Managing Inexperienced Paddlers on the Water

In 2006 I led a Sea Kayaking trip in the Apostle Islands on Lake Superior. To say that I led the trip is a stretch. I will say it was a great experience to learn how to lead a trip.

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Myself and Jim Svensson took two more inexperienced paddlers to paddle through the islands in July of 2005. I won’t give a blow by blow of the account. But I will offer some advice for other sea kayakers who are thinking of taking less experienced paddlers on a trip.

Jim Svensson and I are both BCU 4 Star Paddlers with thousands of miles under our hulls. We have done many trips together on Lake Superior, we have both paddled Pukaskwa National Park in Canada, we also did the Silver Islet to Rossport trip together. I have many many hours surf kayaking on Lake Michigan and even a couple of trips to the Pacific to surf. I’ve done a lot of the islands on Lake Michigan and Huron. However each of these trips was done with paddlers of at least equal paddling skill, if not higher than our own skill level. This was our first trip with beginners.

I want to start with some things about the trip to give an idea of the plan, because believe it or not I did have a plan.

We wanted to do a loop from Sand Beach back to Bayfield. We had an outfitter drop us off at Sand Beach and we would paddle back to Bayfield. We wanted to hit Sand Island with all of the caves and cliffs, and especially Devil’s Island, we also wanted to circle out and see Outer Island. Maybe even circumnavigate Outer before heading back.

Planning and Preparation for the Sea Kayaking Trip

In the early part of the spring, I paddled with the two more inexperienced paddlers (a married couple) many times. Though one of them had a lot of obligations and was not able to do the training trips as often as what would be necessary.

I made a point of taking them out and doing rescues. We performed t-rescues, eskimo rescues, all-in rescues, and even a hand of god or two for fun. I wanted to get them comfortable with the idea that maybe not everything would go as planned. Also I wanted them to not freak out if someone swam, which I was predicting might happen if there were any clapotis waves near cliffs or caves. I also worked with one of them on developing a roll, directional strokes and some surfing.

I also took one of them out to Ludington to the WMCKA spring gathering. We paddled into 25 knot winds on Sunday afternoon and then surfed back to shore. Great fun, but also an eye opener in watching how little progress our duckling made.

They key thing is that one of our paddlers was really taking the trip quite seriously, and the other did not prepare.

The couple did however take my warnings about cold water, and possible cold weather seriously and bought a ton of gear before the trip. One bought a Goretex Meridian Drysuit, the other bought a really nice IR Drytop and a farmer jane wet suit. I felt that they were at least prepared from an equipment standpoint.

As the days wound down to the trip, our other paddler still engaged in work duties had not been out to paddle very much. I made a conscientious effort to talk with her about the challenges of the trip and to make sure she understood them.

This is really where I failed her. She could not understand the challenges of the trip, because she had no frame of reference for how strong the wind might be, how big the waves would be, or how unrelenting Lake Superior could be. I wanted everyone to have a good trip, so I allowed her to go. When really I should have just been a good friend and told her we would modify the trip plan to be less ambitious, or that she could not go.

I asked Doug Van Doren about leadership on the water. His take is that the strongest paddler will often naturally end up leading the other paddlers through an emergency, whether or not this person is designated as the leader or not.

With that in mind, I was committed whether I knew it or not.

Crossings into the Wind

Our troubles really began on the leg between Devil’s Island and South Twin. There is a long leg far from shore where there is no protection. One also has to go around Rock Island. The weather for most of the day around Devil’s Island had been ideal. It was very calm with no huge waves. I snaked my foster silhouette into every cave I could fit into. Once finished we ended up on the south east corner of the island looking at the crossing. The wind was getting up and we had to make a break for it.

Part of the problem with the Apostles is the designated campsites. Every paddling group must designate which campsite they will be staying at on what night. Under ideal conditions this is fine, but it unfortunately influences decisions with some of the more OCD folks. I am more of a free spirit in this regard. I feel that as long as it’s safe, and that I am low impact I am willing to bend a few rules. But others tend to take this quite literally to the point of jeopardizing safety, which I am OCD about. In this instance I should have been more vocal about making sure we were safe, rather than jeopardizing the groups safety in a crossing that one of us wasn’t read for.

About thirty minutes into the crossing the wind picked up to about 15 knots. To Jim and I this was a good thing, we despise flat conditions and would rather have a little texture to remind us of why we drove 14 hours to paddle. To our inexperienced paddlers it was an insurmountable obstacle. Our least prepared paddler began to waver, then fade, and finally to become unstable. I remember looking at the conditions and seeing how slowly she was moving, and I had clipped my tow carabiner to my life jacket prior to starting the crossing.

Jim and I began using the GPS as a gauge of how slowly we were going we started at three miles per hour, then two, then one.

I saw the first accidental dip of a vertical paddle and a quick low brace to recover. After she almost went into the drink, I made an instantaneous decision to tow her without asking her. I glided up to her bow and told her, “We’re going to do a little towing to get around the tip of Rock Island.” She looked almost relieved.

