gone this far in life without hearing this song. (Clearly, those noisy right-wingers must be correct about the poor state of our education system!)
To rectify that, here's Barnes and Barnes' website. And for all you trivia masters out there, one half of Barnes and Barnes is actor Bill Mumy who played Will Robinson on the original Lost in Space and Lennier on Babylon 5! Who says you don't learn anything in the blogisphere!
At least I didn't have to explain who Devo is.

GINPR Public Sessions

2011-08-22T14:32:00.000-07:00

Got a note today from Carolyn Stewart, one of the staff who manage the Gulf Islands National Park Reserve (GINPR).
No, that's not the name of a dwarf from a Tolkien novel! It's the name of the national park spread out on all those little scattered islands that we like to paddle among. Dunno about you, but I plan to visit new places among those little park-lets, and maybe camp on Saturna next summer.
At any rate, their public sessions are coming up in September. Local paddlers should try to drop by or at least send some comments, ok? Her contact info is below.

Carolyn's note says:
In Victoria, we will have park/management plan information booth & display at The Bay Centre in downtown Victoria (1150 Douglas St, 2nd floor) on Thursday, September 15 from 11am -2pm.

In Sidney, we will have an afternoon, open house at the Mary Winspear Centre (2243 Beacon Ave, Rm 2) on Saturday, October 1 from 1pm - 3pm.

Please drop by and provide your ideas and comments on the phase 1 aspects for the management plan. If you cannot make it, please be sure and provide your comments by email, mail or fax.

Carolyn Stewart
Park and Community Planning Coordinator / Coordonnatrice, parc et planification urbaine
Parks Canada / Parcs Canada
Coastal BC Field Unit / Unité de gestion de la Côte de la C.B.
2220 Harbour Road / 2220 chemin Harbour
Sidney, BC / C.B. V8L 2P6
carolyn.stewart@pc.gc.ca
Tel / Tél: 250-654-4012
Toll free / sans frais: 1-866-944-1744
Fax / Télécopieur: 250-654-4014
www.pc.gc.ca/gulf

Stuff!

2011-08-17T04:00:00.000-07:00

We didn't paddle as a group this weekend. (I don't count the times I get out on the bay by myself as an "outing" -- just like John and Louise don't count going for a run or brisk walk along the Gorge, or Bernie doesn't get out his bike when he's "only" walking a mile to the public library and then back.) It was a 'check on the aging parents' weekend in which J and L checked on their moms, we checked on my folks and Bernie called his dad, and our son phoned Bernie to wish him a happy birthday. I guess that makes us the aging parents being checked on, too... coffee at Olive Olio's instead of paddling, sheesh.
Besides, John's get up and go got up and went. Stephanie thinks she saw it at 6:30 am when she was checking on her chickens, and it was speeding down the road honking with delight. Brian says it ran past him at the car show in Oak Bay, pantless. I can confirm that. After coffee I fiddled in my garden plot on campus then hopped on a bus and hopped off to walk along Bowker Creek to the Monterey Rec Centre. We'd just been talking over coffee about the Bowker Creek watershed, and how the creek runs from UVic down to Shelbourne Street and wanders around before getting to Willows Beach, so it was nice to see some of the restoration going on along this creek. As I walked, I could hear music. The source was the classic car show on Oak Bay Avenue, and there was John's get up and go, having more fun than he was that morning. It was sitting in someone's restored Triumph, polishing the lovely chrome. He's really got to keep a better handle on his get up and go, or at least make it wear pants.
Eventually, I walked back to a convenient bus stop and knitted my way home. Checked my e-mail and abruptly felt less decrepit to find an e-mail back from ICEBREAKER! The folks who make Icebreaker merino wool clothing were really pleased to hear from me about wearing clothes they made during my trip to be a volunteer clam researcher at Waiatt Bay on Quadra Island. They're sending me a pair of merino wool leggings (the foot-less, calf-length kind called Legless) to wear and test for them. I think Legless will be good to wear while commando kayaking... anything I can wear both on the bus and in my kayak sounds good for keeping my gear bag small.
All Icebreaker wants is for me to sign up for their e-mail newsletter. Well, that seems like a good idea. I went to their link and checked it out. Turns out, people who sign up for their newsletter have a tree planted in their name, and get entered in a draw for a free top. Sounds pretty good.

Local Kayak Expedition From Prince Rupert Wraps Up

2011-08-15T20:10:00.001-07:00

A group of students attending Pearson College in nearby Metchosin recently completed a 1,200 kilometre kayak trip from Prince Rupert to the college. A local TV station ran a couple of reports on their return. Check 'em out below. And here's the expedition's blog.

GINPR newsletter

2011-08-12T12:43:00.000-07:00

The Gulf Islands National Park Reserve is a terrific park, where we have paddled many times. Part of being a kayaker is being conscious of what allows us to have so many good experiences on the water. In our part of the world, there are many parks that preserve beautiful little islands and handy shorelines enjoyed by small boat users. Every ferry that runs from Swartz Bay to Tsawassen runs past several of the island park-lets that together make up this park reserve! The Park wardens sent me a copy of their newest newsletter. Lots of good info here for local paddlers! I've quoted lots of the newsletter here, but you can get a copy yourself by contacting them.

Parks Canada is developing the first management plan for Gulf Islands National Park Reserve —
You Can Help Set the Direction for the Future.

A Vision for the Park
A vision for Gulf Islands National Park Reserve was approved in 2006, through the Interim
Management Plan process. It is now time to review and update the vision.
The vision should paint a picture of what the future desired state is for the ecology, cultural
heritage and visitor opportunities in the park. It should also illustrate how we will be working
together with the different communities to achieve our goals for this national park.
The Park Advisory Board suggests that the updated vision should express:
The fragility/uniqueness of the area
First Nations connections to the area
The culture/context of the Gulf Islands (part of existing rural, island communities)
The value of protecting natural and cultural resources
That the park provides a refuge for nature and people
That visitor opportunities are focused on connecting with nature
That leadership, cooperation and working together is key to accomplishing goals.

Do you agree these elements are important?
What does your vision for the park include?
Provide us with your suggestions.

Management Principles
Management principles are sometimes referred to as Values. They provide overarching
philosophy or "touchstones" upon which management and decision-making are based.
Nine management principles were approved in the Interim Management Guidelines and have guided Parks Canada in its day-to-day actions to-date.
Summarized, they are:
The vision should be considered in all decisionmaking.
Communication is critical.
Working relationships with other government agents are key.
Consult and work cooperatively with First Nations.
Engage the public in planning and management.
The park advisory board should communicate the public interest.
No commercial roofed accommodation/buildings will be permitted.
Operations should be as green as possible.
The Canadian Environmental Assessment Act will be followed.
Parks Canada believes that updated management principles should be included in the
management plan.
Are there any changes you would suggest?

Management Needs & Opportunities
The 2010 State of the Park Report outlined 24 key issues, based on a review and assessment of
park related information and monitoring programs. Additional management needs and
opportunities have been suggested by the public and staff over the years also.
There are certain needs that are Parks Canada requirements and must be addressed, while others will be addressed as resources or cooperative efforts permit.
We are looking for input on which of these needs and opportunities the public considers most
important to address first. It is important that we address some from each topic area.
Please let us know which you consider the top two in each category.

Ecological Integrity (EI)
Need a formal EI Restoration Program
Need full implementation of the EI monitoring program
Need further marine research & planning
Need continued regional integration and collaboration
Need to promote stewardship
Cultural Heritage
Need a Cultural Resource Management Strategy
Need a cultural heritage monitoring program
Need to improve the condition of several cultural buildings
Need to address impacts to First Nations cultural heritage
Need additional cultural research
Need to increase the public's connection to heritage
Visitor Experience
Need a sustainable interpretive program
Need to ensure visitor facilities are sustainable
Need a formal volunteer program
Need a visitor experience monitoring program
Establish level of service and types of park fees
Need additional social research
Potential for expanded and new opportunities
Need locations for “gateways” to the park (welcome areas)
Need locations for special events/large group uses
Public Outreach Education
Need research on public awareness, needs, and preferences
Need to identify key urban outreach venues
Need a targeted outreach education program
Desire for a “parks discovery centre”
Coast Salish First Nations
Need to protect burial grounds and ancient human remains
Need to accommodate traditional uses in the park
Desire to have First Nations tell their cultural story to park visitors
Need continued relationship building
Desire to improve communications among Coast Salish First Nations
Desire for First Nations liaison with island communities
Stakeholder and Public Engagement
Need a stakeholder engagement strategy
Other
Desire for further land acquisition

15-Year Objectives
Over the timeframe of the Management Plan, we are proposing to focus on four broad goals:
Restoring Ecological Integrity
Protecting Cultural Heritage
Enhancing Visitor Experiences, and
Working Together
We're looking for your help to set strategic 15-year objectives in each of these four areas. The
objectives, should identify the main "aims" or"intent" that Parks Canada should work toward
over the 15 year timeframe. Further, the objectives should be broad enough that the priority issues should fit into the objectives.
Example objectives might be:
-GINPR better represents the native diversity of the Strait of Georgia Lowlands because non-native and hyper-abundant species have been targeted and removed.
-New opportunities, that connect visitors to nature and to the park, are being offered and promoted.
What do you suggest as 15-Year objectives for
Gulf Islands National Park Reserve?