I began to haul ass for the northern tip of Rock Island right away. Pretty soon we were halfway, then three quarters of the way, and then Jim thankfully offered to take over for a bit. Our other inexperienced paddler seemed to be struggling, but making progress. Jim also really hauled it and pretty soon, we were discussing linked towing. So I clipped in on the lead to Jim’s Explorer’s bow and began to lead again. Once we did this we were really making good progress. Ironically once I had made it to the tip of Rock Island I had to pee like you wouldn’t believe. I can still remember two years later how bad I had to go. We were now with the wind, but I unclipped to pee on Rock Island. Jim led the tow the remaining half mile to South Twin.

In that 30 seconds I believe we corrected a very bad situation. The wind continued to grow the sky grew gray and the wind built eventually to about 25 knots. So quick and decisive decisions on the water tend to make for better feelings off the water, rather than worrying about someone’s feelings. I remember that look on her face when I clipped in to this day. Her face just said, “I surrender”. Also I can remember that feeling of relief for my own part as Rock Island quickly came into view. I got some serious satisfaction while I was towing to hear Jim report our speed from his deck GPS. I could barely hear him through the increasing howl in the wind, “3 miles per hour, four, four point five”.

We tried to quickly cover the distance before the weather built ahead of us. We might have had to consider turning and going with the wind, back to Devil’s Island. A quartering sea and that small slip on the south end would have been hard to hit dead on with the wind. The consequences for missing would have been catastrophic, because there is no land fall between Devil’s Island and Minnesota.

Lesson’s Learned from Tow #1

1. Quick Decision to tow based on decreasing speed and stability of the weaker paddler was a good decision.
2. Linked towing exerted far less energy than towing solo.
3. A Camelback full of gatorade does hydrate a paddler very well, but also makes them have to pee every 20 minutes.

Tow #2 From Cat Island to Outer Island

The next day we wound down around Ironwood Island and the southern tip of Cat Island for lunch.
The wind had begun to build again as we ate lunch. It was however a beautiful bright skied day. We started to head out to Outer Island with the intent of maybe seeing the light house on the north end.

Again I should stress that trip plans should have been changed by me to perhaps camp where we were, or to run with the wind until we were in the lee of the islands and then camp somewhere else. With the wind already beginning to make some beautiful blue green waves and foamy whitecaps, it would be tough going for our less experienced paddlers, but a fun day playing in the wind for Jim and myself.

However the first day turned out fine even with the towing, so I made a decision to go for it. We quickly ran into problems as the wind out of the north east was beginning to really build some nice swells. This made things very difficult for our least experienced paddler. She quickly slowed to around one mile an hour. She also became unsteady. I then quickly made another decision to clip in and tow her. Jim then clipped in and led the tow for about twenty minutes. It was tough going. We swapped spots on the lead twice. Finally the wind had begun to howl around the southern tip of Outer Island, which is a sand spit. It offered no protection. We knew the camp site was on the other side. So we struggled valiantly around the tip of the island for at least another twenty minutes.

I remember the white caps really beginning to pile over the deck of my kayak, digging my carbon fiber superior Greenland paddle into the water and torquing my torso with every once of strength I possessed. I don’t know how much strength I had left, but I remember thinking, wow! I really wish I could turn and sprint to catch that wave. (I think it is really I kind of mental illness to be thinking of surfing under those circumstances).

We were defeated as we rounded the sand spit. We started to wash onto the beach. Which was steep and cobbled. We began having the time honored catastrophic problem of using ropes in dangerous situations. The stronger paddler was being out paced by a side surfing sea kayak victim. I watched our weaker paddler side surf into the beach under tow, and Jim and I frantically trying to make a decision on what evil thing to do next. Either un-clip and let her go, or try to pull her back out to sea. I made the decision for myself. I quickly released my tow from the victim, as Jim was in the lead, but Jim did not. This led to some tangles and serious crashing on the beach with our two boats lined together. It was an ugly landing. Jim and I managed to bring the kayaks up the beach above the water line.

Tow #2 Lessons Learned

1. Linked towing when a landing is imminent has its limitations.
2. Communication between the two towing paddlers is crucial
3. Ropes and surf landings are always problematic.

In retrospect once we had rounded the tip of the island we should have dropped to a single tow so that one paddler could make a quick decision about when to drop the tow and just wait to pick up the pieces from the landing.

We managed to get everyone on dry land on Outer Island safely. So there were some good things about the day.

The next day we did an evaluation of the weather. It looked like the next day would have a twenty knot wind from the north east. And then would start to veer to due east. With all of the islands we had left to do, and the prospect of possibly more towing. We decided to make a break for it and run with the wind to get as close to Bayfield as we could with the twenty knot tail wind.

As I remember the outside of Stockton Island was quite beautiful. There were many sea stacks. As it turned out with the tail wind at 20 knots all day, we covered 21 miles in relatively short order. We decided to run all the way in to Bayfield that night. We had finally altered the trip to meet the group which was probably the best thing we did from a leadership perspective. Our two inexperienced paddlers were pretty toasted. But very happy to be on dry land.

I’ve included some of the gory details but not all. I think the main lessons to be learned from all of this is the following:

• Know the limitations of the paddling group and adjust the trip accordingly
• Be flexible and prepared to change the trip midstream to meet the needs of the weakest member
• Be prepared to tell someone they can’t come if the trip is not flexible.
• Be prepared to tow if the group begins to slow when performing an open crossing
• Watch the weather and know what the back-out plans were
• Be ready to make decisions quickly and to worry about hurt feelings later

Thankfully there have been no hurt feelings from this trip. But I still have some very serious nagging guilt for not being prepared to adjust course or say no when the trip preparation and training didn’t come together as I would’ve liked. In truth if our other inexperienced paddler had swum, needed a tow, or gotten sea sick, we could have been really hosed.

As with just about everything I do, I think there is a certain element of risk involved. The benefits certainly outweighed the risks for this trip. I wouldn’t advise someone not to do a trip based purely out of fear of the unknown. But having had a lot of practice in wind and waves, my BCU training, and being physically fit shape that perspective. I would really encourage folks with only one or two of these elements to seek out the training, and also to head out to play in conditions as much as they can within a margin of safety.

tags: ACA   BCU   Open Water Crossing   sea kayak leadership   sea kayaking   sea kayaking the apostles   Towing a sea kayak  

Had my first sub twenties commute of the year. I felt much warmer than last year. Ninjaclava from Outdoor Research was a plus, as were the Cyclone Booties from Pearl Izumi.

However as I had some new gear on that seems to be working out, I thought I would point out a few losers from last year that I thought would work out well but ended up failing miserably.

The Bad and the Ugly

1. The EKG Base layer from Pearl Izumi
I bought two of these as base layers. They were comfy and next to skin good for about two days. Both of them developed holes in the armpits that grew in size. Either I have acid in my sweat like a Geiger alien, or Pearl Izumi needs some QC/QA.
2. Thermafleece Tights Pearl Izumi discontinued. These started out warm, snug, and terrific. They now have developed a hole in the arse and in the crotch. Again is it acid eating sweat, or poor QC/QA? Do the people that rave about Pearl Izumi all the time actually use their gear at all? For the price, almost double HIND or Sugoi gear; they better last more than a season.
3. Louis Garneau Cycling Gloves-these things suck as cycling gloves. They do not block wind in anything below 45 degrees, and they are not water resistant.

1. Lendal Paddle Kinetic XTI White Water paddle-Previously posted

   Editorial note, they are shipping me a new paddle that has as of yet not arrived.

   The Good

2. CW-X Lite-fit Top
I bought two of these to replace the Pearl Izumi tops. One year on, they are still taking the abuse of my acidic alien armpit sweat. I’ve worn them under drysuits, ski jackets, and cycling jerseys. No rips no runs, still like new.
3. NRS Toaster Mitts

Great 30 dollar investment.

1. Mega Maverick

Great carving machine, many many fun rides in this downwave maniac. I can’t say enough good things about Mega’s surf boats. More fun than I am legally allowed to have.

1. IR Custom Drydeck

Great heavy duty rubber randed sprayskirt custom made to my kayak. No more cold water ejections. No Tag

Some days you can’t get a break, and then you do…

I seem to be on a run of bad luck that won’t quit. I’ve finally gotten all the right gear, the right craft, and enough skill to surf big fall storm waves. But now I just can’t seem to get some good luck. I went on a Saturday afternoon, (unheard of in the realms of storm surfing) and suited up. I had a nice northerly break where I could get out easily. Off the pier were some monsters. I caught a couple of ok rides where I had to paddle hard to get on. And then I caught some scary ones where I intentionally capsized to let a monster ten foot wave break over me. I more often than not found myself accidentally righted and then surfing in anyway. I caught one absolutely beautiful ride where a good seven or eight foot wave came up, and I was finally in the right spot at the right time, so I carved down the face diagonally toward the pier, and then saw more green water to my right so I cut back away from the wall and kept surfing all the way to the beach.

When I broke back out I was out maybe 30 yards off the pier. A huge steep dumper took me by surprise. I capsized intentionally to let it go over me, but it took me and threw me from the top to the bottom, it felt like I was thrown a full ten feet in the air and I hit hard, I was knocked into the cockpit luckily but I think the tunnel on my drysuit let in some water. I was sinking hard to stern when I rolled up. I thought for sure the boat was cracked somewhere at the stern. I paddled the flooded boat all the way in, but I took the skirt off to level it out.

I got it dumped out and inspected the boat. No damage. So I looked out there and thought ok, I can’t let it beat me. So I got back in and headed out. I kept thinking about the one sweet ride. I was in exactly the right spot when another huge wave broke where it shouldn’t have been breaking. I capsized intentionally again. The turbulence was incredible. I held onto the paddle for dear life thinking, “hold on, hold on, it’ll pass.” And then my right paddle blade snapped off from my Lendal four piece. After my experience with hand rolling up to find myself presented with a no-win situation, I just got pissed and wet exited.

I swam the boat in again, and a boardie collected my wreckage of foam outfitting shook loose from the boat.

After all my experiences surfing, I’ve sort of gotten it into my head, perhaps erroneously that if I held onto my paddle and could roll up I’d be safe. To have my paddle snapped off by a wave sort of weakens my confidence in that particular piece of equipment. Lendal paddlok’s are supposed to be sort of indestructible aren’t they?

Am I out of my element chasing storms and 10 foot waves in a small kayak? Are my dreams for a perfect ride at my home break a fools errand? Is it really just beyond me and my skill to do it?