Public Sessions—An Update
Three public sessions have been held to-date, on Salt Spring, Pender and Mayne Islands.
Approximately 70 people have provided their ideas and suggestions on the items included in
this newsletter.
As part of Parks Canada‟s Centennial Celebration, held in Stanley Park in Vancouver on Parks Day (July 16), the Gulf Islands team provided opportunities for residents and visitors alike to “get a taste” of the national park reserve. We introduced the park to many—provided information about the natural and cultural heritage, visitor opportunities, and that Parks Canada is now working on the management plan and looking for public involvement.

An open house is being planned for Victoria on: Saturday, September 10
and in Sidney on: Saturday October 1
People on the management planning email list will be notified and time/location information will be on the park website later in August (www.parkscanada.gc.ca/gulf).
Parks Canada is also working with interested Coast Salish First Nations to ensure that opportunities are available for their involvement in the management plan process.

Send Us Your Comments...
By email
carolyn.stewart@pc.gc.ca
By mail
Management Planning
Gulf Islands National Park Reserve
2220 Harbour Rd
Sidney, BC
V8L 2P6
By fax
250-654-4014

For More Information
www.parkscanada.gc.ca/gulf

Another Foot Found

2011-08-10T13:32:00.000-07:00

Anyone who reads a few of the posts on our blog Kayak Yak knows that some members of our paddle group are differently able. Not everyone is a tall, broad-shouldered and powerful kayaker like Freya Hoffmeister or Justine Curgenven. Among our own paddle group some of us have various disabilitites or differing abilities -- the polite words keep changing, but the intent is an inclusive wish to do our best at enjoying kayaking. We have each learned with practise how to play to our strengths and plan for our weaknesses.
Well, now the local newspaper has identified another preparation that can be added to the list, for paddlers with a prosthesis. The front page of the Times-Colonist carried a story yesterday about Rob Boyce, a man who went floating down the Cowichan River in an innertube last Sunday. At a particularly rough spot in the river, his tube went over a rock, and he collided with his girlfriend. When he and his lady got back onto their tubes and got their wits together, there was a problem. His prosthetic foot was missing.
And so another paddling preparation has been identified, for people with prostheses. A decision must be made before paddling, whether to wear the artificial limb and risk losing it, or to leave the prosthesis locked in a car or with one's ground crew. It would have been no fun for Boyce to hop along the rocky river bank with a cane, I'm sure. But losing a cane from his inner tube wouldn't have upset him like losing the $16,000 titanium and carbon fibre lower leg did. Boyce phoned the local detachment of the RCMP, just to let them know what had happened, and in the faint hope that someone might find his foot.
Amazingly, the artificial foot was found later that same day. On Sunday evening, James Walter was enjoying swimming in Cowichan River with a snorkel. During the summer he swims the river several times. Each time, Walter finds dozens of sunglasses and personal objects lost into the river by people in small boats and inner tubes. Sometimes he even uses scuba gear, to get to the bottom of the deep pools. This was a first for him, though -- finding an artificial foot! The day after finding the foot, Walter placed a Lost and Found ad for free in the Times-Colonist.
Ever alert, the staff of the T-C brought word of the prosthetic to the RCMP, worried that there might be a missing body to go with the foot. Word got back to the owner, and the foot was returned.

The Fat Paddler

2011-08-09T19:59:00.000-07:00

Sean Smith and I share a couple of similarities. We both kayak, we both overcame injuries to continue kayaking, and we're both, er, not so thin. But there are some differences as well; the injuries Sean suffered were far more serious than mine, and he's written a great book about his experiences.
In The Fat Paddler, Sean recounts the two life-threatening car accidents that curtailed his physical activity and lead him into a spiral of depression. Unable to continue playing rugby after his second accident, he hurt too much, ate too much, drank too much and smoked too much until he rediscovered kayaking. And it quite probably saved his life.
Sean tells his story is a breezy and engaging manner, not shying away from the dark moments in his life, but not dwelling on them either, and presents the story of his recovery through kayaking in an entertaining style. He takes us through his accidents and his long recoveries, his being witness to a terrorist bombing, the lingering after-effects of his injuries, and the decline in his health and his spirit, but he also takes us through the to the other side as he re-engages with his family, his life and himself.
And there's some yummy recipes in the back of the book.
There's no grand adventure here, no deep ocean crossing or a circumnavigation first, just a bloke who re-awakens his soul and rediscovers his zest for life through the sport that he loves.