I hope not. I hope it’s just some bad mojo that will pass.

Some Days-U2
Some days are dry, some days are leaky
Some days come clean, other days are sneaky
Some days take less, but most days take more
Some slip through your fingers and onto the floor
Some days you’re quick, but most days you’re speedy
Some days you use more force than is necessary
Some days just drop in on us
Some days are better than others
Some days it all adds up
And what you got is not enough
Some days are better than others
Some days are slippy, other days sloppy
Some days you can’t stand the sight of a puppy
Your skin is white but you think you’re a brother
Some days are better than others
Some days you wake up with her complaining
Some sunny days you wish it was raining
Some days are sulky, some days have a grin
And some days have bouncers and won’t let you in
Some days you hear a voice
Taking you to another place
Some days are better than others
Some days are honest, some days are not
Some days you’re thankful for what you’ve got
Some days you wake up in the army
And some days it’s the enemy
Some days are work, most days you’re lazy
Some days you feel like a bit of a baby
Lookin’ for Jesus and His mother
Some days are better than others
Some days you feel ahead
You’re making sense of what she said
Some days are better than others
Some days you hear a voice
Taking you to another place

No Tag

Surfing hydraulics are indeed the stuff of legends. Once the waves start to top out at 8 feet or so they can do some pretty impressive things. When the waves spill the forces within are quite strong. This is an understatement of Olympian proportions.

The forecast was for 8-10 foot waves with wind at 30 knots, gusting to 35 knots out of the northwest. It was every bit the forecast for once. Rain came down in cool, but painfully side ways sheets. It was so wet it was hard to tell up from down at times. The path on the south side of the pier looked like a runway. Flat with a bit of occasional white water. The rocks that are pushed up against the pier were uncovered in the troughs of waves, meaning a serious amount of water was being displaced during each wave period. I broke out with ease for once.

The wave period appeared to be about 5 seconds. People on the west coast will laugh at this, but it is what we get. I caught some decent, (quick rides) Steep waves where I was able to carve a little before riding onto the back of the next wave. I typically saw something big coming paddled like hell and tried to grab onto green water by high brace ruddering to slow myself down to hang in the power pocket. A couple times I was unceremoniously spat out of the green water by a mountain of hissing white water. But for the most part it seemed pretty benign.

After catching some fun rides I got caught at the bottom of a big wave without any hull speed. As I tried to get up to speed I was drawn to the top and then dumped to the bottom by the wave as it curled and collapsed. Funny but I remember the sensation as I was sucked up, and then dropped down in it’s distinct pieces like I was watching someone else. Then when I rolled up I was surfing backwards, “woohoo!!!!”-I thought, but another wave broke on me, and in the ensuing dynamics I was promptly sucked completely out of the kayak, skirt and all.

I took my paddle and began to swim to my swamped kayak. I got in and paddled it for a few minutes and got it close. Then I got out and swam with my paddle all the way in until I could stand.

Luckily I hadn’t been out further than the pier. Or I could have been in for a long confused swim. Also again, I had a lifejacket, helmet, and drysuit. But my skirt did not hold very well. I’ve been using a touring deck that is neoprene from mountain surf. It’s pretty decent, but not as good as a pure white water skirt obviously. Although I’m not sure any skirt would have held me in.
It was an interesting experience that maybe I can ward off next time with a tougher rand on the skirt. But I’m not sure I’m ready for the seat belt! In my three years of small boat, or surf boat surfing this is the first time it’s happened. And it never happened while sea kayaking other than when I had a crappy nylon skirt when I first started out.

But float bags are on the list too. I’ve delayed on common sense for too long on those.

No Tag

Doug Van Doren and I arrived in Wawa Ontario midday on Friday. We stepped out of the car to view Rock Island Lodge’s panoramic view of both the Michipicoten River mouth and Lake Superior. The dappled gray rocks, with pock marks of orange lichen and moss stripe the pillowed rock formations the lodge sits upon. Those rocks serve as a small, but seemingly functional barrier to the world’s largest and often most tempestuous body of freshwater in the world.

Doug was invited as a guest instructor. Earlier this year I inquired with Conor the organizer of the event about tagging along with Doug. Conor graciously agreed and I made arrangements to accompany Doug to Wawa for the Symposium. I really wanted to make a start on instructing at a few events this year other than the WMCKA Symposium.

I also attended Grand Marais this year. I unfortunately did not get to teach very much there, I really only had one class. So I kind of felt wanting for some further depth in experience as an instructor.

Teaching is a funny thing. One would think the ability to clearly explain a skill, break it down, and then diagram its components is a prerequisite for someone who writes software requirements and specifications.

I’ve been watching and learning from other instructors this summer and trying to learn from them. I’d like to think I made some progress. But I think it is clear to me now that the ability to demonstrate a skill is completely separate from the ability to teach it. Hopefully my youth, skill, and enthusiasm made up for some relative inexperience in instruction.