Elk Lake

2011-08-07T20:03:00.001-07:00

Today, on another sunny summer's day, Louise and I decided to be spontaneous and change our plans and paddle at Elk Lake, a place that we haven't paddled at in an astonishing four years. In fact the last time we paddled here was my first paddle back after breaking and dislocating my arm and shoulder in a bicycle riding accident. Where does all the time go? Too many places to paddle, not enough time.
It's also a fitting place to paddle, as my paddling career (such as it is) started right here:

Well, not at the Cat Clinic obviously, but on this spot across form the beach where the Cat Clinic stands now once stood a shop that rented kayaks and other assorted water sports accessories, and it was about six years ago that Paula and Bernie bought a used Pamlico play boat from the shop and on this beach that they let me have a try in it. And I've been broke ever since, but loving every minute of it.

Elk Lake is local shorthand; it's actually two connected lakes and parks, Elk Lake, the larger to the north, and Beaver Lake to the south. We were launching from Hamster Beach on Elk Lake. Hamster Beach is named because the beach was once overrun by hamsters. This caused an influx of feral cats to the area, prompting the building of the Cat Clinic-- excuse me, but-- no, I'm busy...I'm writing the blog right now-- just telling the story of Hamster Beach...what?...really? Oh.
Sorry about that. I've just been informed that the name of the beach is Hamsterly Beach, and that my story about the hamsters wasn't very funny anyway. Some people have no sense of humour. Who makes adverbs out of nouns anyway? Hamsterly. Humph.
Anyway, we put in at Hamsterly Beach....

...and carefully avoided the rowers from the nearby rowing centre.

Sunny and warm, water like glass. We decided to go around the shores of both lakes.

We saw an eagle perched high in a tree surveying its domain, and a fish jump nearly two metres out of the water. How strange that was! Straight up like a mackerel missile, although it was probably a trout or a bass. We meandered around the south end of Beaver Lake. And then we saw turtles.

There were seven on this log, although one had scampered back into the water by the time I got my camera out.

I think these are the Western Painted Turtle, an endangered species. The Habitat Acquisition Trust is monitoring the plight of the Western Painted Turtle -- check out their website here.
A few minutes later we found another turtle going solo on an different log. I think this one is a Slider.

As we rounded the north end of Elk Lake, we saw a heron in stealth mode in the reeds.

It was such a good idea that even the ducks were trying it.

The end of the paddle drew near. Where does the time go?

Trip Length: 10.44 km
YTD: 180.13 km
More pictures are here.

At Land's End

2011-08-06T20:57:00.001-07:00

With it half over, it looks like summer has finally arrived.The last ten days or so might be the first long stretch of the year where we've had seasonal temperatures. By "seasonal temperatures" I mean a daytime high that reaches the normal expected average high for the day, and by "of the year" I mean since January 1. And sadly, I don't believe that to be an exaggeration.
Louise and I decided to check out a put-in I'd never heard about until discovering it on Mike Jackson's blog. However, a certain member of the family seemed intent on stopping us from leaving the house on this sunny day. Or maybe he was trying to save me from a fashion faux pas. Or faux paw in his case. "You really want want to go out of the house wearing this? You'll look like a giant melon. You'll thank me later."

The launch point was at the northern tip of the Saanich Peninsula, at the end of Land's End Road, aptly named because at the end of the road, there ain't no more land. From here north, you're into the Gulf Islands (that's Salt Spring Island on the right in the photo below, just a short hop of about 2.5 km away), but if you paddle south, you're entering Saanich Inlet.

We didn't get off to a good start. Many pleasure boats cruise these waters and a big one roared by just as we were launching. At the start of every paddle Louise's stomach needs a few moments to became acclimated to being on the ocean, a few moments that she didn't get this time as the pleasure craft's large wake caught us just as we were heading out.
We waited a few minutes for her stomach to settle, then proceeded south.

We were in the area of multi-million dollar homes. You can tell because all the homes are huge and are miles apart. Apparently rich people don't like living too close to other rich people.

The oystercatchers don't really care where they live as long as there is something to eat.

Speaking of something to eat, we saw a seagull trying to choke down a starfish. Not a great picture -- the seagull was determined to stay out of focus.