Early on Friday Doug taught a forward stroke clinic to the Naturally Superior staff. I was surprised and enthused by the group’s high skill level. I watched as many of them demonstrated side sculls, side slips, draws, and various rudders while on the move. I can typically tell when someone is intermediate to advanced by watching how they move their blade vertically next to the boat. If they have some hesitancy or trepidation, they usually need some work on bracing or rolling in addition to the draw stroke itself. But David Wells staff all demonstrated remarkable competence from what I could see. They all improved their forward stroke demonstrably within the time Doug spent with them. I also tried to absorb a lot of the material for the next day. Having been in and helped teach the class I marveled at the working blueprint of the class and how he taught it. I helped a few students learn a norsaq assisted hand roll and the reverse low brace sweep roll.

We finished up with the class and managed to squeeze out to play in the surf at the mouth of the Michipicoten River. The river is dammed in four spots and as the day progresses towards dinner, the dams are released for further current to power homes. As the current sped up, the mouth of the river near the lodge began to form noticeable standing waves and eddies. The wind was clipping in steadily at 10-12 knots. Small 2 foot waves were forming nicely near the lighthouse. The group headed out and then climbed onto the triangular wedge of current and wind to ride it in. My Silhouette easily climbed onto the small bit of greenwater. I rode the face of a series of small waves with sprinting paddle strokes until I attained, then ruddered while on the wave. As I neared the light, a slightly larger front wave held the kayak more or less in place and stern ruddering held the boat in the pocket. The pocket was so small though that once off it was hard to regain without broaching and then having to climb on from the back. We ran the triangle two or three times, and I ran it once backwards just for kicks and giggles. The staff left the water to prepare for the Friday meal.

Doug and I continued out to paddle into the wind and then back for an hour or two. Don Goss came with us and kept remarkable pace considering the company. We had a quick ride back to find the triangle had grown more through the dinner hour. I played back and forth, took pictures and then found a perfect, but small retentive spot to hang in the current. I practiced ferry gliding back and forth smiling as I remembered my trip down the Wolf River last year around this time with Alex Pak and Derrick Mayoleth. Eventually I Also found some other small waves building closer to the rocks and surfed them until I just about crashed into the rocks and then luckily shot into the eddy.

Dinner was fantastic. No two words about it. Excellent pasta, bread, and salad. Good green salads aren’t something you come by often in the great white north. Vince the chef does a fine job of keeping the quality up on large meals.

An evening paddle was arranged with the participants. We saddled up and paddled out with the group towards the south end of the bay where David Wells wanted us to see some islands on the far side. We paddled in formation along with about 4-5 paddlers. After Grand Marais I was pleasantly surprised to see the skill level of the participants. The swells were coming in from the west nice and slow, but at times boats and people were disappearing on the other side. David led us through to the islands where we scooted along the mainland surfing down wind. I caught some nice rides downwind. I spotted a large set of rocks underwater at the last minute and narrowly missed them by side slipping off while underway. We whipped around back towards the north and squeezed in between some rocks. The group paddled well together with only a few halts to keep everyone together. The waves were consistent again in the river mouth. We let the participants surf through the triangle. Rob ran through several times as did Don Goss. I myself stayed a bit extra and surfed along with Conor and Vince who made it back out after dinner. I really enjoyed grabbing the front wave on the triangle and letting it hold the kayak in place.

The next morning the participants divided into groups. Robin and I took the beginners. Oddly enough I’ve done plenty of beginner instruction. But mainly it has been with young, fit, and very enthusiastic students. I do not have very many reluctant students. I’ve tended to have the reverse where people want to start with white water rapids and surfing with no training, and I am the stick in the mud who tells them they have to learn some skills. We had some newer paddlers who needed to be coaxed into learning to wet exit. Which is very sensible if you have a student who might panic while underwater. Robin luckily had the tact of an FBI psychologist talking a gunman out of a Bank. She really did a terrific job getting the newer students under way. I will walk away with her attention to need, patience, and deliberate approach to teaching.

We worked most of the morning simply on forward stroke and sweep strokes. I worked in my two favorite exercises for forward stroke instruction, “rock em sock em robot” and “t-rex paddling”. Torso rotation is hard concept to get because your arms frankly get in the way. So by either fully extending and locking the arms for rock em sock em robot paddling, or fully removing them where the elbow is locked in to the side with the wilted t-rex arm paddling; the student focuses on the trunk and not their arms. To boot-it’s fun to do and to watch. The afternoon we spent on more sweep strokes, turning with edging and some side sculling, draws, and a bit of ruddering.

Doug’s rolling demo, which although I have seen many, many times, went really well. I always have to marvel at his ease in his kayak when rolling. Because it is matched with an ease in rough water, speed, and efficiency on the move. I saw a lot of great rollers at Qajaq Training Camp in Michigan. But none really have his seamanship, speed, or skill with all of the other strokes that make kayaking the fluid and dynamic delight that is kayaking.

The Canadians kept passing random objects to Doug for him to roll with, such as: a rusty axe, a peg leg, (also known as the ghetto leg) a bicycle seat, and a drain pipe. All of which he managed to complete some variety of roll. The bicycle seat was my favorite as he was able to complete a forward recovery hand roll with it.

The band Clay Rooster a four-piece, played a very excellent show. The four piece played a series of original tunes on guitar, lap-steel, drums, and bass. The song-writing was excellent and the execution with no amps or pa, was dead on for the small front room at the lodge. The drummer, playing barefoot, sang excellent harmonies with Dunn the guitarist and front man. Most of the songs were about Canadian place names, which I am a sucker for. To quote Tom Waits: “I like a song that has a place name, something to eat, and some clothing, then I feel like I can move in and try it on.”

The moon was almost full behind the band in the darkened bay windows of the lodge as they finished their set. I went outside on the rocks and watched the moon rise over the water. On that evening, just like on many others at the lodge. I felt I had visited often, but never really settled in. I wanted to move in forever, and unpack my boxes.

Sunday was the final day of instruction and the “Greenland” games. We divided the participants up into teams with the instructors as team captains. My team took an early and long lead in the portage race. Rob took off like a shot cutting of Serge like a horse on the outside of the rail. When it finally came to me, both Bonnie and Doug were hot on my heels, and I paddled like hell to keep the lead. I could hear Bonnie behind me. But when I rounded the lighthouse, I could tell she was not that close. When I reached the sand spit at the mouth of the river, I popped the tuiliq and got on land. I shouldered my Silhouette, (all 56 lbs of it). My knees buckled as I panted for breath. I quickly regained my footing and ran with the kayak on my shoulder to the water and dropped the boat, half on land, half in the water. I heard a collective “ow” from the crowd; as in wow that must have hurt your kayak. I hopped in and paddled like hell some more. I crossed the finish line well ahead of Doug and Bonnie. I sat panting for at least a minute and then Bonnie, followed closely by Doug crossed the finish line. Doug made up a lot of ground on the race, but I am still left wondering who would’ve come out on top if we’d left at the same time! Team Wikle won the portage race thanks to the quick start, and the sustained effort of Rob, and Leif, and the whole team!

The rolling contest started next. The contest was to perform as many rolls as you could in 15 seconds. Rob did a terrific job as our first roller getting four. I was our other roller. I haven’t spent a lot of time analyzing how quick certain rolls are, but I know that a norsaq assisted handroll while pinned to the backdeck is crazy fast. However, it’s so fast you become sick after 4-5. A storm roll is slower by far, but still faster than an extended roll, and you don’t get sick until around 7-8. Bonnie and I went at the same time. I saw Bonnie start with an extended paddle roll, and I was set up for my storm roll. I snapped off what seemed like 4 quick rolls when I felt my boat contact Bonnie’s. I kept rolling, as did Bonnie! I stopped after what felt like 9 rolls. And looked at the crowd. It turned out I had completed seven in the alloted time.

When I took my tuiliq hood off, people were cracking jokes about our kayaks humping. Bonnie, quickly stated that her kayak was: “on top”. I told her I didn’t mind women putting in all the effort.
Our team closed out the rolling contest in the lead as well.

The “kill the seal event” was pretty cool. The object is for a swimmer, designated as the seal to swim evade the team members in kayaks. The team will use nerf balls in kayaks to kill the seal, by hitting it three times with the nerf ball. The seal may defend themselves by tapping a kayak forcing them to roll, (if they can) or touching terra firma. I think I may suggest that as a rodeo event for next year’s WMCKA symposium. Our team got the unlucky draw of Naturally Superior’s local triathalon champion swimmer Derrick Murray. He jumped in the water and immediately dove deep, lengthening his body and eerily projecting himself towards my kayak. I chose to get in the Mega Maverick for this event, erroneously thinking my maneuverability might be an aid. I was wrong the seal tapped my kayak on the first try, so I rolled. I came up close and hit him once. My team members were collecting the balls, and furiously attempting to pelt the seal. I came in close again, and the seal swam under my boat again, eerily deep and creepily fast. I waited and waited, and then he surfaced. I hit him again, but he tapped my boat a second time. I was essentially drawing fire in my small kayak. Which helped us when one of the other paddlers got him a third time. Our kill the seal time was 1:45.

The next closest time was 1:50, so team Wikle took all three events. In recognition of our “achievement” team Wikle received a beautiful copy of the McGuffin’s photo book, Superior, Journeys On An Inland Sea By Gary and Joanie McGuffin
It’s a book I’ve always wanted to own. And coincidentally makes any trip around Superior in a Kayak look tame, as they traveled in a canoe with their 3 year old daughter and a dog!.

This event is one of the best Symposiums I’ve attended thus far. The food, the instruction, and the location make this one for an annual summer retreat. the availability of rough water under somewhat controlled conditions makes it an easy primer to true sea kayaking and surfing with good bail-outs at low risk. The lodge is the coolest place on earth as far as I’m concerned. Wildlife and true wilderness are right out the backdoor for a post/pre symposium trip. I hope to be invited back next year!

Check out the Photos.

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I picked Jon Turk up at the Kalamazoo airport on Friday after work. I’d heard that he wasn’t as chatty and vivacious as some of the younger pups we’d had to symposium over the last few years. Simon and Justine definitely are very fun and very very social, which is great. Jon Turk though is in a class all his own. We hit the road and he started talking almost immediately. Much to my surprise he is a listener as much as he is a speaker, or better yet a story teller.

I’m always interested in hearing about couples that have children young who have their adventures too. What sacrifices are made? What are the repercussions from those long periods of time away from home might have been. While I have ultimate respect for Simon and Justine, I have a deep affinity and respect for a man like Jon because he made hard choices in life. He had to choose to be away from home and family to do the things he needed to do, and he had to live with those choices. Further, his family had to live with them too.