We meandered through coves and bays as we made our way south, paddling a piece of local coastline that we'd never travelled before thus enabling us to cross off a few more kilometres on our quest to paddle the Slowest Circumnavigation of Vancouver Island.

We even paddled near the flight path to the airport.

WestJet wasn't doing the only flying today. We followed an eagle for a while as he fluttered from tree to tree. (Yeah, "fluttered" is utterly the wrong word to use for an eagle, but I'm tired, and it's late. "Fluttered" is the best you're going to get.)

A shaky start but all in all a lovely day.

Trip Length: 7.84 km
YTD: 169.69 km
More pictures are here.

Province Approves Mega-Yacht Project and Sells Out The Songhees For A Song

2011-08-05T15:05:00.001-07:00

The following open letter was posted on the Ocean River blog from Tim Houlihan of Save Victoria Harbour, an umbrella organization helping to protest the planned mega-yacht marina in Victoria Harbour. The Provincial government has now approved the Marina plan and will lease the water lots to the developer for the pricey sum of $24,000 -- annually. Yes, a huge chunk of Crown Land (or seabed in this case) that is undeveloped, unspoilt and picturesque AND IS OWNED BY YOU AND ME will be frittered away for a pittance. $65.75 a day. Okay, if the government has its heart set on spoiling this jewel of a harbour, making it damn near impossible for paddlers and rowers to use, and to promote an industry that relies on the burning of massive amounts of fossil fuels, well so be it, but at least let's get some money for it. $24,000 a year -- are you serious? It's no wonder they introduced the Harmonized Sales Tax, they're selling our province away for a song. No, even less than a song...for a verse and half a chorus.
Tim's post follows below:

Despite no approvals from Transport Canada on the Victoria Harbour Airport safety and the with no permit from the Minister of Transport to condone the “substantial interference” to navigation that the proposed marina will create, the BC Government has as of June 23, 2011, offered Community Marine Concepts a lease on the waters that is needed to berth the large vessels on what is now the “non motorized zone ” in Victoria Harbour. Developer’s cost in initial year $24,000.
The detailed information about the offer to lease, and its terms and conditions will not be made public except under a Freedom Of Information request. This request has been made and denied.
Prior to making the offer to the developer, Crown Lands, extinguished the title on the large lot off the Songhees. In doing this, the BC Government, by Ministerial Order, removed the opportunity for a subdivision approving officer at the City of Victoria to call the only public meeting that could be held by an approving body to assist in determining just what is the public interest. I’m sure that all of us would be at City Hall again to say NO! Mega Yacht Marina!
Where are we?
If the Federal Minister of Transport hasn’t made a decision in August of 2011, the Crown Lands people are operating on an indefensible grounds when they claim that, based on their evaluation of the input between Dec 2009 and April 2011, they have accepted a “public paddling corridor” which denies access to the larger human powered vessels today, and will, as water levels rise make the “paddling corridor” under the two concrete platforms more and more inaccessible for even the vessels like kayaks.
How can Crown Lands have made a determination that is in the Public Interest and assume that the non motorized zone of the Victoria Harbour Traffic Scheme will be re-zoned for large yachts when they have not received the final Environment Canada report nor the report on Air and Marine Safety, much less a permit to permit “substantial interference” with navigation, nor have carried out the consultations with “stakeholders” who use the non motorized zone?
How can Crown Lands have made a determination to offer a lease when shared studies of the Environment are not available. Have they used the studies that are subject to the Judicial Review which was adjourned when Transport Canada withdrew the contested Navigable Waters Permit?
Why?
In my opinion, it is obvious that the Crown Lands part of the BC Government and Transport Canada, both of which treat applicants as if they are Government Clients, have not considered the public interest, only the interest of their clients.
What to do? Ask for help!
1. As a human powered vessel user, ask these questions to the Attorney General of BC and the Minister of Justice of Canada. Crown Lands policy says that they are the elected officials to protect the rights of people like you and me who share these waters with the commercial air and marine users.
2 Explain to the Attorney General of BC and the Justice Minister of Canada that, as the operational departments of the BC Government and Transport Canada, treat the applicant -as client, you want the Attorney General of BC to intercede for you as a citizen of Canada and BC and protect these shared rights. Ensure that the non motorized zone of Victoria Harbour remains.
Please write now:
Attorney General BC
Honourable Barry Penner
PO Box 9044 Stn Prov Govt
Victoria BC V8W 9E2
Phone: 250 387-1866
Fax: 250 387-6411