Jon has done some amazing things in life, probably so grand that it boggles even his mind how he did it. He’s crossed the northwest passage, gone from Japan all the way to the Siberian straits, paddled in Greenland, climbed and mountain biked in Asia.

Our talk in the car circled around the inherent social dynamics of human beings, adventures, his children, and ultimately his dead wife Chris. We could talk about anything from UFO’s to paddling and Jon ultimately circled back to Chris. Her death clearly haunts him. How could it not. For the full story read this.

I remember listening to Cold Oceans Jon’s first book in the car when I was making a very difficult work commute to Detroit from Paw Paw. The book is about more than his monumental expeditions into the Arctic. It is also about the lifelong love affair with Chris, his children, and how long it really took to get the two of them together. It is written like Hemingway without the need for pointless machismo. It moved me, and his reading of it is phenomenal if you get a chance to buy it on tape, Jon reads it!

Jon’s talk at Symposium is on the topic of the Romantic vs the Pragmatist in man. It’s clearly not really a strictly paddling expedition talk. Which clearly sums up why most of us get into paddling. It certainly isn’t pragmatic to kayak at all, which is why Jet skis are so popular. There is a certain nobility and simplicity to paddling that makes it difficult to think of it in rational terms. I can say from my first time in a kayak it was like touching a dream. The kayak glided through the water effortlessly and my hands dipped into a mirror smooth lake on every stroke. The notion to get into a sport that costs thousands, is completely individual, and not at all practical was not something that made sense, I just did it because I caught the bug. Every paddler has that perfect moment they are searching for. It’s a lifelong quest. You never really get it. Or at least I hope I don’t, because then the trip is over. I keep going back out there because that dream is still out there, the dream of that perfect wave, or the perfect downwind ride in a sea kayak, that perfect moment in the wilderness where you see God.
We all know it’s out there somewhere, so we keep going. Jon’s talk based on the book, In the Wake of the Jomon
is based on the notion that people did not cross on a land bridge to North America from Asia, but perhaps paddled here in canoes and kayaks. This is based on the premise that at our hearts we are not pragmatists, but romantics. Or at the least, we are dreamers in addition to being pragmatists. The argument itself is poetic. And this Yeats Poem says it all:

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

I think Jon Turk still has some expeditions left in him. When we were in the car, he even hinted he might have a few left to do by kayak. His talk smacked of the sort of lyricism that moves the soul, rather than cold details about what happened each day. Sure he had the usual death defying heroics we expect, but it was backed by a long life full of adventure, pain, beauty, and hard work; which is not something you get to hear everywhere. We were priveleged to have him. And he also cut the rug on Sunday night with Betsie and the band like a madman!

As usual the Symposium had a mix of weather, rain, sunshine and a little cold in the evening. The training and the classes were great. I got to play with the kids, and the adults a bit. I cough accidentally knocked a few students over. But managed to teach them something too. I got to learn from some students as usual!

I also managed not to disgrace myself in the rolling demo, for which I was thankful. I had to add a little sculling on my forward recovery handroll, but hey who’s counting?

The feelings I have for the WMCKA symposium can’t be taken out of context. Essentially whenever I think about WMCKA I see the cut-away version of the human anatomy. I see how colors are interpreted by the optic nerve, how pain is transferred from the nerves to the brain, how food is chewed and then digested. Serving on the board, and on the symposium committee has been a privilege. Most of the time it’s been great fun, but it also changes how I see things when it comes time to have fun. So when it came time to arrive on site Friday night, I had the distinct distaste of having seen how the sausages are made. Which let me know, it’s time to take a break.

I’ve heard from lots of folks it is one of the best run symposiums in the Midwest, so I trust my efforts and the efforts of the board have not gone unnoticed. I hope to attend next year and just stick to playing with the kids and knocking students in the water. Poor poor students

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I just got word from Conor Mihell, the organizer of the Naturally Superiors Greenland Symposium that I will be assisting with traditional paddling instruction in Wawa Ontario for their 2nd Annual Traditional Paddling Symposium.

Naturally Superiors is situated right in the mouth of the Michipicoten River mouth, near Wawa Ontario on Lake Superior. The Rock Island lodge is the coolest place on Lake Superior I’ve ever seen. The site is a zen-rock garden for paddling. The first time I ever saw it I wanted to move-in for good. The pre-Cambrian granite on the lake shore crops up organically around the lodge which is seated high on the shore with a terrific view of the harbor. It is Valhalla and Shangri-la all rolled into one tidy package for paddlers who dare to seek her out.

Doug Van Doren and Bonnie Perry will be coming to instruct at the event. August 24-26th. I will strive to bring what I know to the symposium.

For details on how to sign up, I would mosey over to Naturally Superior’s Web site. Also you can download the .

If you’ve never been to Naturally Superior Adventures or the North Shore of Lake Superior you really have to see it. The instruction should be top notch and the lodge accommodations are amazing.

The Symposium Details:
August 24-26th
Rock Island Lodge-Naturally Superior Adventures, Wawa Ontario Canada

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Top 5 reasons to paddle.
Ok these are my thoughts on the subject and are somewhat didactic and maybe even contradictory.

1. Paddling is linear and analog. Very few things are these days. It gives no regard to hurry, or any other timetable other than wind, sun, moon, and stars. Like Peter Fonda in Easy Rider, your watch can be cast aside at the beginning of the journey. Granted you can get digital with GPS, digital watches, ala Doug Adams. But these things serve as needless fetishistic artifacts to an acitivity that defies the improvements of technology. In other words you can digitally track how slow you are moving, but it doesn’t change the fact that the average paddling speed is 3-4 knots unless you are Greg Barton. This brings me to number 2.
2. Speed. Speed is dictated by the first reason to paddle, which is that you go as exactly as fast as the effort put into paddling. Relatively speaking. No more no less. One could try to hurry, but really you can’t. It just can’t be rushed. You can go faster than 3-4 knots for fun, but is it really that much faster? How does 5-6 knots over the arc of a 10 day trip matter? It doesn’t. It typically means you aren’t seeing anything up close. Because Americans drive everywhere we hold no value to the energy spent to get there. Fiduciary effort burnt in fossil fuels just isn’t the same as calorie effort. Ask the nearest person with an SUV who is carrying 20 pounds or more of extra weight but would like to be thinner what that means. So I think overall there is something to be said for getting everywhere under your own power. While this sounds slightly pontificatory, I recognize that I drive to the beach to launch the kayak. And if could move Kalamazoo to the shore of a great lake, I would. But there’s only so much one man can do, or pontificate about.
3. Paddling is geographically specific. In a world where so much can be virtualized without context for location, paddling cannot be virtualized. One cannot Net meeting, phone conference in, or email a paddling experience. It is completely and inescapably linked to location. Also because paddling takes place in an area where people tend not to live (on the surface of the water) it is different than what I look at all day long. The Lake Michigan Shore line is not a great example though where houses along the dunes are the norm rather than the exception and the lake shore experience has been commodified to the extreme by some insipid breed of weasle/monkey hybrid from illinois that resists erradication. But maybe a new ice age might change this.
4. Learning all of the skills necessary to become truly effecient and seaworthy in a kayak is hard. Anything difficult requires effort and determination. Effort and determination take time, and time invested in something difficult reward the individual with a sense of accomplishment and confidence. This sense of accomplishment and confidence can also be thwarted by the sea, and the individual’s own stupidity, which is another post entirely. But for instance being able to stay upright and downwind on an icy 6 foot wave is not something everyone can do, or wants to do, much less repeatedly. Skills are really their own reward.
5. Backpacking is for suckers.

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Dave Diget and crew have opened up the Kalamazoo Central High Pool to the nuts and crazies. So I brought Gabriel and Tom to the pool session in order to make sure he knew we meant business.

I tried to help Tom with his Greenland Standard Roll. He seems very close, he can high brace now, which he couldn’t before. And now he is settling upside down calmly and then initiating the sweep, it is the sweep that confounds him.

Gabriel, freak like his father sets up to do a reverse low brace roll, I tried to correct him twice, but then I thought, why not let him learn that one first?....

Gabriel and I also tried a new trick roll. Gabriel sat on my lap facing me, wrapped his legs around my waist and then I would capsize while he held on tight. I came so close three times. I was in the Boogie so I think if I tried it in the Silhouette with a traditional paddle I would be even closer.

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Surf was definitely up yesterday! The prediction was for seven foot waves and 25 knot winds. I think we were somewhere close to that. However it peaked just as I arrived. I could see steep glassy faces off of the North West corner South Haven pier. Board Surfers were out, but there were also oodles of Kite Boarders.

While I get the sensation of flying these guys actually are flying half the time. They tack back and forth in with the wind in front of the beach, using the waves to launch themselves, 10-15 feet into the air. It looks like a gas. But no paddles no locked into the water sensation.

I was able to do some very suicidal take offs with the boogie due to the great conditions. I dropped from the crest of some very steep faces and rushed ahead of the foamy part of the wave and then cutting to leeward to be pushed forward again as the face of one wave joined another. (Great Lakes Phenomenon).

For the first time I was also able to sweep and spin, back surf, and then spin again to begin surfing forwards. I practiced this on the smaller waves closer to shore, and then paddled back out to try it on some of the much larger waves. I was quickly schooled in how much skill it takes when I was capsized immediatly. But I quickly got it dialed in on the outer break as well. I had one steep take off that turned into a tumbling back surf ride, where I don’t even know how I ended up right side up, but I was laughing and enjoying the ride anyway.

After a particularly good ride that took me too close to shore I had one bugger of a time breaking back out. It took me 15-20 minutes to break back out.

I also lost my center fin in there somewhere. Not sure where, and I don’t know if this had anything to do with my newfound ability to flat spin….

A board surfer whom I see frequently switching back and forth between a long surfboard and a wavesport white water boat; told me he rescued some sea kayakers earlier in the day. It was only then that I remembered all the brand new glass sea kayaks on the beach as I hurried down to the water to start surfing. Without beginning a tirade too late, how is it that none of the white water boaters, the kite boarders, wind surfers, and board surfers who go out in these conditions don’t need to be rescued. But sea kayakers continue to head out unprepared when conditions are rough. What’s wrong with this picture?

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